The Emperor’s Arm

Sitting down, holding his rifle close to his chest, Edgar felt every faint rumble and shake of the helicopter, feeling claustrophobic for the first time in his life as he stared down at the floor, two other men sitting on either side of him, a helmet on his head, bulky armour wrapped around him like a tin can. The canine man had been training for the last year of his life, almost every day spent running drills and studying tactics, downright excited for his baptism by fire, yet all the sudden none of the things he'd learned seemed to be within his grasp, his mind constantly bouncing around, unfocused and panicked. Back at the camp, his armour had fit him like a glove, his rifle like an extension of his own hands, the barks of his commander carrying to his ears with crystal clear precision. But just minutes away from having to put all of his training to use, Edgar found himself truly worried for the first time since he'd enlisted under the Emperor's command. Ever since he was a pup, growing up in one of the great cities of the Emperor's Royal Forces, the canid had seen ERF soldiers parading around the streets, celebrating victories, executing criminals and degenerates, and he wanted nothing but to join in. By the time he was in his teens, he was already a squire for one of the officers, and on his 16th birthday he'd officially enlisted.

Glancing to his sides, Edgar tried to study the other two men riding with him, hoping that maybe he could see fear and trepidation on their faces as well, to know that he wasn't the only one suddenly getting cold feet. One was a human, an older man, in his late 40s, a few scars dotting his face, a scraggly beard covering his chin, staring out the window. The other was an avian, a dark-feathered and lithe young man, a sharpshooter carrying a scoped rifle, his eyes closed, not asleep but seemingly meditating. The only other person in the helicopter, besides the pilots of course, was sitting right across from Edgar, though he knew full well that the third guy wouldn't be offering even a hint of fear for him to ease his mind, looking over more in awe rather than curiosity. The man was a reptile, already a bit bigger than the human and avian, wearing a suit of armour built around an exoskeleton, big enough to take up all three seats opposite the squad of three on the other side. Underneath a helmet locked onto the suit of armour, covering his entire head, Edgar couldn't see the expression on the man's face, yet he could tell that it was one of determination, the same expression that every single soldier of the kind wore 24/7. The Hetairoi were the elite backbone of the ERF, all of them gifted with the same type of extremely heavy armour, tough enough to take a round intended to punch clean through vehicles and stay standing, strong enough to overturn a car with one hand, welding heavy weapons ranging from machine guns to anti-tank rifles with ease. Edgar had seen the Hetairoi in action a few times during training, and watched videos of them sweeping across the battlefield in videos countless times, blown away by the sheer fury of them, the lumbering behemoths turning to living weapons of the Emperor as soon as they were dropped in the midst of a firefight. The young canid had looked up the meaning of the name some years back, remembering that it was some sort of an ancient military unit, from well before the Cruel War swept away the old world with nuclear fire and brought in the new age. Many of the units and designations of the ERF bore references to the old world, everyone knew that the Emperor was a history buff, loving everything from military history to old world music, thus likewise influencing almost everyone in his corner of the world to do the same, single-handedly making it fashionable to be listening and collecting hits from the old world. 

Lost deep in his thoughts, trying to hide from the present, Edgar was shaken back to the moment at hand as the entire helicopter rattled from a nearby explosion, clutching his weapon as his heart thumped, feeling the chopper slowly descending. Before the aircraft had even hit the ground, the Hetairoi stood up, his voice crackling through the headsets of the rest of the team, steady yet filled with an eagerness to shed blood, whether it be his own or the enemy's, 
“We're reinforcing the 4th, follow me and keep your heads down.”
Taking a deep breath as the side door opened up, the canine man watched his commander leap down onto the ground, filing in right behind the hulking suit of armour, looking around as gunfire crackled in the air around him. The hillside ahead was filled with trenches zipping in every direction, the black flag of the ERF waving triumphantly overhead as soldiers ran all around, looking like ants in the distance. Further still, their enemy was dug in, sitting in the ruins of an old villa, a beautiful getaway on the coast of the Mediterranean now turned into a makeshift fortress for another band of outlaws, a gang of depraved bandits out to rape and pillage. Most of the world might have called the ERF terrorists or criminals, yet Edgar knew that his people were nothing like the scum he'd been sent out to exterminate, the Emperor was willing to do anything to keep his subjects safe while the degenerates hiding out in the villa were killing innocent civilians, feeling a righteous fury flaring up in his chest as he stared at the faraway faint muzzle flashes. 

