Fire and Lead in the Dark
The battlefield was chaos. The stench of burning metal and gunpowder mixed with the acrid smoke rising from the wreckage. General Charles stood at the frontlines, his M4A1 slung tight against his shoulder, scanning the battlefield with sharp, experienced eyes.
The Nightmare Beasts—or Alien Monsters, as the soldiers called them—came in waves. Twisted, grotesque figures of blackened flesh and writhing appendages, some towering over vehicles, others skittering across walls like insects. They absorbed plasma rounds like air, rendering modern weaponry useless.
But bullets worked—just not well enough.
"Takes too damn long to kill them." Charles noted grimly as he emptied another magazine into a screeching beast. The monster jerked back, thick black ooze spilling from its body. It lunged.
Charles sidestepped, switching to his Glock 17, and fired point-blank into the creature's glowing eye sockets.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The thing shuddered violently before collapsing into a pile of writhing flesh, disintegrating into ash.
Reinforcements Arrive – Firearms Deployment
Above them, the thunder of incoming spacecraft echoed through the battlefield.
"General! Army reinforcements inbound!"
Charles didn't even flinch as three massive warships descended from the sky, their engines roaring as they deployed heavy troop carriers. The Neraida Defense Forces had finally arrived in full force, their dark-blue armored ships hovering low.
Columns of soldiers poured out, moving in tight formations. Supply convoys rolled in, loaded with crates of firearms—all ancient weapons salvaged from the military museum just hours ago. Soldiers rushed to arm themselves.
"History's repeating itself," Charles thought. "We're back to lead and steel."
A radio transmission crackled in his earpiece.
"General Charles, command requests you return to the main ship for strategic coordination."
Charles gritted his teeth. He hated being away from the frontlines, but this wasn't a battle he could win alone. The entire city was on the verge of collapse.
He signaled to his security detail.
"Move out!"
The warship's hangar was a flurry of activity. Engineers worked frantically to repairing old weapons, while analysts pored over battlefield footage. Every single plasma weapon had been abandoned. Old firearms—AK-47s, M4s, M240 machine guns, RPG-7s—were now standard issue.
The high command gathered around a holographic map. The Nightmare Beasts were spreading, attacking in waves, breaching fortifications faster than they could be reinforced.
One of the commanders slammed his fist on the table.
"We can't hold them back forever, General! Bullets work, but we need too many to take down a single one! We're burning through ammunition at an unsustainable rate!"
Charles scanned the map. His mind raced.
"We adapt." His voice was firm. "We slow them down, make every bullet count. Set up kill zones—tight spaces, controlled engagements, use terrain to our advantage."
"Sir, our losses are increasing—"
"I know!" Charles snapped. He exhaled, then continued. "Get me napalm, explosives, flamethrowers—if bullets work, then fire should as well. And tell the engineers to find armor-piercing rounds, incendiary ammo—anything!"
The officers nodded grimly and relayed the orders.
Suddenly, an alert blared.
"BREAKTHROUGH AT SECTOR 7! CREATURES BREACHED THE SECTOR 5!"
Charles's eyes hardened.
"Prep my dropship. I'm leading the counterattack myself."
The dropship screamed through the air, its engines glowing against the smoke-filled skyline. Below, fires raged across the city, and the streets were littered with wreckage. The Nightmare Beasts swarmed like locusts, tearing through concrete and steel like paper.
Charles checked his M4A1. Full mag.
The ramp lowered.
"GO! GO! GO!"
He and his team jumped straight into the warzone.
The streets of Neraida were a battlefield of fire and smoke. Buildings half-collapsed, bodies of Nightmare Beasts littering the ground, some still twitching as their corrupted flesh slowly disintegrated into black sludge. The air reeked of burnt gunpowder and blood.
The Nightmare Titan slowly heading toward them, towering over the ruins, its hulking form covered in thick, black chitin-like armor, glowing fissures pulsing beneath its hide. Bullets had wounded it, but not enough to bring it down.
