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| Earned In Blood; CCRPG Marines Compiliation III | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 16 Jan 2009, 06:42 PM (1,210 Views) | |
| Wraith | 27 Apr 2009, 03:25 PM Post #31 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXX Near Sovereignty Avenue The infantry lieutenant leaned over against the tank, panting heavily. His platoon had been practically annihalated, but he knew those damn Confederation Marines were on their last legs. "Lieutenant," said the tank commander, standing up out of the hatch. "Where's the captain?" "Dead. No idea how, he just got hit," the lieutenant said. "Well, what now?" "Move your tanks foward - they may have beaten us back, but they're hit hard just the same. We'll follow you." The commander gave him an uneasy look. "You better be." He ducked inside the tank and slammed down the hatch. Engines raored, and the last two tanks rolled forward. "Company, form up!" the lieutenant bellowed. Almost two platoons worth of men gathered around. "Watson, take your men and clear these goodamn buildings! I think they've still got fucking anti-tank teams in them! Everyone else, follow me!" -------------------------------------------- Sovereignty Avenue "Ugh..." Lundy shook his head, clearing his vision. "Yeh all raht, sahge?" asked Aster, standing above him and offering a hand. "Fuck no," Lundy replied, jokingly, grabbing the hand and getting to his feet. "Oh, my head," he moaned. "How long have I been out?" "Aboot fiften menettes." "Anyone hit?" "Carr and Wraith are betten oop pretty bad. Lee and Roland got kilt. Rook-" "What?! Lee and Roland are dead?" Lundy asked, incredulous. "Ahm afred so." Lundy sat down on the firing step. "Goddamn." Aster looked up over the lip."Oh shite! 'Ere they come!" "What?" Lundy stood up to loo- BOOM! Something slammed into his helmet, and everything went black. -------------------------------------------------- "Shite! Loondy's down!" Aster yelled. "Assault tem, to theh front!" Calahan and Ares dashed back out of the dugout as Aster dragged Lundy inside. A large piece of shrapnel was buried in the side of his helmet. "Shit," Ares muttered. He opened a comm channel. "One-Three, this is One-Six! We have incoming armor! Shoot, goddamit!" Inside the dugout, Aster and Corporal Goldstein ripped off Lundy's helmet. "Well," Goldstein said, sitting back. "he's unharmed." Aster started chuckling. "Good." He got up and left. Goldstein started chuckling, too. ---------------------------------------------------------- Near Sovereignty Avenue "...Shoot, goddamit!" "Jason, find and kill those goddamn tanks!" Ben barked. "On it." "Wolf, on me. We're going downstairs!" "Sure." Ben opened the door and headed toward the stairway. "We'll hit the tanks on the ground if we ha-" A spray of bullets rococheted off the railings and ceiling. Ben's reflexes went into action, jerking him back onto the ground. "Damn it all! Wolf, find and kill the damn wankers!" Wolf nodded and waved his team forward, practically leaping down the stairs. ---------------------------------------------- "Fire!" the commander yelled. There was a muffled boom and the tank rocked back slightly. The cannon's breech spit out the empty shell casing. "Reloading, HEF!" the gunner shouted. The commander squinted through the periscope. "No targets in sight," he sat back. "I can't see a damn thing." The commander stood up and opened the hatch. Almost instantly, three wet slaps sounded, sending the commanders blood spraying all over the crew and his body tumbling back inside. "FUCK!" the gunner swore. Something hit the top of the turret. Then a grenade fell right in front of his face. ---------------------------------------------------- "Nice shot, Izzy!" Sergeat McKnight said. He grabbed a grenade and heaved it down at the tank. It stuck into the turret, so he grabbed another and threw it, this time falling right through the hatch. Both grenades exploded, and the tank came to a stop. "Thanks. Nice throw yourself," Izzy replied. "Oi, Jason!" McKnight called. "Toss me the LAW!" Corporal Tiduos walked over and handed the tube to him. McKnight held out his hand in a confused gesture. "I said 'toss' it. Now I don't have as good a shot." "You don't toss explosives," Tiduos rebuked. McKnight shook his head, raised the LAW, and fired. It crashed through the tank's rear armor, but the tank did not stop. Its turret began to traverse towards them. "Shit, run!" McKnight yelled, moving back from the window. But the tank did not fire. Lance Corporal Connors peered out the window. "They're bailing out! Get 'em!" Connors shouted, raising his rifle. The squad moved back up and pumped round after round into the doomed crew. There were faint popping noises from inside the tank, then the turret exploded, flipping five feet into the air before crashing down onto the street. The Marines cheered. ---------------------------------------------------- "They got the tanks! Roll up the infantry!" Irick ordered, firing from a first floor window. Seeing the tanks burning, the rebel