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Backstab; CCRPG Marines Compiliation I
Topic Started: 15 Oct 2008, 03:17 PM (1,336 Views)
Wraith
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Preparing for the Second Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
OOC: Pin this, please. I'm not a mod anymore so I can't. :(

IC:

COMPILIATION I

BACKSTAB


Prologue

Volut, Country Capital Confederation Planet

Captain Herbert Barnaby of the Volutian Planetary Armed Forces raised his arm. Next to him was a line of two dozen of his men, rifles raised, pointing at an equally long line of fifty men, lined up against the wall. This town, Coldeville, had been a suspected haven for rebels and terrorists for years, and now the government was finally dealing with it.

"Fire!" Barnaby ordered. The two dozen rifles spat out a short burst, raking the fifty men. They all fell dead against the wall. Barnaby beckoned, and the rest of the town's men were lined up.

"Men of Coldeville, you have been found guilty of high treason and harboring enemies of the state," Barnaby repeated, as if reading from a script. Many of the criminals denied the claimed, cursed him, or begged for mercy. "For these crimes, you are sentenced to death," Barnaby raised him arm and brought it down again. "Fire!" Many cracks echoed, and the cries suddenly stopped. Barnaby reopened his eyes.

"Sir," a sergeant said, approaching. "What of the rest of the town?"

"Kill them all, and burn it to the ground," Barnaby replied. "Coldeville never existed."

No weapons or rebels were found amongst the ashes.

OOC Notes:

1. No, 40k will still continue. This is a separate project I will work on at the same time.
2. This will be pretty different from 40k in that it mostly focuses on the Marines of First Platoon Delta Company, and will not go directly into the action like it did in Post 1 of 40k. Deployments take time, so I'll focus on base life at the beginning of most compiliations.
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NOTICE: This story will contain severe profanity. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter I

Camp Oliver Barton, Bessan, Country Capital Confederation

Private First Class Lew Erikson did not like being the new "kid" on the block, much less a Marine FIST. Luckily, he wasn't the only one. He, PFC Darthan Isis, and Lance Corporal Mauve Shert all stood before the Delta Company personnel sergeant - Gunnery Sergeant Nixon - in the administrative building of Camp Oliver Barton.

"Right, so I am supposed to believe that you three sorry sons of bitches were assigned to the best company in the best unit of my beloved Corps? Hmmmm?" Nixon shouted.

Isis, foolishly, nodded slightly.

"Did I give you permission to move, Private? Stand at attention!" The three men continued to stand rigid.

Slowly, Nixon smiled, then chuckled. "Relax, boys. I'm just fuckin' around wit' ya!" Nixon said. He glanced at the dossiers in his hand. "Well, Shert, you just got transferred out o' the 10th. You've got a couple ops under your belt, I see. Good, 'cause we're gonna need that to offset these two boots," he said referring to Erikson and Isis. "And don't worry, we already have a 'Red' in this company." Nixon chuckled.

"Anyways, First is down three men, so I'm putting you in that platoon. Report to Wr- Gunny Calahan for assignment."

"Yes, sir," Erikson said, saluting.

"Boot, cut that shit out, I work for a living."

"Uh, sorry, Gunnery Sergeant."

----------------------------------

Gunnery Sergeant Jack "Wraith" Calahan sat at the desk he was assigned in the First Platoon Administrative Wing of the building, cleaning his rifle. Sure, rounds were electromagnetically propelled, but that didn't mean it didn't need cleaning. Something always needed cleaning.

Three Marines entered the room, approaching the desk and coming to attention. "Uh, Gunnery Sergeant Calahan, sir?" one asked.

"What do you want?" Calahan growled.

"Uh, Gunnery Sergeant Mason ordered us to report to you, sir."

Calahan leaned forward, putting the rifle aside. "Oh, so you're the new guys I was told about," he sized them up. "Bloody hell, you two are small little SOBs," he said, referring to Isis and Erikson.

"Anyways, let me see. THere are howw many of-"

"Three, sir." Erikson said.

Calahan scowled, violently. "I wasn't talking to you," he growled. "So, three. Lemme see...I've got three openings in first squad. Bloody perfect. Three different teams." Calahan looked up again. "Report to Sergeant Synair. He'll assign you to teams."

Erikson groaned. Calahan looked up again and raised his eyebrows. "Got a problem, idiot?"

"Yes, sir. How many times must be sent to someone to be assigned. This Sergeant Synair is the sixth person so far."

Calahan took out a fat cigar and stuck it in his mouth. "Look, idiot, I've got a few pieces of advice for you. One, I am not 'sir.' I'm an NCO, I work for a living. You will refer to me as either Gunny, or Boss, when my boss isn't around. Two, we are not the Army. We make the distinction between Sergeant, and Staff Sergeant. A Staff Sergeant has an extra rocker, and that is what Sergeant Synair is. Before you ask," Calahan growled, seeing Erikson opening his mouth, "I call Sergeant Synair 'Sergeant' because I am his superior, and therefore can as a casual reference. You do not have such a privelege. Three, once again, we are NOT the Army. But the Corps still has bureaucracy. You will meet Sergeant Synair, your squad leader, and then your respective team leaders and teammates."

Calahan lit the cigar. "What are you waiting for? Get out of here!" Calahan shouted.

Erikson, Isis, and Shert nearly tripped over each other trying to get out.
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Chapter II

Erikson, Isis, and Shert exited the building quickly, walking along the dirt path heading towards the multiple barracks buildings.

"How big do ya guys think the stick is?" Isis asked.

"What stick?" Erikson said.

"The stick up his ass, idiot. Takes one helluva stick to make someone pissed off for life."

"If I were you," Shert cut in, "I would shut up. I wouldn't wanna piss off the guy who's pissed off for life."

Erikson and Isis were silent for the rest of the walk.

------------------------------

"New guys, eh?" Staff Sergeant Synair said. Isis and Erikson nodded. "Two boots, damn, I hate that. No offense, but boots aren't my thing. At least I got one experienced guy, as little as it may be."

"Hey, I'm almost at the end of my enlistment, here!" Shert complained.

"You're still a peon in my book. You're assault team. Report to Sergeant Bradley."

Shert grumpily stomped off.

"Now I'm stuck with you two fuckers. Seriously, I lose Hasset and Barlow - two of my most experienced Marines - and I get stuck with, not peons, but boots! Damn you, Nixon!" Synair slammed his fist into the wall. He sighed. "You, Erikson. First fire team, Sergeant Lundhorn."

Isis snorted.

"Something funny, New Guy? Or do you have a cold? Either way, Lundy's got the medicine," Synair said, at the same time clenching his fist and raising his eyebrows.

"No, sir!"

"Then shut up. And don't call me 'sir.' I work for a living."

"So we've heard," Erikson said.

"There must be something wrong with Parris these days, 'cause boots just can't shut the fuck up!" Synair took in a deep breath and rubbed his head. "Alright, Erikson, get! New Guy, second fire team, Sergeant Sanol."

Erikson and Isis went their separate ways.

---------------------------------------

"What's this shit, a boot? God DAMN it, Alex!" Sergeant Lundhorn shouted across the barracks.

"He's your problem now, ya dick!"

"He'll be your's later!" Lundhorn turned back to Erikson. "Fuck, we've got an inspection in an hour, so drop your cock and grab your sock, Marine!"

Erikson just stared at him.

"Unpack your shit and get MOVING! Garrison fatigues, assembled and cleaned weapon. MOVE!"

Erikson threw his pack on the only empty bunk and started unpacking. "Uh, Sergeant Lundhorn?"

