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| Trial By Fire; CCRPG Marines Compiliation II | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 13 Nov 2008, 09:53 PM (1,124 Views) | |
| Wraith | 21 Dec 2008, 10:45 PM Post #31 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XVIII Task Force Euradis Command & Control Center, Southern Belligerant "SIGHTING! WE HAVE A SIGHTING!" "What? Who?" "PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE! SIGHTING, GRID GOLF BRAVO!" "Shit! Everyone, work it!" The communications officers, analysts, and staff officers in the CIC frantically dashed to their stations. "Delta Six, this is Golf Two-One. Say again, over." "This is Delta Six. Tango Six is airborne, in a chopper, over." "Roger that, Delta Six. Whiskey Six, this is Golf Two-One. Tango Six has been spotted in Grid Golf Bravo. Repeat, Tango Six has been spotted in Grid Golf Bravo. Tango Six is airborne in a hovercopter, over." "Roger that. All Whiskey units, this is Six. Activate IFF beacons, over." "Roger that," came the replies. On Whiskey Six's HUD, dozens of blue diamonds appeared within seconds of the reply, marking the locations and confirming the allegiance of 95% of all hovercopters over the city. "All Whiskey units, this is Six. We have three unidentified choppers over restricted airspace. Tail them, order them to land, if possible. Do NOT engage unless authorized. Repeat, tail, order them to land, but do NOT engage. Over." "Roger that." --------------------------------------------------- One of the hovercopters came in behind one of the three unidentified choppers, flying Grid Holtel Alpha. "Unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace. Land immediately and prepare to be detained. Respond, over," said the pilot of Whiskey Four-Four over an open channel. There was no response. "I say again, unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace. Land NOW or we will destroy your aircraft. Respond, over." Suddenly, the aircraft veered up and started to turn rapidly. "He's flaring. Good. Send the location to-" The hovercopter was suddenly hit by a freight train. The alarm klaxons started screeching. "Damn it! He got our right hoverjets. Firing auxiliaries," the pilot swore, pulling down a lever to his side. The hovercopter's spin immediately stopped as the smaller auxiliary hoverjets flared up. Whiskey Six, this is Whiskey Four-Four. Ou unidentified chopper just blew out our primary jets. Request permission to engage, over." "Roger that, Four-Four. Engage at will. Out." "Okay, Bob," he said to his co-pilot. "Fox Two! Fox Three! Fox Four!" The pilot jammed down on the button on his control lever three times, and three missiles were let loose. They tracked down the fleeing enemy hovercopter. He popped flares, sending one of the missiles haywire, veering off course. But he wasn't so lucky with the other two. They struck home, sending the chopper down to the ground in flames. "Target down. We are pulling out." ------------------------------------------------------- "This is Whiskey Five-One. Our unidentified aircraft is setting down. Looks like a damn news crew, over." "Roger that, Five-One. Whiskey Six-Eight, SitRep, over," said Whiskey Six. "This guy's not responding. We're over Grid Fox Alpha, heading for Capital Hill. Should we proceed? Over." "Affirmative, Six-Eight. Trail target to destination." "Roger that. Out." --------------------------------------------------------- "Whoa!..." the pilot of Whiskey Six-Eight said. The skies over Capital Hill were filled with smoke trails from SAMs and RPGs. "That was a close one. Oop, SAM lock. Incoming. Pop flares." "Roger that," the co-pilot responded. Crack! The large, extremely hot flares popped out of the side of the chopper, emmitting an even greater heat signature and throwing the missile off course. "Down." "Roger. Wait, he's flaring. Pass over." "Roger." The pilot peered out the viewport and saw the chopper land on the roof of a five-story building, near the center of Capital Hill. Many small figures got out and dashed for the roof exit. One man knelt and looked at them. "Oh shit! SAM! Evasive!" With a great WHOOSH! and a cloud of smoke, the RPG barely missed them. "Arm missiles." "Roger that, arming missiles. Ready, Fox-" "Hold! What the fuck is that!" "I think it's a...fuckin' A', that's a fuckin' hospital." "Goddamn son of a bitch. Whiskey Six, this is Whiskey Six-Eight. Bogey has landed at a hospital in the center of Capital Hill. Grid...Capital Lima Echo. We just dodged an RPG from one of 'em, over." "Roger that, Six-Eight. Pull out. Goddamn it, I'll call this in." ------------------------------------------------------ "Golf Two, this is Whiskey Six. Tango Six has landed at a hospital in Grid Capital Lima Echo, over." "What? Say again, over." "Tango Six has landed in a hospital in Grid Capital Lima Echo. We cannot pull off an air strike against a hospital, Golf Two." "Roger that. Gold Two out." The Division Intelligence Officer called up the leader of Task Force Euradis, Major General Basset. "Sir, it's Grif. Public Enemy Number One just landed in a goddamn hospital, Grid Capital Lima Echo." "That son of a bitch," Basset responded. "Okay, we'll need all available forces here at base to take this. Whadowe got?" "Let me check," the intelligence officer pulled up some files on his HUD, of all personnel checked into the Task Force CIC, Aid Station, Barracks, and Supply Depot. "We've got walking wounded, staff officers, analysts, line officers, senior NCOs, and three Recon Teams." "Goddamn it. Have the most senior line officer form up a task force, Code Name Romeo. They'll insert via chopper to the target building, clear bottom up, and apprehend Cartier. Make it very clear about bottom up. No escape this time. Air cover is a must-have." "I'll get to it, sir." |
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| Wraith | 23 Dec 2008, 03:44 PM Post #32 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XIX Somewhere in Northern Belligerant "Stay close to me," Erikson muttered. He peered around the corner, over a pile of rubble crossing the alley. "I'd say we're about three-hundred meters, more or less, from the extraction point." "Thank God for small mercies," Morgan said back. They hadn't encountered any patrols so far. "Patrol," he whispered, spotting four men pacing the street, almost carelessly. That was ironic. "Stay here. I'll take 'em out." Erikson quietly opened a side door into the building next to them and walked in, covering the room. He walked upstairs, rifle still raised. The house may have seemed empty, but you could never be too sure. "Clear," he whispered. But there was no one to talk to. He moved over to a blown-out window overlooking the street and leaned against the wall. He checked the pouches in his belt - only two clips left for his Marine Rifle. But he had plenty of ammo for the enemy rifle. Erikson slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out the