Moving cautiously at a distance, General Ward, Colonel Miller, and their small team stayed low, keeping to the shadows of ruined buildings and the thick brush that dotted the outskirts of the Reich's fortified position. Every step was measured, every movement deliberate — one wrong move and a patrol might catch them in the open.
They worked their way around the perimeter, eyes constantly scanning for weaknesses. The closer they crept, the more the details came into focus: armed patrols moving along makeshift walls, spotlights placed to sweep over the open ground, and prisoners still being forced to haul supplies around the base.
On the eastern side of the compound, partially obscured behind a half-collapsed building, they finally found it — a section of wall damaged and under repair. A few Reich engineers worked hastily, welding scrap metal into place while guards lingered nearby, their patrol pattern loose but present.
Ward motioned for the group to halt behind a crumbling concrete barrier.
"There," he whispered, gesturing toward the weak point.
"We'll need to watch their patrol routes, see how often that spot's left exposed. Could be our way in."
Miller nodded, raising his scope to track the guards.
"If we time it right, a team could slip through without them ever knowing."
For the next several minutes, they stayed put, carefully observing patrol patterns, noting guard shifts, and marking any blind spots in the Reich's defenses. Every bit of information they gathered now would give their main force a better chance when the time came.
The ruined eastern wall was far from ideal — but in a fortress like this, any weakness was worth taking.
After hours of careful observation, noting patrol routes, guard rotations, and the movements of the enslaved people , General Ward finally lowered his binoculars with a sharp breath.
"That's enough," he muttered. "Time to pull back. The main force should be closing in soon."
Colonel Miller gave a grunt of agreement, glancing at the darkening sky.
"We've been out here long enough. If we're going to hit them, better to do it before night falls completely."
But before they left, Ward turned to face the group, his expression serious.
" I've been thinking — we'll need people ready to get inside when this starts. A team to slip through that breach, get those prisoners moving while their troops are distracted by our assault . Getting a team ready when the main force arrives would increase the risk of being detected . I suggest some of us remain here , to infiltrate the base "
Miller's gaze hardened, immediately understanding the risk and necessity.
"Agreed. I'll leave Stepan and Idiot here. They know how to move in a fight… and the prisoners will trust Spartans if they see them. Pair them with your soldiers — the local people will recognize and follow ."
Ward nodded. "Good. Having soldiers from both sides might be the only way to get those people to move without panic."
He turned to his men. "You two stay behind. Once the battle starts, get those people out through that breach . No heroics — get them to safety."
The two Minutemen soldiers exchanged grim looks, then nodded firmly.
"Understood, sir."
Miller clapped Stepan and Idiot on the shoulders.
"Stay sharp. No mistakes. You wait for the fighting to start — not a moment sooner. Then move fast."
"Understood, Colonel," Stepan replied quietly, while Idiot gave a thumbs up and a crooked grin.
With the plan set, Ward, Miller and Anna, began carefully making their way back toward the rendezvous point, leaving the infiltration team hidden in position.
The operation was about to begin.
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After leaving Stepan, Idiot, and the two Minutemen concealed near the damaged wall, General Ward, Colonel Miller, and Anna retraced their steps carefully, sticking to the shadows and using the uneven terrain, shattered buildings, and overgrown foliage to stay out of sight. The distant sounds of the Reich camp remained constant — shouted orders, the clatter of equipment — but they encountered no patrols on the way back.
As the sun dipped lower, they finally reached the designated rendezvous point, a ruined stretch of road concealed by a line of trees and an old rusted billboard. There, they found the Minutemen main force already in position — a mix of light infantry, a few soldiers clad in Power Armor, and marksmen manning concealed spots in the nearby ruins. Defensive positions had been hastily prepared in case of an unexpected Reich patrol .
A tall, broad-shouldered soldier approached quickly as they arrived, his armor marked with the stripes of a veteran.
"General Ward," the man greeted, offering a sharp salute. "Sergeant Major Cole reporting, sir. All units in position and ready for your orders."