Flinching as a few mortar shells exploded against the wall of the villa, bringing down a portion of the ceiling, the canine man clutched his rifle close as he turned to see the Hetairoi trudging towards the front lines, the earth shaking gently with every step, quickly following the commander. As soon as he was in the trenches, instincts took over the new soldier, barely even thinking as he moved forwards, joining up with the team he was reinforcing, dashing past the injured and the back line mortar teams, heading closer and closer to the villa they were supposed to be storming and taking over. With gunfire rattling in his ears, his back pressed against the trench wall, Edgar watched as the lizard in the giant suit of armour clambered over, standing tall and proud with a heavy machine gun in his hands, laying down suppressive fire in bursts against the windows of the large building, bullets uselessly plinking against the front of the Hetairoi like raindrops as the veteran within roared, 
“Charge! Beat them down, show them what a proud soldier of the Emperor looks like!”
Jumping over the trench wall, the canid huffed and puffed as he sprinted across the short stretch of open land, keeping his head down as bullets flew past him, keeping his eyes at the blown open wall of the villa, barely even feeling the exhaustion in his legs as he carried the pounds of equipment on his back with ease. 

Flying ahead the rest of his team, the first one to leap into the fortified building, Edgar turned to see one of the bandits sitting on the floor, hunkered down to avoid the hail of fire spraying through the windows. The outlaw was another canid, scruffy and patchy brown fur peeking out from underneath armour stripped from a dead soldier, a dinged up pistol in his hands as he stared up at Edgar, shocked at the sight of the soldier barging in, seemingly unsure whether to try to surrender or fight back. Before his enemy had the chance to decide, Edgar quickly raised his rifle, pulling the trigger as the bandit cried out, falling to the floor in a heap, his heart pounding in his ears as he heard yelling coming from behind him. Spinning around, the canine was able to let loose another burst of fire before a bullet ripped through him, a searing pain bringing him to his knees as blood flowed from a hole in his abdomen, growling as he quickly jumped behind a corner. Grunting, the man reached his shaky hands into a small pouch by his hip, pulling out a red injector pen, pulling the cap off with his teeth and jabbing it into his calf, his eyes going wide as he almost instantly felt the effects. 

Everyone around the camp always whispered about what exactly was in the injectors, rumours about the cocktail of drugs swirling around, yet nothing was ever confirmed for sure. All he knew was that it was to be administered in case of a debilitating injury in the midst of a battle, to bring a soldier back into combat-ready condition, and that it most certainly did. Feeling no pain, feeling nothing except pure unadulterated rage, Edgar screamed and roared as he shot back up to his feet, tossing the pen aside as he turned the corner, yelling while sprinting straight at several severely surprised bandits, yelling the whole time as he emptied the magazine of his rifle. Not even flinching as several more rounds ripped through him, cutting down two enemies of the Emperor before a click of his rifle signalled that he'd ran out of rounds, the man simply jumped at the foe nearest to him, bringing the butt of his gun down on his head, a sickening crunch momentarily bringing everyone around Edgar to a halt. Reaching for his hip, the canid pulled out a knife as he lunged at the next bandit in line, staring the terrified man straight in the eyes as he buried his blade into the criminal’s neck, blood bubbling up and pooling on the floor as he drew the knife across. With nothing seeming to be able to stop the crazed soldier, the rest of the bandits quickly retreated down the hallway, one of them tossing a grenade at Edgar just as he stood back up, a look of pure fury on his face, barely able to take a step before he was tossed several feet by the force of the blast, slammed against the wall. Rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as the ringing in his ears covered the rattle of gunfire, the canid’s ragged breathing slowed down as a hang grabbed onto the scruff of his neck, one of his teammate’s yanking him out of the hallway as several more advanced past him, raining down rounds on their retreating enemies,
“Medic! We've got one down here!”
Slowly losing consciousness as he was dragged out the line of fire, unsure of whether he would ever wake again, Edgar hoped he'd done his Emperor proud.