infantry began to rout, back toward their lines. Second and Third Squads mercilessly cut them down. Evenutally, the battle was silent, the street empty, covered in rubble, littered with bodies, and dotted with the crackling flames flickering from the wrecked tanks. Irick lowered his rifle and smiled. "Dean, grab the rest of the squad. I think we got 'em all." Suddenly, a burst of fire from the doorway knocked Dean to the grund. Irick turned, raising his rifle, and fired instinctively, killing one of the two men rushing through the door. The second man reached out and pushed Irick's rifle to the side, sending his second shot wild, then swung his own rifle into Irick's helmet. Head spinning, Irick fell to the ground, glimpsing the man taking aim. Three cracks tang out, and the man tumbled to the floor in a heap. Looking behind, Irick saw Private Rook standing in the doorway, lowering his rifle. "D-did I do good, sarge?" "Yeah," Irick gasped, crossing himself. "Yeah, you did good, Marine." |
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| Wraith | 29 Apr 2009, 05:04 PM Post #32 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXI Sovereignty Avenue "Christ," Ben said, looking at Sergeant Irick and Private Rook haul Private Dean into the dugout. "How bad did they hit us?" Calahan sat down on the firing step, on foot perched on his heavily damaged helmet. He reached into a pouch in the vest over his chest plate and withdrew a silver-chrome casing and a lighter. Extracting a cigar from the case, he stuck it into his mouth and lit up. "If you really want to 'celebrate,' Cow somehow always has some Garnosian tobacco," Ben said, smirking. Calahan took out the cigar and blew smoke. "I, for one, like Duranic tobacco. Everyone knows it's a lot better than your Bennerian shit," he said, sticking it back in his teeth. "How's the platoon look?" Calahan laid back and blew another smoke cloud. "Ares is reporting in to Ryan now. But frankly, we won't stand another attack." "Who's hit?" "Carr and Padrino is First Squad, Dean for second, and Deadhead 'n' Wolf in Third. They're all out of action. Just about everyone in First and Second have minor wounds." "Goddamn. So that leaves us at-" Twenty-nine fighting strength, including myself and Ares, but not the medics. My psychic powers tell me we'll be relieved soon." "Oh yes, your vaunted psychic powers," Ben said, chuckling tersely. "I sure as hell hope so." ------------------------------------------------------ "Are you fucking kidding me?" Ares said, struggling to control himself. "Look, Ares, I'm sorry. But this isn't my decision. This is a general order for everyone, coming from-" "I don't give a fuck if it came from Marshal Morrin himself! I only have twenty-nine men, almost all of them wounded!" "Calm down, Marine!" Ryan snapped. "I promise you, once you get this done, I'll do my damndest to have the Brigadier pull us off the line. But we still have a job to do. Clear?!" Ares sighed and rolled his eyes. "Clear." ----------------------------------------------------------- Ares pushed past the last of Second Platoon into First Platoon's area. "Wraith, on me!" he shouted. Wraith stood up and strolled over, intermittently smoking and blowing clouds. "What d'ya think's goin' on?" Conk asked Selucis, watching the two senior men converse. "Probably organzing a withdrawal," Selucis replied. "Don't sweat it, Conk. Soon enough, we'll get some hot chow, fucking buildings to sleep in, and maybe even hot chow." Ares said something to Calahan, who took out the cigar, shook his head, and extinguished the cigar in his gauntlet. "Fuck," Aster cursed, appearing behind them. "That's not a good sign." Calahan waved his hand and shook his head, then gave Ares a thumbs-up.Ares then went into the dugout, and Calahan approached the three men. "Aster, where's Lundy?" he asked. "'E just woke up a few menettes ago, back in thet 'air doogout." "Okay. Come with me," Calahan said, pushing past Conk and Selucis and descending into the dugout. "Did Carr bite it or something?" Conk asked. Selucis slapped Conk over the back of the head. "Never talk about your comrades like that." "Sory, I-" "No, I don't think it's Carr. He wasn't hit that bad. This is somethin' else." ------------------------------------------------- "Seriously?" Lundy asked, rubbing his head. "Yes. General Bearing wants prisoners for interrogation. I'm leading a patrol to go get one," Calahan said. "But why my team?" "Your team is one of two relatively intact teams." "Jason's team is completely intact!" "I have little faith in Jason's comprehension of 'stealth,'" Calahan retorted, flatly. Lundy chuckled. "Alright, you won me over. Let me brief my men." Calahan nodded. "I have to organize the rest of the platoon to cover our fallback, in the contingency plan. I'll see you tonight." Calahan left the dugout. "Well fock," said Aster, when Calahan was out of earshot. "I like me job, but thar pushin' 'et." "Man, are you serious? Stuck with the Gunny on a shot mission like this?" Erikson whined. "Why him of all people?" "Bec-" "They