The hardest part about this job is you can’t always save everyone.

  -Samurai Helios, 2051

  As soon as Max got knocked out of sight, everything went to shit.

  Hazel and the rest of the PMC responded remarkably quickly, all things considered. Going into the main hive while she duked it out with whatever hit her away could quite blatantly be called a death sentence, so the group of mercs instead chose to fortify the mouth of the tunnel. A swarm of weaker Antithesis responded with an assault of their own, but between two well aimed rifles and a flamethrower ripe for use the pack of single digits were promptly scorched and shredded.

  Then the tentacled monstrosity of plant material called the Model Thirteen crawled into the tunnel, and from there the operation spiraled out of control.

  Everyone recalled their anti-xeno training well enough to remember that running simply wasn't an option; the Thirteen was a model designed with speed in mind and would run them down before they could make even a few strides back the way they came. Fighting it off was the only way to get out alive, either that or stalling until Max was able to regroup and take care of it herself. Either strategy required throwing everything they could at the Antithesis and hoping it would be enough.

  Gunfire and flame alike poured relentlessly out of the group's weapons and into the thrashing alien, both sides locked into a stalemate. The Thirteen was pushed back by the weaponry to a non-lethal distance, but that distance could be expanded no further. There was none of that joking or malaise at this point from the PMC, only an adrenaline fueled focus that made sure they all kept firing their weapons on the very real threat of death.

  All except for Rudy; he hesitated. Internally, he knew what was on the line. If they didn't kill that accursed alien, everyone here was plant food. Rudy wasn't one who was prone to freezing under pressure either; that was something piano recitals had long since drilled out of him. Yet his hand refused to move towards the weapon.

  Frankly, he hated guns, and despised having to use them at his job. They were loud and abrasive, and the kickback always made him uncomfortable. The first time he got his hands on an old revolver during weapons training he nearly blasted his thumb clean off from the recoil. There was a reason Rudy was most comfortable from behind his tablet, letting a drone do all the work.

  Doesn't help that Campbell was right on the money; Rudy was a comically bad shot.

  Another gout of fire washed out of Barrett’s flamethrower, sending the Antithesis scrambling back down the tunnel towards the hive. The flames looked to be having an effect with how it was slowly charing away the tentacles and main bodies alike, even if one that was more gradual than everyone would have preferred. With enough time they could kill it, it was just a matter of if the Thirteen would give them that time.

  Rudy grit his teeth and finally managed to unsheathe his gun, just a simple pistol meant more for self-defense for his role and one that was standard issue for the company. Had he ever actually fired it outside the range? Couldn't even put a name to the thing he'd used it so little. The weapon began to feel loose in his grip, and he worried for a moment that the sweat of his hands would cause it to slip out entirely. His hands always got clammy at the most stressful of times.

  Before that insecurity could get to him, he pointed the gun in the direction of the Antithesis and pulled the trigger. Bang. The gun was loud, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of bullet fire around him. It was hard to perfectly make out where the bullet collided in the dark tunnel, only illuminated by their headlamps and the roiling flames, but even Rudy must have hit the Thirteen with how little else it could strike.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The sound of firing from Rudy's left halted, and a curse escaped Campbell's lips. “I'm dry!” As fast as he could he unholstered his sidearm and began unloading into the target, a look of tense panic on his face.

  The mood grew dour, for if Campbell was out then Hazel must not be far behind. Barrett let loose his flames, even stronger than before in an unending, torrential onslaught of heat. It became difficult to stay close, and even from behind his protective suit Barrett was starting to get uncomfortable himself. Second after second fire poured out, everyone secretly hoping that it would be enough to kill the Thirteen.

  A wet, stabbing sound could be heard and in an instant the flames ceased. Not because he ran out of fuel, but because his fingers fell limp off the trigger. One of the chitinous blades of a tentacle had pierced through the flames and struck Barrett, right into his heart. All he could muster was a wet gurgle, just barely audible from behind his hood.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Barrett!” Hazel screamed out, unloading the rest of her gun into the Thirteen, now heavily wounded and partially aflame, with reckless abandon and a furious roar. Campbell matched that anger and proceeded to shoot every bullet he had left.

