PS2 nonsense

The walls shook from a new volley of explosions. Vanguards, positioned on top of the northern cliff-side, kept shelling the building we were in. Our last stand was growing more desperate by the minute. Blueberry infantry had been attempting to breach through the main entrance for the better part of this morning.

"Alpha, Bravo" - the voice of our commander roared - "hold the main doors! Charlie, provide support from the staircase. Delta, watch the northern entrance!"

Commander Bobsquddle of the Freelancers Union was a seasoned veteran and a bright strategic mind. And the only reason this ragtag bunch of recruits was able to stick together and withstand the NC onslaught. He fired a burst with his Butcher and shot down a fairy, who was attempting to fly through an open window. Then, while reloading, the commander turned towards his right-hand man, Lieutenant Flingbing. Poor Fling was helplessly spraying bullets at a nearby wall, above the heads of a few friendlies, desperately trying to contain the recoil of an unwieldy CARV-9. The man was never meant for the battlefield, but harsh times dragged even people like him out of the HQ and onto the front lines.

"Lieutenant, put that thing down and check up with Delta. See how they're holding back there!" With a nod, Fling headed off to the back room. That's when we felt it.

A low rumble in the ground. Then vibrations. Growing stronger and stronger, until the bullet casings lying about started jumping off the floor. Then a blue glow. The Conglomerate grew tired of assaulting our well-entrenched platoon and decided to nuke us from orbit.

"To the walls, hug the walls, damn it! Everybody hug the walls!" I pressed against the closest barricade and held my breath. Someone pressed against me, roughly. I turned my head and my eyes met his - the commander's. We locked gazes for a second, holding our breaths. It felt as if a spark flickered between our lips. The ionized beam descended from orbit a moment later. Those that couldn't press against a wall in time were flung violently across the room and splashed against one. Silence followed. Deafening silence and a painful ringing in the ears. And then... nothing. More silence. Nobody tried pushing through the main entrance anymore.

We later found out that the NC, disorganized as they are, failed to warn their own mercenaries of the planned orbital strike. All were caught outside, unprepared, and blasted into the surrounding fields. Their armoured division soon fled the battlefield and we were left in peace. At least for a while. The platoon did what was possible to repair the facility and restore the nano-printing tubes in order to recover our losses. Afterwards, we settled down for the night.

Men were cheering over our victory, proud of their accomplishments. But I knew that we owed it all to one man - commander Bobsquddle. I was strolling around the camp when I saw him. Brooding solemnly in a darker corner, contemplating over the day's events. Sitting next to him, I offered a cup of wine. He took it, brushing against my fingers in the process. We locked eyes once more. There was burning passion in his. The soldiers kept celebrating and chatting loudly as we silently snuck into an empty storage room. The NC did not breach the main entrance that day, but the commander breached the rear one.