don't call me Wraith for nothing, Idiot," Calahan said suddenly, standing behind Erikson. All three men jumped, Erikson almost a foot. "Don't do that, Boss!" Lundy shouted. "Last time you did that, Deadhead broke his nose!" "That was funny," Calahan replied flatly, smirking slightly. Witha terse, sinister chuckle, he left once again. "Well," Lundy said. "as the Gunny was 'nice' enough to point out, he is good at this 'sneaking' thing." "I noticed," Erikson muttered, irritated. "Okay, then. Get your gear ready for tonight, I'm gonna go check up on Carr." ----------------------------------------------- The only two concious men lying on the dugout floor were Dean and Carr. Dean was practically unharmed, with only a few cuts and bad bruises from the blunted bullets.Carr had taken a bayonet to the hip. The rest, especially Lance Corporal Padrino of Sanol's team, with a broken leg and his left arm riddled with shrapnel, were hit much worse. "Hey, Dave," Lundy said, sitting down next to Carr. "How're you doin'?" "I feel fine, sarge. But maybe that's the Sorephine." "Just sheckin' in. They heal up that wound yet?" "They slapped a 'Patch on it, yes." "Good," Lundy stood up to leave. "I got work to do. See ya around." He walked towards the exit. "Sarge, wait!" Lundy stopped and turned. "Yes?" I hear there's a patrol on tonight, and first fire team's on it." "...Yes." "I'd like to come with you." "Dave, you're-" "I'm fine," Carr interrupted, getting to his feet. "I told you, they gave me a 'Patch and some Sorephine. I can fight." Lundy tightened his lips and sighed, thinking. "So, I can go?" "You know what?" Lundyasked, picking up a rifle and shoving into Carr's hands. "Sure." |
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| Wraith | 29 Apr 2009, 09:19 PM Post #33 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXII Sovereignty Avenue Calahan checked the time. Just past zero-one hundred Standard, he thought. He activated his light amplifiers and zoomed in with his magnifiers on the rebel line, surveying it for any flicker of light or movement. There! The faintest flicker of light flashed briefly in his vision. Careless sentries. You don't fucking smoke at night, you idiots! Lundy approached with his team...his full team. "What'd you bring Carr for, Lundy? He's hit." "I can fight, Boss. I'll be fine," Carr replied. Calahan sighed and shook his head. "Fine. But if you screw up and get one of us killed, I'll kill you myself." Carr cringed. "But what if you get killed?" Calahan looked back out across No Man's Land. "As I told Idiot, they don't call me Wraith for nothing." Carr flinched again. "Okay, I see a sentry lighting up at one 'o' clock. He's our mark," Calahan ducked down and checked his rifle. "Get ready." Lundy's team cocked their rifles. "Pistols and knives. Rifles only if necessary," Calahan pulled out both his .45s. "Silencers on," he said, attaching shock absorbers to his pistols. He passed out more to Lundy's team. "Oh, shit yes," Lundy cheered, quietly, attaching them to his own pistol. "I want 'em back when this is over," Calahan peered over the parapet one more time. "Okay, let's go." ---------------------------------------------- Calahan crept forward, edging around rubble and burying himself in the mud. I am not a man, he thought. I am the mud. He made sure to smear as much mud over his armor as possible as he moved. Suddenly, lightning flashed, illuminating the street. Calahan froze instantly and lowered his head even closer to the ground. A machine gun rattled in the distance. Even after the flash subsided, he continued to lay there, breathing controlled, absolutely still, for several seconds. After about a minute, he opened a comm channel and barely whispered, "Move." Moving around another large pile of rubble, he stopped to look back at the rebel line. The slight, but continuous, flicker of light told him that the idiot sentry was still smoking. He moved back around the rubble, where Lundy's team was waiting. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do," he whispered. "Joe Dumbass is still there. Carr, you're the noisiest, so I want you to roll into the trench to his right and attract his attention. I'll come in on his left and take us our prisoner. Everyone else, you know the plan." The others nodded. "Let's go." -------------------------------------------------------- Private Dumas's cigarrette was almost burnt out. Flicking it into the mud, he pulled out another one and, covering it with one hand, he lit it with the other. Then something sounded to his right, like a box hitting the ground. There were no fucking boxes on the frontline. "Owens? Is that you?" he whispered, flicking the cigarrette into the mud as well. When there was no reply, he unslung his rifle. "Who is tha-" Something tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned to look, he glimpsed an armored fist before everything went black. ----------------------------------------------------------- "I think I broke his nose," Calahan whispered. "Think?" Lundy muttered, lowering himself into the trench. "Just