Do not insult him
Jonathan caught me yawning.
You're overplaying that game again, Yusei.
Not that it wasn't getting interesting right about now.
The communication app known as Contact Vision is the current standard—Yusei and Jonathan use it too.
You can conduct a call with a casually customized avatar or, alternatively, project the live feed of the registered user themselves.
Contact Vision, commonly referred to as ConV.
Emotions can be expressed via icons, and peculiar dances can be triggered.
Is the game cute girl here?
Jonathan’s custom avatar breaking into dance with a wink.
No, not really. …Huh?
True enough—content’s heavy on shooting, but now that you mention it, there are quite a few girls here.
How does it feel?
"Little Boine, 150 centimeters tall"
—Huh.
"Petan-chan, around 145 centimeters tall"
"Ooooh, flat chest"
"175 centimeters, big bust, tan redhead older sister type"
"Ooooh—what’s that, straight into my kinks"
Jonathan suddenly huffs through his nose.
"Request screenshot!"
"No, the support system’s almost fully restricted, can’t take screenshots at all"
"Seriously? The guy who made this game’s being extra careful"
"Petan-chan’s the envy, huh. Haha"
"Envious…"
Jonathan rapidly fires off a face icon to express sorrow.
"Anyway, let’s call it a day here"
"Good idea, I’ve got things to do too. …Today, the usual?"
"Yeah"
His rival offers a mock-serious cheer.
"Good hunting, soldier"
"Haha, leave it to me"
——
——Sitarshia Unified Calendar 266. April 16, PM 02:42.
——Central Karaf Continent, Cassandra Gorge, Bailicity.
——Operation ID: Io-200.
"Sergeant Io, be careful!"
"Food's ready—waiting for you!"
Sudden cheers from a group of boys and girls. Io hesitates.
An event the moment he plunged into the game. He glances back, reflexively.
Cliffs rise like walls on either side. Io and his unit stand at the gorge’s base. The road ahead cuts through the valley, leading to the town blocking it.
‘Agent Io, we welcome your return.’
The familiar 150cm form of Boinchon appears instantly.
(‘Goblet, what the hell am I doing right now?’)
‘You are currently en route to secure the town of Bailicity, located within this gorge.
Seize control of the Weedran Infantry Unit, currently using the police station at the city’s entrance as a base.’
Seriously? That’s a mission you’re supposed to pull off alone?
Well, I guess some games work that way. Too late to complain now.
Sergeant Io.
Captain Creeke approached. That doll-like beauty was now familiar.
—You’re really going through with this? You could bypass it.
—Bypassing increases the likelihood of encountering a strong Weedran unit. Sergeant Io advocated for breaking through Bailicity.
When not connected as a player, Io operates autonomously.
Expected as much. The game still updates in real time even when unplayed.
As Io monitors the situation, Creeke strikes Io in the stomach.
A dull thud. Not painful.
—You’re burdening me. Apologies.
—How touching, Captain. Not suited to you.
—Don’t talk back, fool. …Enough. Begin the operation.
...You'll come back alive. Break that promise, and I won't forgive you."
Promise?
Cruke walked away, ignoring Io's floating question mark.
(What does the avatar do when Goblet's on auto?)
"Agent Io has been programmed with your data, and instructed to act as a constant model for the boy soldiers.
Brave. Selfless. Willing to take wounds to protect the unit. Proud."
(What’s this, some anime hero?)
"Isn't that precisely what would suit us best?"
The actions during auto-mode when not actively playing—why no data logs? What exactly did it do?
That lieutenant's suddenly meek. Even if it's just game AI, that's unsettling.
(What exactly is the lieutenant's promise?)
"Io recently requested that Cruke McGavan assist with hair care."
(Hair care?)
To comb your hair.
No way. That lieutenant actually saying something this cute.
Gaping appeal.
So why are you tagging along?
Close-range reporting. I won’t get in the way.
The sun-kissed redhead, the pride of Fletcher TV, the突击 reporter.
Natalie Vicker sticks to the rear. Shotgun in hand.
Can a civilian participate in combat?
I’m hidden. Just filming you quietly.
And if I have to shoot this one, it’s self-defense.
Walking into a battlefield on your own and calling it self-defense?
Legally speaking... even if I kill Weedran, no law would punish me.
As long as I don’t interfere with military operations.
Is this woman really a reporter? Outrageously off-script NPC.
