Allies
The captain opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The room was shrouded in semi-darkness: the curtains covered the window, allowing only thin slivers of light to seep through. His head buzzed, not from alcohol but from thoughts. Memories of the previous night brought a strange sense of heaviness. He sighed, threw off the blanket, and sat on the bed, clutching his head with his hands. Then, straightening up, he instinctively reached for the military trousers lying on the chair by the bed.
A few minutes later, he was already in the bathroom. When he turned sideways, the mirror partly reflected his burnt back, covered with a web of old scars and burns. These marks of the past he usually hid under his uniform, but now he was without it. The captain turned on the water, scooped some into his palms, and splashed his face. Then he retrieved a razor and carefully began shaving, watching his reflection.
Meanwhile, Charlie hesitated outside his door. The night before, she had noticed the captain's strange behavior, his detachment. Usually, he was up long before everyone else, giving orders, but today it was already noon, and there was no sound from his room. Finally, she mustered the courage to knock.
Silence.
Charlie cautiously opened the door and peeked inside. The room was empty, but the unmade bed and the open bathroom door indicated the captain's presence. She took a few steps inside to make sure everything was all right.
"Oh? Oh… OH."
Peeking into the bathroom, she froze. In front of her stood the captain, bent over the sink. His bare back, shoulders, and left arm were covered with horrifying scars left by burns. For a second, Charlie was stunned, her gaze lingering on the sight longer than it should have.
"Not used to knocking?" the captain said quietly but firmly, without turning around, having noticed her reflection in the mirror.
Charlie blushed and quickly turned away.
"Sorry, I just… I wanted to check if everything was all right. It's already noon, and you usually…" She trailed off, unsure how to continue.
The captain, having finished shaving, rinsed his face and grabbed a towel. He pulled on a tank top and then donned his jacket before stepping out of the bathroom and walking past Charlie. Her gaze fell on the small table by the bed. On it sat an untouched glass of juice and a cookie. Beside them lay an old photograph.
Curiosity got the better of her. She leaned closer to examine it, but before she could pick up the photo, the captain appeared beside her and snatched it away.
"It's rude to touch other people's things," he said with a sharp note of reproach, tucking the photo into his pocket.
Charlie lowered her gaze, feeling awkward.
"Sorry, I… I just…"
A few moments of silence passed before she dared to ask,
"Those scars… Where did they come from?"
The captain paused, his gaze lingering on Charlie. His eyes narrowed as if weighing whether to answer. Then, he curtly said,
"They're the least of what I paid for my mistakes."
His voice was calm, but the deep pain in his eyes was unmistakable. He walked past Charlie, making it clear the conversation was over.
Left alone, Charlie stood there, staring at the closed door. His words affected her more deeply than she had expected, leaving her with a strange feeling of unease. The captain's response not only provided no clarity but also raised new questions. What ghosts of the past haunted this strong and unwavering leader? And if the horrifying scars were just a small part of the price for his mistakes... what was the rest of it?
The bar was slowly coming to life. Someone in the corner cursed at a broken machine, while in another part of the room, a puddle spread dangerously close to exposed wires. Lewis, lying face down on a table, groaned loudly and barely lifted his head. His eyes struggled to focus on the surroundings.
"Who… what… where are we?" His voice was hoarse as if he'd been screaming all night.
David sat nearby, his sticky hair sticking out in all directions, and a napkin clung to his cheek. Irritably, he peeled it off, looking at the remnants of chaos on the table.
"In hell, Lewis. In the most literal sense," he grumbled, rubbing his temples.
"Yeah," Ares drawled, the only one of the trio who looked relatively alert. Stretching, he spun an empty bottle in his hands. "Last night was fun, though I don’t remember a damn thing."
"As always," David sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We need water and something edible. I feel like I’ve wandered the desert for 40 years."
"You really made a joke about your nationality? Who are you, and what did you do with David?" Ares joked.
They began gathering the remnants of last night's "fun," picking up helmets, weapons, and strange trophies from the table. One helmet somehow had lipstick on it, and among the empty bottles, a couple of severed fingers were discovered.