grab him." As Aster and Lundy hoisted the unconcious man over their shoulders, Calahan aimed his pistol down the trench. Suddenly, a figure appeared in a nearby dugout doorway. Instinctively, Calahan dropped him with a silent double-tap. Then there was a shout from the dugout - someone had been just behind the dead man. A burst of rifle fire came from inside, hitting the opposite trench wall. A man followed soon after, whom Calahan killed. More shouts and crashes came from the dugout, and all across the line. Calahan holstered his pistol and grabbed the shotgun from his back. "Here they come! Go loud!" he bellowed, firing a shell into the group of men exiting the nearby dugout. "Ho-ly shit!" Corporal Carr swore. He emptied the rest of the pistol into the mass of men piling out of another dugout. "I got a ton of 'em here!" He dropped the pistol and grabbed his rifle. He got off three shots before they were on him. "Shit! Right!" Erikson shouted, turning to fire at the rebels swarming over Carr. Carr drew his knife and slashed wildly. A bayonet stabbed and glanced off, scarring his chest plate with a long gash. A knife suddenly appeared out of nowhere, aiming for Carr's head. Jerking away, Carr grabbed the arm and twisted, forcing it to drop the knife. He turned and threw the arm - and the body attached to it - over his shoulder and onto the ground, also knocking back many in the crowd around him. He turned back around, and another blade glanced off his armor. A full body, rather than just an arm, broke through the crowd and slashed at Carr with a knife. Carr grabbed the man's arm, but then a bayonet slipped through the chink in his left shoulder and stabbed into his skin. With Carr momentarily distracted, the arm he was holding thrust upward, and the knife pierced the weak armor under Carr's chin. Blood spurted out immediately and he fell back onto the ground as the crowd surged past him. "Dave!" Erikson cried, firing with renewed furor. Calahan glimpsed the mob approaching and half-turned, drawing a pistol in one hand and holding the shotgun in the other. He somehow managed to pump three shells into the mob one-handed and fire the pistol at the same time. With the rebels around Carr dead or groaning in pain, Calahan holstered the pistol and loaded more shells into the shotgun. "Go! GO, GO!" he barked. Lundy and Aster were already long gone with the prisoner. Erikson clambered out of the trench and began to run back across the cratered wasteland. Firing one last shell into the trench, Calahan crabbed Carr's body and practically leapt back to the surface. Quickly slinging the shotgun over his shoulder, he grabbed a small, wide-bore pistol from his belt, raised it into the air, and fired. A red-colored flare ignited and twirled into the air, but did not explode into light for obvious reasons. All Hell broke loose within seconds, mortars screaming down Calahan's heels and machine guns chattering. But he made it. |
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| Wraith | 30 Apr 2009, 05:26 PM Post #34 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXIII Sovereignty Avenue "I would have preferred a completely silent op, but-" Ares said. "Sheer chance, sir. If not for us being at the wrong place at the wrong time, it would have been completely silent," Calahan retorted. "Don;t just blame this on luck, Jack! There is no such thing as luck!" Ares shouted, frustration growing. "And so I am to understand that the fact that two men left a nearby dugout at the exact same time we took our prisoner was completely my doing, sir?" Calahan spoke in his omni-present monotone, but with noticeable emphasis on certain words. Yet, there was no sign of anger in his voice or body language. "Damn it, Jack! We lost a Marine on that patrol! You, of all people, could have prevented that from happening!" Ares yelled, furious. "High Command asked for a prisoner. I delivered a prisoner." Ares covered and rubbed his face with his hand, attempting to control himself. "This doesn't bother you at all, does it?" he asked, at normal volume. "Command points, I go." "You-you-" Ares was lost for words. He sat down and put his head in his hands. "Captain Ryan sent the prisoner back to Fort Morvan. No word on when we're being pulled off the line. Now please, leave me be." "You point, I go," Calahan said, turning to leave the dugout. Ares gave him a venemous glare. That was too much. "SHUT UP AND GET OUT!" he bellowed. --------------------------------------------------- Command Center, Fort Morvan "That bastard sang like a chorus ' angels," General Bearing said, on the verge of dancing a jig. "Brigadier, who did you say brought in that prisoner?" "Five men from First Platoon, Company D," Brigadier Wolfe said. "One was ki-" "Put them all in for a decoration, Bronze Star if I can help it!" Bearing shouted, grinning. "...Right away, sir." As Wolfe left, Bearing moved to the situation holomap, where General Magorian stood. "Well, it ain't as totally reliable as from the infiltrators, but..." "Still no contact from them, sir," Magorian