Your data’s being sent to headquarters. Fletcher TV holds partial rights to government communication satellites, so we can exchange information quickly, even in emergencies.
We’re running a special broadcast featuring your data. The response has been overwhelming.
Everyone’s fascinated by your actions.
We’re just circus monkeys, then.
No—sorry. I suppose you could say that, in a way.
But most people are sending messages wishing you’re safe. That’s what they’re saying.
...Captain Creeke’s team doesn’t need comfort. They need reinforcements from friendly forces.
People aren’t abandoning you. Public opinion moves politicians. Politicians move the military. Maybe our cameras can trigger a rescue unit.
Io exhaled deeply. She might actually like this NPC.
Got it... is the camera rolling already? Do your best to make it look clean.
Perfect.
Natalie tapped the camera fused with her visor with a light tap.
Anything you'd like to say before heading out to kill Weedran?
Perhaps these will be the last words between us two.
Natalie’s saying something pointless. Io laughed—well, that’s amusing, anyway.
Thumbs up at Natalie's mini-cam.
This is Io, temporary reporter for Fletcher TV’s on-site crew—viewers, you’re live.
Ah… Sergeant, I didn’t think you’d have it in you to make jokes like that.
There’s something I need to make clear from the start. This isn’t a simulation. For me, it’s true—I choose to kill these aliens, but the 3,552 child soldiers aren’t like that.
—Good. Continue. Upload the data to the web link in real time.
Live stream?
Yes.
How this action affects the game's progression.
Io continues, shrugging.
The 3,552nd Squad is moving eastward, inadequately equipped and unsupported. They must evade enemy units along the way—escape proceeds slower than expected. Far longer than anticipated.
Only three soldiers arrived to rescue them: Carlyle, Hex, and Neumann.
They have families. Loved ones. Places to return to. Yet they risk everything to stand with us.
...Right. I already know the full story, don’t I?
Yes, Sergeant. But it doesn’t matter. Say it in your own words.
—Captain Creeke has made his decision. He will bring back the nineteen boy soldiers, no matter what.
All good children. Hard to look at without blinding. They—here in this wasteland, slaughtered by lizard monsters? No such cruel story exists.
Natalie manipulated the terminal at her side.
"Headquarters is picking it up for emergency broadcast."
"Already? We've only been speaking for two minutes."
"View count's skyrocketing. —Anyway, keep going."
"...I'm cooperating with Captain Creeke. I've discussed this with Sergeant Carlyle and the others. That's the duty of the elder. To protect them.
I know the situation is dire. No surplus forces to spare for the 3552 rescue.
Still, I say it anyway... We need help.
We won't give up until the end. We believe in human kindness. We believe no one would abandon children like this. We believe help is coming.
So until then—we endure.
We—fulfill our duty.”
Io abruptly shifted tone, making himself seem suspicious.
“How was that? A masterpiece, right?”
“Mm, very much so. Upload complete.
…You’ve got a way with words, I’ll give you that.”
“Studied public speaking in high school.”
“Understood. …Ah, already getting a strong reaction.”
Natalie resumed manipulating her terminal.
“They’re asking—Who is he? Which unit does he belong to?”
“What’s that?”
“I uploaded it to my private community account too. Notifications won’t stop coming.
…Good. Multiple people are saying clearly—don’t abandon child soldiers.”
“…Back to work. Better cut the live stream here.”
“Mm. It’ll get too shocking.”
Io started walking. Natalie followed, shotgun in one hand.
He was aware. Too much emotional immersion.
(—huh, getting too immersed in the game opponent. Sure, I’m the type to emotionally invest, but still…)
Taking the game seriously. Deep gratitude to the creator who built this world.
Treating NPCs like people, pouring effort into what’s just a game progression event.
Io was beginning to truly immerse himself in this violent SF shooter.
(—…is this really just a game?)
Impossible.
Io snorted at his own absurd thoughts.
—
Securing the police station was extremely simple.
Optimization of nanomachines completed. Implementing Snake Eye.
Blue Goblet could detect heat sources and moving objects through walls, projecting them directly onto Io’s retina.
Io’s avatar bears significant strain and cannot be used excessively. Functionality degrades in locations dense with active electronic equipment, much like the old communications outpost. That’s the setting, so relying on it entirely isn’t feasible.
A strong ability wouldn’t exist if it could be unleashed freely.
Skills require recharge time.
