Marco was one rooftop away when the radio squawked. “Sir! Orcs are entering the building. Where are you sir? Over.”

  Fuck…

  “I’m one building away. Hold tight.” Marco replied, double timing it to reach them. “Get off the stairs and take everything on the roof.” He ordered. “Find anything you can use to place and brace against the door.”

  He switched radios. “Hunter 2-6, Sun 6-1. Come in. Request immediate assistance. Over.” Marco vaulted the fence as he waited for an answer. Silence. He cursed, sprinting to join Eric and Roman. They stood close, eyes locked on the barricaded door, terror etched on their faces. They carried what they could to the roof, but some supplies remained in the truck, thankfully minor enough to write off if lost.

  “Hunter 2-6, Sun 6-1. I say again. Request immediate assistance. Definite monster presence nearby. We are barricaded on the building rooftop. Over.”

  His gut churned as something heavy slammed hard against the metal door. It shook, but thankfully held.

  “Don’t worry. It's my job to keep you boys alive, and I’m damn serious about keeping my perfect record.” Marco said, turning to the two. Something wet dripped down his nose. He wiped it expecting snot from a worsening flu, it was blood.

  “Go. Head up to the next building rooftop and stay hidden. Leave the supplies.” He tossed them his radio. “Keep it safe. I still got my HAM. Last contact with the hunters had them heading here. You can just wait out until then. Keep trying to contact them once you're clear. Also, I would appreciate it if you'd all get out of the way so that I can focus.” He turned back as another slam rattled the door.

  Marco loosened his AR’s straps, extended the stock and flicked the selector to full auto. He sent a last glance back, Eric and Roman climbed to the next rooftop, out of sight. Grabbing the crates by the handles, Marco heaved them towards the industrial AC units then tossed out a smoke grenade to the side. Billowing high, it’ll signal distress visible for miles.

  A third hit. The door buckled. Bright afternoon sun glared down and made the shadows pitch black past the now opened door. Marco held fire, shooting blindly into the darkened stairway was a waste of ammo. With four magazines, one on the rifle and three on his vest, he’d have to husband his ammo.

  A figure emerged, stooping to fit through the ruined door. It rose to a near eight feet, its muscular and scarred body draped in bones and beads, wielding twin short handled axes. Two smaller orcs followed, smaller but still six foot tall slabs of muscles.

  His ‘Second voice’ should be screaming at him, but was strangely silent. A cakewalk? Not a chance, Marco thought to himself.

  Beady eyes scanned the roof, locking on the crates behind Marco. It grinned viciously and barked an order.

  The two smaller orcs advanced.

  His rifle snapped to his shoulder, the holo reticle landing on the first one’s head. Marco opened fire, full auto. The rifle rattled and buckled against his shoulder but he held steady, his aim true in such a short distance. Marco shifted to the other orc, sending another burst trying to blind them with a lucky consecutive shot to the eye rather than trying to kill them.

  Four of five rounds hit. Two bursts. None of them lethal.

  Both charged, Marco shifted aim to their legs. One stumbled, as a burst caught its knee, superficial damage, but the orc slowed. The other continued and closed in, swinging.

  Marco feinted; stepping back then ducked forward under the swing as the Orc swung far to reach him. He swung his rifle around, dumping the mag into its knee, point blank. Its flesh mulched, joint cracked, and burned. It fell, now with one working knee.

  He dropped the mag and slotted a new one just as the first orc caught up and hopped over its fallen brother. It lunged, Marco dodged to the right, slapped the bolt released and aimed for the head. At point blank range, rounds tore through its softer throat, jaw. Marco rode the recoil and bullets tore into its eye, piercing the orbital bone and fragmenting inside its skull. Half a mag left. The orc toppled back, landing on top and pinning its brother.

  The pinned orc glared, enraged. Marco snapped his rifle up and emptied the rest of the mag into its face. It went limp.

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  He reloaded and faced the Leader, arms spread wide in challenge. He felt good. None of the sickly feeling he had been suffering prior. “Easier to kill you shits when in our turf. Scared little boy? Not when you got no dungeon tricks here.”

  The leader growled as it advanced, each long stride eating the distance between.

  [Dodge!]

  Instincts flared. Marco tried to sprint to the side as the Orc blinked in front, swinging its axe. He tucked his arms and twisted his body, presenting his back. The axe hit. Marco’s back plate ate the impact, stopping it and distributing the force over a wider area, but the strike hurled him forward. He kept his balance, firing blindly behind him as he bolted for the stairs.

  Down one landing, he spared a moment to catch his breath. He raised his rifle and crept back up the stairs. The Leader’s head appeared. His ‘second voice screamed’ as Marco saw his death coming. He jerked his head aside as an axe whistled past, embedding in the wall and a shower of concrete. Gritting his teeth, Marco stepped back to cover but not before flipping the Orc off.

  Heart pounding, Marco grabbed his HAM radio. “Eric, Roman. Are you both safe?”

  “We are. Are they dead? Are you safe?” the reply crackled.

  “Stay put. Still got the big one. Need to figure something out.”

