"Technically, I'm a captain," Pete said as they ran across the battlefield toward the river, alpha and beta squads keeping pace beside them.

  "Yes, but does it follow that the other soldiers who aren't directly under your command will obey you?"

  "That's what I'm counting on. Even if I can get a dozen or more to follow the squads off to the right, that should help distract the enemy. More would be better, of course, but as long as we can keep the enemy focused on that side of the river, we've got a chance."

  The plan, which was still being properly formulated in Pete's mind, was threefold. First, it involved commandeering several metal shields and having the hobgoblins in both squads use them to protect the group from snipers. In addition to the shields, the squads were to gather as many grenades as they could carry, taking them from the other Company troops so that they had a sizable arsenal as they moved with the shields to the right side of the main formation.

  The goal would then be to convince as many troops as possible to accompany the group as they moved into position, offering protection and drawing the enemy's eye in precisely the opposite direction to where Pete and Craig were headed. Pete hoped that the enemy would assume that the pair was traveling with the assault squads as they moved into position.

  From here, the plan got a little murkier. The squads would lob as many of the grenades as they could manage over toward the enemy lines on the opposite side of the riverbank. The river itself was relatively shallow and only thirty feet across in most places, so Pete hoped that the grenade attack would cause sufficient destruction in the enemy ranks to monopolize their attention.

  There were dozens of things that could go wrong with the plan, of course. Mortars were Pete's biggest concern, as they would make the shields pointless and could send the attack squads into disarray before the plan had even been enacted. Provided the enemy's attention was fixed on the squads, though, even this could be used to Pete's benefit. The goal was distraction more than anything else; buying time for Pete and Craig to slip across the river further downstream and make their way to the rebel fortress while everyone's attention was elsewhere.

  [Pete] We can't count on this working for long, so I vote we go for speed rather than stealth if shit goes bad.

  [Craig] Agreed. However closely we hug the trees, we will be exposed for at least thirty seconds or so while we make the river crossing. The water will slow our progress as well.

  And that was the final fly in the ointment as far as this plan went. Whatever happened, they'd need to cross the river, and that meant slowing their movement speed considerably for a certain amount of time and giving the enemy an easy target. They'd have no protection, no easy path to retreat, and no way to increase their movement speed.

  The longer they left it, however, the harder the game would get, so Pete committed to the plan, dispatching his squads while he and Craig made their way toward the left side of the battlefield.

  [Craig] You can still control the squads even though you can't see them.

  [Pete] Yeah. I've got a mini-map that pops up every time they're out of sight. I never noticed it while we were fighting Moneybags because they were always relatively close. I can direct the squads no matter where I am.

  The first minor success with the plan was when Pete received confirmation that the broader group of soldiers was willing to give up their grenades to the troops he specifically commanded. It was a similar situation with the shields, except that the hobgoblins that carried the protective plates insisted on carrying them and accompanying alpha and beta squads rather than handing over the shields altogether. He made sure of both of these factors before moving out of sight of his squads and having to rely on the mini-map for details of their progress.

  From that point, Pete and Craig broke with the larger group of soldiers and headed for the trees while they were still far enough back that, hopefully, they wouldn't be spotted by any snipers or lookouts from the opposing side. Fighting was still going on at the front of the battle, of course, but it had devolved into a series of periodic machine-gun bursts from the rebels and the responding fire from new mini-tanks, which had arrived to reinforce the Corporation army.

  As they headed through the trees, Pete kept a close eye on his squads. He'd ordered them to do essentially the same thing but made sure that they progressed toward different locations on the right side of the riverbank, ensuring that they were far enough apart that if one group was destroyed by mortar or artillery fire, the other squad would survive.

