Guided ordinance fire crosses over my field of view between the rooftops of the city. Smoke follows the trails of the streaks of light and the violent sound of impact follows shortly in the distance. The city doesn’t subside to silence in absence of the explosion— small arms fire pelts all around. It impacts the dirt nearby, the walls, pings off of fences, street posts, tanks. It never ends.

All out siege isn’t “ensuing”, it has been for days. It is not a rare sight to see a skyscraper completely demolished, full of holes, utterly inflamed, missing a majority of its floors, or all of the above.  

Currently I am in an extremely vulnerable position. I am hiding on the first floor of a half demolished building, looking out from a hole in the wall. It’s in the outskirts of the park in the center of the city where the siege is strongest. 

Small arms fire pelts against the building I am in and around me, artillery impacts in the distance, and a single scream can be heard reverberating between the buildings.

Poor soul. I mourn the loss of someone who I imagine just had their legs blown off. A common occurrence, and not the first I have heard today. Hell, I’ve seen it happen today.

I am a Sergeant in His Majesty, the Emperor's army. My mission was to lead a fire-team under the command of my platoon leader into the heart of the city where the siege is strongest, in order to halt the enemy and allow our forces to flank their vanguard. Our platoon broke off to cover more ground and my fire-team was annihilated by guided ordinance. The last of my soldiers I laid eyes on was quickly paling to grey as he bled out from his torso pooling blood under him like a waterfall. His legs were unidentifiable with the rubble of human chunks on the ground from my brethren. 

I sat and cried for quite a while in this office building I found myself in. I ran until the adrenaline wore off. It’s the next morning after the incident. I cut off all radio contact. I had rushed ahead of my soldiers in order to claim the glory of first contact with the enemy and in doing so I was the only survivor. We had successfully pushed back the enemy, at least it seemed so, and began clearing buildings in the surrounding area while fresh reinforcements held the perimeter. 

I don’t have a plan, but if either side finds me I’ll be killed. I’ve effectively defected from the military after failing my duties.

More artillery impacts in the distance, reverberating down the city blocks. It’s perhaps half a mile away if I was going to guess but it sounds quite close due to the tall buildings of the city containing the sound and channeling it.

I check my canteen on my chest rig. Empty. 

I dropped my rifle outside when the artillery had hit. There’s too much exposure outside to dare step out and retrieve it. 

As a Sergeant we are only issued infantry rifles. No backup gun. No handgun. 

I do have a grenade though. I think, fairly darkly.

I consider it for a moment.

Oh well, it’s not time. Let’s get out of here so I can live to grieve my soldiers. 

I stop moping around but this environment is unnaturally conducive to these thoughts. Dead soldiers. They were good soldiers. I was forced to run away, alone, and without them.

Getting up off the wall I was sitting against, I right my chest rig. It is equipped with my rifle magazines, first aid kit, grenade, knife, comms, a flashlight, and more on it. I opt to keep the magazines in case I find a rifle down the road. The room I am in is a small office to the left of the lobby. The windows are broken and too exposed in the lobby so I had opted for a side office with no windows and to peek through the holes in concrete, most likely created from shrapnel of some pretty heavy artillery.

Pretty big crater on the street. My soldiers may have been killed but I can help fall back on my training.

I take my right angle flashlight off of my rig momentarily, turning it on and then reattaching it through a loop horizontally in such a way so that it is pointed down at an angle towards my hands. With some lighting in the room besides the holes in the exterior walls of the building, I take a knee at the rucksack I left on the ground that houses extra clothing, a tarp, a map and extra miscellaneous equipment. 

I squint my eyes through the dusty and now lightly illuminated room, taking the map out and taking a moment to get the bearings of my location. It is marked with where we landed, as well as various markings concerning our objective but I ignore those. I trace a line with my finger down the road I ran, but I can’t be too sure. I only recognize so much of what I ran. Everything on the map looks like something I could have possibly ran down. I take an educated guess based off of my last confirmed location with my fire-team, the direction I ran down and a road I took a turn on. 

Let’s just get out of the city.

I plan a short route, not bothering to plan any secondary routes or pay any attention to landmarks. I plan on going in a straight line and getting the hell out, staying out of the way of friendlies and enemies alike.

Still, there’s a good chance there won’t be any dead zones in a battlefield like this. No one is that stupid. All I can really do is pick a route where there will be the least amount of people. 

I take care to fold the map, put it back in the rucksack under the waterproof tarp as we are trained. I do a once over to make sure all of the gear will be comfortable to move in quickly; that everything is cinched down appropriately and nothing will make unnecessary noise. Satisfied, I heft it over my back, then clip in the chest strap and tighten everything down. 

With my light corrected vertically to view the space directly in front of me, I walk down the dark hallways of the office building I am in, the opposite direction from the street. I am in about the center of the building on the park side. 

After about a minute of traveling down the main hallway on the first floor, I pass a couple wooden double doors that open up to office spaces that I imagine were once top of the line for multi million dollar companies, now in the middle of a battlefield. Past the third office space, I come up to a door for a stairwell and next to that is an emergency exit. I turn off my light in preparation to exit.

It’s not so dark in the alley by the looks of it. Not enough to give away my position at least.

Luckily the power is completely cut off because when I push through the door to the alley, no alarms go off. 

I make my way down swiftly but quietly as possible, taking care not to step on any rocks, pebbles, trash, that could make any noise. 

I continue walking, taking care to listen to my surroundings. Coming up to the first intersection of the alleyway, I hear loose rock shift underneath someone’s feet to the right, down the split of the intersection I am coming up to. 

Shit. I think to myself. This is gonna be rough.

I silently unclasp the button on the holster holding my knife on the right side of my vest. I take the knife into my right hand, holding it forward.

[I walk as silently as possible, which forces me to an anxious shuffle forward. 

Pump, pump.

My heart pounds relentlessly through my head, eyes, my hand holding my knife, and the pressure points of my vest and rucksack on my body.

The corner to the right grows closer as I focus with the anticipation of seeing a silhouette in front of me, but even as I cross into the open alley to the right: nothing. 

Behind the dumpster? Perhaps. But, god, let’s hope I am hearing shit.

Instead of running past the intersection, I opt to declare myself to the threat rather than expose my back as I pass through.

I run to the dumpster in order to get a jump on the enemy, taking advantage of the sound concealment the light rain is creating, and as I cross behind it, still nothing. 

Well, there is a rat about the size of a house cat scurrying away.

Embarrassed at myself, I reupholster the knife, round back to the intersection and continue down the path I came from in the direction I was going.