This time, there was no hesitation in the group when they followed him.
They pushed deeper into the town, moving tighter now, more aware of each other's positions.
The gunfire that had filled the streets earlier had nearly disappeared. The silence pressed in around them, heavy and unnatural. It meant one of two things: squads were finishing the objective… or they weren't making it this far at all.
Mercer wiped the sweat from his forehead, his grip tightening slightly on his rifle. 'We're not ahead. If anything… we're late.'
The thought had barely settled before everything snapped back into motion. Shots cracked through the air.
Rounds tore past them, slamming into the street and walls, forcing all four to break instantly.
"Contact!" Mercer called as they scattered.
He dove behind the burned-out husk of a vehicle, dropping low behind the engine block. The metal was warped and blackened, but solid enough to stop rounds. He pressed in tight, steadying his breathing.
Silas moved left, sliding into cover along the corner of a building. Instead of hugging it, he stepped back a few feet, giving himself a wider angle to work with while keeping most of his body hidden.
Asher dropped behind a stack of sandbags on the right side of the street, bracing himself quickly.
Elliot scrambled further than the others before ducking behind a collapsed market stall. A bent metal counter and broken wood gave him partial cover, but not much. He crouched low, shoulders tense, flinching slightly at each impact nearby.
Mercer peeked out just enough to get a read. Two shooters. Opposite sides of the street, staggered positions. One closer, one slightly further back. He made the call quickly.
"Silas, take the left. Asher, suppress right!" Mercer ordered.
Silas leaned out, catching movement immediately. One of the enemies shifted around a corner, raising his rifle toward Mercer's position.
Silas fired first. A single, controlled shot. The round hit center mass, and the recruit dropped back out of view, vest lighting up red.
But the second enemy didn't hesitate. He swung out wider than expected and opened fire, not at Silas, but toward the middle of the street, forcing Mercer and Asher both down.
Rounds struck the car Mercer was behind, punching into the metal with sharp, violent impacts. He flinched back, heart jumping as one round ricocheted close enough to feel.
'Bad call. I split them, but didn't pin the second one fast enough.'
"Asher, more pressure!" Mercer shouted.
Asher leaned out and fired in controlled bursts, forcing the shooter to duck, but the angle wasn't perfect.
Elliot tried to help. He raised himself slightly, trying to line up a shot, but the moment a round snapped overhead, he froze again. His breathing picked up, uneven, his grip tightening too hard on the rifle.
"I-I can't see him…" Elliot said, voice strained.
Mercer glanced over, frustration flickering for a split second before he forced it down. 'He's not failing….but he's scared…I need to help him.'
"Elliot, listen to me," Mercer called, keeping his voice firm but controlled. "You don't need a perfect shot. Just keep your aim low and send rounds downrange. Make him stay down."
Elliot hesitated… then nodded, even if Mercer couldn't fully see it. He leaned out again, this time not exposing as much, and fired shorter bursts toward the enemy's position. It wasn't perfect, but it added just enough pressure.
That was the shift. Silas saw it. The enemy adjusted, just slightly, reacting to Elliot's fire. Silas leaned out again, slower this time, more precise.
He tracked the movement, waited half a second longer, then fired. The shot landed clean. The second enemy dropped, vest flashing red as he collapsed behind cover.
Silence returned. This time, it felt earned. Mercer stayed in position for another second, scanning, listening for any follow-up movement. Nothing came.
He exhaled slowly, then raised his hand. He raised two fingers and motioned them forward. Clear and advance.
They moved immediately. Silas crossed first, weapon up. Asher followed, covering wide. Elliot pushed off his cover last, still tense but moving with more control now. Mercer stepped out and fell into position as they advanced.
They moved through the street with structure, covering angles, watching windows, checking corners. It wasn't perfect, but it was coordinated in a way it hadn't been before.
It felt like a unit. As they pushed further in, the town opened slightly, giving them a clearer view ahead.
Mercer's eyes swept the open street ahead, chest still tight from the firefight, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel it—a fragile, flickering confidence that maybe, just maybe, they could make it through this together.