Even with drawbacks, the advantage is undeniable—overwhelmingly so.
Knowing every enemy’s position and movement down to the last detail.
Io deployed the Snake Eye skill and cleared the Bailicity police station—cleaned, in an instant.
Natalie stands frozen.
—Lieutenant said you were a capable soldier… I never expected…
To be taken down so easily.
The truth is right in front of you.
Io nudges Weedlan’s corpse with the tip of a boot.
The lizard man’s expression is unreadable. Eyes wide open—understood—but is this what their “face twisted by fear” looks like?
Leave that judgment to the creator who designed this enemy.
“Back then, were all the enhanced soldiers like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“…You know, taking down a whole squad of twenty-four enemies by yourself.”
Actually, twenty-four plus three autonomous infantry tanks.
Numerous enemy troops and the Cyphs walking vehicles are indeed formidable—provided you face them head-on.
This game imposes little restriction on combat style.
Go loud or go silent—Io chooses. This time, Io chose stealth, and it worked.
“Don’t remember the past.”
“Right… that’s right. Sorry.”
“But I had to do this much. To bring back the 3552.”
Can't say for sure—equipment and situation vary too much. Maybe comparing them is just absurd.
I heard there are special forces out there with kill ratios like one to four hundred.
I'm playing a game. And even within that game, I'm trying to save the world. So of course I'll do this much.
—Are you not afraid?
—No.
Tough, clever soldier roleplay.
More precisely, it's genuine. In a horror game, fear makes sense. In a shooter? Fear is impossible.
Natalie was speechless before Io's unambiguous declaration.
—
Natalie was a woman of action. Whenever Io immersed himself in the game and went into battle, she followed almost without fail.
She documented every detail of Io’s combat. Game events might branch based on her records.
Cassandre Gorge, Bailicity breach. Kills: 24. Destroyed units: 3.
Bailicity East, Meimosh Way engagement. Kills: 4. Destroyed units: 1.
Adenant urban zone, barricade breach. Kills: 5. Assisted kills: 6.
Adenant retreat. Kills: 39. Destroyed units: 12. (Numbers confirmed via recorded footage only)
Mist Highway, allied support. Kills: 11. Assisted kills: unknown. Destroyed units: 4.
Io glanced at the video data Natalie had handed her and the notes scrawled beside it, letting out a soft, uncommitted hum.
I might have exposed people to something truly unprecedented.
She sounded uneasy. Data from Natalie’s collection streamed into the outdated terminal mounted on Io’s arm—the Little Lady.
“What’s this?”
Comments from people who witnessed the situation of 3552 and your fight
——
‘Is this staged? Propaganda.’
‘No signs of data manipulation.’
‘I can’t believe it. Is this really human?’
‘Chairman Johnson-Maxima was right.’
‘↑ What the hell is this guy even saying?’
‘Ten years ago, Johnson, who chaired the Council then, actively pushed the enhancement soldier selection program.
This Io soldier is an enhanced soldier, so he’s trying to claim that idiotic, inhumane plan was correct.’
‘Factually, he’s right. If we had more soldiers like this, we’d win the war.’
‘Hey YoHooooo! Keep it up like that and finish them off! Sergeant Io is our star of hope!’
‘What about the child soldier unit? If all they’re doing is running away, why fight like this?’
— They’re fleeing and hiding like their lives depend on it. When things get desperate, Sergeant Io steps in and says, “This.”
— What’s the front army doing? No matter how strong the sergeant is, the children will die if we keep going like this.
— They enjoy killing. I know it.
— Can you say the same in front of him or those boy soldiers? Can you ask such a thing? You psychopath.
— My son is in Sitalis City. He volunteered yesterday with the联合 military’s child soldier unit.
— If you could stand there, fearless, like that, I’d hit you with a frying pan.
——
Comments are generally favorable toward Squad 3552 and Sergeant Io.
Of course. It’s only natural. Abandoned children. Where’s the fault in that?
— Looks like we’re not exactly unpopular.
— …You’ll change your mind if you read further.
Sergeant Io taps the screen of the Little Lady.
——
‘Another one dead. Killing them nonstop. This pace is insane.
Outrunning Lieutenant Berels’s record from twenty years ago. The army’ll be scratching their heads over which medal to give him.’
‘↑ Already passed it.’
‘Berels’s official record is 161. Sergeant Io hasn’t reached that yet.’
‘↑ Should pass it within three days.’