  The driving worry that both squads would be taken out of action relatively swiftly drove Pete to sprint as fast as he could. With his significantly reduced Agility, much of his former speed had vanished, but at least he was managing to stay upright, and, in melee, he had a decent shot at hitting his targets. Craig kept pace with ease, sprinting alongside Pete and deftly maneuvering past fallen logs and rock formations as the pair inscribed a tight arc that would bring them as close as possible to the river but hopefully out of sight of the defenders.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the edge of the trees and their intended crossing point, but those minutes passed with nerve-racking slowness. Pete expected the green circles indicating his squad members to flash red and blink out at any moment or to be taken out by a sniper before he and Craig even cleared the trees. As it was, the journey was uneventful, and the sounds coming from the battlefield suggested nothing out of the ordinary.

  By the time they reached the river, mortars had begun falling again, announcing themselves with a telltale whistle before the explosions signaled their impact. Pete kept one eye on the mini-map, confirming that his troops were still alive as he crouched low and headed to the river with Craig by his side.

  Whether by design or chance, the little goblin had decided to walk on Pete's left, effectively shielding him from attack if the rebels spotted them. It was a smart move either way. If Pete was shot down, perhaps his death would buy Craig enough time to continue, make it to the opposite bank, and gather some useful information.

  They broke from the trees, quickly covered the slim strip of land ahead of the river, and then moved into oddly warm water, attempting to splash as little as possible while still moving as quickly as they could manage. The water rose to Pete's shoulders, and he gave up walking in favor of a steady breaststroke, making sure to keep his hands and feet below the surface as he swam.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The soldier's uniform and weaponry pulled against Pete's body as he swam, forcing him to push harder to maintain momentum and rapidly sapping his energy. He turned to the right, looking up at the high stone walls of the fortress even though he knew there was no chance of actually spotting an enemy sniper at such a distance.

  Hulking demonic forms prowled the ramparts, their silhouetted forms backlit by a bright sun, wings protruding from their backs and horns twisting up from their heads. Judging by the fact that they were so clearly visible, Pete guessed that they were each at least the size of a hobgoblin, possibly larger. There were other figures walking about on the walls too, but they were too small to make out with any clarity.

  On the ground in front of the walls, haphazard obstacles and gun emplacements had been significantly upgraded, with pillbox-style bunkers here and there with large barrels poking out from thin slits across their front. Those were the machine guns that periodically peppered the Company troops, Pete guessed.

  Dozens of fire-wielding imps, blade-wielding demons, and larger units milled about beside the bunkers. They all looked stronger and better armored than the units Pete and Craig had encountered thus far, but very few of them boasted the status of being elites.

  [Pete] I think our chance of getting more relics is just about done.

  [Craig] There may be elites inside the walls.

  [Pete] Maybe. Sure as hell looks like it's gonna be harder to snag some relics, though. Even if we get a bunch of money, unless we find another ogre like Moneybags, that's not gonna do much good either.

  [Craig] We will prevail, Pete. We always do. Besides, there is no other option.

  Pete turned back and faced the riverbank he and Craig were heading toward. The little goblin's optimism was likely misplaced, but the fact that they hadn't been spotted yet suggested that there was at least a chance of success.

  They pressed on, and Pete tried to relax, forcing himself to remember that death here wasn't permanent. It would simply mean a delay and potentially the game getting slightly harder. It was a difficult thing to do when every instinct and experience he possessed was designed to avoid death at all costs.

  A horn blew once more, and Pete braced himself. Swimming next to him, Craig halted, and they both looked over at the huge gates of the fortress as they opened to the sound of chains being pulled.

  "Keep going!" Pete hissed, continuing to move toward the riverbank.

  They swam and watched as three huge figures stepped out from the interior of the fortress, each twice the size of the elite demons they'd encountered earlier, with spiral horns and wings spreading out from their backs. The larger demons held longswords that were almost as large as they were, as if they'd been pulled directly out of an anime series. Fire churned between their horns, and the smaller rebels all moved out of the way as they strode toward the river and the area where Pete had sent his two squads.

  "Guess there will be a chance for more relics," Pete said as he reached the riverbank and climbed out of the water. "As long as we can kill some of those big bastards."

  They ran for the trees, looking up at the fortress and the giant harpy floating above it. She hung in the air serenely, midnight black eyes surveying the scene seemingly with complete disinterest as gunfire was exchanged between the two warring armies.

