The Beginning of the Siege; August 27th

Sergeant Usov, squad leader. He was a short stocky man, a veteran. Practically a myth amongst the new recruits. One of the original soldiers summoned by General Reichenbacher. Hell, Usov looked back upon the days the General had been a lieutenant and captain with a bit of fondness. They were a simpler time, the army smaller, more tightly knit. Now there were thousands of the new guys.

Usov walked over to his squad, lounging about his BTR. All around the platoon was getting some last minute rest. Hell, the battalion tactical group had been selected to lead the initial assault. Best Usov could figure was that men deserved some rest, almost a week of constant fighting had gotten them here, now it was time for the big show.

Usov glanced up as a sea of rockets soared over his head. He grimaced, walking over to his squad, a bunch of misfits he'd turned into proper soldiers. Usov's low voice nearly rumbled as he spoke. "Petr, the boys ready?"

"Tired Sergeant, but ready to move." the corporal replied with a yawn. He passed the sergeant his PKM. Usov took it with a nod, glancing at the men sleeping, heads resting against the tires or their comrades as they caught a little sleep.

"Try to get some sleep corporal. Soon we'll be in the thick of it." Usov grumbled, sitting next to the corporal as he shifted and leaned his head back, loud snores came from him before Usov had even fully sat down.

The sergeant shook his head and began maintaining the machine gun in his arms. He cleaned it thoroughly, and had it back together by the time the platoon sergeant was walking between the various BTRs, waking everyone.

Usov nodded to the man and stood, his voice startling his squad awake instantly. "Mount up! We got a job to do."

The soldiers quickly scrambled into the BTR, the driver started it, exhaust sputtering from the exhaust. Usov clambered in his seat beside the driver, giving the private a nod. He grabbed the radio as he felt the hatches slam shut.

"Follow the Lieutenant." Usov directed the private while he started troubleshooting why the radio wasn't working. Damn power cable came out…

Finishing plugging everything back in he grabbed the radio, performing the comms checks. Usov peered through the vision ports. Ahead of his BTR was his Lieutenant's and just ahead of that was the battalion's tank platoon, nine T-72s racing down the highway.

The column raced into the shelled, burning ruins of San Teresa. A rocket flew from a building, slamming into the lead tank's era. The whole column fanned out, shooting in the direction the rocket had come from.

"Dismount!" Usov's voice echoed through the cramped interior as the driver slowed to a crawl. Hatches flew open and soldier jumped out, machine gun fire stitched the vehicle, a few falling to the ground screaming and clutching and wounds.

Usov directed his squad to quickly get off the road. Scrambling into the ruins of a house the soldiers quickly found it wasn't empty.

A pair of dirty wild eyed survivors with m4s greeted them with bursts of automatic rifle fire. Usov sprayed their direction with his machine gun, one of the survivors caught a round to the forehead, splitting his skull and painting the rubble behind him crimson. 

As Usov was preparing to storm the final bastard he heard a panicked scream, the dumping of a magazine and a bloody shrill cry. Flipping around the corner he saw a reaver latched onto the now bloody corpse of his ambusher.

The thing looked up, clawed hands glistening with blood, its long razor like teeth snarled as it prepared to punch at him. It never got the chance. Usov's PKM sang, two dozen rounds blew out the reaver's spine and it fell, claiming angrily as it hissed and flailed.

"Clear the building!" Usov commanded as he walked up and put another round through the things head.

"Sergeant! We have a horde incoming!" One of the soldiers shouted. Usov raced across the house. Damn it! He wasn't kidding either.

Usov sprawled out on the floor as he set up the bipod. He glanced at his corporal. "Get the men in position, then go get the platoon sergeant!"

The corporal nodded, quickly shoving the riflemen into combat positions to cover any potential avenue of approach that the undead might fill, then disappeared. Usov calmly lined up his sigh on the burping tank lumbering forward, the mountain of muscle leading the horde and depressed the trigger, he didn't let up until the gun clicked on an empty chamber.

Hosing the muscled mutant in 7.62 only seemed to anger it. The beast stopped and roared at the sky, leaning forward into charge when an RPG slammed into its chest, blowing massive chunks across the street. The now dead tank was simply thrown aside by the others that had been following it. Berserkers and Reavers sprinted past it, quickly closing the distance. Grenades were thrown, giving the soldiers the briefest reprieve.

A pair of T-72s burst through the building on either side of the squad. Machine guns began to chatter, 7.62 and 14.5mm rounds tearing at the horde. The turrets swung, targeting the muscle bound tanks, a pair of high explosive rounds cleared most of the street. But all that firepower meant nothing to Usov and his squad, now faced with half a dozen Reavers at point blank range.

Usov came up to a knee, hip firing his lmg, stitching a trio that lunged for a pair of his soldiers. A heavy form slammed into his shoulder, heat spread across his shoulder and back. The stocky sergeant,never one to quit foisted the reaver off his back, slammin it into a wall. His left arm a mangled useless wreck. He dropped the machine gun and drew the makarov at his side, emptying the magazine as the reaver lunged at him again.

Slammed into the ground and dazed, the sergeant waited for his end. Why was there nothing? He glanced down to see the reaver lifelessly lying atop him. The corporal hoisted the corpse off him. Looking down at his squad leader he shouted at one of the privates. "Get a medic!"

Usov glanced around, seeing more soldiers than before… some he didn't recognize. Everything seemed blurry… he laughed but no sound came out, just a small mouthful of blood. The Corporal dropped to a knee, grabbing Usov's tourniquet, unfolding it and wrapping it around his left arm. The man wretched the thing, then wound the windlass tightly. Usov groaned, biting his lip. He wasn't sure if he was drawing blood or more was pooling in his mouth.

The medic appeared suddenly, a ugly old crusty fuck that couldnt have seemed more divinely beautiful in that moment as he began quickly checking Usov over. "Fuck… Stretcher! Get him to the casevac!"

The corporal loaded him onto a stretcher and patted his shoulder. "You'll be alright, sergeant. Doc's sending you to the rear, you'll be alright!" Usov grabbed his arm, eyes boring into him. The world was spinning and darkening all at once… but… no…

"Petr… make sure… the boys… go ho…"