said, answering the unspoken question. "We fear the worst." "Damn," Bearing cursed. He leaned over and began placing markings on the holomap. "The prisoner says they are planning another offensive, again in 94th FIST's area." "They are severely understrength, sir." "I know that. That is why we will replace them and 38th FIST on the line with the rest of the 82th Division." "Anything else, sir?" Bearing stood back upright. "Yes. Make another supply run across the entire line, ration priority. I want rations ready for 94th and 38th FISTs when they come in as well." "Yes, sir." ------------------------------------------------ Sovereignty Avenue "Hey, Dave," Erikson said to the helmeted, faceless, inert body. "Just droppin' in to say hi." He paused. "...Hi." Silence. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you back there. It was a pretty tight situation, eh?" he said, smiling. Silence still. A tear ran down Erikson's cheek. "Please say something," he whispered. "Please say something to me." "You know," a voice suddenly said. Erikson visibly flinched and nearly lost his balance. "that's not good for you." Someone put a hand on his shoulder. Erikson did not look at who it was, he only closed his eyes and hung his head. "I could've-if only I-" "'If only I-,' 'I could've,' 'It's all my fault!'" the voice said, crudely imitating a child's whine. "Things are only your fault if you think they're your fault. Get over yourself and stop trying to apologize to dead people." Erikson opened his eyes and lookat Carr's body. "I still hear their cries, but they do not speak to me," Erikson wiped his eyes. "Do the screams ever go away?" The hand left his shoulder. "No," the voice said. Erikson turned around to look, but whoever it was was already gone. ----------------------------------------------------- "Are you positive this time, Cow?" Ares asked. "Positive," Cow said. "Command's sending an APC squadron to ferry us and the relief from the rear to here." Ares slammed his hands down on the table and then raised them above his head. "Hallelujah!" he cheered. "We could use some good news around here." "Yeah. I...I heard about Lee. I remember when he first look a command," Cow paused in thought for a moment. "Lao Chang's team, right?" "Yea, Chang." There was an awkward silence between them for several seconds. "Why are we always fighting?" Cow blurted, finally. "I mean, we all have better things to do than die - eat, drink, fuck, drink some more..." "I don;t know, Cow. I don't know." "If you ask me, there were enough dead heroes until the end of time since before the First Great War! We're the human race! We should be living together instead of dying together!" Ares was stunned for several seconds. "I've never seen this side of you before, Cow." "Well, it's the real me. I'm not just a booze-chugging moron, no matter what that bastard Synair says." "I'm with you, Cow. But there are always, and always will be, people who rather kill men than live with them." They said nothing more as the sun set, after which Cow returned to company headquarters. The APCs rolled up at 2320 hours. |
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| Wraith | 1 May 2009, 03:47 PM Post #35 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXIV Coalition Sixth Army Headquarters, South Verdun "I," Colonel Sloan began, pacing back and forth in the near-empty room, revealed only by his sillouetted form in the spotlight. "am going to ask you this only once. Then, I take something of yours." The prisoner did not move, nor did his expression change. "You were captured snooping around behind our lines. It is your job to know things." "I'm glad your deduction skills are up to snuff," the prisoner interrupted, chuckling. Sloan raised his fist and backhanded him across the face. "Silence!" he barked. "Now, as a result, you should know troop dispositions of the Confederation in this city." Sloan began pacing around behind him. "Messeff, Ryan. I-2351/6656. Sergeant, Confederation Military Forces," the prisoner replied, flatly. "Very well," Sloan replied. In an instant, he ducked down and deftly sheared off one of Messeff's fingers. "Tell me something useful or I'll cut off another!" Sloan rared, fire of fury in his eyes. Messeff screamed in pain, and tears began streaming from his eyes. "Messeff, Ryan! I-2351/6656! Sergeant, Confederation Military Forces!" he managed to spit out. Sloan bent over and cut off another finger, more slowly this time. "What are the dispositions of Confederation troops in this city?!" "This is illegal, dammit!" Messeff cried. Sloan bent over again. "No, stop!" Messeff pleaded. "Then tell me something useful!" Sloan yelled. "Okay, okay! The General just replaced 94th FIST on the line with the whole 82nd Division!" Messeff lied, desperately hoping it would work. Sloan raised his eyebrows and stood back upright. "That's...just what I need to hear." Sloan drew his pistol and swiped Messeff across the back of the head with the butt, knocking him out cold. "Medic! Patch this man up and have him taken back to his cell!" he