Lundhorn flinched. "It's Lundy. LUNDY. Am I clear?" Erikson nodded. "Good. WHAT!?"

"Uh-uh-uh, I don't have a weapon."

Lundy slapped his face with his palm. "Then stop fuckin' around! Get down to Staff Sergeant Borrin and GET ONE!"

--------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later, Erikson returned. Lundy was rapidly polishing his own weapon. "Garrison fatigues, idiot! MOVE!"

Erikson darted to his bags.

"Watch where you're pointing the weapon, dumbass!"

"Sergeant, pardon me for asking, but why does everyone here have a goddamned stick up their ass?"

Lundy stopped polishing. Erikson braced himself for the response. But Lundy started laughing.

"Good question, boot. Good question. Let me tell you why," Lundy stood up and cleared his throat. "Let me tell you somethin' lad," Lundy's voice was low and gruff, almost coarse. It was a great imitation of Gunnery Sergeant Calahan. "When you've stared at Hell, spat on it, and then got knocked on your ass, you usually fall on a sharp stick."

The other men in the team chuckled, and then started clapping.

Lundy took a bow. "I'll tell you why, boot," he said, his voice normal again, "Because Gunny Calahan is the biggest pile of chickenshit you've ever seen. And you should DREAD his inspections."

Lundy said 'dread' with such emphasis that Erikson flinched.
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Chapter III

Camp Oliver Barton

Erikson stood at a rigid attention in line with his squadmates. Each platoon sergeant paced down the lines, inspecting each of their platoons for the company inspection. As Lundy had said, Gunny Calahan was not kind.

Approaching PFC Morris of 1st Squad's assault team, he roughly grabbed Morris's rifle, which was held out at "Present Arms." He looked it over, then took out his knife and probed the cartridge loading area. He looked up and raised his eyebrows, then scowled.

"How in HELL did you get rust in here, Morris? Strike that, I don't wanna know. Liberty denied for a week."

Morris groaned.

"Two weeks!"

This time Morris just shut up. Calahan approached Lance Corporal Padrino, of second fire team. He grabbed the rifle and looked it over, as with Morris's before. He peered down the gunsights.

"Dirt in the front sight aperture, Padrino. Liberty denied for a week." Padrino didn't move at all.

Calahan moved on to Sergeant Bradley of the assault team. He squinted at Bradley's sleeve. "How long ago did you sew on these stripes, Sergeant?"

"This, er, this morning, boss."

"Thanks for bein' honest. Liberty denied for three days instead." Calahan moved to Corporal Carr, of Erikson's first fire team. "Knife, Corporal," Calahan demanded. Carr drew his combat knife from the hip sheath. "You call this rusty piece of shit a knife, Corporal? Liberty denied for a week. Get it replaced."

Finally, Calahan came to Erikson. He looked over the brand-new rifle in Erikson's hands, then probed the magazine compartment with his knife. "Brand-fucking-new, eh? You got off lucky, boot. You better hope your luck holds."

Calahan thrust the rifle back into Erikson's hands and finished up the inspection. He strode back up to the officer at the front and saluted. "Ensign, first platoon inspection complete. Recommend full denial of liberty for infractions, sir."

"Duly noted, Gunnery Sergeant. Nevertheless, the majority of the platoon passed, and infractions were relatively minor," the Ensign said, returning the salute. He turned back to the platoon. "Those with infractions are denied liberty. All others are free for tonight. TAPS is at 2200, no later. Platoon sergeant, the platoon is yours!"

"Yes, sir!" Calahan shouted. "Pla-TOON, dis-missed!"

---------------------------------------------

"Rust? RUST? Sergeant Lundy, come here. Tell me if you see any fuckin' rust on this knife!" Corporal Carr complained.

"The Gunny has a better eye than I do, Ray. You oughta do as he says and get that replaced by the QM tonight," Lundy said, smirking. "Hey, peon, this is your first night on base, so first liberty. Got your back pay yet?"

"Um, uh, no, Sergeant."

"Lundy'll do for casual address, peon. I didn't think so. You can probably pick it up tomorrow. I'll cover you tonight. Tonight, we confuse you with a lot o' names."

------------------------------------------------

Lundy, Erikson, and the fourth member of his fire team went into the town that night. It seemed that most every night, at least half the entire FIST took liberty on the town, the a fourth on base, and the rest were denied.

"Anyways, boot, where'd you wanna go? There's a bar 'round the corner here, and a whorehouse. Maybe a strip club or two. On me tonight. I personally prefer the bar, but then again, it's also the whorehouse," Lundy said, chuckling. "That's where most everyone gathers anyways, so we may as well head over there and introduce a few people to ya."

Erikson found that liberty was pretty laid back compared to the straitlaced and strict life on base. Everyone looked forward to getting drunk and getting laid. Therefore, it was pretty rowdy in the "Hard Place" that night, as most of the FIST had been given liberty that night for passing the inspection. Only about half of First Platoon, D Company, was present.

"'Ey! Kris!" Lundy called, whistling to a 'waitress.' "Usual for me, Specialty Bessan Ale for my new guy here."

"Ah'll 'ave a shot o' Scawtch meself," said the fourth man.

The girl disappeared behind the counter for a minute or two, then returned with a trio of drinks. She made to sit on Lundy's lap. "Not tonight, Kris, I've got a boot to confuse," Lundy said, smiling broadly. As she walked away, somewhat annoyed, Lundy turned back to Erikson. "Anyways, here's where we get to have some fun. This is the Hard Place, biggest bar in town. The Rock is currently being renovated," Lundy chuckled.

"Now, for the confusion. This here," he said, pointing to the unnamed fourth man. "is Lance Corporal O'Deth, also known as 'Crazy Aster.'"

"Call me that agin 'nd ah'll rip out yer throwt and feed it to thah Gunny," O'Deth snapped.

"Just don't say it to his face. He's probably the best Marine in the company, much less the FIST. Don't get in his way, whatever you do, even on liberty or on base. He's not very friendly."

Lundy looked around the bar for familiar faces. He pointed at three large Marines sittig side by side at the counter. "Those are our friendly neighborhood squad leaders - Alex, who you know, Lee, and Ben Thamus, the senior. Alex, he's, well, kind of an ass. Don't talk politics with 'im though, he'll talk your ear off and you can't get rid of him."

"'Ere 'ere, Lundah. Wanted tah shoot 'im once a few years back," said Aster.

"Lee and Thamus are pretty tight. They're old hands in the company, back when the Captain and Ensign were still noncoms. They're okay to the more experienced guys, but aren't to friendly to rookies." Lundy then pointed to another trio of men around a nearby table. They were all laughing loudly, clearly drunk.

"Those guys are Mike, Jason, and Deadhead. Don't ask why they call him Deadhead."

"I know why. 'E was so damn doomb when 'e was a bewt they said 'e was dead in the 'ead."

"Oh yeah, I remember now. They're pretty nice guys. Experienced, but not old hands like some of the others." Lundy shifted his attention to a pair of rather glum-looking fellows next to a rather rowdy man. "Those two guys who look like their best friend just died are Dutch Sanol and Wolf McGraw. They're old hands, and take their jobs very, very seriously. The crazy one, Ape Tewkes, is a good friend 'o Aster's."

"Ya know wut? I'm sick o' you idiots. 'Ey, Ape!" Aster got up and walked over to that table.

