Location: UNSC Forward Operating Base, Virek
Date and Time: May 20, 2553 – 0730 Hours
The base is a hive of activity, but there's an unusual air of tension hanging over everything this morning. We're prepping for another mission—one that feels more urgent than usual. Lieutenant Kane gave us the details, but something about the whole thing feels off. I can't shake the sense that we're walking into something bigger than we realize.
"Anything new on the op?" I ask Santiago as we gear up, my hands moving automatically as I check my rifle.
"Just that it's deep in URF territory," he replies, his tone grim. "We're supposed to hit their supply lines. Feels like they're getting desperate, but something about this doesn't sit right."
We finish gearing up and make our way to the briefing room. Lieutenant Kane stands at the front, his face as unreadable as always. He's cool under pressure, but today there's something off about his demeanor—an intensity that feels unnatural.
"We've identified a critical URF supply route in the northern sector," Kane begins, pulling up a holo-map. "Your job is simple: hit them hard and fast. Bravo Fireteam will flank from the west, while 1st Squad blocks the main route. Timing is key. We need to cut them off before they can scatter."
I glance at the map, feeling that same unease settle deeper in my gut. There's something wrong here. The mission feels rushed, like we're being thrown into the fire without the full picture.
"Questions?" Kane asks, looking around the room. No one speaks up, though I catch Santiago's eye. He's feeling the same tension.
"All right, gear up. We leave in one hour."
As Kane walks out, I can't help but notice the way he lingers near the communications officer, speaking in low tones. My gut tells me something's off, but I push it aside for now. The mission is priority.
We head out to the Warthogs, the weight of the upcoming operation settling over us. There's a chill in the air, despite the sun rising higher in the sky. I glance at Santiago as we climb into the vehicle.
"You notice anything weird about Kane today?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
He frowns, adjusting his gear. "Weird how?"
I shrug, but the doubt gnaws at me. "He's acting… different. I don't know. Just keep an eye out."
We drive out, heading toward URF territory. The ride is tense, with Dash and O'Neill quiet in the back. We've been in situations like this before, but today feels different. There's a heaviness that's hard to explain—like we're walking into something we're not ready for.
"Hold position at the ridge and wait for my signal," Kane's voice crackles over the comms as we approach the target area. "1st Squad will be in position shortly."
We take up positions along a ridge overlooking the narrow road. The plan is to flank the URF convoy once 1st Squad cuts them off. We wait, rifles trained on the road below, but the minutes stretch on longer than they should.
"Where the hell is 1st Squad?" Dash mutters under his breath. The tension is thick now, the quiet stretching on too long.
Suddenly, the comms crackle with a panicked voice. It's Corporal Graves—but his words are cut off by static and gunfire.
"Contact! Heavy resistance—armor! We—" The transmission goes dead.
My heart drops into my stomach. I don't wait for orders.
"Move! 1st Squad's under attack!" I shout, leading Bravo Fireteam into the Warthog. The engine roars to life as we tear down the ridge, racing toward 1st Squad's last known position. Gunfire echoes through the trees, growing louder as we approach.
When we round the corner, the sight that greets us is worse than I could've imagined.
The wreckage of two Warthogs lies smoking on the side of the road, their twisted frames a grim testament to the ambush. Bodies are scattered across the ground—1st Squad, unmoving, lifeless. The URF soldiers are gone, having vanished back into the wilderness after completing their attack.
I freeze for a moment, the horror of the scene sinking in. We were too late.
"Damn it," Santiago mutters, his face pale as we pull to a stop. "They're all dead."
We jump out of the Warthog and spread out, checking the area for any sign of survivors. But there's nothing. 1st Squad has been wiped out—every last one of them. The reality hits like a hammer.
"Graves tried to warn us," I mutter, clenching my fists. "But we weren't fast enough."
I look down at the body of Corporal Graves, his face twisted in pain, his hand still clutching his weapon. I don't know how long the ambush lasted, but it's clear they didn't stand a chance.
My mind races as I piece together what happened. Kane said we were supposed to hit the convoy together, but there's no sign of a convoy here. 1st Squad walked into a trap—one that was set long before we got here.
"We need to call this in," Dash says quietly, his voice shaky. "They need to know what happened."
I nod, but my thoughts are already spiraling. Where the hell was Kane? He should've been with us, coordinating the strike. Instead, 1st Squad is dead, and we didn't even get a chance to fight back.
I move to the comms and signal Kane. My voice is tight with anger.
"Kane, come in. 1st Squad is down. We've got casualties—heavy."
There's a brief pause before Kane's voice comes through, calm as ever. "Copy that. Secure the area and wait for reinforcements. I'm en route."
Something about his tone sends a chill down my spine. He's too calm. Too detached. And now I know why.
He knew this was going to happen.
As we secure the area, my mind races with questions, but I know one thing for sure: Kane set us up. This wasn't just bad intel. He sent 1st Squad to their deaths, and we were supposed to be next.
But why? And what is he planning next?
I glance at Santiago, who's already securing the perimeter, his face set in a grim expression. He knows something's wrong too, even if he hasn't said it yet.
We've been betrayed. And now it's only a matter of time before we find out just how deep this goes.