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Database File: ENCRYPT
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<::|| Accessing...Accessing... ||::>
<::|| WARNING... Accessing CLASSIFIED FILES;IF FOUND REPORT TO APPROPRIATE SUPERIOR ||::>

The lone unit stands there, rain drizzling down his blood soaked trench coat. The city filled with the sound of rain splashing on concrete. The unit stands there, looking down at a dull helmet. He picks it up, wiping some dirt of with the back of his gloves. He stares at it for a few moments, contemplating on what to do with it. He knows it's Field Command Issue, but he's the only bio-signal left within the district. He looks around, the atmosphere bleak. He closes his eyes for a few seconds before looking down at the helmet. He flicks open one of the pouches on his assault vest, pulling out a cable. He plugs the cable in to the helmet, then proceeds to plug the other end into his. A screen flashes against the black background of the Nexus, now just a ruin. There's 1 message left, blinking. He reads the title, 'To Whom finds this.' He opens the log, the sound of a deep voice filling his ears. It sounded like he was in the middle of a war-zone.

"<::|| Database Record: Day One. I am Officer Six-One-Seven-Oh-Nine of WARDEN. This is a log of the last few days I have here. The city is in disarray. Districts Three through seven have been lost to the rebellion. Eight and Ten have fallen to an outbreak of exogen activity due to a Restrictor failure. While District Nine has fallen to an Infestation. One and Two are all we have left in City Fourteen. The last remaining citizen population has been restricted to their homes. I'm the only Field Commander left in the entire sector. The Sector Commander dead, the Division Leaders not accounted for. My Commanders, assassinated as-well as my fellow Officers. I have Fifty Six Units left. Twelve of them from UMBRA(Elites) and the rest from either WARDEN, SNAKE and IMMORTAL. I have my WOFF(Warrant Officer) still alive so the problem of leadership and discipline is an easy task. The rebels are trying to push through our defenses at-...**The noise of a hushed whisper is heard**...Alright. I have to cut this short. Database: Save ||::>

<::|| Database: Record. Day Two. I've lost Thirty Four of my men in one night. Thirty Four. The Six-One-Seven-Es raided us last night in an attempt to weaken us. Well, they succeeded. I'm here with Four other units, hiding in a destroyed apartment block. The morale is low. The nexus fell to the rebels early this morning. I watched and couldn't do anything to stop them. The Sector Commanders resting place was in there. My only hopes is that the had the dignity to leave it untouched. The days ahead look dark for us. The other units split in the city, with nobody to lead them. I fear for their souls. Database: Save ||::>

<::|| Database: Record. Day Four. I rounded up the last remaining units in the old Civil Workers Union building. Out of the Twenty Two left only Fifteen showed up, including the ones with me. The Warrant Officer perished in a last stand against an onslaught. We wait inside, the bulletproof, tinted windows gave us a sense of safety. We could see their camp from here, about 2 kilometers down the main road of the district. From what I can see, they are preparing an attack. They know we are here. Database: Save ||::>

<::|| Database: Record. I'm about to give a speech to my men. I'm scared about what is to come but I need to steady them against it. As I look outside now, I see the mob moving towards us. Well...here it goes...

Six-One-Seven stared out the window, his hands folded behind his back.
"Do you see that?" he asked quietly.
At first, only silence followed. Hesitantly, the Units began to cast glances at each other, uncomfortable with the Officer's presence and confused by his behavior.
All eyes were on him now. Six-One-Seven aimed his hand at the advancing mob, looking at the units before him.
"Do you see that?" he roared at the units. The closest ones flinched back from the mechanical bark that issued almost deafeningly loud from his helmet.
"Answer me!"
He received several trembling nods. "Yes, sir..." uttered a handful of them, the speakers faceless behind their helmets.
Six-One-Seven turned back to the destroyed landscape in front of them, already dark from the ash and smoke in the air. At first, his helm emitted a low, vox-distorted chuckle. Within a few seconds, he was laughing, laughing up the burning sky while aiming his MP-7 at the enemy.
"Are you all as insulted as I am? This is what they send against us?"
He turned back to the men, the laughter fading, but amused contempt filling his voice even though the inhumanising vocalisers of his helmet.
"This is what they send? This rabble? We hold one of the strongest positions in the city. The fury of our guns sends all enemies to the ground in flames. We stand united - our weapon fire without halting, our purity without question, and our hearts beating courage through our blood. and this is how they attack us?"
He looked around the men, seeing if any of them showed fear.
"Comrades... A legion of beggars and dregs wheezes its way across our city. Forgive me when the moment comes that they whine and weep against our might. Forgive me that I must order your to waste ammunition upon their worthless bodies."
Six-One-Seven paused, lowering his weapon at last, turning his back on the attackers as if bored by their very existence. His entire attention was focussed upon the soldiers below him.
"I am Six-One-Seven of WARDEN! A Brother to you all!"
A muted cheer greeted his words. It wasn't enough, not even close.
"Never again in life will your actions carry such consequence. Never again will you serve as you serve now. No duty will matter as much, and no glory will taste as true. We are the defenders of City Fourteen. On this day, we carve our legend in the flesh of every rebel we slay. Will you stand with me?"
Now the cheers came in truth. They thundered in the air around him.
"Will you stand with me?"
Again, a roar.
"Sons of the Union! Our blood is the blood of heroes! The rebels dare defile our city? They dare tread the sacred soil of our world? We will throw their bodies from this place when the final day dawns!"
A wave of mechanical powered noise crashed against him as they cheered. Six-One-Seven raised his MP-7, aiming at the heavens.
"This is our city! This is our right! Say it! Cry it out so the bastards coming at us will hear our fury! Our City! Our Right!"
"OUR CITY! OUR RIGHT!"
Laughing again, Six-One-Seven turned to face the oncoming horde. "Run dogs! Come to me! Come to us all! Come and die in blood and fire!"
"BLOOD AND FIRE!"
The Officer cut the air with his fist, as if ordering his men forward. "For the our comrades! For Warden! For the Union!"
"FOR THE UNION"
"Louder!"
"FOR THE UNION!"
"They cannot hear your!"
"FOR THE UNION!"
"Hurl yourselves at us, filth! Die by our hands! I am Six-One-Seven of WARDEN and I have dug my grave here and I will triumph or die!"
"TRIUMPH OR DIE! TRIUMPH OR DIE! TRIUMPH OR DIE!"
Six-One-Seven nodded, still staring out over the city, letting the cheering chant echo across the darkness, knowing it will carry on to the enemy.

Database: Save ||::>

<::|| Database: Record. I am the last one left. I fought for the Union, and I have nearly killed myself trying. The rebels captured me, leaving me with just my uniform and helmet. I leave this message to anyone who finds it. I leave it to live on. Database: Save. ||::>

<::|| TRANSMISSION END ||::>

The unit stands there, unplugging the cable from his helmet and Six-One-Sevens. He places the helmet down, rain dripping onto the faceplate. He pulls our a knife and engraves in the helmet, 'Live On'. He removes his helmet, replacing it with that of the fallen officers. He walks away, shotgun over his shoulder as he moves off to find shelter. To this day, he still has it. And he...
Lives On.