The sergeant reached out and patted Brian's shoulder, a heavy hand, yet full of faith. He gave the man that same look he always did before a mission, one that said, "I know you'll make it." Around them, the soldiers snapped to attention and saluted one last time. The sergeant smiled, proud—not of himself, but of the men he'd raised.
"Yeah… maybe I've always been a hard-ass," he said, voice rough with pain, "but I was one hell of a teacher, wasn't I? The ones who survive become heroes. The ones who fall become legends. Even if we lose this fight…" He gritted his teeth. "The eagle's blood still runs through us. If any of you make it out of here alive, don't forget this—" His voice cracked. "You fought together, bled together… for the smiles of kids who'll live after us. Now go! Get the hell out of here!"
"No! We're not leaving you here, Sergeant!" Dan yelled, stumbling toward him.
"Come on, Serge! COME ON~" Other marines caught Dan before he could reach the old man. They pulled him back, shouting over his refusal as they dragged the wounded out one by one. Walsh gave a final nod, his voice fading.
"I'm proud of you, Dantonio." He said Dan's name—the real one—for the first and last time.
"Let go! Let me go, puto! I'm not leaving him!" Dan thrashed, his voice breaking, but the others dragged him out the rear exit of the research center.
Brian and Simon lingered just long enough to salute before turning toward the corridor. The sergeant's eyes followed them until they disappeared from sight.
"Alright then…" he muttered, pushing himself upright, pain twisting every breath. "Let's burn this place to the fuckin' ground." He staggered toward the hidden sublevel door, the one half-buried under debris and dust. Each step creaked on the stairs as he descended into the darkness below. Somewhere behind him, the purple demon twitched—not dead yet.
"Requesting all units regroup behind the research building, repeat—" Simon's radio sputtered with static. Before he could finish, BOOM! The second-floor wall collapsed, trapping them inside. The thunder of heavy, metal footsteps echoed through the hall.
"Brian! This way!" Simon shouted, ducking through a side room and diving into a hole in the floor. Brian scrambled after him, nearly tripping over chunks of concrete. They crawled through to another chamber, once sterile white—now painted red.
The stench of blood hit them like a wave. Rebel soldiers—or what was left of them—lay torn apart across the floor.
"Damn… these monsters," Simon muttered, covering his nose.