Lewis slumped into a chair, propping his elbows on the table.
"Alright, can someone explain how we ended up here?"
David frowned, trying to recall.
"We stumbled into this bar after… hell if I know what happened. It’s all a blur."
"The only thing I clearly remember is explosions," Ares said with a grin. "Lots of explosions."
At that moment, a cheerful voice sounded behind them.
"Lots of explosions is putting it mildly!"
The trio spun around sharply. Cherry Bomb stood there, looking as if she hadn’t drunk at all the previous night. She was her usual energetic self, grinning from ear to ear and holding a bottle in her hand.
"Who are you?" David drawled.
"Morning, boys!" She noisily set the bottle on the table. "Don’t recognize me?"
Lewis buried his face in his hands and groaned.
"Cherry… Of course. Damn it, Cherry, you nearly got us killed last night!"
"Oh, come on!" Cherry waved her hand and laughed. "It was just a few fireworks. And a couple of hand grenades… By the way, you guys looked great, especially trying to dodge and drink at the same time."
"Dodge what?" David asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.
"Ah, that’s not important!" She waved it off and plopped into the nearest chair. "The important thing is that you’re still alive, which means we can keep the fun going."
"We’ve had enough of your 'fun'," Lewis muttered gloomily.
"Oh, come on!" Cherry leaned closer, flashing her signature sly smile. "Listen, boys, I’ve got an idea."
David sighed.
"I already don’t like this…"
"No, no, seriously! You don’t want to get bored, do you? And I just happen to have a job for fun guys like you."
"A job?" Lewis tensed. "What kind of job?"
"Nothing too complicated. Just blow something up, scare someone a little, and maybe shake down some arrogant debtors."
"That doesn’t sound promising," David muttered, glaring at her.
"Oh, stop it, you know it’s always exciting with me!" Cherry slapped the table. "Come on, guys, you’re my favorite crew. Let’s make this hellhole a bit… livelier."
The trio exchanged glances. Finally, Ares spoke up.
"Well, we don’t have any better ideas. And I like your vibes!"
"How sweet!" Cherry grinned. She raised her bottle in a toast.
"Here’s to new 'fun'!"
David (grudgingly) and Ares (enthusiastically) raised their glasses, while Lewis simply slumped face-first onto the table, knowing they were in for yet another dubious adventure.
The captain entered the lounge, which Sparta’s soldiers had commandeered as a meeting room during their last few days at the hotel. Charlie and Vaggie, the owners, had no objections, so all gatherings went smoothly.
"Good morning, Captain," greeted Sergeant Edward.
"Morning, Sergeant," the captain replied. "Alright, don’t drag it out—what’s the progress?"
"The tablet’s fully operational, sir," Edward reported. "Judging by the data, they’ve moved deeper into the ruined districts. They’ve outlined a rough route, which makes the search a thousand times easier. With drone support, we’ll find them much faster than just combing through the sprawling city."
"Excellent. Gather the men, Ward," the captain ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Edward replied crisply.
Some time later, Charlie descended to the hotel’s first floor. She arrived just as the captain began another briefing for his soldiers. As always, they were planning to continue searching for their missing comrades. Charlie froze on the stairs, watching the scene unfold.
The captain stood by the table, a map spread out before him, surrounded by his soldiers. His tone was firm but calm, and every command he gave was crystal clear.
"Our guys are out there," he said, pointing to a specific area on the map. "They were looking for shelter. Residential buildings, bars, warehouses—anything that could provide even temporary protection. Our task is to find them before someone else does."
"And what if we run into locals again?" Andreas grumbled.
"We’ll have to stay restrained," the captain replied firmly. "Fighting is a last resort. Ammo is severely limited. We’re searching for our people, not picking fights."
The soldiers nodded in agreement, though Andreas’s expression made it clear he wasn’t thrilled with the approach.
Charlie, feeling a tightness in her chest from the tension, decisively stepped down.
"Wait," she said, drawing attention to herself.