ordered. ------------------------------------------------------ "That's ten thousand men occupying an area for three thousand. Are you sure this is a good idea?" General Hiram Arson, commander of Sixth Army, said. "The Confederation Army is less well equipped for fighting armor than the Marines. A concentrated armored thrust can break through," Sloan replied. "But Army infantry platoons are equipped with medium machine guns. Look at what the marines did to our infantry without machine guns!" "The infantry can advance through the ruins. Those idiots in the Fifty-fourth Mechanized moved up the middle of the goddamn street!" "I've already thrown away eight divisions on the attack! Find me a better opportunity!" "Trust me, sir, this is our best chance at a breakthrough. Believe me when I say that, mano-a-mano, Marines are better fighters. We can break the Army." Arson made a half-grimace and sighed. "Alright. Take the Twelfth Armored and Fifty-sixth Mechanized and give me a victory." Sloan smiled. "I'll alert Dublin and Cascane immediately, sir." -------------------------------------------------------------- Home, World "...And I can now say that the sacrifices made by the Heroes of Verdun have brought victory for the Confederation in this brutal, yet just, war. Thank you, and good night," President Whitehall finished. Immediately, dozens of reporters hammered him with questions. "Yes, Mr. Bowlinn?" "How many casualties have we taken so far on Verdun?" "Considering that all communications with Verdun have been severed, we have no idea at this time." "Mr. President! Mr. President!" "Miss Marchen?" "When will you finally relieve the Heroes of Verdun?" "I cannot reveal that information at this time." "Mr. President!" "Mr. Ferrier?" "How bad are conditions on Verdun?" "I imagine that they are bombarded with shells worse than you all bombard me with questions. For that, I pity and respect them," Whitehall joked. The crowd of reporters laughed with him. "Mr. President," a powerful voice boomed, even over the noise of the crowd. "have the Secessionists been halted on other fronts as well?" "Thank you, Mr. Perry!" Whitehall said, making an overdramatic gesture of thanks. "At last, a question I can really answer. Yes. The Confederation Navy, thanks to the efforts at Verdun, has been able to halt the Coalition offensive on all fronts beyond the Outer Rim. Verdun is the only Outer Rim world attacked to date." "Have you attempted to negotiate with the Coalition?" Roger Perry followed up. Whitehall's expression turned from a smile to a scowl. "We attempted everything we could to prevent this war, even as Secessionist forces killed our young men and overran our planets," he said, in a barely-controlled monotone. "The only negotiations the Confederation is interested in are the unconditional surrender of the Secessionist Coalition." Many of the people in the room broke out into applause and patriotic cheers. Roger Perry only smiled. "And I assure you," Whitehall continued. "that we will have our victory. Justice will be served!" The crowd broke into an uproar, of cheers, shouts, and applause. Joseph Whitehall stepped off from the podium and exited stage right. |
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| Wraith | 2 May 2009, 07:41 PM Post #36 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXV Home, World "okay, let's cut the bullshit and get down to business," Whitehall said, strolling away from the press conference with a cluster of aides. He took a gulp of water and signed a form held out by an aide. Holding out a hand, he was given a datapad and began browsing through. "Randall, I need m Cabinet and the General Staff in the Situation Room immediately." A few minutes later, Whitehall sat once again at the head of the conference table, surrounded by his ministers and generals. "Okay, I want a frank briefing on the situation, no matter how bad it is," he said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table." "New is...mixed, Mr. President," said Minister Moxxin, striding over to the vidscreen opposite Whitehall. "We have indeed halted the Coalition on all fronts, bu Verdun is, extremely likely, desperately in need of relief." "And we cannot provide that?" "Marshal Morrin?" Moxxin said, nodding to the Chief of the General Staff. Morrin gestured at an officer to his left, who stood up. "First, Third, and Fourth Fleets have engaged and halted the enemy on all fronts, as the display now shows," Fleet Admiral Sarrius, Chief of Naval Operations, said, indicating the vidscreen. "However, that is all we can do until Verdun is relieved." Whitehall rubbed his forehead with one hand, breathing heavily. "And why is that, Admiral?" "The Coalition Fleet is concentrated at and around Verdun. If we advance too far in the weaker sectors, our fleets can be isolated and destroyed by the still-strong, concentrated enemy fleet." "Then why hasn't Fifth Fleet attack Verdun yet, damn it?!" Whitehall shouting, slamming his palm down on the table. "As I said, Mr. President," Sarrius replied, voice calm and relaxed. "the Coalition