Rescue

But killing a single enemy did little to improve their situation. The Orks had stopped their truck barely a dozen meters away, and the Greenskin driver pulled out a pistol in the cab and opened fire as his passengers poured out from the sides.

Moroz ignored the driver and directed his fire at those closing in on the riverbank.

Two Greenskins were dead before their feet even touched the ground, their heads struck by multiple bullets. By this point in the war, everyone knew how tenacious these monsters were. If you did not shoot them in the head, they were usually difficult to kill.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!

Another four charged straight at the scouts, machetes in hand while their pistols continued to spit bullets.

Clang!

Suddenly, a lucky shot passed just to the right of Moroz's head, throwing sparks from his helmet.

Moroz fired back at once. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Greenskin driver fall backward, a sniper round having punched a neat hole through his forehead.

"Nice shot. Next one!"

Moroz said as he replaced his emptied magazine with a fresh one.

But the squad's sniper gave no response.

Moroz glanced to the right and saw Kudin, the veteran serving as sniper, lying in the creek. Blood flowed viciously from the wound across his throat.

It was Gaya, the rookie, who was now using the fallen veteran's sniper rifle.

"They're coming!"

As the Greenskins rushed up the creek bank, Moroz rose and drew his combat knife.

One Greenskin tried to leap over him, but its body was cut open as it passed. The gaping wound ran from its pelvis to its knee, the blade slicing through unarmored muscle and tendons.

The Greenskin struggled and stumbled aside, its crippled leg unable to keep it balanced.

Moroz turned