KRF rifle he had scavenged way back from their first firefight. He looked it over. Hnh. No semi-auto fire mode. Primitive, he thought. He slapped the clip to make sure it was in tight, then leaned around and aimed out the window. "Good night," he whispered to himself, even though it was midday. Leading his target by a couple inches, he depressed the trigger and raked the rifle back and forth across the four-man patrol, which obligatorily stood in a perfect, straight column. All four men fell dead as the rifle's clip went empty. Erikson changed clips in disgust. It shouldn't take a full fifty rounds to take out four guys, he thought. He rushed back downstairs and back out into the alley where Morgan was waiting. "Okay, let's go. Watch your step - you don't want to step in dead guy." Morgan shuddered in disgust. When they were halfway across the street, they suddenly heard a lot of shouting, approaching rapidly. Erikson turned and looked up the road. "Aw, FUCK! RUN, DAMMIT RUN!" The gunfire had attracted the unwanted attention of a platoon of men who had been resting for lunch nearby. ----------------------------------------------------------- Southern Belligerant, Marine Aid Station "No, DAMMIT! If he goes out there, he'll be killed!" the medical officer raged. "You heard the call, sir. They need all the help they can get, and I can walk. Therefore, I can fight," Calahan responded. "Now, can I have the rest of my uniform." "I order you to stay here!" "Sorry, sir, but I'm a Marine, and you're a do- Army surgeon. I'm afraid I don't have to follow your ord-" "Gunnery Sergeant Calahan, you will follow this man's orders. That's an order," Red barked, suddenly appearing in the room behind the medical officer. "Don't pull that bullshit with this poor doc. You know perfectly well they rescinded that shit of a reg ten years ago." "Yes, sir. Permission to speak, sir?" Calahan asked. "Granted." "With all due respect to the medical officer, I think I know my own capabilities better than he does. I can walk, therefore I can fight. I've fought in worse shit before, sir. You know that." "I certainly do, Gunnery Sergeant. But nevertheless, you have been ordered by two superior officers not to fight. Nevertheless, Doc, I would have a word with you," Red beckoned for the medical officer to follow him out of the room. In the observation room, the medical officer ripped Red a new one, or thought he did. "That man cannot fight! He is not fit for duty! If he goes out there and fights, I assure you, he will die." "And I assure you, Doc, that he will not die. Have you ever fought for three days with a bullet through your lung, thigh, both calfs, and shoulder? He did that on Fourth Maxfrica. That nearly killed him. As you said yourself, he can walk, but is not fit for duty. As he said, being fit for duty and being able to fight are two completely different things. Is there something else you wish to say, Doc? Or can my friend here leave for combat?" The medical officer's face was contorted with rage. "You goddamn Gyrenes, so fuckin' full of yourselves that you can't see how close you are to killing yourselves! Fine! If he chooses to fight in his present condition, he can fight. But if his wounds break open while in combat and he dies, I will NOT be held accountable! Is that clear, Lieutenant? Is that what you wanted?" Red smirked. "I assure you, you will not be held accountable for that Marine's action. He may be very intelligent, but he doesn't use his common sense a whole lot." As he left the observation room, he turned back and added, "And yes, Doc, that is exactly what I wanted." Red entered Calahan's room and hauled Wraith to his feet. "On your feet, Marine! We've got to get you to armory, and then we've got a bastard to catch!" Wraith smirked, slightly. "Or slot." |
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| Wraith | 23 Dec 2008, 07:31 PM Post #33 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXX Task Force Euradis Airfield and Hoverport, Southern Belligerant "Romeo Unit, mount! Repeat, Romeo Unit, mount up! We are lifting off in zero-two mike! Repeat, zero-two mike!" came voice over the PA comm. Calahan slapped the clip into his old rifle and cocked it. "Okay, I'm loaded and locked. You ain't coming, Red?" "Nope. Senior NCOs only, and they've got a CO and XO for the force already. Cow'll be there, though, Chalk Four. I'll see you back here, Wraith." "You, too," Calahan said, nodding. He made sure the safety was on and dashed across the airfield with the rest of the Marines, soldiers, and clerks who made up Task Force Romeo. He spotted Whiskey Six-Four and jumped into the cargo bay. "Hey, Cow. What's going on?" he said. "What the fuck are you doin' here?" "I'm shootin' the shit and riding...the chopper?" "You shoulda just stopped at 'shit.'" "Yeah." "Romeo Six, this is Alpha Six. Shannon. Repeat, Shannon," came General Basset's voice over all the comms. "Roger that, Alpha Six." "Fuck yeah! Okay, First Sergeant, tell your boys to hang on." the pilot of Whiskey Six-Four whooped. All across the hoverport, the engines of the hovercopters roared to life, and they lifted off with a sudden jerk. "Fuckin' A'! I fuckin' hate flying!" Cow swore, hanging on for what seemed like dear life. "Twenty-One years, and you still hate flying. You are one unlucky bastard." "Fuck you, Wraith! Good thing I brought some medicine!" Cow said, unclipping his hip flask and taking a long gulp. "Hey, hey, hey! You're on duty, Cow! Put that shit away!" "Man, fuck you!" Cow said, but he clipped the flask back onto his belt anyways. He cleared his throat. "Okay, Chalk Four, listen up! We hit the target building in about two-zero mike, so lend me your fuckin' ears! "We insert with the ropes, so you eight on the edges, lock in! This is a bottoms-up clearance of a building, NOT top-down. This son of a bitch ain't escapin' this time. Chalks Seven and Eight are pullin' security on the ground, two sides of the building. The rest of us get to do the 'fun' room-clearing. We have the southwest-most sector of the building, with the fuckin' stairs. The building schematics should be up on your HUD momentarily. "This is it, ladies. We catch this son of a bitch, we end this once and for all. Then we can all go home, or back to Hell, for Jack here. I want my fuckin' drinks, so let's do this men! And Jack." "Thanks, Cow. Really, thanks," Wraith said coldly. "Ten minutes out. Get ready!" came the pilot's voice. "Is everyone who needs to be locked in, locked in?" Cow asked. He got eight nods. "Good boys. I'd give you a treat, but they're mine. Har har. Check your gear!" ------------------------------------------------------------------- "Okay, we're pickin' up some triple A down there," Lieutenant Yeager, pilot of Whiskey Six-Four, said monotonously. An RPG whooshed by the chopper, too close for comfort. "Not cool, Chuck. Not. Cool," Yeager's co-pilot said. "This is Whiskey Six to all Whiskey units. We're three minutes out