"Well, at the table next to us is pretty much Ben's second fire team, minus Deadhead - Selucis - nice guy, but he hasn't been the same since he won the MoV - Sergeant McKnight - he's a real hardass, kind of a protege of the Gunny's - and Izzy Ballard - got a couple campaigns with us, he's fitting in alright. Oh, and that's the frog, Tiduos," Lundy pointed at another Marine approaching that table, "He's from Katan, only one in the FIST, so he's a little...eccentric to say the least.

"Anyways, just have some fun tonight, but be prepared for Satan's Wrath tomorrow," Lundy chuckled and took a swig from his drink. Then his eyes widened and he slapped his face. "Oh, shit! I just remembered they cancelled the FIST inspection tomorrow!"

"What does that mean?" Eriskon asked.

"Are you - oh yeah, you're a peon. If they cancel an inspection, that means we're bein' deployed!"

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a multitude of platoon sergeants burst in. Three stepped forward from the rest, clearly senior. Calahan was one of them

"OKAY! On your feet, Marines! You now have one hour to RTB and prep your gear for deployment! Let's go! Off your asses!" they shouted. They then waded into the crowd of enlisted Marines and singled out the drunk ones, kicking them in the ass until they came and/or got up.

In the morning, they'd be hurting at both ends.
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Chapter IV

Camp Oliver Barton

"Oh, SHIT!" Staff Sergeant Synair bellowed into a silent barrack, clutching his head. Clearly, he had had far too much to drink last night before Gunny Calahan had stuck his foot up his ass, shortly followed by Gunnery Sergeant Morton of second platoon. The shouting really didn't help.

"Christ, Alex, I'm trying to survive, here!" came Sergeant Sanol's voice from across the room. He looked out the window, seeing the sun just starting to rise. Wait a minute, he thought, If the sun is starting to rise, then that must mean...

"Oh shi-" Sanol's voice was drowned out by the sound of a bugle blaring through the camp. Many men bolted awake and started shouting, clutching their heads. The barracks doors burst open. "REVEILLE! REVEILLE! FALL IN ON THE PARADE GROUND IN ONE-ZERO MINUTES!" Gunny Calahan bellowed, leaving for the next barracks as soon as he finished.

Erikson jumped out of his bunk and immediately changed into his garrison fatigues, following Lundy and Aster, who had, strangely, been already awake, out into formation. Erikson was surprised to see that, instead of the company parade ground, Calahan had meant the FIST parade ground, where all one thousand men of the FIST were forming up.

By 5:10 AM World Time, the entire FIST was formed up on the parade field, with the company commanders lined up before Commander Harlan - the CO of the infantry battalion - Commander Golian - CO of the aviation detatchment - Commander Drury - CO of the artillery detatchment - and Brigadier Wolfe - commander of 94th FIST.

Brigadier Wolfe equipped a voice amplifier to his throat so all the men could hear him.

"Men, as you know, the FIST inspection at 1000 was cancelled. As most of the experienced men in the FIST know, this means we have been assigned a deployment. However, this does NOT mean there will not be an inspection today. Men, the shuttles are due to transport us to the CSS Master Sergeant Riley Peters at 0800, so you have one hour for morning chow and then two more to prepare for deployment. There WILL be a FIST inspection en route to our destination, FULL uniforms, Class B. Yes, you bastards, that means dress reds!"

Several men openly groaned and cried out in mock horror.

"Your company commanders will give you a full briefing on board the ship," Wolfe finished. He stopped pacingand stood firm. "94TH FIST, ATTEN-SHUT!" The entire FIST moved as one from parade rest to attention.

"COLOR GUARD, RAISE THE COLORS!" The ceremony went smoothly as usual, with the FIST Band playing the Confederation Anthem as the Confederation Flag rose up the pole.

"Company commanders, take control of your companies. FIST, dis-missed!"

------------------------------------

"Dress reds? Hell, I just got them back from the QM!" Corporal LeFaye of the assault team complained.

"At least you've got them cleaned, you bastard," Corporal Mannerheim of second fire team said. "I've got a loose thread. The Gunny's gonna have my ass for dinner."

"Don't worry, Manny. Remember, he's gonna have his fill of babies this morning," Sergeant Synair joked. The entire squad laughed. "Get serious, squad. The Brigadier said FULL B dress. That means ribbons. Make damn sure they're on, or Wraith'll have MY ass."

"Since when were you afraid of the Gunny, Alex?" Lundy asked.

"Since I had my ass handed to me back when I was a lowly PFC. Besides, who isn't? Oh yeah, Aster. Luckily, it doesn't show. Rear in gear, Lundy!"

--------------------------------------

At exactly 0800 hours, World Time, 94th FIST boarded the shuttles to board the Riley Peters. At 0830, the transport went to WarpSpace.
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Chapter V

CSS Master Sergeant Riley Peters

The CSS Master Sergeant Riley Peters was named after the Marine of the same name who won the Confederation Medal of Heroism for his actions in the Third Maxfrican Campaign. Riley Peters was the second-senior NCO of the 66th FIST, which had taken heavy losses during the campaign, including its FIST Sergeant Major (which made Peters the senior NCO in the FIST). Peters was awarded the CMH for single-handedly halting an enemy assault on the largest field hospital on the planet, using the weapons of fallen or wounded comrades, and saving the lives of hundreds of wounded soldiers and Marines. He was awarded the medal posthumously.

--------------------------------------------

"COMP'NY, ATTEN-SHUT!" First Sergeant Maxwell bellowed. The company immediately went to its normal, rigid attention. Captain Ryan and the platoon commanders stepped forward, closely followed by Brigadier Wolfe and Commander Harlan. The company saluted.

"At ease," Ryan said, smoothly, returning the salute. The company lowered its salute sharply, but remained at attention. "Brigadier Wolfe and Commander Harlan are here for the scheduled inspection and promotion ceremony, as we have several men who are below grade in rank. COMP'NY, PRE-SENT, HARMS!"

The company shifted its rifles so they were vertical, then pushed them out a few inches in front of themselves. Brigadier Wolfe began pacing up and down the lines.

Erikson took the opporunity to look around at his comrades, all dressed in dress reds, complete with ribbons.

He noticed Sergeant Lundy had the ribbon for the Silver Comet - a navy blue ribbon with two parallel, vertical silver stripes. Crazy Aster had a Bronze Star - navy blue with one copper stripe - with two starbursts, indicating two more awards. Staff Sergeant Synair had a Legion of Honor, which denoted honorable conduct on the field of battle, in the face of the enemy.

Glancing at Third Squad, he saw that Staff Sergeant Thamus had a Silver Comet and two Bronze Stars. Corporal Deadhead had twelve wound stripes on his sleeve, and was the most junior Corporal with the Marine Good Conduct Medal, which signified four years of service in the Corps. Sergeant Jason Garnett had the Silver Comet with starburst. Lance Corporal Selucis surprised him - he had the Medal of Valor, the Confederation's second-highest award for gallantry in combat.

Erikson looked up at the platoon and company staff. Gunny Calahan had a Medal of Valor, four Service Stripes - signifying at least sixteen years in the Corps - with the MCGM, eight Wound Stripes, and a Bronze Star with three starbursts. Ensign Glystern had one more service stripe than Calahan, at least twenty years of service - and also had the Gold Nova ribbon, a navy blue ribbon with three gold stripes. First Sergeant Maxwell had a Silver Comet with one starburst, four Service Stripes, five Wound Stripes, and Bronze Star with one starburst. Lieutenant Red Bandon had a Silver Comet and Bronze Star with two starbursts, plus four wound stripes. But Captain Ryan outdid them all - six Service Stripes, twenty-four years - six Wound Stripes on the opposite sleeve, a Gold Nova, Legion of Honor with arrow (indicating an extra award), a Silver Comet, and Bronze Star with three starburst.