Ward returned the gesture and immediately got down to business. "Good. I left the two soldiers who were with me, behind with two of Colonel Miller's men. They'll infiltrate during the fighting, get those prisoners out."
Cole gave a grim nod, understanding the stakes. "Understood, sir."
Meanwhile, Miller made his way to where the rest of his Spartan group waited near a cluster of Minutemen soldiers.
"Colonel," Sam saluted with a slight grin, but his eyes scanned behind Miller, not seeing Stepan or Idiot. "Where are the others?"
"Left them behind to get the people out once the shooting starts," Miller explained in his steady, gruff tone. "They'll be fine. They know what they're doing."
Sam nodded, then chuckled faintly. "The trip here was… something else." He gestured back toward the line of Minutemen Power Armor troops . "Those walking tin cans are impressive. And those laser weapons… never thought I'd see something like that in person."
Miller smirked faintly, arms crossed. "Bet you didn't expect that you'll ever walk on the surface without radiation protection ether ."
"Not at all," Sam said with a shake of his head. "And we ran into a pack of Watchers on the way too. Don't know how they got up here, but they didn't last long. The Power Armor boys took point, soaked up the hits, and we hit them from behind. Cleaned them out quick."
He gestured over his shoulder. "After that, not much happened. Chatted with a few of the locals. Good people, considering how bad this place must've been."
Miller gave a short, approving grunt. "Good. Stay sharp. This'll be over soon… one way or another."
After checking the soldiers,General Ward gathered the unit commanders and Colonel Miller's group in a rough semi-circle behind the cover of a ruined house at the edge of the rendezvous point. A crude map of the area had been hastily drawn onto a piece of salvaged metal plating, marked with chalk lines for key positions — Taffington Boathouse, Medford Memorial Hospital, the surrounding fortified areas, and their current position.
Ward knelt by the map, tapping a finger on the boathouse icon.
"First priority is the boathouse," he said, his voice low but firm. "There's a detachment of Reich troops stationed there, and when this kicks off, they'll sound the alarm to the main base. We need to hit them fast and hard . If they get a message out, we'll be hitting a wall by the time we reach the hospital."
He looked up at the gathered men and women, his expression hard.
"Once the boathouse is secured, we move for the hospital. I want snipers posted on that hill to the west," he gestured to a rise marked on the map, "overlooking the base. You'll cover the main assault and pick off their officers and heavy weapons crews."
Ward then pointed at the base's main entrance.
"The bulk of our force — Power Armor in the lead, light infantry behind. We hit their front gate hard and force them to commit their troops. During the chaos, the infiltration team moves in, frees the prisoners, and gets them clear before the Reich knows what's happening."
He glanced at Colonel Miller, giving a brief nod of respect. "Your people and mine will be working together. If anyone can get those people out, it's them."
Miller gave a short, resolute nod. " They'll get it done."
Ward scanned the faces before him, seeing resolve in their eyes.
"I won't lie — it won't be easy. The base is fortified, and they've got numbers. But they're arrogant, and they won't expect us to hit them this fast, this hard. That's our advantage."
He stood, slinging his rifle onto his shoulder.
"Get your squads ready. We move on my signal."
Around him, soldiers nodded and murmured acknowledgments, checking weapons, adjusting armor, and exchanging final glances.
As General Ward finished outlining the assault plan, Colonel Miller stepped closer, casting a glance toward Anna, who stood quietly nearby, her rifle slung and eyes sharp, listening intently.
"Ward," Miller spoke, gesturing toward her. "I want Anna with your snipers on the hill. She's one of the best shots we have — if anyone can thin out those machine gun teams and officers during the assault, it's her."
Ward looked at Anna, weighing her for a moment, then gave a curt nod.
"Good call. We'll need every sharp eye up there. Get her a position."
Anna gave a small, confident smirk and nodded after Miller told her Ward's response .