  The sound of repeated explosions caught Pete's attention, but he was too far away to confirm whether his squads had begun hurling their grenades. A quick check of his mini-map confirmed that all squad members were still alive, but that was all the information he could gather.

  They moved up to the wall, still unseen by whatever enemy guards were standing watch up above.

  [Craig] Do you suppose the fortress has a back entrance?

  The little goblin was staring up at the vast walls ahead of them that stretched off into the distance.

  [Pete] You'd have to assume so. Or a side entrance at least. We need to find a way in, or we could try climbing over it, I suppose.

  Craig turned to face him, grinning. "Climb?" he whispered.

  Pete returned the grin. "Okay, maybe not. Let's see if we can find another way in."

  Soaking wet and conscious that time was rapidly passing, they started moving along the wall, away from the fighting. Each movement reminded Pete of just what a bad idea it was to be running in wet clothes, particularly the heavy uniform the Company troops wore.

  He pulled out his combat knife and held it ready, eyes fixed on the wall up ahead, searching for some sign of an opening. There was no logical reason why there should be a side entrance, of course, because nothing about this scenario was logical. The Company army was fighting with low-quality late twentieth-century weaponry, while the rebels also fought with magic and archaic swords and the like. The vast harpy that was supposed to act as the protector of the rebels was just hovering above the ground, apparently unconcerned about what was going on below her. Most telling of all, the attack and defense strategies of each side were haphazard and illogical, as though the designer of the game knew the basics of warfare but didn't want to bother with historical accuracy or avoiding anachronistic or cross-genre elements.

  As they ran, Pete reminded himself that they were trapped within a propaganda film, forced to fight on the side of the oppressive Company regime, but in a way that made them seem like underdogs. It was all utterly absurd, yet the pain he felt when he was wounded felt real, and the stakes were vividly real.

  [Craig] There! Up ahead.

  Pete slowed his pace a little, looking up to where the goblin was pointing. A medieval-style archway was nestled into the side of the wall with half a dozen guards standing nearby. As they moved closer, Pete confirmed that there was a single elite demon that was mercifully not one of the hulking figures that had come walking out of the fortress earlier. There were four fire-hurling imps and a pair of regular demons.

  Craig and Pete slowed to a steady walk, hugging close to the shadow of the wall and crouching down low.

  [Craig] How do we proceed?

  [Pete] If you can take care of the imps, I'll hit big boy and try to take out the regulars. Don't start shooting until I'm real close though. If we need to take them out quickly and quietly.

  The little goblin frowned as he unslung his rifle.

  [Pete] Okay, so we're not gonna be able to be completely quiet, obviously. But you get what I mean. Don't want to alert whatever is inside that door that we're here if we can help it.

  [Craig] Of course. But the moment I fire, it will be obvious that we are attacking. We are far enough away from the front lines that anyone nearby will hear.

  [Pete] I guess speed is most important then. We need to get through that door before they lock us out. Once I get close, I'll check out the door situation.

  A quick scan of his active relics revealed bonuses to attack and defense, dodge, resistances, life gain on hit, and a small amount of damage reflection. Nothing he had improved speed, and the still-wet trousers clinging to his legs would make moving quickly even more challenging.

  [Craig] Ready when you are.

  The goblin was kneeling, holding the rifle against his shoulder with one eye pressed against the scope.

  [Pete] Okay, let's do it.

  Pete ran, the thick fabric of his trousers rubbing loudly as he sprinted toward the enemy with his knife held out front. The whooshing sound of one leg rubbing against the other alerted the enemy while he was still a good thirty feet away. They turned, the elite demon frowning with something like confusion as Pete charged forward.

  One of the fire imps was the first to react, gathering a ball of fire and aiming at Pete as he closed the distance. Before the imp could engage its spell, the creature's head exploded. A crack of gunfire bounced off the wall and ground as Craig fired at a second imp, once more blowing the demon's head clean off.

  The elite demon roared, brandishing both swords as it ran toward Pete. A moment before they met in battle, Pete caught sight of more fire imps pouring out of the archway in the wall and joining their rebels in the fight.