Fleet has deployed 'outposts' around Verdun. Fifth Fleet is first neutralizing them and creating a cordon around the salient." Whitehall sighed. "When will Fifth Fleet be ready to attack?" "Soon, sir. It must first finish cordoning the salient, then Second Fleet must occupy those positions as Fifth readies for the attack." "Admiral Sarrius," Whitehall said, voice stronger and clearer than normal. "Please remind Admiral Barringer that hundreds of our soldiers and marines continue to die on Verdun every day we waste. I don't give a shit about interservice rivalry - we take care of our own!" "I w-will, sir," Sarrius said, hesitating briefly as he said it. "Marshal, how long do you estimate the defenders on Verdun, can hold out?" Morrin paused in throught for a few seconds. "I would say one week maximum, provided luck is on their side." "That settles it, then. Admiral Sarrius, Admiral Barringer has four days to establish the cordon and regroup. On the fifth day, he will attack no matter his situation. That is an executive order." Sarrius was taken aback. "B-bu...I...Yes, sir." Whitehall looked at every man and woman in the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the greatest crisis to ever affect the Confederation. I expect no less than th greatest effort from each and overy one of you, and your subordinates, to help resolve this crisis. This is a time of sacrifice, this is a time of unity, but most of all, this will be a time of triumph!" ---------------------------------------------------------- Barrix, Maladon, Capital World of the Outer Colonial Coalition "Take a seat, folks," President-General Varrus O'Riley, of the Outer Colonial Coalition, said. "Now, Mista Blaine, the Coalition Administration Committay would like ta know a fw thengs." "It's General Blaine, Mr. President-General sir," said General Marcus Blaine, commander of all Coalition Forces. "Do no' intehruppt, Gen-raul!" O'Riley snapped. "Now, on ta busniss. One, why haven't we ad-vanced into theh Outa Rim yet?" "The Confederation Navy mobilized more quickly than expected. "Their superior numbers have halted us, Mr. President-General sir." "Then you uss' break through, Gen-raul!" "Mr. President-General sir, I can only do one or the other - take Verdun, or break through somewhere else. If I remove too much of the Fleet from Verdun, we will be weak in two places rather than strong in one." "And what eff the Confed'rates attack you at Verduuun?" O'Riley asked, stretching out the 'u' in Verdun, to Blaine's annoyance. "Intelligence reports that we have engaged the entirety of the Confederation's naval forces. They wouldn't dare attack Verdun without numerical superiority." "two, 'bout Verduuun," O'Riley continued. "Why, oh why, haven't you crushed 'em yet?!" "The defenders have proven to be more...tenacious than expected." "Then why'n't yeh g'on an' crush 'em now, eh?!" Blaine's right eye twitched slightly at the sound of the terse, short 'eh,' trademark of a West Y'kthali accent. Damn it all! Blaine thought. A Duran with a West Y'kthali accent as my superior - the two things I hate the most. Blaine recovered his composure. "Do not worry, Mr. President-General sir. The ground commander on Verdun is preparing his most devastating offensive yet," he said, smirking. |
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| Wraith | 3 May 2009, 04:03 PM Post #37 |
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Preparing for the Second Coming
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CHAPTER XXXVI Fort Morvan, Verdun When the quartermasters had passed out extra rations and weapon cleaning kits, every man in 94th FIST let out a cheer louder than any bombardment suffered so far. After devouring at least one of their new meals, almost every marine turned to cleaning their clogged, filthy rifles. That was what Sergeant McKnight was doing when Selucis approached. "Just saw Deadhead in the hospital," Selucis said. "Oh?" McKnight asked, not looking up from his rifle. "Yeah. Docs said he'll be out by tonight or tomorra morning. Full recovery." "Good news fer me, then," McKnight said, examining the firing chamber. "Yeah," Selucis muttered. He waited a few seconds for McKnight to say something. When he didn't, Selucis walked away, shaking his head. -------------------------------------------- "So,"Gunnery Sergeant Corrion said, plopping down next to Calahan. "How'd you make out?" Calahan put away the pad he'd been writing on. "I estimate about four dozen kills so far. I've got work to do." Corrion slapped his face with his palm. "Your platoon, you dumbass. I don't care about your kills." "Oh. Seven dead, several wounded. Lee bought it." "Yeah, I heard. Pity," Corrion said, shaking his head. "How 'bout you, Tom?" "Eight dead, Staff Sergeant Harrison among them." "That makes Masters senior, right?" "Yeah. Frier promoted Ward to Staff Sergeant." "Good men. Jonathan was one of the best fire team leaders I've seen." "Yeah." Corrion and Calahan sat in silence for a few seconds. Soon enough, Calahan pulled out his pad again and started writing