  He had to keep the Orc’s attention off the supplies. If it got the mana, it would grow stronger. The running theory between research pegged mana accumulation as the culprit.

  Ready for another go, Marco took a couple of deep breaths when shuffling echoed below. His rifle snapped down the stairs. Adrenaline spiked at the thought of being trapped.

  “Hello? Marco? Anyone?” Jan whispered from below.

  “Jesus Christ!” Marco shouted, meeting Jan halfway. “Almost shot you. We got a big Orc up there with the supplies. I think we can take it.”

  “You sure?”

  Marco nodded. “Eric and Roman are safe. But it might just loot or hunt them down.”

  “What did you do to piss it off?”

  “Killed its boys. Took two mags and a whole lot of luck.” Marco replied, taking the magazine off his rifle and looking down the stack of rounds left. “I got half left on this and another spare.”

  “Here.” Jan said, handing over a bandolier filled with magazines. “I heard the shots and grabbed them off the truck.”

  Marco filled his vest and reloaded his rifle. “Go get the talking stick from the truck. I’ll try to slow him down in case our hunter friends decide to get their heads off their ass and finally get their box of supplies.”

  Jan nodded and bolted downstairs.

  Marco sighed, flicked his rifle off safe and crept back up. There he found that while they were distracted, the Large Orc had ripped the wire door and took the crate. It laid ripped open on the ground, bottles scattered, and one held in the orc’s grip. It tilted its head back for a drink for the glass to shatter, its contents turned into mist and spray as Marco shot it.

  The Orc snarled. Marco stepped into the light. “Oh, sorry. Go ahead, drink up if you're that thirsty.” He grinned.

  It charged. Marco dodged to the right, emptying his mag. He reloaded on the run, as he felt thick fingers graze his clothes as he barely dodged the Orc grabbing him. Whatever speed boost it had seemed to be of limited use.

  Still, the Orc was fast for its size. For the moment, Marco only needed to keep away from its reach.

  [Death. Axe. Downward swing. Ahead!,

  He dodged the swing, if barely, and slapped in a fresh mag.

  [Death. Axe. Horizontal swing, from the right!]

  Marco stopped and stepped back. The Orc missed and overcommitted into the swing, its weight slowing its recovery. Marco dumped the mag into its exposed knee. It buckled, unable to bear its own weight.

  Marco slapped another mag and hit the other causing it to scream in pain and rage. It used its axe to shield its face, while Marco tried to slip rounds between the gaps. Realizing the ineffectiveness of the rounds, it curled into a ball, protecting most of its vitals.

  The rifle glowed red hot, heat searing through his gloves. Last mag. Marco felt grim satisfaction standing over what looked to be a proud Orc monster taking that passive pose. They were at a stalemate, he couldn’t just shoot it on the back of the head as its thick, magically enhanced skull would just resist the rounds. Marco needed it to show its face.

  Marco circled, aiming for its ear. The Orc shifted, raising its face, biting down mana and health potions. It glared, its eyes filled with rage between the gaps in its fingers.

  Its once mangle flesh knitted itself at an unnatural rate. Marco fired, but the wounds closed faster. It blinked, slapped the rifle away and scooped him into a crushing hug.

  Marco struggled, left arm pinned against his chest. Pressure built, he fumbled for his knife on his belt as his ribs cracked. The orc grinned sadistically. His back plates crumbled. Marco gripped the knife and pulled it free. His ribs snapped, black spots flared in his vision and he heard another rib crack, followed by another bone. He didn’t knew where, he couldn’y feel it anymore. Numbness spread along his left arm as he angled the knife at the Orc’s chest. With what little leverage, he braced the handle on his leg, and kicked.

  Pain exploded as he dropped. Marco quickly gripped the Orc’s legs and pulled, dragging him underneath the Orc as it tried to stomp him underfoot.

  He scrambled free.

  His legs shook. Left arm limp. Something sloshed inside. Breathing hurts. He reached around his waist, drawing his ginunting, and roared. “You think this is going to be easy? Come and earn it!”

  The Orc turned, knife buried to the hilt high up on its gut. It growled, and took a step forward. Marco dropped his stance, ready to meet his end fighting.

  An explosion rang and engulfed the Orc’s back. Marco was blown away and he looked up to see a large bleeding gash on the Orc’s chest, bleeding profusely. It stumbled forward, one step, then another.

  It fell and laid on the roof unmoving, breathing ragged and slow, until it finally stopped.

  Marco was blacking out and he fought through, barely seeing Jan standing by the roof entrance. A smoking m72 Law Anti-Tank launcher thrown to the side. He ran, taking the long way around the dead Orc.

  Marco laid on his back, looking at the sky. Jan came to view, saying something but he couldn’t hear it. He grinned. “What the fuck took you so long?”

  Jan said something, then looked to his right. Marco followed it to see Joy. Marco couldn’t hear it, but he saw her scream, then sprinted after him. She knelt over his form, tears streaming.

  Marco reached up with the last of his strength. He wanted to wipe away those tears, but he couldn’t. He tried to say it was okay, but only coughed blood.