Wolfe eventually came to Erikson. "You must be one of the new Marines we just got in," Wolfe said, looking over the rifle. "Let's hope you keep up the good work."

By the end of his inspection, Wolfe was thoroughly impressed. "Captain Ryan, I must say that this is the most impressive company in the FIST. Especially First Platoon. Keep up the excellent work." Wolfe saluted Ryan, who returned it promptly. "Captain Ryan, take control of your company."

Ryan nodded and turned back. "COMP'NY, SHOULDER...HARMS!" With a resounding clack! each rifle went from present arms to shoulder arms. "COMP'NY, PARADE...REST! We will now honor the NCOs and enlisted men who are to be promoted today." Captain Ryan began with First Platoon.

"Corporal LeFaye, First Squad! Corporal LePallin, Second Squad! Lance Corporal Bellik, Second Squad! Sergeant Roland, Second Squad!" Ryan shouted, calling the menup by their new ranks. Each man stepped forward to the front, and Gunny Calahan and Ensign Glystern presented them with their new stripes. Ryan moved on to Second Platoon, Third Platoon, and lastly, Fourth Platoon.

Brigadier Wolfe nodded to Ryan and left, moving on to Echo Company. "Platoon commanders, take control of your platoons! COMP'NY, DISMISSED!" Ryan ordered.

OOC: This is was basically a filler chapter meant to glorify most everyone. (The only non-PFCs I left out were Tewkes and Tiduos)
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Chapter VI

CSS Master Sergeant Riley Peters

Erikson relaxed in the admittedly uncomfortable chair, watching Captain Ryan describe the planet Volut to the company. Volut was their destination, a planet engulfed in civil war.

"The Volut Planetary Army is typical for that of a colony - well-equipped, but poorly-trained and led. They are not professionals like us," Ryan said. Many whoops and Oorah!s answered him. Ryan waved his hand for silence.

"Throughout this civil war on Volut, the VPA has had the upper hand, due to its access to modern facilities and equipment. However this superiority makes them arrogant, to a fault." The slides on the viewscreen switched from pictures of VPA and VLA soldiers to that of burned villages and dead civilians. Many Marines, especially new men, gasped.

"The VPA has become overly forceful in dealing with the rebels. Learning this, the Confederation Congress has decided to send a Marine FIST to put a stop to such activity, and lead the VPA to victory in a civilized manner.

"Each company in the FIST shall deploy with brigade of VPA soldiers, and will have superiority of rank. Yes, that means even new PFCs will be fire team leaders for the VPA troops." Many men groaned, likely experienced men.

"All other VPA troops will be recalled. Only Marine-led brigades will be deployed. That means approximately ten brigades - fifty thousand VPA regulars - will be deployed across the planet. That is not a lot of men to cover an entire planet. However, Volut's population - and therefore rebel activity - is concentrated around this area," Ryan switched the slide to highlight about one-sixteenth of Volut's surface. "The rest of the planet is relatively unexplored or inhospitable. Men, this should be a cakewalk." Ryan smiled, many men laughed.

"Compared to what, Cap? The Fourth Maxfrican?" First Sergeant Maxwell joked.

"No, the Avril Campaign!" Ryan replied. The older men roared with laughter.

Ryan looked at his chrono. "We arrive in twelve hours. Get squared away for landing. Platoon leaders!" the ensigns went to attention. "I know we've done this a lot lately, but platoon inspections. Make damn sure all of your men are ready for combat." The ensigns nodded. "COMP'NY, DIS-MISSED!"

---------------------------------------------

"This'll be a piece of cake," Lundy said.

"What, the inspection?" Erikson asked.

"No, idiot! The deployment will be easier than the inspection!" Carr and O'Deth laughed. "But seriously, it will be. You already know how the Gunny is a chickenshit from Hell."

------------------------------------------------

"PLA-TOON, ATTEN-SHUT!" Ensign Glystern bellowed. As usual, the platoon snapped to attention. "Prepare for inspection, combat readiness! Platoon Sergeant!" Gunny Calahan turned to Glystern. "Inspect the platoon!"

"Yes, sir!"

Erikson looked Glystern over. "Ares" was absolutely enormous, even larger than Calahan or Wolf McGraw, or even Crazy Aster. He smiled slightly, almost a smirk, and had an aura of confidence surrounding him. Five Service Stripes went a long way towrd that.

"IDIOT!" Calahan bellowed, snapping Erikson back to reality. "You daydreaming boy?! Ares said 'present arms!' Down for fifty!"

Erikson didn't move for a second, contemplating what had just happened.

"NOW, IDIOT!"

Erikson jumped and immediately dropped to the floor, beginning to do his fifty push-ups.

"Wuss! The girls at the Rock can do better push-ups than you! Nose to the ground!"

Erikson continued his push-ups, but with greater determination. When he hit fifty, he stood back up.

"Npw, pre-sent, HARMS!" Calahan bellowed. Erikson did so. Calahan snatched the rifle form his hands. Looking it over, he looked normal, until he didn't. He visibly shuddered for a fraction of a second, eyes widening. "Rust on your rifle?!" A couple men gasped, for a moment, as Calahan shot the platoon a venomous glare. "RUST, on a brand-new rifle?! You haven't had this rifle three days, and you've already got rust on it!" Calahan shoved the rifle back into Erikson's hands. Erikson didn't see any rust. Erikson tensed, nonetheless.

Staff Sergeant Synair gagged to contain his laugh.

"Something funny, Alex? Down and fifty!" Calahan yelled. Synair dropped to do the push-ups. Calahan looked back at Erikson, his scowl alive with fury.

Then the scowl began to slowly disappear, back into Calahan's normal, somber expression. "Just kidding, idiot," he said, mechanically.

Erikson's eyes widened. The Gunny could joke?

"I do that to all the new meat. Your rifle looks fine. Keep it up. Just pay attention and have some goddamned sense!" Calahan stalked off.

"Gunny, permission to speak, sir!"

Calahan paused and looked back. "Granted."

"If I may ask-"

"Get on with it."

"Did you have a father that did the same to you?"

Calahan didn't smirk, but Erikson knew he had asked a dumb question from the snorts of nearby men.

"Well, since you're a peon, I'll let you off easy this time," Calahan coughed violently, then resumed. "Let me tell you something, idiot. I never had a father, or a mother. I came from Hell itself to torment this platoon. Specifically, you." Calahan stalked back off to complete the inspection.

--------------------------------------------

"God, you are so goddamned stupid, Idiot," Staff Sergeant Synair was saying as they re-entered the enlisted quarters. "You don't ask Wraith personal questions. You're lucky he let you off this time."

"I hear him coughing all the time. What's with that?"

"Don't ask him, 'cause he'll just avoid the question, like he does with all of them. I wasn't a Marine when he got it, but the old, old hands were, like the officers, Ben, and Crazy Aster. Lung wound. He never got over it. At least, that's what they say."

"Geez. Know anything about his family?"

"There are a lot of stories about that. The most outlandish ones tend to come form Crazy Aster, but they're all bullshit. The only one Wraith has ever identified with is the one he just told you," Synair cleared his throat. "Let me tell you something, Idiot," he said, an almost perfect imitation of Calahan's voice. "Don't ask questions, just accept its existence. Ask questions and I'll kick yer ass."