"I won't miss," she said quietly, chambering a round into her rifle as she stepped toward the sniper squad already adjusting their scopes and long rifles nearby.
Miller clapped her shoulder once as she passed. "Watch yourself out there, kid."
"Always do," she replied without breaking stride.
Ward gave the map one final glance and exhaled. "Alright — positions. We strike soon."
The unit moved, the pieces of their bold assault slotting into place .
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As dusk gave way to evening, the assault began to take shape. Anna and the small sniper team quietly slipped away from the main force, making their way up the familiar hill overlooking Taffington Boathouse. The position they'd used for recon now served a deadlier purpose.
Settling into place, Anna adjusted her rifle's scope and attached a suppressor to the barrel with practiced hands. Around her, the other snipers did the same, adjusting their rifles ,their faces tense in the fading light.
Anna's gaze locked onto the Reich sniper in the attic window — the same position she'd marked earlier during their recon. She slowed her breathing, lined up the shot, and squeezed the trigger. The muffled crack of the suppressed rifle barely stirred the night air as the sniper collapsed out of sight.
Without wasting a moment, the light infantry units of the Minutemen and Miller with his man , advanced, slipping through foliage, ruins, and the uneven ground around the old settlement. The terrain concealed their approach as they edged closer to the fortified walls.
A sharp gesture from Sergeant Major Cole sent the assault teams moving. Shots rang out in rapid succession, silenced weapons and suppressed rifles of Miller and his group dropping the guards on the walls before they even registered the attack.
Within moments, the assault team breached the gates, storming the former settlement in coordinated squads. They cleared the structures with brutal efficiency — no quarter given, no opportunity left for anyone to sound an alarm. Reich soldiers inside the walls barely had time to react before they were cut down.
The crackle of short, controlled gunfire faded, leaving only the soft clatter of weapons being checked and the quick, quiet movement of soldiers securing the area.
Anna remained on overwatch, her scope sweeping for stragglers or unexpected threats.
The first phase of the assault was a swift, clean success.
Moving swiftly from the cleared settlement, General Ward's force of roughly fifty Minutemen and four Spartans advanced toward the fortified hospital complex. The formation spread out in a loose skirmish line, using whatever cover the broken terrain offered — fallen trees, shattered walls, and rusted vehicles — anything to shield their approach.
Under Ward's orders, Anna led the sniper team back up the familiar hill, their boots crunching softly over dirt and rubble. From there, they'd cover the assault, eliminating priority targets and keeping enemy snipers off the Minutemen's backs.
But as the main force closed the distance to the Reich fortifications, stealth quickly proved impossible.
The bulky, unmistakable frames of the power armor troops , caught the sharp eyes of a sentry posted in a makeshift watchtower near the outer wall.
A shouted alarm split the air.
" Контакт! Враги приближаются! "
( Contact! The enemies are approaching)
A klaxon wailed to life, echoing across the fortified zone. Spotlights snapped on, sweeping across the field, catching the glint of steel helmets and painted insignia.
General Ward grimaced.
"So much for surprise. All units — move in! Snipers, take your positions!"
Anna's transmitted to Colonel Miller using her radio , that she and the other sniper's were in position on the hill.
Around her, the other sharpshooters settled in, rifles braced, scopes scanning for enemy officers and machine gun nests , that were now scrambling to respond.
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As the Minutemen and Spartan Order clashed with the Reich defenders at the main entrance, gunfire and shouted orders echoed across the compound. Spotlights swept the battlefield, and Reich soldiers scrambled to man defensive positions, leaving other areas vulnerable in their haste.
At the damaged eastern wall, only two Reich sentries remained, their attention between the sounds of battle and guarding the vulnerable part of the wall.
Stepan, Idiot, and the two Minutemen crouched in the shadows. An awkward tension lingered — neither pair understanding the other's language. Quiet, rapid exchanges of Russian and English went nowhere.