"HOLD THE LINE!" Charles' voice boomed through comms as he slammed a fresh magazine into his M4A1.
Hundreds of soldiers rallied, taking cover behind barricades, overturned vehicles, and makeshift sandbag defenses. Snipers repositioned. Riflemen checked their mags. The kill zone had slowed the smaller creatures—but this one? It was different.
It was smart.
It watched them. Its jagged maw opened, releasing a piercing, unnatural scream that shattered glass and rattled eardrums.
Then—it charged.
"That thing's not going down with regular fire," Captain Riggs growled over comms. "We need a damn plan."
Charles' mind raced. The Titan shrugged off bullets like rain, and RPGs barely slowed it down. The orbital strike earlier had failed—there was no calling in another one.
They had to kill it here.
"Alright, listen up!" Charles barked. "We take it down in phases. We need to break its legs first—cripple its movement! Aim for the joints!"
"YES, SIR!" The response came in unison.
Phase One – Cut Its Speed.
Phase One – Cripple the Beast
"GIVE IT EVERYTHING!"
A storm of bullets erupted.
Snipers focused fire on its knees, their .50 caliber rounds punching through thick hide. Teams flanked from both sides, unloading magazines into the creature's joints, forcing it to stumble.
"FIRE TEAM SIX, FRAG OUT!"
Grenades exploded at its feet. The Titan lurched, its massive form teetering.
RPGs launched—the rockets spiraled through the air, striking the Titan's legs in fiery detonations.
The beast ROARED in agony, its movements slowing.
"IT'S WORKING!"
But then—it retaliated.
The Titan swung one massive claw, its bladed arm tearing through barricades and sending soldiers flying like ragdolls. A dozen men screamed as they were sent crashing into wreckage.
"FALL BACK! KEEP YOUR DISTANCE!"
Charles ducked behind an overturned military truck, gritting his teeth. They were hurting it—but not enough.
"WE NEED TO GET UNDER IT!"
Charles saw it—a weak point. The Titan's underbelly wasn't as heavily armored.
"Fire Teams Four and Five—draw its attention!"
Two squads broke cover, firing in controlled bursts, baiting the Titan toward them. The beast turned, stepping forward—right into the trap.
Heavy gunners unloaded with M240 machine guns, cutting into the softer flesh beneath. More RPGs fired, blasting holes into the armor.
"IT'S WORKING!"
Then—the Titan screeched and slammed both arms down. The shockwave sent soldiers sprawling.
It was wounded—but furious.
Charles knew they had to finish it NOW.
Charles grabbed his radio.
"RIGGS! Bring the heavy hitters in!"
A new squad rushed in—elite demolition experts, carrying satchel charges and high-explosive C4 packs.
They had one chance.
"SNIPERS, COVER THEM!"
Charles sprinted forward, covering one of the demo soldiers as they raced beneath the Titan, dodging its thrashing limbs.
"CHARGES PLANTED!"
"GET OUT OF THERE!"
The Titan lurched back, confused, black ooze pouring from its wounds.
It roared—raising its arms for one final, devastating slam.
Charles lifted his rifle.
One shot.
One trigger pull.
The bullet struck the detonator.
BOOOOOOM!
The Titan's underbelly ERUPTED. Flames and shockwaves tore through its body as the creature staggered, its torso splitting apart in a fiery inferno.
It let out one final, deafening wail—then collapsed.
Silence.
Then—cheers erupted.
"IT'S DEAD!"
"WE KILLED IT!"
Charles exhaled, lowering his rifle. His body ached. His head throbbed. But the job was done.
The Titan had fallen.
Soldiers gathered, exhaustion weighing on them, but relief clear in their eyes.
Captain Riggs approached, covered in dust and blood.
"Guess that worked," he muttered, lighting a cigarette.
Charles let out a short, tired laugh.
"It did."
But as he looked over the battlefield—the ruins of the city, the wounded, the destruction—he knew this wasn't over.