VR WARS Volume II - Coalition Army

ASCENSION

Ascending to the hilltop at a snail's pace due to the sharp incline of the terrain, the captain of the Terras Unit and his tank crew pushed their engines to the limit, draining their tank’s reliability gauge to provide cover for the advancing infantry of the Mirabilis.

All the while, incoming shells bombarded them fiercely, sending deadly debris smacking into their trusted steel-plated steed.

“Amor’s down to 20%...we take a direct hit, and we’re goners!”

“Reliability is almost out! The engine’s gonna stall in two minutes,” the driver, from underneath them, positioned below the top turret, followed the gunner's statement with another report.

“Do we still have ammunition?”

“…Six rounds of HE, four AP, sir,” the loader opened all containers to give an accurate count.

“All machine guns locked and loaded,” his gunner yelled out to conclude the report, letting fly a new firestorm of bullets into the IF positions blocking their way.

Seeing the look of worry on his face that threatened to confirm what they were fearing, the radio operator of the tank felt the need to ask the question, no matter if he already had the answer or not. “What are you thinking, sir?”

“That’s more than enough! Push through!”

Suddenly, a cracked voice broken up by static came through the tank's radio, “Panzer 0-1, this is Panzer 2-4 we will assist, on your left. Watch out for AT infantry; they got Henrique and Darcia a while back.”

José got up from his commander's chair to look through his periscope to get better eyes on the newly arrived reinforcements' situation. Through the steep hill that felt like a frying pan engulfing them in the heat of a series of blown-up vehicles, José, guided by the instructions the friendly tank had given him, quickly made out its position behind the cover of a few boulders. “I see them! It’s Sandra’s crew,” he informed. “Much obliged, 2-4. Let’s get these fuckers, 0-1 out!”

“Victory or death!” the battle cry known to all in the Portuguese coalition signified much more than it meant. Whether they belonged to the UAT, UC, or UL, those words conveyed absolute truth.

And so, the death march resumed.

With José’s tank in the lead blasting away at anything that moved, the enemy focused every available weapon on the rolling thunder as if they were the only real threat that could harm them. Meanwhile, the scattered and battered infantry units of the Mirabilis, sensing that the heat targeting them had somewhat died down, resurfaced as a whole and geared up for the final stretches of the hill, running and gunning with the utmost disregard for their lives.

Angry at the stubborn defense the IF had mounted for them at one of their key objectives, costing them countless comrades and time they couldn’t afford to lose, every person there did what most could not. They abandoned all sense of self-preservation to commit to the purpose of taking that hill, no matter the cost.

As the defenses blocking their way shivered and then buckled, the battle took yet another shifting point. The once battle of attrition now turned one-sided as the absent portion of students from both Terras and Mirabilis units that had been tied down clearing out resistance behind the main force arrived to strengthen the assault on hill 253.5. These fresh students entered the fray at the climax when both sides were already weary, tipping the scales for the attackers. However, resistance remained, and although they were localized, the fact that most of the IF students that remained hunkered down in solid positions made the effort of breaching them to clear them out all the more dangerous, as was the case for José and his crew.

“…Shit! Anti-tank on the right slope, brace for impact!”

A loud noise impacted close to them, immediately releasing a strong earthquake that rocked the tank back and forth. The armored piercing shell had missed them by centimeters. But the velocity at which it had impacted the ground was more than enough to knock out of the action the few Mirabilis students who were unreasonable enough to take cover from enemy bullets behind the tank.

Only then, in that belated moment, did the engine finally forfeit life, making José and his crew easy targets for the IF students operating the anti-tank weapon that already had them in their crosshairs.

“—Dammit…We’re sitting ducks out here, sir!”

“Traverse the cannon, right! Fire!”

“On the way!” The gunner yelled out as he pressed the trigger.

Despite being utterly helpless when it came to movement, their weapons still worked perfectly fine. So they continued to target the concealed weapons’ emplacement, hoping a lucky shot would get through.

“It’s no use, man; HE shells have no effect on that target!”

“…What can we do?! We’re all out of AP rounds….”

“Doesn’t matter, they don’t know that,” José argued to keep his crew working until the very last moment. “At least we’ll burn those fuckers to bits. Keep pouring on them!”

“You’re clear!” the loader shouted out as the empty round was dispelled automatically from the canon’s cradle as it recoiled, and in exchange, a newer shell was loaded into it.

“On the way!” he said, pressing the foot trigger to rid himself of the deadly cargo. “No effect—s**t, incoming!”

The blast of the enemy shell hit the tracks of their tank, immobilizing it for the remainder of the combat. Already severely damaged, José and his crew were at the mercy of the IF battery sitting on top of a steep slope barely fifty meters in front of them. Their tank sank deeper a few centimeters into the earth as the multitude of craters left by mortars and artillery dropping on them increased. Although the armor withstood the shrapnel protecting the crew inside it like a mother’s embrace on her newborn child, it was now only a matter of time before fate met them.