All heads turned toward her, and the atmosphere in the hall shifted immediately. The soldiers looked at her as if she had said something outrageous. Even the captain froze, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze cold and scrutinizing.
"I can help you," Charlie said, her voice trembling slightly. "I know Hell better than any of you. If your soldiers were looking for shelter, I can show you where that might be."
"We’ll manage on our own," the captain replied curtly, his tone clipped.
"Listen," she continued, trying not to lose confidence. "If you waste hours searching, it could cost someone their life. I can lead you there directly."
Before the captain could respond, Vaggie approached them. Her expression was serious, but her eyes showed a hint of worry.
"Charlie," she said quietly but firmly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Yes," Charlie quickly replied, turning to her. "I want to help, and I can do it."
"If you really want to help," Vaggie interrupted, now addressing the captain, "perhaps it’s better if I’m the one to act as the guide."
"What?" Charlie froze, stunned by her friend’s words.
Vaggie held her gaze steady on the captain and added,
"Charlie isn’t used to such missions. It’s dangerous. She might know Hell, but I know how to handle these situations. If you really believe a guide will help, let me do it."
The captain silently studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. He appeared to consider her suggestion carefully before finally responding.
"Fine. You’ll come with us, but you’ll follow my orders. One wrong move, and you’re out."
"Understood," Vaggie replied simply, not fully understanding why she had agreed in the first place.
"For Charlie’s safety," she whispered herself.
"Prep time is thirty minutes," the captain added, addressing the rest of the soldiers. "We move out immediately after."
The soldiers dispersed, leaving Charlie and Vaggie alone.
"Why did you do that?" Charlie asked quietly, looking at her friend.
"Because you shouldn’t put yourself at risk," Vaggie replied, genuine concern in her voice. "You’re trying to help, and that’s good. But I know better how to handle these situations. Trust me, it’ll be okay."
Charlie lowered her gaze, unable to find the words. Her heart was filled with gratitude and resentment at the same time.
"Thank you," she finally whispered.
"It’ll be fine," Vaggie added reassuringly, offering a faint smile. "Just trust me."
Charlie nodded, though her chest still felt heavy with a sense of helplessness.
Vaggie stepped outside, where soldiers were actively loading crates of ammunition and weapons into the vehicles. Harper stood by one of the trucks, reviewing a tablet with a map. Her focus was evident on her face, but her movements carried a casual ease, characteristic of someone used to keeping everything under control.
Vaggie looked around, trying to figure out her place in this organized chaos. She noticed Andreas easily lifting a massive crate and letting out a loud snort as he called over the noise:
"Harper, this crate's way lighter than you promised! Give me something heavier!"
Without looking up, Harper waved him off.
"Stop whining, Andreas. Load it into the truck and make sure it’s not overloaded."
Nearby, Jason and Connor were finishing up securing the equipment. Connor, as usual, looked slightly grumpy but worked quickly and silently. Jason, on the other hand, kept chatting, trying to lighten the mood.
"After this mission, I think we deserve something better than rations. Maybe even some real food! Who's with me?"
"You see a restaurant around here?" Connor muttered, checking the straps. "You'll eat what you're given."
Meanwhile, Harper noticed Vaggie and waved her over.
"Hey you, yeah, with the badass eyepatch, get over here."
"You need something?" she asked calmly, meeting Harper’s gaze directly.
"Yeah," Harper nodded toward a crate nearby. "Load this one into our truck. Captain assigned you to our team, so get to it."
Vaggie glanced at Harper, then at the crate.
"Are you always this bossy, or is it just with me?" she asked, her tone lightly sarcastic.
Harper smirked, adjusting the tablet in her hands.
"And are you always this snarky?" she retorted without looking up from the map.
Vaggie shook her head slightly, grabbed the crate, and headed toward the truck. Easily lifting the load, she tossed it into the cargo bed, catching Andreas's attention again.
"Well, look at that, we’ve got another strong one here!" he chuckled. "Maybe we should give you the machine gun since you're so good at this."
"Maybe you need a machine gun to prove something," Vaggie replied as she hopped into the truck bed to secure the load. "I’ve got nothing to compensate for."