Synair cleared his throat again. "Seriously, he might. It's happened to few people, I heard. He doesn't like it." Synair looked at his chrono. "Anyways, planetfall in zero-three hours. Get going, Idiot!"
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Chapter VII

Volut Surface, Orannia

Brigadier Wolfe and his staff strode into the Chief Military Offices of the Volutian Planetary Army, seeking to meet with the commander-in-chief of the VPA for the first time. General Grolan Arikos sat calmly, almost smugly, at his desk.

"Ah, Brigadier General Thomas Wolfe, 94th FIST, Country Capital Confederation Marine Corps. An honor to meet you," Arikos said, rising and extending his hand.

Wolfe shook the man's hand and saluted, which was promptly returned. "It's Brigadier, not Brigadier General, General Arikos."

"Ah yes, of course. I forgot how eccentric you Marines are."

Wolfe sighed. Eccentric was not the word he would have chosen. "As you know, General, we are here on official Confederation business. Your Army has seemed to have...problems fighting the rebellion on your planet."

"Of course. The civilians - especially in the country villages and towns - are very unreliable. They cannot be trusted."

"Personally, I do not believe it is the civilians who are the problem," Wolfe said coldly.

Arikos scowled. "I assure you, there are no criminals or men of low honor in MY army."

"Let us dispense with the 'pleasantries' and talk business, shall we?" Wolfe sat down opposite Arikos at the desk.

---------------------------------------------------

Ensign Ares Glystern looked over the sheet of orders he had been dispatched from company command. It detailed the assignment of his platoon - to the 3rd Brigade, 14th VPA Infantry Division. It also listed the location of their initial operations and the rules of engagement, which were very, very strict this time around, especially regarding civilian infrastructure.

"How in hell am I supposed to fight a war?" Ares thought out loud.

"Problem, sir?" Gunny Calahan asked, stepping into the M19 Mormoris Medium APC, Marine, popularly known throughout the ranks as the "Demon."

"Yeah, Wraith. They've got me so restricted in civilian areas with these ROE that I won't be able to kill any enemies!"

"Then just do as I do, sir. 'Oops. I forgot'"

"That's not gonna cut it and you know it. Stopped fuckin' around with me. You know I hate that kind of humor."

"Rule #33: There is no such thing as an innocent civilian."

"I hear you, but that's the same kind of morality that got us sent here in the first place." Ares sighed.

"What's our assignment?"

Ares looked back down at the sheet of paper. "3rd Battalion, 14 ID. Initial op, search and destroy in the vicinity of the village of Troiska. Simple. Let's make it clean and efficient."

Calahan nodded. "As always, sir. I'll get to it."

OOC: Another filler chapter. The aciton should start in the next one.
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Chapter VIII

Volut Surface, 13 mile away from Troiska

The formation of nine Blackhawk III hovercopters held twenty-five men each, for a total of forty Marines of First Platoon and two hundred men, two full companies, of VPA regulars. The Blackhawks were in a standard "V" formation, heading towards the drop zone 3 miles outside of the town of Troiska.

"Okay!" Ensign Glystern shouted to Gunny Calahan, First, and Second Squads. "Since this is our first operation in conjunction with the VPA regulars, we will do this with a small force of the battalion and with the platoon together. Now," Glystern held out a small mechanical device, which immediately projected a holomap of the operational area. "There are reports of three squads of enemy here, in the village itself, with several patrols on the outskirts about a mile out. However, our main objective is this," Ares said, pointing at a formation of rubble atop a somewhat steep hill. "There is a force estimated company strength staged in these ruins. There is a confirmed light armor presence, nothing we can't handle. This is a simple search and destroy mission - we take out the patrols, then storm the village, then head up the fill and take out the rest. Easy, clean, and efficient."

"One minute out!" the pilot exclaimed.

"Everyone, get ready! Check your equipment!" Several rifles cocked as Marines checked to make sure if it was loaded and unjammed.

"LZ is in sight. Hang on for descent." The Blackhawk decelerated from a speed of 150mph to a speed of 40mph in the space of five seconds, rapidly decreasing its altitude to land perfectly in the clearing that was the landing zone.

"MOVE!" Ares bellowed. The Marines rapidly leapt out of the Blackhawk's passenger bay and fanned out to secure the area. The Blackhawks' jet engines roared as they took off once again.

"Delta One, this is Delta One-Six. Check in," Ares said into the comm.

"This is Delta One-One, clear," said Staff Sergeant Synair.

"Delta One-Two here, clear," said Staff Sergeant Lee.

"This is Delta One-Three, ready," said Staff Sergeant Thamus.

"This is Delta One-Five, next to you," said Gunny Calahan, who was indeed standing at Ares's side.

"Roger that, Delta One. Victor Five-Six, check in."

"This is Victor Five-Six Alpha, checking in," said Captain Molomer, commander of the first VPA company.

"Victor Five-Six Bravo checking in, we're all right," said Captain Porrent, commander of the second company.

"Roger that, Victor Five-Six. Delta One, Victor Five, move out!"

------------------------------------

The Marines crept ahead of the regulars in order to retain the element of surprise. Even after only a few minutes, the regulars had shown themselves to be clumsy.

"Contact," said a voice on the comm. Ares immediately held his hand up, balled into a fist.

"Everyone, freeze," he said, dropping to a crouch. The Marines responded in the same way instantly, but the command took a few seconds to register with the regulars.

"This is Delta One-One. I count six, no, seven tangoes approximately twenty meters front," said Synair.

"Roger that, Delta One-One. You are clear to engage."

"Roger that."

About a dozen sharp cracks! echoed ahead. The comm crackled again. "Forward area clear. Delta One-One, moving."

"Everyone, up!" Ares whispered, rising to his feet and continuing the advance.

"This is Delta One-Three. I have contact. Four tangoes to the front, approx three-thirty degrees."

"This is Delta One-One. I have another contact. Five tangoes, direct front."

"Roger that, Delta One-Three, Delta One-One. Engage. I say again, engage."

More cracks! sounded ahead and to the front right. "Clear," said Synair.

"Clear," said Ben.

"Roger that. All elements, hold," Ares said. He opened another comm channel. "Delta Six, this is Delta One-Six Actual, over."

"Go ahead Delta One-Six, over."

"We have made contact with enemy patrols. Request Alpha Sierra Echo, over." Alpha Sierra Echo was the phonetic codename for the "All-Seeing Eye" satellite system deployed in orbit.

"Roger that, Delta One-Six. Wait one," the radio operator at company command paused. "Alpha Sierra Echo has been uploaded to your HUD, over."

Roger that, Delta Six. Delta One-Six, out."

The two captains approached Ares. "Why are we stopped?" Molomer asked, resentment in his voice.

"Checking for more patrols. I think we got them all." Ares scanned the feed on his HUD, inside his helmet visor. "Confirmed. All hostile patrols elminated." Ares reopened the all-hands comm channel. "This is Delta One-Six. All hostile patrols eliminated. All forces, move into position to assault Objective Tango."
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OOC: Normally I would have updated 40k today, but I wrote this one in school during free time, so I'll do it.

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Chapter IX

Volut Surface, 1 mile outside Troiska

"Okay, tactical plan," Ares said to the VPA officers. "My Marines start the show. We pull overwatch, you assault through. Clear?" The two captains nodded. "Alright, get ready. Wraith," Ares said, turning to Calahan beside him. "Stay with Alex."

"As usual, sir," Calahan nodded, jumping up and running off. Ares held his fingers to his temple. "Delta One, this is Delta One-Six. Pick targets. Engage on my mark." Ares looked over at Captain Moromer, who gave a thumbs up. "Hit it, Marines!"