“…fucking game is way too realistic for my taste.”

“Ha-ha-ha. No kidding, well, then…I guess this is it,” José said with a succumbing smile. A small tear beckoned to fall from his face as he looked at the faces of each individual in his crew before they departed for the real world. “Tomás, Deco, Fabiana, Gil…outstanding work.”

Then, at the very same moment, the IF crew on the slope loaded a new AP shell and adjusted their sights on their weapon; a brief signal came through the radio. At long last, after having cleared their sector of resistance and helped their infantry contingent ascend to the top of the hill, the only tank to come into contact with José broke clear of the silent static that came from so many sacrifices in that devastating attack. Sandra and her crew once more punched through the veil of smoke to deliver justice to the IF.

“0-1, this is 2-4 fire for effect!” The female tanker shouted before an explosion shook the hill, barely missing its target. The tank crew in distress rejoiced at the arrival of reinforcements.

“Thank god for that woman! Adjust her fire.”

“2-4, 0-1 here, add 10 meters, left, 5 meters! Send it!”

“On the way.”

“Pour smoke on ‘em, blind the fuckers!”

“Come on, come on, come on, Deco….”

“Smoke shell loaded!”

“Fire!”

“On the way!”

With both tanks firing in complete synchronization, the IF gun crew stood little chance of withstanding the onslaught, as the disadvantage of being in a fixed position came back to bite them in the end. Losing their senses to the blinding smoke that engulfed them, a last-minute gift from their former prey, only served to set in place that final nail in their graves when finally one shell found its way through their defenses and disintegrated into millions of shards holding steel and fire.

Multiple secondary explosions soon came to light when the fire reached the ammunition stores feeding the IF weapon, providing a spectacle of lights for the advancing infantry of the Mirabilis, already firmly placed on the top of the hill, to congratulate them on overcoming the obstacle set in their way.

Drenched in sweat and blood, José and his crew rose in cheers like a thunderstorm from within the badly mauled iron beast, fuelled with hope and relief with everlasting gratitude for their comrades' expert marksmanship as well.

“0-1 to 2-4…drinks are on us tonight. Thank you…”

“Ha-ha…great to hear that! Make sure you’re there, in our hour of need, to return the favor 0-1. We’ve radioed engineers to help repair your tracks; they should arrive in a couple of minutes. See you, topside, 2-4 out.”

Appeasing their minds by leaving them with one last farewell, the engine kicked up a dark cloud as Sandra and her crew on the friendly tank pushed their machine once more to withstand the grueling march, ascending them to the little piece of heaven awaiting them in front.

“…Thank you,” the captain of the Elite Terras Unit couldn’t help but murmur at the fading profile as it disappeared between the smokey veil that divided heaven and earth.

“Argh…I think I’m in love with that woman.”

“…Better get in line, Gil…I think we all are, ha-ha.”

“““Ha-ha-ha.”””

Just as the celebratory mood reached its all-time high and the sense of being out of the woods turned to concrete, something ripped through the tank's armor and ricocheted inside until it found a new target. The loader, Luis, suddenly spat blood, unaware of what had happened, until his HP finally hit zero, and his lifeless body fell on his backside with a hole the size of a baseball in his stomach.

“Holly—…They got him! f*****g bastards!”

Two more armored piercing bullets punctured the tank’s armor; one screamed past José’s head, clipping off his right ear and drawing blood, while the second claimed no victims. It was clear to them that they were being targeted by anti-tank infantry, and with their tank incapacitated and out of ammunition, the only option left to them was to fight it out outside of their vehicle. However, the psychological effect of fighting as foot soldiers without having the protection of their tank to block out the bullets were hitting the crew hard, especially when considering the fact that they had trained for two entire weeks on the sealed beast and fought for hours against the IF without even having to show their faces. And yet, José knew that staying where they were would invite the same sentence of death that had claimed their comrade. Therefore, in his mind, it was more advantageous to his university if they died while fighting, other than surrender by logging out, even if that contradicted Supreme Commander Pedro’s orders.

“The UAT has a point in their credence of ‘no surrender,’” he exasperated to his wavering crew. “No good will come in forfeiting the battle, not while we can still fight! So, why the long faces, guys?! We still have handguns and ammo on the mounted MG outside, so let’s go and give them hell.”

For an instant, they looked at him questionably; never before had they seen José supporting anything that came from their Azorean partners until now. Understanding that there was no other way to survive except to buy time for the reinforcements to arrive, they breathed deeply for the incoming storm. Envigorated with a new resource to draw strength and push the fear of death aside, each individual clenched their fists and teeth, concluding that this would be their glorious last stand.

Taking the UAT motto to heart, a muffled sound was faintly heard from inside the tank, “No quarter!”