"Haha, a solid comeback! Unlike her," Andreas added with a grin, gesturing toward Harper.
"Alright, everyone to your positions. Time’s up!" Harper called out, her tone deadpan.
Vaggie climbed into the MRAP, where half the squad was already seated, including Connor. They all gave her wary looks but didn’t say anything. A moment later, Andreas and Jason got in, and Harper took the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, its vibrations reverberating through the vehicle. The captain’s MRAP led the convoy, followed closely by the one carrying Vaggie.
The ride was quiet. Though no one openly said anything, it was clear her presence wasn’t welcome. Vaggie couldn’t entirely blame them—ending up in hell and being forced to work alongside real demons, even those who used to be human, likely wasn’t on their list of expectations.
Leaning back against the hard seat, Vaggie crossed her arms, trying to ignore the tension hanging in the air. She felt every glance, every shadow of suspicion.
Finally, Andreas broke the silence.
"Hey, civvy," Andreas called out, smirking as he turned to face her. "Do you even know what you’ve gotten yourself into?"
Vaggie met his gaze without changing her posture.
"I’m aware of where I am," she replied calmly, her tone indifferent, almost apathetic.
"Oh, I’m curious," Jason chimed in, grinning a little too widely. "Why did the captain even bring you along? Care to explain?"
"Yeah, you don’t exactly look like a soldier," Connor muttered from across her, his tone colder, almost accusatory.
Vaggie held their stares, tilting her head slightly.
"I don’t think that’s any of your business," she said dryly, her voice calm but carrying a slight edge.
"Oh, of course it’s not our business," Andreas laughed mockingly, exchanging glances with Jason. "We’re just the ones risking our necks while civilians tag along like this is some kind of guided tour through hell."
"And let’s not forget," Connor added, glaring at Vaggie from under his brow, "you’re not just a civilian. You’re a demon. So yeah, it is our business."
For a moment, an oppressive silence filled the vehicle, broken only by the rumble of the engine. Vaggie didn’t respond. She understood their fear and suspicion, but that didn’t make their words any less grating.
Finally, Harper spoke, her tone sharp and commanding:
"Enough. Don’t forget who’s giving orders here. She’s here because the captain decided so. Your personal opinions doesn't matter. Got it?"
"Got it," Connor muttered, looking away. Jason shrugged but stayed silent.
"I think that’s clear enough for everyone," Harper added, her eyes back on the road.
Vaggie allowed herself a faint smirk, more for her own amusement than anything else.
"Looks like someone here understands what following orders means," she remarked, leaning back again.
Harper didn’t respond, but a flicker of a smile crossed her face. Maybe the "tourist" wouldn’t be such a burden after all. Still, the tension in the MRAP lingered, heavy and unrelenting.
Half an hour later, the vehicles came to a halt at the edge of a devastated district, where roads were barely distinguishable beneath layers of rubble and sand. The engines fell silent, and the soldiers began climbing out one by one, scanning their surroundings.
“What a place,” Jason muttered, brushing dust off the armored plating of the vehicle. “Looks like bombs dropped here non-stop.”
“Maybe they did,” Andreas replied, his gaze fixed on the half-collapsed buildings around them.
Harper checked the map on her tablet, then swept her gaze across the group. “We don’t have much time. Split into teams. Our mission is to find suitable shelter where our guys might have holed up. Everyone clear?”
The soldiers nodded. Harper turned to Vaggie. “You’re up front. Show us what we can use here.”
“Got it,” Vaggie replied curtly, ignoring the shadow of distrust in Andreas’s eyes. She had already scouted part of this area during her earlier movements and knew where to look for safe spots.
A team of four—Harper, Andreas, Jason, and Vaggie—moved deeper into the ruined streets, while the others stayed back to guard the vehicles or search adjacent blocks. The small group methodically inspected every building that could serve as a hideout. Despite the tension toward Vaggie, it was hard to deny that her presence made navigating the area much easier.