  Rudy again froze, this time out of proper fear. Things were bad. Really bad. Seeing Barrett dangling lifelessly from the tentacle only furthered that panic, and if nothing changed the entire team only had minutes to live with how quickly the other two were unloading their bullets.

  “If I were ever to be killed by those aliens, I'd want to take out as many as I could with me before I go.”

  Those words traveled to the front of Rudy's mind. It was from a conversation the team had a while ago back at their Orson headquarters, which was really just a dingy office on the east wing of the Murdock building. Even the water cooler they had there came out of their paycheck. Somehow the topic of death had come up, although that wasn't unexpected in their line of work. Hazel and Campbell gave answers Rudy expected, those relating to being with family at the end or just blowing off the topic with an overly grandiose answer, but what was surprising was Barrett's answer, the tall ginger man's face a touch playful in response but still completely serious. He never did engage that much in conversation, not out of dislike but instead lack of need, so when he actually had something to say it was likely a point he felt quite passionate about.

  “Do you really think it’ll be the aliens that will do you in?” Rudy ended up asking back then. “There haven’t been any Antithesis sightings since you and that Samurai took care of that budding hive.”

  The specific motion of Barrett stroking his stubble came to mind, mainly because Rudy found it humorous that Barrett had said he’d grow it out, then doubled back two weeks later due to it looking like shit. “That doesn’t mean they won’t show up again one day. And…something tells me that’s how I’d go out.”

  “Hazel and Campbell are too big of softies to put me down if needed, Rudolf,” Barrett had added, which only earned a few scoffs from his coworkers at the time, but he gave Rudy a soft smile with a stern look. “So if it ever does come down to it, I want you to help me go down in a blaze of glory, alright?”

  Rudy returned to the present with a timely duck, falling right below a tentacle that had lunged out far too close for comfort. Bullets still fired at the Antithesis, and the situation was still dire, but Rudy was spurred into action. He had a way to save everyone, or at least he hoped he did.

  He pointed his gun at the tank on Barrett's back. Barrett had explained at one point how the gasses within the canister were pressurized to the point of being an explosion risk, hence why he never was leading the charge. It only took one stray bullet and one loose flame to set everything ablaze. Right now, that’s almost exactly what they needed.

  Rudy closed his eyes, and mouthed some final words to his teammate.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Bang.

  Everything happened so fast that it was difficult to fully comprehend. The sound of the tank being punctured, the sharp hiss of its contents, and its reaction to the still-burning Antithesis may as well have all happened instantly. What Rudy did remember were the sensations; the feeling of weightlessness that pushed him down the tunnel, the ear splitting blast caused from the igniting fumes, and the oppressive heat that washed over his front. All before everything went black.

  When he came to, he was met with pain. Horrible, searing pain from burns covering his entire arm. His ears rang with a sharp, grating tone, only just able to make out the similar screams of pain from his comrades. Seeing was blurry and difficult, but down the tunnel was motionless, save for the flames dancing along the remains of the Model Thirteen.

  No, there was other movement. Just barely visible from the fire illuminating the cavern, a pitch black figure bounded over to the three of them, their calls impossible to make out but clearly panicked. They stopped for a few moments by the Thirteen, but that only seemed to make their mood even worse, their body shuddering with rage.

  The words that Max was saying started to become coherent in Rudy's mind, stuff like “Are you okay?” and “What happened here?” even if it all was still muffled from the ringing. Before he could ever reply, a sharp pain coursed through his skull and soon the haze returned. Had he hit his head on the fall?

  No, that wasn't it, because what followed was a voice in his head. A feminine, almost melodic voice he didn't recognize as his own.

  System Initialized.

  Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Lycia. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat. Rise Rudolf Moore, and become a protector of the weak!

  Let's put on a show, shall we?

  It took him a moment to process, but he was completely unable to keep his most immediate thought internal. “I think I'm a Samurai now.”

  An amused chuckle rang out from inside his mind.

  You are indeed.