Deep within the old industrial zone, inside a newly excavated underground tunnel, the air was thick with the pungent stench of sulfur and charred waste.
A squad from the Krieg 143rd Siege Regiment's engineering company advanced cautiously, their eyes scanning the surroundings with alertness from beneath their gas masks.
The rock strata here were extremely unstable; small fragments tumbled from the ceiling intermittently, and the alarms on their geological sensors hadn't stopped blaring.
"Captain, methane concentrations in the forward zone are rising sharply!" a sapper reported, his voice muffled by his respirator.
The captain was about to order a retreat, but it was too late. A dull, heavy explosion erupted from ahead, followed immediately by a massive collapse of the tunnel ceiling as corroded rock and caustic gases came crashing down.
Several Krieg soldiers at the front didn't even have time to make a sound before they were instantly swallowed by the cascading mud and stone.
Two others were hurled through the air by the blast wave, slamming hard against the tunnel walls. Their bodies were twisted at unnatural angles; there was clearly no hope for their survival.
As the dust settled and the debris stopped rolling, the remaining squad members struggled to their feet to check for casualties. One soldier had his lower body pinned by a massive boulder, his chest impaled by a jagged piece of rebar.
Blood stained his mud-caked uniform. His vital signs were fading fast; even with the iron will of a Kriegsman, he could not suppress the tremors of approaching death.
The squad's medic, a Krieger whose eyes remained abnormally calm behind his mask—stepped forward. He efficiently examined the wounded man's injuries.
A cold mechanical arm extended from his pack, beginning the standard procedure of recovering usable magazines, grenades, and communication devices from the dying soldier.
According to Krieg tradition, when a comrade is beyond saving, the recovery of materiel is the first priority, followed by the "mercy" of a swift end to prevent needless suffering and logistical burden.
The medic's left hand gripped his laspistol, aiming it at the soldier's head for a clean execution.
Just at that critical moment, a roar like a sudden crack of thunder echoed through the dim tunnel:
"Wait! Put the gun down!"
The shout caused every Krieg soldier to pause. Though they were stunned, they weren't overly tense, they had a faint inkling of who the intruder was.
Sure enough, around the next bend, several figures clad in black carapace armor darted out like specters. One figure was particularly striking: he wore the red robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, with several mechanical arms crackling with electricity extending from his back, a Tech-Priest.
The leader of the group, a member of the Helldivers wearing full carapace gear and a black cape, maintained an exaggerated pose with his arm thrust forward. It was clearly he who had let out that massive shout.
"I say, do we really need to time it that perfectly?" the Tech-Priest grumbled to 'Ghost-Face' as they hurried forward. "Do we have to wait until they're about to pop the guy before we jump out? You're playing with fire, man!"
Ghost-Face didn't look back. "What do you know? It's called dramatic tension! That's how it works in TV dramas; you have to time the climax perfectly! There's a logic to it, just follow the script and stop talking."
He rushed toward the boulder pinning the wounded soldier with an enthusiasm completely alien to the Kriegers. Standing almost face-to-face with the Krieg captain, he began to ramble.
"Ayy, brothers of the allied forces, don't be in such a hurry! As the old saying goes: To be or not to be, that is the question. We, the Helldivers, are here to solve that question for you Kriegers ."
As he spoke, he tried desperately to wink at the Tech-Priest. However, he had forgotten he was wearing a heavy gas mask. The Tech-Priest couldn't see his exaggerated facial expressions at all and gave no reaction.
It wasn't until Ghost-Face landed a hard kick on the Tech-Priest's shin with a dull thud that the latter jolted and complained: "Ow! What was that for?"
"What are you standing there for?" Ghost-Face hissed under his breath. "I'm running out of material!"
"You should've said so sooner. I thought you wanted to finish your stand-up routine," the Tech-Priest replied. His mechanical arms extended fluidly, unfolding tools and shimmering devices from his kit.
The Tech-Priest skillfully approached the pinned Krieger. His mechanical limbs moved like tentacles, emitting a faint hum.
A high-frequency laser blade precisely cut around the wound, followed by a micro-welder to instantly cauterize the bleeding. Biological gel was pumped into the injuries, and shimmering blue neural stabilizers were attached.
The Krieger's death-throes quickly subsided, but his body was rapidly encased in various tubes and bandages until he resembled a green wrap.
The process was lightning-fast and dizzying to behold. The once-dying comrade now had miraculously stable vitals, though his appearance was somewhat ridiculous.
"Alright, all done," the Tech-Priest said a few minutes later, standing up and dusting his hands.
He addressed the Krieg soldiers—who had never heard of 'stand-up comedy' and were currently standing there in a complete daze.
"Cough... I performed a minor surgery on him. His life is no longer in danger for now. But recovery takes time. He'll be bedridden for a dozen days or so; remember to feed him daily."
The Kriegers looked at their comrade. He had only been wounded in the chest, yet he was now wrapped so tightly he looked like a giant green cocoon. They were at a loss for words. The soldier's breathing was steady; though his face was pale, he was clearly out of the woods. Finally, the captain managed to squeeze out two words:
"...Our thanks."
"No need for thanks! I just like helping people. Don't ask who I am, just call me Archer!" the Tech-Priest player waved a hand, acting like a humble hero.
"Alright, stop showing off. The coast is clear, let's bail!" Ghost-Face shouted.
The Helldivers and the Tech-Priest took off as quickly as they had arrived, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. Only the faint sound of footsteps and the scraping of mechanical arms remained.
The entire event had happened incredibly fast, from the appearance of the Helldivers to their departure, barely a few minutes had passed.
The Kriegers were unable to react. Their highly trained discipline and combat instincts felt helpless against these allies who completely ignored common sense. When it was all over, all they were left with was a comrade wrapped like a burrito.
"Captain," the medic stepped forward, checking the vitals of the now-stable soldier. His expression behind the mask was unreadable, his tone suggesting a dilemma. "Should I... still finish the job?"
The captain didn't dwell on the question for long. He looked at the saved comrade, then at the dangerous tunnel ahead. Finally, he decided: "Forget it. 437126, you look after him. The rest of us proceed with the mission."