‘What’s this, weak as hell? Are we really losing to a bunch of scaly bastards like these? The Karaaf Front Army?’
‘Personally, I think we should commit reinforcements immediately and fight to the end.’
‘Response units were deployed ages ago. Even then, it’s hopeless.’
‘↑ Probably lost because the continent’s full of people like you.’
‘Let’s build his statue.’
‘And Lieutenant McGibbon’s too.’
‘Seriously, they’re going to build them. It’s terrifying.’
You don’t think it’s reckless? They’re still surrounded by Weedran forces out there.
Whether it’s right or wrong doesn’t matter—this proves the utility of enhanced soldiers beyond doubt. Absolutely beyond doubt.
My father was a soldier. Selected for the enhancement program. Died during surgery. Sorry, Sergeant Io, but it was a burden.
↑ He seems aware of it, but blaming Sergeant Io is utterly misplaced.
—
“3552 isn’t getting the spotlight. What we need is a rescue unit.”
Not that I mind being treated like a hero, he adds.
Natalie looks down, face tight with thought.
Io reads on.
—
“I’m enlisting with the Allied Forces. Fulfilling my duty, like Sergeant Io.”
↑ What have you been doing until now? Avoiding conscription? Trying to return to civilian life now?
Wrong—my right leg’s a prosthetic, so I was exempt. But after joining the army, I got a higher-performance limb. I’m fighting now.
Don’t pay attention to idiots who claim evasion. I’m behind you. Push forward.
How the hell do you kill like that? Is there a trick?
Ask the nearest Army base. I’m sure the massive instructors there will be delighted to train you.
Actually, I’m gay. I’m interested. I’ll go check it out.
…Does the person who recommended the Army to this guy have no sense of guilt at all?
Fooooo! Amazing! Do it, Sergeant Io! Avenge my son!
↑ You’re the kind who passes the burden to others.
↑ And you? Are you really that much of a big deal?
The way he holds the rifle—perfectly cool. Like something out of an action movie.
—The next recruitment poster will definitely feature his profile shot.
—Captain Creeke? Isn’t he perfect?
—Award Sergeant Io the Honorary Medal of the Sacred Azure Wing! He’s the real soldier!
—Don’t forget the Theater Merit Medal and the Shield of Dedication too.
—Still not enough. My father said he’s got eight or nine medals still eligible for application.
—Damn militarists. The only medal that suits that sergeant is the “I Killed Him” badge.
—↑ Keep talking, ignorant traitor with no grasp of the situation.
—We always get these types. Without the army, we’d just be dead meat on Weedran soil.
—
Comments pile up beyond reading. The tone slowly shifts.
Kill. Enlist in the army.
Aggressive rhetoric stands out—drives people toward conflict as if it were a duty.
I didn’t shoot this promo for recruitment, Natalie said.
Fletcher TV headquarters is美化ing the tragic circumstances surrounding the placement of Unit 3552—exaggerating Sergeant Io’s actions beyond measure.
—So that’s how it is?
Uncannily so.
You're strong like a monster, and Captain Creeke is cute like a doll. The military is using heroes like you to divert public attention from their defeat on the Karauf continent.
Fletcher TV went with the flow.
That’s definitely a bit unsettling.
Io continued reading the comments.
Praise feels good. If one ignores the fact it’s just an event within a game.
Io’s score apparently evokes not admiration or praise, but outright fear.
Still, if someone actually achieved such a kill count in reality, they’d be a monster. Just as Natalie said.
—But if me or Captain Creeke were enshrined, wouldn’t that increase our chances of rescue?
—Perhaps. Living heroes tend to be harder to manage.
—You’re kidding.
Natalie is irritated.
—…Don’t you find that odd?
—What?
—Even if Weedran’s a waste of space… I’d rather not fight at all if I could avoid it.
Yes, I mean—don’t misunderstand. I’m not blaming you. War’s war. You’re willing to risk death for the children.
But this… everyone acting so recklessly, so carelessly… I’m sorry, I can’t explain it properly.
But it’s strange to be praised for being good at killing. There should be more important things to focus on—rescue operations, support missions, things like that.
Maybe we shouldn’t have recorded the battle footage at all.”
A heavy thud echoed across the ground.
They turned. Captain Creeke stood there. She had been napping inside the transport, but now she had risen.
She walked with sharp steps toward Io, lifting her chin and fixing Natalie with a hard stare.
