>>6021976A corpse dressed in the green Astra Militarum uniform lay crumpled in the corner, dried blood stemming from a head wound.
<span class="mu-i"> "Patch yourselves up as best you can," </span> he ordered, his voice steady despite the pain. <span class="mu-i">"We can't stay here long."</span>
They rummaged through their gear, pulling out what medical supplies they had. K-3331 bit down on a piece of cloth as he used a field dressing to staunch the bleeding in his leg. P-7752 and V-0899 applied bandages to their cuts and bruises, wincing as they worked. The tank offered a momentary respite, but there was still a short dash to the sewers.
The blood flowed out of K-3331s wound, thick and treacle like, as he punctured his skin with stimms and blood clotting agents.
Medical kits: used <span class="mu-i"> "Stupid." </span> He thought to himself <span class="mu-i"> "The area is pre-sighted and we moved too slow." </span>
The relentless artillery bombardment outside showed no signs of stopping, and they knew their chances of making it across the remaining stretch of no man's land were slim without a plan.