from the target. Prepare to flare, over." "Roger that." "Target building in sight," Yeager said. "Hang on back there!" Yeager pulled up on the control stick, forcing the hovercopter to push backwards with its engines, and therefore slowing it to a stop, or 'flaring.' "Fuck you, man! FUCK. YOU!" Cow swore. "I feel the love, sergeant." "Ropes, ropes, ropes!" Cow ordered. The eight men buckled into the rappel ropes dropped off the edge of the cargo bay and gently slid twenty meters to the ground. "Second wave, go!" "You better fuckin' hurry, sergeant," Yeager said. "The triple A's really- shit!" One of the hovercopter gunships took a hit from a SAM just in front of them and spiraled to the ground. "This is Whiskey Six-Four! Two-Eight just went down, in front of the target building!" "Roger that. Ground forces will take care of it." "Third wave, go!" Cow barked, buckling himself into one of the rappel ropes. Calahan buckled in next to him. "Haven't done this is a while," he said. "Join the fuckin' club, man," Cow replied. All of the last eight men in the chalk dropped off and slid to the ground. Calahan's head jarred up violently when he hit the street, mashin his teeth together. "Fuckin' A'! I hate that shit!" Cow swore, having suffered the same thing. "Aw, shuddup!" Calahan said, slapping the buckle in the center of his chest with his fist. The clip to the rappel rope instantly fell away. "This is Romeo Four-Six to Whiskey Six-Four. We're clear. You can head out now, over," Cow said on the comm. "Fuckin' finally, you ass. We're outta here. Out," Yeager responded. The hovercopter roared off into the sky and took up its position in the circle of choppers orbiting the target building. "Okay, ladies. And Jack. There's our ticket inside!" Cow shouted, pointing at a door in the side of the building. "Line up! Let's go!" |
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| Wraith | 27 Dec 2008, 03:32 PM Post #34 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXI Northern Belligerant, Grid Golf Alpha "Okay, tactical plan," Ares said. He and the squad leaders knelt down in small circle. Ares projected small holomap of their new area of operations onto the ground from his helmet. Shapes in the dirt were a thing of the past. "Command has scrambled any available forces into a task force codename 'Romeo.' If you hear that callsign, it's them. They're about to go in via choppers to Cartier's new hideout on Capital Hill." "Well, that sends them down the shitter, doesn't it?" Lee said. "Yes, it does. That is why the Brigadier has ordered the nearest units - Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Fox Companies - to close to the Capital Hill Lift and secure it. It is the only way on or off of Capital Hill for any ground forces, and it is currently firmly in the hands of the KRF. Now, look at the map. I've highlighted our route to the Objective, designated Lima." The squad leaders leaned in more closely to study the map. "Don't worry, it's being uploaded into your HUD as we speak. I want everyone to form up. Ben, you've got point, sicne you've lost the least." "Roger," Ben said, nodding. "Lee, you've got the rear. Alex, First is in the middle with me. Clear?" The squad leaders all nodded in unision. "Good. Let's move out." Ares and the squad leaders stood up and waved and called for the platoon to gather around and move out in the designated formation. --------------------------------------------------------------- Thirty minutes later "Whoa, there they go!" Conk exclaimed, watching as the formation of several dozen choppers roared high overhead. "Magnificent, ain't they?" "Shut up, Conk," Wolf snapped. "Kepp your eyes front. McKnight might make contact with the enemy's forward positions any minu-" Crack! Crack! Crack! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! "Fucking hell, Wolf! Look what you've done!" Conk cursed, grinning. "Shut up and move. Let's go!" ----------------------------------------------------------------- "This is Three Bravo. Contact! Repeat, we have made contact with the enemy!" McKnight shouted into his comm. "This is One-Three Actual. Roger that, Bravo. We're all moving up to support you. Out," Ben's voice replied. "Roger that!" McKnight flicked off the comm. "Izzy, keep 'em pinned! Deadhead, Selucis, displace right and try to flank that damn house! GO!" McKnight rose and pumped several rounds into the hosue. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! A machine gun in the upper window ripped, sending dozens of rounds spurting up the dirt and chunks of concrete into the air around McKnight and Izzy. To his right, Deadhead and Selucis immediately dropped flat on the ground, below the cover of the low wall. "Damn it," McKnight cursed. "Deadhead, Selucis, fire snapshots. We'll bounce around between us and leapfrog." "Roger that," Deadhead replied. He and Selucis jumped up and snapped off several shots at the house before ducking back down. The machine gun shifted its attention to them. "MOVE, Izzy, MOVE!" McKnight barked, jumping up and dashing to the left. Izzy jumped up promptly as McKnight's foot connected with his rear end and followed. The machine noticed their movement and shifted its fire in their direction. McKnight and Izzy dropped flat instantly, hugging the dirt for dear life. On the other side, Deadhead and Selucis jumped up this time and made a mad dash for the corner of the wall. Kneeling down behind it, they took aim and pumped the rest of their clips into the window. The machine gun swung around and spat lead at them just as they dropped prone to reload. McKnight and Izzy hurdled over the wall and scrambled for the wall of the house. The machine gun desperately swung around to fire on them, but they were too close for a clean shot. Nevertheless, Izzy grunted and swore violently. McKnight slammed into the wall of the house and watched as Izzy dashed behind, alternating between his feet fast. A round had caught him in the left foot. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Izzy swore as he slammed against the wall. "Christ, Izzy, slap a Platelepatch on it and you'll be fine. It's in your PAK." "Oh, yeah, right," Izzy grabbed his personal aid kit from his belt and yanked out one of the four Platelepatches within. The Patches were designed to accelerate platelets in the blood and plasma to allow the wound to clot faster. Izzy yanked off his armored boot, slapped the patch onto the small bullet hole - it had apparantly been a ricochet - and pulled the boot back on. "Okay, good to go," he said, wincing as he stood up again. McKnight nodded and gave a thumbs up. "Gimme a grenade," he ordered, grabbing a grenade off his own belt. McKnight pulled the pins out of both and moved back a couple feet to have a better view of the window. It was pinning Deadhead and Selucis down, Izzy and McKnight having escaped it field of fire. McKnight threw them up and over as hard as he could, one grenade after another, and they landed squarely through the window. There were a couple frantic cries in the two seconds that elapsed between the machine gun stopping its fire and the explosion of the grenades. SMoke billowed out from the window. Deadhead and Selucis sprinted over to where McKnight and Izzy were waiting. "Helluva throw, sarge!" Deadhead said, stopping to gasp for breath. "Thanks for the help, I guess." "Back at you, Corporal. One-Three, this is Three Bravo. Enemy position has been neutralized, over." "Roger that. Status?" "One man lightly wounded. He'll live. We're clear up here." "Roger that. Objective Lima is just ahead, so get ready for a big fight." "Roger that." |