on it. "Recording your kills?" Corrion asked. "Yes. You shoulda seen some of 'em. They looked pretty funny." "Nice additions to the-" "LISTEN TO YOU TWO!" Alex bellowed, stomping across the lot toward them. He had been listening for a while, but couldn't take it any more. "How can you talk so casually about killing other men?! Have you no decency?! No heart?!" "I'm not a nice person, Alex," Calahan muttered. "How about a human being?! Are you one of those?!" They were beginning to draw a crowd. "Now you listen here-" Corrion started, standing up. "Oh, don't get him started, Tom," Calahan said. "GET ME STARTED?!" Alex roared. "What am I to you, a machine? Are all human beings just soulless machines to you, machines you can break at will?" "Someone has to kill them," Calahan replied, still in his cool, flat monotone. He was still writing on his pad. "Maybe when all the people like you, and Cow, and Wolf, and Crazy fuckin' Aster are dead, us human beings can live in peace together!" Calahan stopped writing abruptly, then suddenly burst out laughing. Alex let out a long growl of frustration. "When this term is up, I;m quitting this fuckin' madhouse!" he yelled, stomping away in rage. Calahan laughed for a long while after he left. ------------------------------------------------------------ Home, World "Dear God, what a buffoon," Senator Mesran Bayer said, taking a sip of vodka while watching the newscast of President Whitehall's press conference. Senator Bayer, known popularly as "The Bear" for his aggression, influence, and poewrful presence, was one of the most prominent politicians in the (currently) minority Popular Front political party. Everyone knew he had presidential ambitions, especially due to his outspoken opposition to anything uttered by President Whitehall. "Bunch o' goddamn idyits." "Can't argue with that 'nalyshi...anlysh...analysiff...God damn it!" slurred his aide and drinking buddy, Boris Kulozov. "'Elp me out 'ere," he said in his thick Krussian accent. "You...help me, firsh," Bayer said. "Did you get what ah asked fah?" "Maybe, my friend, maybe," Kulozov said, half-revealing a folder from his jacket. "Dayum it, man!" Bayer said, laughing absurdly. "We gots us haya an oppatun'ty. That dayum foo' White'all is always screwn shit up. I mean, it's his fault weyah in dis 'ceshnist shit an'way. We can...can usurp 'is partah." "I know, Bear, I know. Tha's why you ashked me to get...to get thish." Bayer had a surprised look on his face, as if detatched from reality. "Oh ya!" he said suddenly, jerking back to life. "Give-gi-give'to mah," he said, gesturing for it with his hand. "With this, my friend, we can pronounce the death sentence of the Federalist Party." "I'll drink to that," Bayer said. They clinked glasses, then drained them and laughed. Kulozov slid the folder across the table. It was marked 'KYRKBERG.' -------------------------------------------------------- Command Center, Fort Morvan "...and there. We. Go," Bearing said, signing the datapads with his usual flourish. "Those boys certainly earned those Bronze Stars with blood." "Thank you, sir," Wolfe said. He took the datapads and walked away, chuckling softly. "I'm sure Wraith has enough of them already," he muttered to himself. "Brigadier Hansen! I need-" "General Bearing, sir!" an aide yelled, rushing over. Bearing glared at him. "What is it?" he snapped. "The enemy commander sent a message over an open channel! He demands our 'honorable' surrender, sir!" Bearing scowled. "Alert all units to prepare for attack." "Sir?" "They're giving us a chance to surrender before they 'crush' us." "What do I tell the Coalition commander?" "You go tell him to go to Hell. He must think I'm nuts if he expects me to surrender now." The aide's face lit up. "Yes, sir!" he said, saluting sharply. At the comm console, the aide typed a four-letter response: NUTS! -------------------------------------------------- Coalition Sixth Army Headquarters, South Verdun General Arson growled loudly when he saw the Confederation commander's reponse. "General Dublin!" "Sir?" "Contact Colonel Sloan and tell him to begin his advance." "Yes, sir." --------------------------------------------------- Liberty Lane Colonel Sloan surveyed the horizon ahead, arms folded, standing before a platoon of heavy tanks. His comm beeped, and he activated it. "This is Joker Three." "Joker Three, this is Bravo Niner," came General Dublin's voice. "You are authorized to begin your attack, over." Sloan smirked broadly. "Roger that." Raising one arm above his head, he checked the chrono on the other. As the clock struck eight, he shouted, "Move out!" and threw his arm forward. Engines roared to life, and tanks cranked forward. Gunships screamed past overhead. Infantry began to advance, clustered between, beside, and behind tanks. Far behind, the artillery unleashed a wall of fire more massive than any yet before. Armageddon was coming. HERE ENDS COMPILIATION III: EARNED IN BLOOD FIRST PLATOON WILL RETURN IN COMPILIATION IV: FINEST HOUR |
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