Then, with a frustrated grunt, Idiot motioned to his eyes with two fingers, then pointed at the sentries, mimicking a trigger pull. The Minutemen exchanged glances, then nodded in understanding.
Suppressors were fixed to Stepan's and Idiot's rifles. With a pair of muffled cracks, the sentries dropped silently.
Without a word, they gestured again — Stepan and Idiot would take the right, the Minutemen the left. Pressed against the walls, they carefully scanned the open area beyond the breach. No one in sight. Crates, stacked equipment, and piles of rubble offered cover.
Moving swiftly and low, the four infiltrators darted from cover to cover, avoiding patrols and slipping through shadows.
As expected, when the attack began, the captives had been herded into the old police station — a squat, half-ruined structure now repurposed as a holding area.
Reaching the entrance, they spotted two Reich soldiers inside the main lobby. Without hesitation, Stepan and Idiot raised their rifles. Two muffled shots later, both soldiers slumped to the floor.
Further inside, another pair of guards stood by the door leading to the cells. The two Minutemen exchanged hand signals, then crept forward. In a sudden, quiet flurry, knives flashed and throats were cut before either guard could raise an alarm.
They opened the heavy door to the cellblock. Inside, more than three dozen frightened captives — settlers and Metro survivors — huddled together. The room reeked of sweat, fear, and blood.
A hush fell over the prisoners as they recognized the uniforms.
Some of the Metro survivors gasped in relief at the sight of Spartan Order soldiers.
The settlers, too, relaxed visibly when they saw the Minutemen insignias on the other soldiers' armor.
Stepan spoke softly in Russian, gesturing for quiet. The Minutemen mimicked him with their own calming gestures. Idiot tapped a finger to his lips and pointed toward the door .
Understanding, the prisoners began to rise, trembling but hopeful.
They opened the cells and quickly motioned them out, guiding them back through the ruined station and toward the breach in the wall.
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Inside the makeshift command post, set up in one of the intact rooms of the old hospital, the Fourth Reich commander stood over a crude map of the compound and surrounding area. The distant sound of heavy gunfire and explosions rattled the walls, dust falling from the cracked ceiling.
Officers crowded the room, tense and pale, sweat beading on their brows despite the cold.
One of them stepped forward.
"Herr Obersturmführer , the enemy has deployed a significant number of soldiers in power armor. Our rifle rounds are barely scratching them. We're sustaining heavy losses at the main gate."
The commander's jaw clenched. He didn't like the situation. Not one bit.
He stared hard at the map, then asked in a sharp tone, "Where are the reinforcements we requested?"
Another officer quickly spoke up, voice tight.
"They should arrive shortly, sir. A detachment is en route , bringing heavier weaponry that will allow us to deal with the armored troops."
The commander gave a slow, displeased nod. It wasn't enough.
"And what about the project?" His voice was low, dangerous.
A young officer stiffened, nervously adjusting his cap.
"Sir… it still requires some adjustments and final checks before it's fully operational."
The commander's gaze snapped to him, eyes cold and furious. The officer visibly shrank under the stare, stammering slightly.
"W-we will issue the order to deploy it immediately, Obersturmführer . It will be ready, whether finished or not." He saluted stiffly and turned on his heel, quickly leaving the room.
The commander didn't bother watching him go.
He turned to the remaining officers, his voice sharp and cutting through the din of battle outside.
"Enough standing around. Return to your posts and hold the perimeter. If the enemy breaks through, you answer to me personally."
The remaining officers snapped to attention, saluted, and filed out, leaving the commander alone with the flickering light and the sound of distant gunfire.
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Amidst the smoke and muzzle flashes, General Ward crouched behind a rusted-out vehicle, eyes fixed on the advancing line of power armor troopers as they pressed forward. The heavy thud of their boots and the crack of energy weapons echoed through the ruined streets. Minutemen infantry moved in their wake, using the towering figures as living cover whenever open ground forced them to cross without protection.