Luck seemed to favor the soldiers; this part of the ruined district was relatively quiet, with explosions rumbling far in the distance. They combed through house after house, block after block, searching for signs of their missing comrades. But the results were disappointing. The infernal city was vast, almost endlessly so.
“Damn it, we’ll be stuck here until the Second Coming,” Jason grumbled.
“The Third if necessary,” Harper snapped, shooting him a sharp look.
“I’m not saying we should leave them here,” Jason protested. “But the longer we take, the lower the odds of finding them alive.”
After some time, they emerged onto an open street. The buildings here all looked similar, but one stood out, catching the attention of both the soldiers and Vaggie. Something about it felt off—either it was too well-preserved, or…
“GET TO COVER!” Andreas shouted, shoving Harper toward a nearby wall.
A split second later, a heavy machine-gun burst tore through the spot where they had just stood.
“What the hell are they shooting at us with?” Jason cursed, flattening himself against the wall.
“Sounds like a heavy-caliber machine gun,” Andreas growled between labored breaths. “Damn, that was close.”
The machine-gun fire continued to rake the street, forcing the soldiers to press tightly against their cover. Dust and chunks of brick flew everywhere, forming a nearly impenetrable cloud.
“Were they waiting for us?” Jason snarled, trying not to stick his head out.
“The real question is where the hell they got a heavy weapon,” Andreas replied, stealing a lightning-quick glance from behind the rubble. “And no sniper to flush us out?”
“Shut it, both of you!” Harper barked, cutting through their voices. “Where’s the gun position?”
Crouching behind a wall fragment, Vaggie quickly assessed the scene.
“There. Second floor, right window. Three more on the roof,” she reported tersely.
“Quick eyes, huh?” Andreas muttered, raising his rifle slightly.
“Save it,” Vaggie shot back, but Harper intervened.
“Heavy, got a grenade?”
“Yeah, but getting it there is a death wish,” Andreas replied.
“Not necessarily,” Vaggie cut in unexpectedly, locking eyes with Harper. “I can do it. Just need a pistol.”
“You?” Jason stared at her skeptically. “With that spear? What are you gonna do, twirl it like a baton?”
“Shut up,” Harper ordered, drawing her sidearm. She hesitated for a moment before handing it to Vaggie. “Don’t screw this up.”
Vaggie smirked, expertly checking the weapon.
“Cover me.”
“Alright,” Harper looked at Andreas and Jason. “Suppressing fire on that window. On my count.”
The two women exchanged a brief glance, and Harper caught something in Vaggie’s eyes—something oddly familiar, something that stirred an inexplicable sense of trust despite her reservations.
“Three!”
The soldiers unleashed a barrage of fire at the machine-gun nest, forcing the shooters inside to duck. Vaggie darted forward, her movements fast and precise, honed to perfection. She moved with the efficiency of someone trained in tactical operations.
Under the covering fire, Vaggie advanced, using every bit of cover she could find. Her motions were almost predatory—silent, calculated, each step a deliberate move toward her target.
Finally reaching a position close to the building, she pressed against the wall, taking a moment to regroup. From her vantage point, Harper couldn’t tear her eyes away, the familiar precision of Vaggie’s movements stirring old memories.
Vaggie peeked around the corner, quickly locating the machine-gun nest. She made a sharp hand gesture, signaling her readiness. Harper’s eyes widened slightly. That gesture—it was unmistakable. A signal used exclusively in Salvadoran police tactical units.
“What the…” Harper muttered under her breath, but she stayed focused. “Keep up the fire!”
Vaggie moved again, pouncing from cover to cover with astonishing speed and efficiency. In one hand, she held Harper’s pistol; in the other, a grenade. Her actions were seamless, each movement purposeful and deliberate.
Reaching her final position, she hurled the grenade with inhuman precision. It arced through the air and landed directly in the window.
An instant later, the explosion rocked the building, sending debris and dust cascading down.
“Got ‘em!” Andreas shouted, already targeting the remaining enemies.
The soldiers pressed their advantage, firing at the rooftop shooters. Jason and Harper covered the flanks while Andreas picked off a gunman peeking out from cover.