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| Wraith | 27 Dec 2008, 07:32 PM Post #35 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXII Northern Belligerant, Grid Golf Alpha "Okay, tactical plan," Ares said as he walked down the street with the squad leaders. "We've got two pillboxes straddling the entrance to the lift. Charlie Two's gonna handle the left-hand box, so that mean's we've got the right-hand one. See your maps for reference, they're highlighted. They're made of reinforced ferrocrete, so LAWs won't cut it. We need to save our HAWs for any armor we might encounter, so we're gonna have to do this the hard way. Lee, what's the status of your squad?" "Pumped and ready, sir." "Good. Send a fire team and your assault ona far flanking manuever around their right, around this block of buildings here, on your map. Alex, you are the second wave squad. You suppress them, and once the pillbox, designated Objective Lima Bravo, is secured by Second, you assault the complex. Ben, you've got to cover the flanks, so split your squad accordingly. Clear?" "Roger." "Clear." "Understood." "Okay, let's go." -------------------------------------------------------- "Alright, let's see what we've got here," Sergeant Irick muttered as he zoomed in with his magnifiers. "One-Two, this is Two Alpha. We've got one patrol, count three tangoes, outside Objective Lima Bravo. No other tangoes in sight, over." "Roger that, Alpha. I'll call this in." --------------------------------------------------------- On the other side of the block of buildings separating the teams of Second Squad, Lee switched comm channels. "Delta One-Six, this is Delta One-Two. We have Objective Lima Bravo in sight and are ready to engage, over." "Roger that, One-Two. Wait one, over," Ares replied. There was a pause. "This is Delta One-Six to Delta One. You are clear to engage. Go loud, go loud!" ------------------------------------------------------------ Across the area, a dozen cracks rang out and the three men of the KRF patrol fell dead. The machine gun inside the pillbox ripped, spraying bullets in the direction of First Squad. "Okay, let's MOVE! MOVE!" Irick ordered, jumping to his feet and dashing across the wide boulevard towards the side of the pillbox, followed by Sergeant Allen's assault team. Within a minute, the seven men slammed themselves against the wall lining the side door into the pillbox, with no casualties. They had advanced completely unnoticed, with the enemy troops inside focusing solely on the front. "Allen, take point," Irick said. "Roger. Bladon, set the charge. Raoul, prep for entry." "Roger," LeGrand said, yanking a frag grenade from his belt. Corporal Bladon knelt down and clamped the charge onto the heavy metal door. He ducked back away from the door against the wall. "Charge set, CLEAR!" The charge exploded an instant later, blowing the door and two now-dead, oblivious sentries inward. LeGrand pulled the pin out of the grenade and tossed it blindly inside. "In, in, in!" Allen ordered when it exploded, dashing inside spraying the interior with his submachine gun, Bladon and LeGrand following. The machine promptly fell silent a few moments later. "Clear! I've got a tunnel in here!" Allen shouted form within. "Roger. Delta One-Two, this is Two Alpha. We have cleared Objective Lima Bravo and have discovered a route inside the complex. We ar eproceeding toward Objective Lima now." -------------------------------------------------------------------- Back with the rest of the platoon, Lee recieved Irick's message. "Delta One-Six, this is One-Two Actual. Two Alpha has cleared Objective Lima Bravo and is advancing toward Objective Lima. We are clear to advance, over." "Roger that. Delta One, advance to Objective Lima!" Lee and his final fire team under Sergeant Roland jumped up and, with the rest of the platoon, flooded across the boulevard. The entrance into the underground complex that housed the Lift was wide open, but black as a predator's maw. Third Squad split off to cover the platoon's rear. First Squad, Roland's team, Ares, and Lee went inside. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "Okay, team. Activate light amplifiers," Irick said, taking his own advice. The tunnel was not a sewer, thankfully, but it was pitch-black and damp as the showers back at Camp Barton. "Let's see where this takes us. Raoul," he muttered, stopping suddenly. The man behind Irick crashed into him and fell to the floor. "Fucking hell, Mike! Don't stop like that!" PFC LeGrand swore. "Shut the fuck up and pay attention and maybe that won't happen!" Irick snapped. "You've got the SMG. Take point." Rising back to his feet, LeGrand sighed deeply. "Fine, you bastard." "Shut it, froggie," Sergeant Allen's voice echoed from behind. The column started moving once again. ------------------------------------------------------------------- A few minutes later, the tunnel finally ended, opening up onto a raised catwalk above the main chamber. Irick deactivated his amplifiers and looked out over the massive room. He waved for the teams to flatten themselves against the wall and crouch, to minimize their sillouettes. "One-Two, this is Two Alpha, over," he whispered. "Roger that, Alpha. Go ahead, over." "We have Objective Lima in sight. Estimate a full platoon of men on the ground here, over." There was a muffled curse on the other end of the line. "Okay, Alpha. Sit tight, we are almost on your position. Is the Objective on the ground? Over." Irick peered out. There were men tending to the Lift mechanics, but the Lift was not on the ground inside the chamber. "Negative, not at this time, over." "Roger that. Any armor? Over." "Two light vehicles. Crews are takin' a piss, over." "Roger that. Tell your lady friends to hang onto their panties. Out." Irick chuckled and moved back against the wall. "Okay, lads. Sit tight and wait for them to-" A pair of smoke trails whooshed across the chamber, exploding the two light armored vehicles into brilliant fireballs illuminated by the huge floodlights. Cracks reverberated across the chamber and the soldiers below scrambled for any cover they could find. "That's it! Get 'em!" Irick shouted, moving up to the railing of the catwalk and taking aim at the men below, who were unaware of his presence. With several squeezes of the trigger, he made them aware. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Sergeant Sanol and his men moved along the wall opposite of Irick and Allen's teams. "Mannerheim, Padrino! Get up there and cover us!" Sanol ordered, pointing at the metal stairs leading up to another set of catwalks lining the wall. "You're with me, New Guy," he said, speaking to PFC Isis. Sanol moved up to the burning wreck of a vehicle and crouched, aiming his rifle over the hulk. "Go!" he muttered, waving Isis forward. As Isis moved around the side of the burning vehicle, three men came dashing out of an unseen side room to join the fight. Before Isis could raise his rifle, all three men fell dead practically on top of each other. Isis slid into a crouch behind a concrete barrier and looked back. Sanol lowered his rifle and put two fingers to his eyes. Isis aimed his rifle over the barrier and squeezed off a few shots. Soon enough, Sanol dropped to a crouch next to him a few moments later. Several bullets hissed and snapped just over their heads, forcing them to duck down. "Two Alpha, this is One Bravo. We are moving along the far wall, so check your fire, dammit!" Sanol barked into the comm. "Sorry, Dutch. Geez, man. Re-fucking-lax," came Irick's cool, calm response. "Okay. Manny, Padrino, how's it look up there?" "We've got you covered, Dutch," Corporal Mannerheim replied. "Good. Moving," Dutch switched off the comm and stood up. "Let's go," he muttered to Isis, raising his rifle again. The two Marines slid along the wall to the opening in the side the three enemy soldiers had come out of. Sanol peered around the corner and saw nothing. "C'mon." Sanol cautiously moved to the next corner and pressed against the wall. Peering around the corner, he saw several men operating large controls lining the walls of a room. A bullet snapped into the wall, forcing him to jerk his head back. "Christ," he cursed, wiping blood away from his eye. A fragment from the wall had cut him. "Frag, sarge?" "No, no, no, you idiot! The Lift controls are in there! Wait, gimme that," Sanol said, yanking the grenade out of Isis's hand. He tossed it around the corner. Frantic cries and footsteps answered and he pushed Isis around the corner with him and started firing into the terrified dozen soldiers rushing up the hallway away from the grenade. When they all lay dead, Sanol walked over and picked up the grenade. "Not armed," he said, pointing at the pin and grinning. "Stick around, I might teach ya a few tricks. Now what the hell do we do here?" Sanol walked over the control and looked them over. "Delta One-One, this is One-Bravo. I believe I have secured the controls for Objective Lima, over." "What? Errrm-Roger that, Bravo. I'll, um, get over there ASAP. Is there a switch to bring down the Objective? Over," Alex responded. "Errr, wait one," Sanol studied the panels. "Ah," he breathed, pulling down a lever. A screeching noise echoed from the Lift shaft as the electromagnetic coils that moved the Lift up and down whined to life. Just as Alex stumbled over the bodies into the control room, the Lift clamped into place on the ground, sending a company of angry mechanized soldiers into the fray, with armored vehicles. Alex cocked an eyebrow. "Oh dear." OOC: If nobody's noticed already, I'm kind of trying to give certain characters, like Ares, " catch phrases" that they say a lot. |
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| Wraith | 27 Dec 2008, 08:26 PM Post #36 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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OOC: I'm gonna try to finish this compiliation before I leave tomorrow evening, so this'll be a lot of chapters I'm writing. CHAPTER XXXIII Somewhere on Capital Hill Erikson pushed Morgan over the last pile of rubble and rolled over it himself just behind. Dozens of bullets continued to eat the dirt and rubble just behind them. "Oh, fuck yes! This must be it! It has to be it! Keep going! Go, go, go!" he shouted, pushing her just ahead of him. They were now in what was likely the designated extraction point, in what was once a nice public park, dotted with several now-crumbling low walls, silent and empty fountains, and shattered stone benches. "Here! Take this and hit it against something!" he said to Morgan, thrusting a thin, cylindrical tube in her hand. "Go put yourself in the most open area you can find and get your head down! Wave that thing around or whatever to get anything's attention! Go!" As Morgan dashed away across the charred and cratered lawn, Erikson knelt down behind one of the stone benches and pulled out his regular rifle. He only had two clips left, and had to make every shot count. He looked back over the bench and aimed his rifle. Enemy soldiers were starting to pour out of the buildings and alleys around the park. He took aim and started to methodically pick them off with carefully aimed shots. He disregarded what he had learned in training. There, he had been taught to put at least two holes in each enemy before acquiring another target to kill. He avoided aiming for the torso in general, inside aiming directly at the chest. Fifteen rounds, fifteen kills. Click The clip ran dry. Hefting the empty rifle vertically, he ejected the clip and unslung the scavenged enemy rifle from his shoudler. Erikson stood up and started moving back to the next piece of cover, a low wall, spraying automatic fire erratically and inaccurately. But the enemy soldiers dropped to the ground and most stopped firing at him. Erikson sat down behind the low wall and slapped in his last clip. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Morgan found an open field not far from where Erikson was holding off the enemy soldiers. She slammed the tube against a stone bench, and red smoke started to pour out uncontrollably. It startled her and she dropped it in the middle of the field. The tube was an emergency smoke marker and radar strobe for Marines and soldiers in tight spots, or stranded. It constantly pinged an SOS signal to alert any nearby Confederation Military units to its general location, and they followed the signal to where the smoke pinpointed the Marine or soldier's location and/or the desired/designated extraction point. But Morgan didn't know that. She just did what Erikson had told her to do. Crawling into a fetal position behind a stone bench, she lay on the ground wimpering, wanting the nightmare to end. The smoke billowed out into the sky, the cloud expanded by the wind. --------------------------------------------------------------------- "Whoa!" Lieutenant Yeager said, looking at the displays on the panels arrayed in front of him. "We've got an SOS, Frank." "Call it in, then." "Whiskey Six, this is Whiskey Six-Four. We have recieved an SOS signal from a nearby location, over." "Roger that, Six-Four, so has everyone. Sit tight and maintain formation, over." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "Golf Two, this is Whiskey Six. We're picking up an SOS signal, over." The intelligence officer raised his eyebrows. "Coordinates?" "Grid Coordinates Capital Fox Two-Six, over." "Holy shit," the intel officer swore in surprise. "It's that guy, um, Aryson or something. He said he had Victor Six." "Wow. Looks like he came through. Orders? Over." Dispatch three choppers for pickup. So fuck-ups, okay?" "Roger that, sir!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Whiskey Six-Four, this is Whiskey Six. Move to the signal for extraction of personnel, over." "Roger that, Whiskey Six. We are inbound." ----------------------------------------------------------------- "FUCK!" Erikson swore as he fell headfirst into the pond. He quickly recovered, dashing over to another stone bench. He reached for the scavenged rifle. When he clawed at air, his eyes widened. Looking back at the pond, he saw it floating on the surface. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Erikson swore again, sprinting frantically back to another bench behind. He looked back and saw that he was only a few dozen feet from where Morgan had thrown the marker. Erikson unslung his rifle and peered over the top of the bench. A bullet bit a chunk out of the stone just next to his arm. Erikson squeezed off a shot, dropping a man. And again. And again. But the mob of idiot-soldiers was relentless, getting ever closer. And Erikson didn't even have a full clip of ammunition left. He dashed backwards and hurdled over another bench. Looking over, he squeezed off another trio of shots again, doppring three more men. But they were only drops of water in the vast sea. Erikson swore violently again and moved back behind another bench, the last one before where Morgan hid. Erikson fired again. The adrenaline was taking full control of his body, and his actions. He fired again. The closest enemy soldier, not twenty feet away, jerked and fell to the ground. Bullet threw chips of stone and dust into the air around him. Erikson got up to move back behind the last bench, aiming to squeeze off another shot. Then a sledgehammer smashed him in the stomach. |
![]() CCRPG Marines Currently: Compilation IV: Finest Hour | |
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| Wraith | 27 Dec 2008, 09:28 PM Post #37 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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OOC: As I expected, this compiliation will be slightly longer than the first one. CHAPTER XXXIV Capital Hill, Grid Lima Echo BOOM! The door shattered to pieces and a cloud of dust spewed into the air. Several shapes materialized within the cloud, then focused into the Marines of Chalk Four as they moved through the cloud and into the room. "Clear!" Cow and Wraith strolled into the room. Cow threw his rifle across his shoulder. "Okay, Rawlins, take seven men and clear this floor. Wraith, take another seven and clear the second floor. You seven are with me on the third floor. Move!" --------------------------------------------------- "Okay, boy. Gimme the charge and I'll set it. You, take a grenade and prepare for entry," Calahan said. He knelt down and clamped the charge to the door, and then began to set it to blow. "Uh, sir? What do I do with this grenade?" Calahan looked up at him, a look of horror on his face. "Are you all fucking pogues?" he hissed, appalled. "When I say 'prep for entry,' it means you get ready to throw a grenade into the room the second this charge blows," he growled clenching his teeth. "Y-yes, sir." "It's Gunnery Sergeant or 'Boss.' NOT 'sir.' Get it right. Even the rookies do this better than you dumb fucks." "Y-yes, sir-uh, Boss." "Okay. Charge set, clear!" Calahan ducked back and flattened against the wall. The charge exploded, and a second later, the Marine nervously tossed the grenade into the room. Calahan pulled out his shotgun as the grenade exploded. "Okay, follow me!" Calahan ordered, running inside and taking cover in a side room. The other men filed inside quickly, but one Marine was not quick enough and caught a round in the chest. Calahan knew that the wet slap! meant he was likely dead. Calahan stuck the spike of a grenade into the wall of the side room while his men fired down the hallway. It exploded, creating a gaping hole in the wall he could fit through. Worming his way through the hole, he leaned out the door and pumped a KRF soldier's face with his shotgun, instantly turning it into a unrecognizable mess. Drawing his pistol and leaning out into the hall, Calahan fired several accurate shots into the enemy soldiers also leaning out into the hallway to fire on his Marines. "Move up!" Calahan ordered. Three of the Marines took cover in more of the side rooms. One of them rolled a hospital bed out into the hallway and flipped it for the others to use as cover. At least they all aren't retarded, Calahan thought. He stabbed another grenade into the opposite wall, blowing apart the flimsy drywall separating the rooms. He climbed into the next room and peered out into the hall. One man in a nearby room quickly fired a shot at him, which pierced the wall next to him and skimmed off his shoulder. Calahan staggered back and checked his shoulder, then stretched and waved it about once he saw it was fine. "Oi! Toss me a frag!" he shouted to one of the Marines crouched behind the overturned bed in the hallway. The man grabbed a grenade and tossed it to Calahan, which he caught. But it was beeping. "HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF GOD!" he swore, quickly getting rid of the live grenade as if it were a hot potato. It exploded next to one of the rooms down the hallway. Calahan gave the stupid man an icy stare and moved on with his own grenade instead. -------------------------------------------------------------- A few minutes later, the hallway, and their sector of the second floor, was clear. Wraith walked up to the man who had thrown him to the grenade and slammed him against the wall by the throat. "Why on WORLD did you think throwing a LIVE grenade at me was smart?! Huh?! What the FUCK goes on in that stupid little fucking brain of yours that such an idea even OCCURRS to you?! HUH?! TELL ME?!" he roared. "I-I-I-" "SPEAK, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Wraith drew one of his knives and stabbed into the wall just next to the man's face. He whimpered in fear. "I swear to GOD, that if you do something that stupid to ANYONE EVER AGAIN, then I will cut you, and I will make you HURT! Then, I will let the Provost Marshal deal with you! AM I CLEAR?!" "Y-y-yes, s-sir!" "GUNNERY SERGEANT!" Wraith roared in fury. Smashed his fist into the man's face and let him drop to the ground. "You are a fucking disgrace who should never have set foot on Parris." Wraith grabbed the knife out of the wall and sheathed it. "Let's move, Marines. You too, you fucking disgrace. We've got a job to do." ------------------------------------------------------------ Upstairs, Cow and his 'squad' were clearing an operating room. "You two, move left, around the equipment!" Cow ordered. His other men took cover behind beds and pillars, firing on the entrenched enemy soldiers. Cow moved to the right around a counter full of medical supplies. Turning the corner, he ended up face-to-face with an enemy soldier attempting a similar move. The other man attempted to raise his rifle, but Cow was faster and far more experienced. He dropped his own rifle and lunged at the man, pinning him to the ground. With his free hand, the man drew a knife and tried to strike with it. Seeing this, Cow did the first thing that came to his mind, and reached for the knife on his own belt. But he grabbed on the wrong side of his body and ended up bashing the man's face in with his hip flask. As the man fell limp, another enemy soldier came around the counter. Cow acted on reflex and threw the flask at him, sending alcohol burning into the man's eyes. As the enemy soldier fell back, screaming in pain as he clutched his eyes, Cow grabbed on the correct side of his body and stabbed him repeatedly with his knife. Next, Cow yanked a grenade off his vest and rolled it across the floor and under the hospital bed the enemy troops were using for cover. None of them could scramble away fast enough before the grenade exploded and sent deadly shrapnel cutting into them. The room was finally silent. Cow stood up and wiped his brow, reaching to his side for his flask. Then he remembered he had ruined it by bashing that man's face in. "Curse you, Cartier! CURSE YOU!" ----------------------------------------------------------- Wraith and his six men now dashed up the stairs to the door of the fourth floor. "Romeo Four-Six, this is Romeo Four-Five. We've cleared the second floor and are preparing to breach the fourth floor, over." "Roger that, Four-Five. Take it, over." "Roger that," Wraith held out his hand for the breaching charge and clamped it to the door. "You, get a grenade and prep for entry." The man nodded. "Charge set, clear!" When the door exploded, the Marine tossed in the grenade, and four of the leading Marines durcked inside the door. They cut down a handful of stunned men standing around the tables in the center of the room. Down the hall up ahead, Wraith saw a group of enemies running up a short flight of stairs to the fifth floor rooftop. "Shit! Move, we've got to get up there!" Wraith ordered, taking the lead with his shotgun. Another squad of enemy troops appeared at the end of the hallway. "Take cover and finish 'em off! I'll move upstairs!" Wraith shouted. His men took cover and started firing at the new contacts. Wraith quickly ran up the stairs just in time to see a door at the top slam shut. Wraith stopped just in front of it and drew a pistol, then rammed the door with all his strength. |
![]() CCRPG Marines Currently: Compilation IV: Finest Hour | |
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| Wraith | 27 Dec 2008, 11:26 PM Post #38 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXV Somewhere on Capital Hill Erikson thumped softly as he hit the ground. Everything was muffled - the gunshots, the shouting, the engines, explosions. He realized he was moving, if slowly. He looked up and saw a blurry shape dragging him, with both hands grabbing his collar. "Aw...aw, shit," Erikson managed to mutter. He couldn't hear anything else. A big black splotch flew over his eyes. Muffled thunder boomed somewhere in front of him. Then, his body was suddenly accelerated, and it left the ground. Then his body was dropped onto something hard. A couple more big black splotches were moving around in front of him, then they moved toward him. He looked up and saw two black splotches over him, under another big black splotch that covered his entire field of vision. Then everything was th same pitchblack color. ----------------------------------------------------------- "Oh, shit, it's a belly wound! Get this damn shirt off him!" the medic barked. "C'mon, we're outta here!" the crew chief yelled to the two Marines firing just outside the chopper. They turned and jumped into the passenger bay. "All aboard, Chuck!" "Hang on, kids." The hovercopter jerked upwards suddenly and accelerated rapidly, climbing into the air. Several smoke trails whooshed past. "This is Whiskey Six-Four. We have Victor Six. Repeat, we have Victor Six and are pulling out now." "Shit, he's lost conciousness! No, no! Don't give him Sorephine, it'll kill him! Oh man, we need to get this guy to the aid station right now. He's losing a lot o' blood through this hole. Gimme a patch, dammit!" the medic grabbed the Platelepatch from the crewchief's hand and slapped it onto the wound in the Marine's belly. On the medic's HUD, the Marine suddenly went critical - his heart had stopped. "Oh, FUCK! Give me the ArtHeart! NOW!" The crew chief scrambled over to grab the strange-looking machine thing, which had several tubes with needles protruding from it. The medic grabbed it and stabbed the longest needle into the dying Marine's chest. The needle stabbed into his heart. The medic frantically grabbed the Marine's dog tags to check his blood type - O-Negative. He moved the dial on the machine, and crimson blood started to run through the tube into the Marine's body. The machine emmitted a low thump-thump every second. "Okay, he might just make it to the aid station. Make this fast, Lieutenant!" "Roger." ------------------------------------------------- Northern Belligerant, Grid Golf Alpha "HAW, HAW!" Irick shouted frantically. "I got it!" PFC LeGrand yelled. He moved up to the edge of the catwalk, unslung the large rocket tube from his back, and took aim at the nearest medium tank rolling off the lift. The rocket fired with a deafening WHOOSH-CRACK!, speeding towards its target to turn it into a burnt-out hulk of twisted metal. Two more similar cracks filled the huge chamber, and two more of the medium tanks exploded into flame. "Jesus Christ, Delta One, fall back! Repeat, fall back!" Ares ordered over the comm. "Hang on, Delta One, we're right behind your little wagon circle," Ensign Mallevich, commander of Second Platoon, Charlie Company, said over the comm. Two more cracks echoed from behind First Squad's main positions, and the final medium tank exploded. Ben and his squad appeared first, taking cover and pouring fire into the mass of enemy. Then the entirety of Charlie Company's Second Platoon appeared and put down an impassable wall of lead all across the chamber. ----------------------------------------------------- It was over in only a few minutes. With no armored vehicles to support them, the KRF mechanized infantry was no match for two almost-full platoons of Confederation Marines. Ares walked up to Ensign Mallevich afterwards and shook his hand. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Wayne Johnson from one of your Rezelian Colonial Frontier flicks?" "Well, yeah. Didn't you get the reference?" Mallevich joked. "Hey, we didn't need your help to withdraw, Mick. We were withdrawing perfectly fine on our own." "Yeah, withdrawing. Let's report in to the Uniform, then. This was on helluva fight." --------------------------------------------------------------- Capital Hill, Grid Lima Echo Jacques Cartier started to panic when he saw the dozens of orbiting Confederation hovercopters. There was no way his escape route could get through that and live. But then Cartier thought and smirked. None of this mattered. Even after this little fight was over, he still had enough supporters and resources to bust himself out of prison. All he had to do was wait here until- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Calahan rammed the door with all his strength, and it burst open. Three tangoes, Calahan thought. He aimed and fired. One. He aimed and fired. Two. The third one started running away, towards...the edge of a five-story building. Calahan gave chase with even greater fervour when he recognized the man's face. When Cartier realized he had nowhere else to run other than to the ground five stories below, he stopped. Calahan grabbed him by the neck and thrust him out over the open air. Cartier gasped for breath and kicked his legs in a panicked struggle for his life. "Pull me back in! I am a citizen of the Confederation! I have rights!" Calahan just stared at him, expressionless, for a moment. "No, you don't." He hoped Cartier hadn't enjoyed his last ride on the freefall rollar coaster called "Gravity." |
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| Wraith | 28 Dec 2008, 02:58 PM Post #39 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXVI Marine Aid Station, Southern Belligerant Erikson opened his eyes. There was someone sitting next to him. "Oh, thank God, you're finally awake," said a female voice. "Minister Morgan?" Erikson groaned. She was holding his hand tight, too tight. "Oh please, Lewis. It's Kathryn, or Kate. Whatever you want to call me. I mean, you saved my life." "What happened?" "You got...shot. In the stomach. They said your heart stopped for several minutes." Erikson chuckled. "They saved me, eh? With the ArtHeart." "What's that?" "The Artificial Heart, ArtHeart for short. It pumps blood through the body to keep it alive in case a Marine's heart stops. But it has to be done within a few seconds of 'death,' or it'll be permanant..." "Y'know, you're gonna get some leave time because of all you've done, and-" "No," Erikson said, looking into her eyes. "None of that. Let's keep this professional. Let's not cause any trouble for each of our careers, shall we?" Morgan nodded. "Besides, I'm an enlisted man. We're not allowed to marry anyway." "You write to me. Keep me in the loop, Lew." "You know what, I think I will. Maybe it'll keep me sane," Erikson said, smiling. ------------------------------------------------------------ Task Force Euradis Command & Control Center, Southern Belligerant "Okay, Gunnery Sergeant, the purpose of this inquiry is to determine the true cause of death of Jacques Cartier, most wanted man on Euradis. What is your official statement?" the Army Intelligence Officer said. Calahan was sitting at a bland metal table, inside a dim, empty room. An interrogation, you mean, he thought. "I followed a group of what I believed to be KRF soldiers upstairs to the fifth floor rooftop. I surprised Cartier and his two guards, whom I killed. Cartier was so startled by my appearance that he tried to run away across open air, and fell to his death." "So, you're saying that you scared Cartier, a confident, manipulative, intelligent leader of a rebel group, so badly, that he thought it sensible to jump off of a fifth-story rooftop?" "Yes, I am. If you have any evidence of my violation of any laws of the Confederation Military Force, then by all means, present it to me and I will be guilty. Do you have any such evidence?" "Why you arrogant son of a-" The door to the interrogation room opened. "Excuse me, Commander, but I think that will be enough. I don't want you dishonoring one of my most decorated Marines without evidence," Brigadier Wolfe said. "But Major General Basset clearly stated-" "That if you have any evidence of the good Gunnery Sergeant guilty breaking any regulations of the CMF, then you can hold him for court-martial. But I am afraid that you don't have any concrete evidence regarding any alleged wrongdoing. Therefore, I, and Major General Basset, am ordering the release of Gunnery Sergeant Calahan here from detainment." "But...I...Very well," the officer sighed. He turned to Calahan and leaned across the table. "But mark my words, if you ever are accused of something like this again, then I assure you that I will be there to get you dishonorably discharged from your Marine Corps." "Save me your empty threats, Commander. I'll be dead on the field of battle before you get me kicked out of the Mother Corps." "We shall see." --------------------------------------------------------------- ITS Lance Corporal Ivan Sergetov, en route to Bessan "Well, Wraith, you look like you've healed quite nicely," Ares said. "Gunnery Sergeant Jack Calahan, reporting for duty, sir," Calahan said, saluting. "At ease. We'll be back at Camp in a few hours, Wraith. Why don't you relax with the rest of the platoon." "The only I relax in this man's Marine Corps, is when I'm dead, sir," Calahan said. With that, he turned and left Ares's cabin. ---------------------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Idiot! Damn, we thought you were dead!" Corporal Carr said. "I almost was. And stop calling that!" Erikson said. He had had plenty of visitors to his bed in the ship's medical bay. "I hear you're gettin' the Medal of Heroism, Private. Good on ya," Lundy said. "Well, I did my job, saved a friend's life. I don't need a medal for the satisfaction." "You sound like the Gunny." "Y'know, buoys, we oota let 'im rest. I think 'e's 'ad enoof fer one week," Aster said. "You're right, Aster. Come on, Carr, let's go." "Ah'll be oot in a minute, lads," Aster said as Lundy and Carr left. "Okay." Aster turned back to Erikson. "Y'know, lad, that was one 'elluva thing you did back thaya. I dun think we've 'ad a trial by fire of that magnitude in a loong time." "Trial by fire?" "Yeah. You ever 'ear of the baptism by fire, or a trial by fire?" Erikson shook his head. "Well, a baptism is the first time you get showt at. A trial by fire is whoot earns you the respect of yer comrades. That was one 'elluva trial by fire on yer part." "Well, I only hope I don't have to do it again." "All of the veterans have had one. Moone was on Ferth Maxfrica. But ah'll tell ya one thing, lad. You deserve the respect of all of us fer what you went through." "Does that mean they'll stop calling me 'Idiot?'" "No." HERE ENDS COMPILIATION II: TRIAL BY FIRE FIRST PLATOON WILL RETURN IN COMPILIATION III: EARNED IN BLOOD |
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