-------------------------

Calahan dropped next to Synair just as Ares gave the command. Synair's rifle cracked with each shot. "Fuckin' amateurs. Sittin' right in the open. It's a near ambush, you fuckers! Run out of it!" Synair swore angrily, pausing his fire temporaily.

"Easy, Alex," Calahan grunted, activating his visor's distance magnifier. "This is Delta One-Five. Cease fire. All visible targets down. I say again, cease fire," Calahan said. The cracks abruptly stopped.

"This is Delta One-Six. Victor Five, assault."

"Moving," said Molomer. The two companies of regulars burst out of the treeline and dashed across the field.

"Tango," said a voice. A crack!. "Down." Two more cracks from the treeline sounded, with similar results. The regulars began breaking into houses. Different sounding crack!s snapped inside some of them.

"This is Victor Five-Six Alpha. Objective is clear."

"Roger that. Delta One, up." The Marines all stood up and raced across the field into the village. Ares leaned against a wall. "Captain, report."

"Town is clear, Acting Senior Captain. Four of my men were killed, six wounded. I estimate we killed a dozen and four rebels."

"A satisfactory start. Begin moving your men up the hill. I'll report to Six." Molomer nodded and stalked off, waving for his troops to follow. Ares opened the command channel.

"Delta Six, this is Delta One-Six. Objective Tango is cleared. Now moving on Objective Romeo."

"Roger that One-Six. Good work. Out."

---------------------------

"Okay Wraith, we're moving. Follow the regs up," Ares said.

"Moving," Wraith said, motioning for First Squad to move. A sound, like paper ripping, echoed above.

"Delta One-Six, this is Victor Five-Six Alpha. Pinned down by machine guns, over," said Molomer over the comm.

"Roger that, Victor. Hold position," Ares switched channels. "Delta One-Five, MG is pinning down Victor above, over."

"Roger that, One-Six. In sight. Engaging.

-------------------------------

Calahan turned to Lundy. "Lundy, MG at twenty degrees. Still got that LR?" Calahan was referring to the long-range rifle Lundy had carried since the Fourth Maxfrican Campaign.

"Yes, Boss."

"Break it out."

Lundy smiled broadly. Hooking his SIR onto his back, he retrieved the Long Range Rifle and took aim. While not as powerful as the sniper rifles carried by scout-snipers, the LRR, with its 4x zoom scope, served its purpose for standard Marine infantry units.

"I've got three crew," Lundy said. "Engaging." Smooth and steady, Lundy calmly fired one shot every two seconds, and took out the three machine gun crew members cleanly with only three shots. "Clear."

"Second MG, three-forty degrees," said Wraith.

"Roger that," Lundy shifted his aim and fired three more shots. "Clear."

"Victor Five-Six, this is Delta One-Five. MGs cleared."

"Thanks, One-Five. Victor Five, moving." Wraith looked up the slope to see the regulars stand up and sprint the remaining distance to the crumbling walls. "Victor Five, in position."

"This is Delta One-Six. Roger that. Engage when ready. Delta One, move."

Wraith motioned forward with his hand and sprinted up the hill. The regulars moved in and shots cracked from the summit.

"Victor Five-Six here! Light armor! Two, repeat, two Alpha Papa Charlies!"

"Roger that, Victor Five-Six," said Wraith, slamming himself against a wall. "Bradley, up!" Wraith ordered, motioning for First Squad's assault team to move in. Bradley nodded. "Mauve, get out the LAW!"

Lance Corporal Shert slung his rifle and held a light anti-tank weapon on his shoulder. Bradley motioned forward at a gap in the wall with his head. SHert crept over and immediately sighted on of the APCs, which was concentrating on the regulars. Shert pressed down on the trigger and a loud crack! ripped through the air. The APC exploded.

"One down," Shert said, reloading the LAW. A rumbling noise was heard behind another wall. The other APC suddenly came into view, retreating to a better position. It sighted Shert and fired its heavy machine gun erratically in his direction. Another loud crack! sounded, and the APC exploded.

"You fought the LAW, and the LAW won!" Shert jeered.

"This is Delta One-Five, armor is down. Victor Five, assault through."

"Victor FIve, moving." Automatic fire snapped and hissed. In less than five minutes, it was over.

"Victor Five here. Three Kilo, eight Whiskey. Estimated two dozen enemy Kilo. We have three prisoners."

"This is One-Six. Excellent work, men. Romeo is clear."
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Chapter X

Orannia, 94th FIST Combat Information Center

"Peters, I need confirmation," Brigadier Wolfe said, continuing to scan the stellite feed.

"Wait one. Refocusing," said the surveillance officer on the Peters, through the comm. The picture zoomed in, blurring for a moment, then cleared up, clearly showing the exact faces of the three men they were watching.

Wolfe folded his arms. "Facial comparisons." The database activated, turning up three perfect matches in seconds. Wolfe smirked.

Commander Muldoon, commander of the FIST Recon Detatchment approached. "Sir, recon element confirms presence of Tier One Personnel."

Wolfe nodded. "Nearest unit?"

"Delta Company, sir."

"Perfect. We have multiple targets in the area. One platoon each. This," Wolfe said, thumbing at the display, "is priority. I want those rebels dead."

Muldoon nodded and left the room.

------------------------------------------

Orannia, Delta Company Command HQ

"Okay Ares," Ryan said, "FIST Six himself has given me this sector. Since he doesn't want any screw-ups, this will be a Marine-only op. I am delegating the most important target to First Platoon. We have three Tier One Persnnel meeting at a homestead, the, err..." Ryan glanced at the holomap. "Bennett Farm. Six wants them dead."

"Easy," Ares said.

"Infil, Exfil?" Wraith, standing next to Ares, grunted.

"Foot infil to the RV with a FIST Recon team in the forest outside the farm, at grid Papa Tango Two-Five. In slow and silent. No screw-ups."

"Esti-" Wraith suddenly coughed violently for a few seconds, hand to his mouth. The hand came away bloody. Wraith cleared his throat. "Estimated enemy strength?"

"Confirmed three squads plus targets at the objective. Unconfirmed rebel presence in these woods between objective and exfil. Large but unknown enemy force in the area, but you should be long gone by then."

"What about exfil?" Ares asked.

"Exit route is through the aforementioned forest, here. Approximately three clicks from the farm, you RV with VPA regs. From there, you move to the exfil LZ here, at the far edge of the forest. Due to shortages, only one Blackhawk will be available to ferry you all back here. FIST Air is spread VERY thin."

Wraith groaned, then coughed violently again. Ryan and Ares looked at him, both with an eyebrow cocked.

"You sure you're okay Wraith?" Ryan asked.

Wraith cleared his throat. "Hell yes, sir."

"Sounds like it's getting worse."

"No, sir. Same as ever."

Ryan shrugged. "Look after yourself. Get going."

------------------------------------------------------

1 mile from Bennett Farm

The night was pitch-black, illuminated only by the odd lightning flash every few minutes. Thunder cracked, rain pouted. Wraith grunted. A thunderstorm was a double-edged sword - the thunder and rain could conceal any noise they made, but the mud would leave footprints. He scanned the forest with his light amplifier for the approaching recon team. He suddenly saw a flicker of movement - there was one, creeping in a crouch through the brush ahead. But where were-

"Delta One-Six?" whispered a voice to his right. Wraith froze for a fraction of a second, then drew one of his two .45 caliber pistols and pointed it in that direction. A heavily camoflauged man stared right down the barrel.

"Holy God! It's Echo Three-One!" the man whispered, irritated.

Wraith lowered the pistol. "Use proper sign-countersign, Marine! I'm Delta One-Five. One-Six is-"

"Here, Wraith. Don't mind my platoon sergeant. He's a hardass and really hates people sneaking up on him," said Ares. "Are the targets present?"