Her eyes were unfocused. Dazed, perhaps, from waking abruptly.
“What exactly is so strange, Miss Natalie?”
“Captain.”
“Forgive me, but do you understand the situation?”
Io and Natalie exchanged glances. Captain Creeke’s voice was quiet—but her anger was unmistakable.
—You’ve got complaints about Sergeant Io’s combat record? Are you some pacifist? One of those scum cultists calling themselves “Mind Defense”?
Don't get the wrong idea— I'm nothing like those terrorist types.
Then I’d prefer you think a little more before speaking.
We don’t have the luxury to care about sentimental matters right now—but if you want debate, I’ll say it plainly.
The boy soldiers lifted their heads at Crewk's怒声.
An unnatural stillness fills the air.
He’s dead by my order. To protect the unit. Does he look like some mindless beast to you?
—Sergeant, you’re off track. No one said anything like that.
Shouldn't someone who’s good at killing be praised? I’ll praise you as much as it takes.
Sergeant always fought for us. What do those Weedrants have to say about it? Not even a hair’s worth of concern if a million died.
I’m not a humanitarian.”
No one will accuse him.
“Complain to me first—the one who issued the order. Don’t insult him.”
Crouching like he’s about to bite, Crewk. Natalie shakes her head at Io, helplessly.
“Lieutenant, she didn’t blame me. You just overheard the wrong part mid-conversation.”
“…Mm… I see…?”
“That’s right, Lieutenant. I’ve seen the Sergeant’s fighting up close. There’s nothing to mock.”
“That’s… deeply disrespectful. I apologize. My head’s still foggy from sleep—I jumped to conclusions…”
Don’t worry about it. Natalie smiled.
“…I’m going to wash my face.”
Creeke walked forward, unsteady.
"Captain Creeke, you’ve grown quite attached to me."
"In a situation like this, one grasps at straws."
"Straws, huh."
"…Something more urgent than some careless comment from a distant stranger is what we should be focusing on."
Io made a soft clicking sound.
---
Despite everything, Company 3552 continued eastward. Not smoothly, but steadily advancing toward friendly territory.
Natalie’s intelligence was invaluable to Company 3552.
In the port city of Oxanun, civilian evacuations were underway. Residents displaced by the fighting were being transported by boat from Oxanun to Audar Continent in scheduled shuttles.
The Karaaf Front Army slowly, steadily, was retreating its defensive line while resisting the advance into Weedran.
While rescuing civilian stragglers, the units simultaneously executed their retreat, with plans to fortify the outskirts of Oxanun and fight to the finish until extraction was complete.
"Originally, the civilians should have been evacuated by force. Earlier."
Captain Creeke wiped damp hair with a ragged cloth.
Unit 3552 is currently in an emergency shelter in a certain town, resting.
The town, evacuated by residents and vacated by驻留 forces, is a ghost city. 3552 now gathers food and essentials without hesitation, like a fire thief.
The shelter contains baths, toilets, and recreational facilities.
The young soldiers of 3552 thanked the gods for the rare chance to live like humans again.
Crouk sat beside Io, who was lounging in a chair, after the squad’s final shower.
“Sergeant, please.”
Crouk tossed her comb. Her hair was stubbornly frizzy—unmanageable, even for her.
Io caught the golden strands, damp and wild, and combed them through.
“…Hmm. Improvement in technique… noticeable. Good… Sergeant…”
Crouk narrowed her eyes, relaxed.
A luxury to care for appearance. A rare one.
No time for such things before now—sweat, mud, all ignored.
“…This rest ends here. One more push after we leave.
And that means entering the main battle zone—where we meet the bastards head-on.”
You understand?
Crucial’s wiry hair caught in the comb. Ouch—voice rising.
“Sergeant, a little more carefully, please.”
A fussy customer. Io kept working.
—Hmm?
Actually, for a while now, one of the junior soldiers had been hiding in the shadow of the nearby shelf.
The thick-browed one was Private Paxton. Crucial finally noticed he was being watched in secret and snapped upright, voice sharp.
“Ah.”
“Pax! What are you sneaking around for!”
“Apologies, Lieutenant!”
Paxton darted through the shelter—narrow as it was.
“Wait! I’m doing nothing improper!”
Crucial started after him. Io couldn’t help but laugh.
At that moment, the staircase connecting the shelter’s ground-level shield grew noisy.
“Lieutenant! Sergeant! Are you here!”
