Enough Dead Heroes

Location: URF Bunker, Northern Hills, Virek

Date and Time: December 25, 2552 – 0700 Hours

The bunker feels suffocating. The walls seem to close in as I kneel next to Grayson, watching the blood pool around him, thick and dark against the cold metal floor. My hands are slick with it as I press down on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But I can see it in his eyes—he knows. And so do I.

"Stay with me, Grayson," I mutter, but the words feel hollow. Doc Alvarez is working as fast as she can, but the wound is bad. Too bad.

Grayson's breathing is shallow, each exhale coming with a ragged, wet sound. His eyes, usually so sharp and steady, are unfocused now, his gaze slipping away from me. But he grips my arm, his fingers weak but insistent.

"Kowalski," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "You've got to finish this."

I swallow hard, my throat tight. "I will."

"Lead them," Grayson says, his grip tightening for just a moment before his hand falls limp.

Everything goes still. The noise of the bunker, the distant echo of gunfire—it all fades into the background as I stare down at him. Grayson is gone. The man who led us through every fight, every mission, the one who always knew what to do—he's gone.

I don't even know what to feel. There's no time for grief, no time for anger. Just the cold, hard truth of what's in front of me.

I stand up slowly, my legs feeling like they're made of lead. Around me, the squad is quiet, their eyes fixed on Grayson's body. They're waiting for someone to say something. They're waiting for me.

"We keep moving," I say, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. Hollow. Empty. "We finish the mission."

Santiago nods, his face grim but focused. "What's the plan, Kowalski?"

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. The URF commander is down, but we haven't cleared the entire bunker yet. We still have a job to do. We can't stop now.

"We sweep the rest of the bunker," I say, my voice steadier now. "Make sure it's secure. Then we get out of here."

There's a moment of silence, then Bravo Fireteam nods in unison. They trust me. They're looking to me now.

I'm not ready for this. But I don't have a choice.

We move out, leaving Grayson's body behind as we push deeper into the bunker. The walls feel tighter now, the air heavy with the weight of what just happened. I lead the way, my rifle raised, every nerve in my body on edge.

The corridors are narrow, the lights flickering overhead as we sweep through each room, clearing them one by one. The rebels are scattered now, disorganized. They know their leader is gone, and the fight has gone out of them.

We encounter pockets of resistance—small groups of rebels still trying to hold their ground. But they're no match for us. We take them down quickly, methodically, moving through the bunker like a well-oiled machine.

But every shot, every burst of gunfire, feels heavier now. It's not just about the mission anymore. It's about Grayson. It's about finishing what he started.

The last room we clear is a storage area, filled with crates of supplies and weapons. Santiago checks the perimeter while I stand in the center of the room, my mind spinning.

We did it. The bunker is secure. The URF commander is dead, and we've crippled their operations in the Northern Hills. This should feel like a victory.

But it doesn't.

After a few minutes, Santiago walks up to me, his face serious. "What's next, Kowalski?"

I blink, trying to pull myself back to the present. The squad is waiting for me. They need direction. They need a leader.

"We radio back to base," I say, my voice steadier now. "Let them know the mission is complete. Then we get Grayson out of here."

Santiago nods, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he moves off to relay the orders. I stand there, staring at the floor, my mind racing.

This was supposed to be Grayson's mission. He was the one who kept us together, who always knew what to do. And now? Now it's on me.

Later that day, back at base, the mood is heavy. We brought Grayson's body back with us, but there's no time for mourning. Command wants to debrief us, and there's already talk of our next assignment. The war doesn't stop, not for anyone.

I sit outside the barracks, staring out at the horizon. The sun is setting, casting long shadows over the base. The air is cold, and I can feel the weight of the day pressing down on me.

I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to lead. But I don't have a choice. The squad needs me. They're looking to me now, and I can't let them down.