"Confirmed," Three-One whispered. "One squad sentries, one squad guards, and one squad knife-bait." "Knife-bait" was slang for "asleep."

"Easy. Silencers?"

Three-One tapped his rifle. "Yep. Shock Absorbers are on. We'll tag the sentries, you assault."

"Right. Hard 'n' fast."

"Right on the nose. Once targets are down, my team'll bang out."

"And we head for exfil."

"Yes. Thank God they sent someone smart this time.

"Let's go."
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CHAPTER XI

Bennett Farm

"Delta One, this is Delta One-Six. One, Two, Three, on me," Ares said. He chuckled to himself. It rhymed.

Lee, Alex, and Ben gathered around him within the minute. "Okay, tactical plan," Ares said. It was always how he opened up that discussion. "Three-One and co with take out the squad of sentries. Once they're clear, I want First Squad to prepare to enter Target Building One, and Second Squad to prep Target Building Two. We've got a squad of knife-bait in Two, and a squad guarding the targets in One. Clear?"

"Aye, easy," Lee said, smug.

"What about Third?" asked Ben.

"Third is with me. There might be someone in the forest over there," Ares said, pointing towards the forest across the homestead. "Gunny, you're with me." Wraith grunted and nodded. "Move."

----------------------------------

Three minutes later, Echo Three-One came in over the comm. "This is Echo Three-One. All sentries are down."

"This is Delta One-Six. Are you sure, Echo? Over."

"Roger that. Confirmed twelve hostiles down, over."

"Roger that. Delta One-One, Delta One-Two, prepare for entry, over."

"Roger that."

"Roger that."

Staff Sergeant Synair turned to the squad. "Okay, let's go."

Erikson jumped up with the others and sprinted over to the first building. He carefully stopped and leaned against the wall, next to the door, careful not to make any noise.

"Delta One-One, in position," Alex said over the comm. Alex switched to the squad channel. "Lundy, your team's got point. Let Crazy Aster have some fun."

Erikson could tell Aster was furious, but O'Deth didn't dare make a sound.

"One-Two, in position."

"Roger that. One-Two, go in. Silently, over."

"Roger that. Moving."

Erikson looked across the courtyard and watched Lee's squad silently enter the building. After two minutes, they came back out. "Building Two, clear. Knife-bait indeed," Lee said. Erikson could barely understand him through Lee's thick Laustralian accent.

"Roger that. One-One, go in hard."

"Roger that," Alex said. "Lundy, breaching charge." Lundy placed a small object on the door, below the handle. With a flash and rather loud explosion, the door shattered to splinters and blew in. "GO, GO, GO!" Lundy bellowed.

Aster and Carr ducked in, immediately heading for the corners of the room. Their rifles cracked as they picked off the dazed targets. Then Erikson and Lundy entered.

"Check your corners!" Lundy shouted. O'Deth kicked in the door to the door to the second room, firing at six men who were just raising their rifles. "Targets, DOAN!" he bellowed.

"This is One-One. Building One, clear!" Synair shouted, stepping into the room.

"I need confirmation that the targets are dead," said Ares.

Synair flicked his fingers, and Sergeant Sanol's fire tam started searching the bodies.

"I got one," Sanol said.

"Same," said Lance Corporal Padrino.

"Two targets, confirmed dead," said Alex.

"I got one. He's still alive!" shouted PFC Isis.

----------------------------------

"Shit," Ares cursed. "One-One, remedy that and move on, over."

"What?"

"I said terminate him, over."

"But-"

"Orders are orders, One-One," Ares turned to Wraith. "Get over there and finish this." he whispered. Wraith nodded and sprinted off.

"He's wounded and unarmed. Shouldn't we-"

"No, Staff Sergeant. That's an order!"

"But this is against-" there was a crack! on the other end.

"Target down," said Wraith
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IC:

CHAPTER XII

"Delta One, regroup in the courtyard," Ares said. He switched off the channel - Alex was shouting and cursing violently on the other end.

Ares and Ben walked into the courtyard between the builldings. Alex was still cursing at Wraith.

"He was unarmed, defenseless! What's wrong with you?! Don't you have any sense of morality?"

"No."

Alex was taken aback for a moment. "Why on World do they let yiy serve in the Corps? You're a psycho!"

"Look, lad. I. Don't. Care."

"It's against everything we stand for! Everything I belie-"

Alex was cut off as Wraith grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against a wall. "Now you listen here, I don't-"

"GUNNERY SERGEANT!" Ares exploded. Wraith froze, completely motionless.

"Unhand my squad leader immediately or I will have you court-martialed!" Ares ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Wraith said, dropping Synair. Alex looked up, face contorted with rage.

"One of these days...you'llget yours."

"I don't doubt it."

"Be silent! Both of you! Wraith, rule number thirty-one: Don't piss off the boss!"

Ben and Lee let out quiet oooohs. Ares was using Wraith's "Rules of Engagement" against him.

"Apologies, sir. Rule number thirty-seven: Don't bitch, sir."

"Don't let it happen again, Gunny."

"It will not, sir."

"It better not. We have to move, now. Into the woods."

-------------------------------------

The platoon entered the trees in a staggered line formation, with First Squad in front. The three fire teams spread out and cautiously edged forward, completely silent.

Suddenly, fists went up - the hand signal for "Freeze!" The signal rippled through the formation, and the entire platoon dropped to a crouch.

"This is Delta One-One Bravo," that was Sergeant Sanol. "I have four contacts, front."

"Roger that, Bravo. Hold fire, repeat, hold fire, over."

"Roger that." The platoon remained absolutely still for several seconds. Then Sanol's voice crackled again. "This is One-One Bravo. Four new contacts. Wait...Correction, six new contacts, over."

"Are you sure, Bravo? There should be twelve total, over."

"Roger that, One-Six. Ten total visible contacts, over."

"One-One Bravo, engage. But be alert of two non-visible tangoes, over."

"Roger that. Engaging." A second later, a dozen sharp cracks! reported again in quick succession. Two more, different, cracks sounded, then four more Marine shots. The night was silent again.

"This is One-One Bravo. All targets down, over."

"This is One-Six. You sure, Bravo? Over."

"Roger that, One-Six. Count twelve tangoes dead, over."

"Roger that. Delta One, move."

"Moving," the squad leaders reported in turn.

-----------------------------------

Ten more silent minutes passed before the next contact. The hand signals went up, and the platoon went down. Erikson was near Aster, who was on point, wen Aster dropped to the ground.

"Contact, front. I coant six tangoes, over," he whispered.

"This is Delta One-One Alpha. Contact, front. Six tangoes, over," said Lundy.

"Roger that, Alpha. Wait one, over."

Erikson scanned the trees for several seconds, then spotted more sillouettes, casually patrolling towards, weapons slung over their shoulders.

"Contact," he whispered.

"Conformed. Coant six mar, over," said Aster.

"One-Six, this is One-One Alpha. Count six new contacts. Total count, twelve tangoes, over," said Lundy.

"Roger that, Alpha. Engage at will, over."

"Roger that, engaging." Lundy raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired three quick shots at the enemies. Two dropped. Aster and Carr poured fire into the sillouettes, most of them dropping. Erikson sighted one who dropped prone in a bush, and squeezed off two shots. The forest was suddenly silent again. "This is One-One Alpha. Targets down. Confirm twelve tangoes Kilo, over."

"Roger that, Alpha. Delta One, move."