Despite the fierce firefight, Ward noted with relief that the casualty reports were still clear — only minor injuries so far. The power armor troopers had soaked up the worst of it, their plating shrugging off rounds that would have torn through unarmored men.
From his side, sniper fire picked off enemy sentries and gunners, keeping the pressure high on the Reich defenders. Anna and the sniper team had proven invaluable, their rifles taking out priority targets before they could rally.
Colonel Miller knelt beside him, ducking from a stray round that smacked into the brick wall overhead.
"General," he called over the noise, "I just got word from my men — the infiltration team reached the captives. They're getting them out now."
Ward allowed himself a rare grin, nodding.
"Good. That's one less thing to worry about." He swept his binoculars back toward the compound gates, where the fighting was thickest. The Reich defenses were starting to buckle, their numbers thinning as their attention split between the relentless advance and their crumbling perimeter.
For the first time since the assault began, it looked like victory was within their grasp.
"We keep pressing. No letup," Ward ordered, voice steady. "Have the snipers cover the breach. The minute those prisoners are clear, we push through that entrance and finish this."
Miller grinned grimly.
"Understood. Looks like these bastards are finally getting what they deserve."
They exchanged a quick nod, both aware that it wasn't over yet .
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The infiltration team moved like shadows through the Reich's compound, the freed captives clinging close to them as they guided them between stacks of scavenged crates and scattered equipment. The evening air was thick with the crackle of gunfire from the frontlines, masking their movements — for now.
Stepan raised a fist, halting the group as two Reich soldiers rounded a corner. Without hesitation, he and Idiot raised their suppressed rifles, twin hisses of gunfire dropping the men before they could react . A few of the captives gasped, but one of the Minutemen made a calming gesture, urging them onward.
"Stay low, move fast," he whispered, gesturing toward the breached wall.
But their luck didn't hold. A lone Reich soldier, moving to reinforce the front line, spotted the group. He shouted a warning, raising his rifle — only for a sniper round to punch through his head, dropping him mid-cry. Anna's work from the hillside.
More shouts followed. The alarm had spread.
"Positions! Cover them!" barked one of the Minutemen. He, another soldier, and Stepan threw themselves behind a stack of metal drums, laying down suppressive fire as some of the Reich troops began turning their attention towards them.
Idiot broke from cover, waving frantically for the captives to follow him.
"Come on, move! Move!" he urged in Russian, and hand gestures reinforcing his meaning.
Bullets cracked overhead as the last of the captives darted for the breach. The Minutemen and Spartans held the line, dropping several Reich soldiers before one of the Minutemen grunted in pain, a round striking his chest plate and another his leg . The armor held, but he was knocked down hard.
Then, a low mechanical rumble cut through the chaos.
The massive garage door of the hospital groaned open. From the darkness inside, something enormous began to roll out — a tank. A monstrous, cobbled-together machine, its body a misshapen fusion of a pre-war U.S. tank and salvaged Russian parts, patches of metal plating mismatched, a crude Reich insignia painted over the hull.
It shuddered forward awkwardly at first, gears grinding, a belch of black smoke puffing from its exhaust, but it moved — and it moved fast.
"What the hell is that!?" one Minuteman gasped.
No one had time to answer. From the nearby subway station entrance, a fresh wave of Reich soldiers poured out, bolstering their crumbling defenses. Bullets cracked through the night, cutting down a handful of the freed captives before the Spartans and Minutemen could react.
Stepan roared in anger, throwing a grenade toward the subway entrance, the explosion buying precious seconds.
"Fall back! To the breach!" a Minuteman yelled.
Tossing smoke grenades and fragmentation behind them, the team made their final desperate dash. The injured Minuteman, supported by his comrade, limped after the others. Idiot and Stepan stayed at the rear, covering their retreat, picking off stragglers.
A final grenade blast toppled a stack of debris into the breach as the last of the group slipped through, slowing any pursuit.
They made it out — bloodied, rattled, and with a few lost, but alive. The tank, though, was now rolling toward the front lines.