When the gunfire finally ceased, the street fell silent, save for the crackling of flames from the second-floor wreckage.
Vaggie returned to the group, handing Harper her pistol with a neutral expression.
“All done,” she said, as if she’d just completed a routine task.
Harper accepted the weapon, her gaze lingering on Vaggie for a moment longer. She couldn’t shake the image of Vaggie’s movements and that unmistakable signal.
“Good work,” Harper conceded reluctantly, holstering the pistol.
“I told you I could handle it,” Vaggie replied calmly, a faint smirk on her lips.
Harper nodded tersely, her mind racing with thoughts. Vaggie’s actions screamed of professional training. And that signal… It wasn’t just a coincidence.
The team methodically swept the building, room by room, searching for any remaining threats. To their relief, the area was secure. On the second floor, something unexpected caught their attention.
In one corner of the room, empty ration packs from Sparta’s military supplies were scattered. Near the window, perfectly positioned for firing, was a mounted Browning M2 machine gun.
“Well, well,” Harper muttered, crouching to inspect the setup. “Our guys were definitely here.”
She ran her hand over the floor, noting the signs of hurried movement.
“If so, where did they go?” Jason asked, glancing uneasily around the empty room.
“Maybe they retreated in a hurry,” Andreas suggested, scanning the walls and ceiling as if hoping for clues. “No bodies, and they didn’t leave their weapons. Odds are good they’re still alive.”
Harper stood up, her expression firm.
“Alright, no time to waste. Andreas, Jason, grab the machine gun. We’re heading back to the vehicles. The captain needs to hear about this. We might’ve missed something critical.”
“Understood,” Andreas replied, moving toward the weapon.
The soldiers worked quickly and efficiently, knowing every second counted. The gun had to be recovered, and the captain needed a full report—as easy as this.
The rest of the day, Ares, David, and Lewis spent at the bar, suffering from an infernal hangover. Despite all attempts to dull the headache, David couldn't make even the slightest progress.
"Goddamn it, Ares, WHAT DID YOU GIVE ME?" he groaned.
"How the hell should I know?" Ares replied, lifting his head slightly off the counter. "But the booze here is hellishly strong!"
"You bet!" Cherry confirmed with a grin. "Hell's best alcohol is only here!"
"Ugh, the only hangover worse than this was from Levon's dad’s moonshine... I remember when my leave coincided with Levon’s birthday, and we went to his homeland. Damn, I thought my brain would leak out through my ears after that night. But, I won’t lie, it was fun."
The bartender, wiping down the counter, scowled at the trio of soldiers and Cherry.
"You guys are definitely my best customers lately, but don't you think it's time to leave? You’ve been here for a whole day! I’d like to close up already..."
"A whole day?" Lewis looked at him in surprise, trying to recall when they had even arrived. "Damn, has it really been that long?"
"A day and then some," the bartender grumbled, tossing an empty bottle aside. "So come on, boys, wrap up your 'little gathering.' I’ve got cleaning to do."
David, lifting his head with effort, looked at the bartender.
"And where are we supposed to go, in your opinion? Do you see the state we’re in? One more night, and..."
"Oh, you’re killing me," Cherry cut him off with a playful sigh. "By the way, I heard something new opened nearby. A hotel on the outskirts. They say some weird types hang out there, but it’s supposed to be decent enough."
Ares sat up, frowning.
"A hotel? And what kind of weird types?"
"No idea, just rumors. But apparently, they’ve got a bar, so you definitely won’t die of boredom. If you manage to get there, of course," Cherry smirked, glancing at the worn-out trio.
Lewis rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, it’s better than lying around here."
The bartender, overhearing their conversation, just shook his head.
"Anywhere, just not here. Are you going or not? I’ve got to clean up."
David sighed heavily, rising to his feet and swaying slightly.
"Alright. Let’s go check out this hotel of yours. Maybe we’ll actually find something interesting there."
Cherry waved a hand after them.
"Good luck, boys. And try not to die on the way!"
The soldiers exchanged glances, realizing a new chapter of their journey was about to begin.