The platoon rose up and started edging forward once again. Carr walked up to Erikson and slapped him on the back.

"I saw that, Idiot! Look here, guys, first blood for the peon!" Carr whispered.

Lundy and Aster let out low whoops in response.

-----------------------------

It was nearing dawn when the next contact appeared. Sergeant Sanol's fire team sighted it first and requested permission to fire.

"Hold fire, Bravo. Over," Ares said. He brought up the holomap on his HUD. "Well, coordinates Delta India Six-Four. They're probably the regs. Hang on." Ares switched to an overall frequency. "This is Delta One-Six, at grid coordinates Delta India Six-Four. Any nearby friendly forces respond, over."

There was a long pause. "This is Victor Two-Six, over."

"Victor Two-Six, autheticate Romeo Eight, over." Another pause.

"I authenticate Juliet Six, over."

"Roger that. We believe we have you in sight. Fire one shot. Repeat, fire one shot into the ground, over." Another pause. Then a sharp crack! from the area up front.

"Delta One, hold fire! Repeat, do not fire!" Ares ordered, suspecting the signal shot might have spooked Sanol's team. He switched channels again. "Roger that, Victor. Sending a team to link up, out." He switched back to the platoon channel. "One-One Bravo, move forward and link up with the contacts, over."

"Roger that. Moving." Ares saw four Marines rise from their prone positions and walk forward, carefully, towards the men ahead.

"This is One-One Bravo. Confirmed friendly forces, over."

"Roger that. Delta One, move to the RV point."
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CHAPTER XIII

Orannia, VPA Chief Military Offices

"Sir," General Arikos's aide was saying, "the enemy troops are sufficiently spread out for elimination."

"Excellent. We'll teach them to meddle," Arikos responded.

"Shall I order the assault on their command center, sir?"

Arikos nodded. "All units engage. Operation: Blind Mice is a-go."

-----------------------------

Orannia, 94th FIST Combat Information Center

"Sir," Commander Harlan said, approaching Brigadier Wolfe. Wolfe was bent over the wide-scale holomap of the continent, studying it intently. He stood ups traight and turned to face Harlan. "Yes?"

"There's a VPA security team waiting at the front door. They say a rebel terror attack is imminent."

Wolfe raised an eyebrow. "We would've been notified and taken our own precautions. We need no security team. Send them off."

"Very well, sir."

Minutes later, Harlan returned. "Sir, they refuse to leave. They say the attack is imminent."

Wolfe sighed heavily. "How many are in this 'team,' and what is the expected strength of the attackers?"

"Six squads have arrived, sir. They are spreading throughout the complex. They said nothing about enemy strength."

Wolfe blinked. "Very well. Put the HQ Company on full alert, then."

------------------------------------

"Remember sir, back in the old days? When the older hands were around and not officers?" First Sergeant Maxwell was saying.

"Will you please shut up, Cow? I'm sick of your nostalgia. I don't think I have the same appreciation for it," said Lieutenant "Red" Bandon, the executive officer of Delta Company.

"You take a few days in a rifle platoon, then have a few drinks, you'll have an appreciation for the past."

"Does alcohol solve all your problems?"

"Yes."

Red slapped his face. Dropping the argument, he turned to Captain Ryan. "Progress?"

"First Platoon just made contact with their reg detatchment, and Third and Fourth are nearly there. Second just finished up their objective. Don't worry about it, Red. That's my job."

"Sir, it's been about ten minutes. You sure that 'imminent' attack is gonna come?"

Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't matter to me. I just do what I have to."

Red groaned. Maxwell took a swig from his hip flask.

"Are you drinking on duty, Cow?!"

"Maybe."

"Put that shit away!"

"But I'm technically not on duty!"

"I don't care. Just-"

Suddenly, several sharp cracks! sounded in the hallway outside. Red, Cow, and Ryan all spun around rapidly. The door blew open, knocking Ryan and Red off their feet and sending Cow - who had been leaning against a window - out the second-story window to the ground.

"FREEZE! Draw your sidearms and you're dead!" a voice ordered.

OOC: Filler chapter for now. Next one should really develop what I'm planning to do.
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CCRPG Marines
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Wraith
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Preparing for the Second Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
CHAPTER XIV

4 Kilometers Away From Bennett Farm

"Don't worry, Wraith. The 'Hawk will be back in about a half hour for you and First. I'll see you there, maybe grab a beer or two," Ares shouted, over the chopper's roar, and winked. Wraith nodded, and the Blackhawk hovercopter rose up several meters and flew off to the north.

"Alex, get your squad gathered together. I want to be on the chopper as soon as it lands."

"Alright," Alex said, turning back and running off.

Wraith ducked back into the treeline and met with the regular platoon leader, who had a squad of men around him. Wraith pulled out a conventional map.

"OPs set out?"

"Yes, Acting Senior Lieutenant."

"How many?"

"All my men except who you see here."

"Good," Wraith looked at the map. "Can you pinpoint their position?"

"Yes, sir," the regular lieutenant walked up and pointed to several points half a kilometer away from their position.

"Okay." Wraith scanned the map again, then glanced up. These regulars around him were disgraceful. They louged around, waepons pointed anywhere. One even had his rifle pointing at him. Wraith looked at the map again, then glanced up again. Now two had their weapons pointed at him. He waited a second. Now three.

Wraith blinked.

"Well, there's a large rebel force in the area, so we'll need to set up-"

In a fraction of a second, Wraith drew his pistol from a hip holster, before the lieutenant could even raise his arm. He got off five shots at the lieutenant and some men before three shots slapped into him. The world went black.

--------------------------------------

"Oh, shit! What was that?!" Corporal Mannerheim asked.

"Shots fired! Over there by the Gunny!" Sergeant Lundy shouted. "First Team, on me!" Lundy and his men leapt over the brush and dodged through the trees, eventually settling into a position to see the area. The Gunny lay bleeding out on the gorund, five others dead in front of him. But they were regulars.

The remaining regulars were speaking.

"....won't they want prisoners?"

"Nah, they'll have plenty from the capital. Finish the bastard off."

The first speaker raised his rifle to his shoulder, pointing at Wraith's head.

Lundy immediately raised his own rifle and fired instantly, cutting him down. His team followed suit, and the regulars were all dead within a second. He rushed over to Wraith's body.

"Oh shit!" he shouted, putting his fingers to Wraith's neck. "He still alive! STASIS BAG!"

Staff Sergeant Synair, Sergeant Sanol, and the medical corpsmen - Corporal Goldstein - rushed over.

"What the fuck happened?" Alex asked angrily.

"I dunno, Alex. We came over to find these bastards," Lundy pointed at the dead regulars. "about to finish off the Gunny. So we took 'em out."

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Well, shit. Lemme contact Six." Alex raised his hand to his temple and spoke something. He hen staggered back a step, taken aback. "Shit. That feedback hurts the hell outta my ears. We're bein' jammed."

"What?!"

"I guess we outstayed our welcome. They're bound to be headed this way this minute, so let's get moving, now!"

"What about the Gunny?"

Alex thought for a moment. "We'll....take him with us. Someone carry him."

Aster stepped forward. "I kin get 'im by meself." He hoisted the stasis back on his back relatively effortlessly.

Suddenly, there was a roar overhead.

"Oh, shit! Hovercopters! Anyone see 'em?"

"I did, sir. Blackhawks!" PFC Isis shouted.

"Great! That must mean-"

"They were Blackhawk IIs, sarge. Not ours," said Sergeant Sanol.

"Oh, shit! We need to get moving! Let's go!"

OOC: Okay, guys. Here's hoping I get comments.
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