Three figures—Corporal Carlyle and two others, returned from urban reconnaissance. They looked flustered.
(Event start?)
Sergeant Io rises from the chair to meet Carlyle.
He carries a gaunt girl in his arms.
Under Carlyle’s direction, Hex clears the nearby sofa, and Noiman brings a blanket.
Carlyle lays the girl down on the sofa.
"We found a civilian on Central Street. She’s ill. Consciousness is impaired.
Sergeant Io, you’d have knowledge of such conditions, wouldn’t you?"
Noiman gathers the few remaining medical supplies left inside the shelter, along with the blanket.
He places them on the table, eyes fixed on Io.
"Let me see."
Two days ago, Carlyle was wounded in the shoulder. Io performed the emergency treatment.
Io lacked such medical knowledge in person—but his avatar did not. With precise support from Blue Goblet, Io treated Carlyle nearly perfectly.
The game’s peculiar “emergency recovery drug”—a suspicious substance of unknown composition—worked effectively. Carlyle was as lively as ever, as if nothing had happened.
Basic wound care I’ve been trained for—but illness, that’s beyond me. Sergeant, please.
Io glanced at the girl and summoned the Blue Goblet.
(Goblet, support)
Warning to Agent Io
What?
—? What is it, Sergeant.
Blue Goblet said it was not support—it was a warning.
Carlyle reacts to the muttered remark, unintentional and fleeting.
(What is this?)
This girl is infected with a high-risk virus.
Appears to be what they call the Karaf Virus.
Io’s eyelids were forced open, her body convulsing with fever.
Blood-red, swollen beyond normal levels.
"Kharaf virus."
...What...?!
Sergeant—how did you make contact with this one? Was it bitten?
This virus spreads like a zombie film—through bites or contact with bodily fluids.
The Syndicate Assault Team reports no treatment protocol has been established post-onset.
No… I was wandering the Central Street when they called out—lost consciousness immediately.
We are halting the reconnaissance—
Carlyle spoke with a stern face. The girl’s eyes snapped open.
Kaaah!
The girl rose and lunged at Ioh the moment her eyes landed on him.
Iō presses the girl's head down without hesitation.
Sergeant!
Do not allow other humanoid species near.
Stay back, corporal!
That’s better. Let’s reduce the infection risk.
The sound draws the boy soldiers out in a slow procession.
Hex and Neumann forced them back. Too dangerous.
Heard you protected the civilians.
As if preparing for an interview, Natalie and her partner Dres appear, one hand holding a camera.
Behind her, Crewk was also present. When she saw Io being attacked, her expression turned bloodless.
Io!
Infected. Don't approach.
Infection?!
"Kharof virus."
An incredible force, that's for sure.
Io frowns at the girl, whose strength defies her appearance.
Drease, get the camera rolling!
Already doing it!
Now’s not the time to be filming.
Io hesitated, unsure how to handle the girl, then swept her foot out with a gesture that seemed half-hearted.
Noiman uses the towel he brought earlier to bind the girl’s limbs as she lies sprawled.
One final touch—jam the towel into her mouth like a bit. Io rolled the girl over.
The girl twisted like a fish hung by the line, thrashing violently.
—Clumsy. We have no quarantine protocol for this.
—…According to the Syndicate Assault Team, infection risk is low as long as there’s no bite or mucosal contact.
—Still, worst case scenario. …What should we do with this girl?
To Crewk, a Coalition officer, the girl was a protected asset. Harsh methods were out of the question.
Even if treatment post-symptom onset is currently impossible, what exactly do they expect us to do?
—(Goblet, treatment method?)
—Unknown.
The last hope, the navigation AI. Yet Io’s hope was abruptly severed.
—Agent Io, multiple contacts outside the shelter.
—(This situation… other infected?)
Ah, damn it. Seriously a zombie apocalypse now?
Io reached for the Raven propped against the wall.
"Corporal, you found only this one?"
"Yes."
"Didn't see anyone else?"
The answer came not from Carlyle, but from Neumann.
"...During reconnaissance, I felt something moving around us. Sergeant."
"Looks like guests. The armored vehicle's camera feed."
They'd modified the camera from an armored vehicle acquired at the communications outpost, enabling Carlyle to view the feed on his wrist terminal.
Carlyle checked his wrist terminal and muttered, "Shit."
"Tell me you're joking."
Endless figures wandered near the shelter’s entrance.