A/N: So... You'll notice things are much different from the sim; I know, I meant it to be that way, Chase made the sim, so it was very probably heavily biased (Like the technicians said in the notes... So, all in all, I take it I can do just anything I feel like :D

God and the Snake: Just read that Ice Man story you talked about, there are a few similarities, but I won't go down the same road as the author... (Very good story though :D) and yeah.
As they say: Anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice.
You're right, little girls are scary o_O Red dress or not :O (Played F.E.A.R 2 today... I'm so never going back in an elementary school.

Frontier Production: Yeah, I got bored of writing American characters xD

"Comrade Cheng!" Li whispered in the radio, "I think I'm hearing something!"

Li was stationed on a ledge, near the canyon's entry, while Cheng hung back in a cave with the rest of the unit, ready to ambush any American troops trying to reach the ice camp.

"What is it comrade Li?" Cheng asked, after signaling his troops to get ready.

"Music, sir!" The sentry replied after a few seconds of hesitation. "Wait… Is this…"

The radio went silent after that.

"Li? Li, report!" All twenty commandos in the cave waited, perfectly immobile, for their companion to answer.

All they had was a piercing shriek and sickening crunch.

"Sentry is out, the rats should come out soon." Dust's voice whispers in my ear.

I peek down the scope to the cave's entrance.

Right now, I'm on the side of a cliff, right in front of the cave; would be an obvious sniping spot, had it been possible for a normal human to snipe from there.

There is no ledge, nowhere for someone to actually set up a shooting position, just ice and rocks forming a vertical wave-like pattern.

I am in the depression of one of those waves, back pressed on hard rock and legs wrapped around an oversized icicle. My increased strength allows me to hold that position for a long time while focusing on my shooting while a normal human would have trouble just reaching this place.

I'm not a sniper, but that doesn't matter much; I grew up in a hunters-soldiers family, shooting's in my veins.

Alright, let's do this shit.

The first orange visor appear in my crosshair, then another one…

They keep getting out until there's ten of them.

The leader yells something and they head south, toward the canyon's entrance.

"Ten tangos headed your way." I whisper to Dust, trough my headset.

"I got this."

If she says so.

After two minutes, I hear a long burst of high caliber followed by loud explosions and screams.

Almost immediately, I spot a shimmering in the cave's entrance.

I press the trigger and the Crimson Dragoon falls to his knees, a hole in the forehead.

I down two more Dragoons before they stop trying to sneak out. I can still hear the MGL firing in the distance.

"Dust, Roach here. I got them pinned down, what's your situation? Over."

"I'm wiping the floor with their faces, give me two more minutes and they'll be speaking with Buddha!"

Says what? Whatever…

"Roger that, I'm firing the charges now."

"Booya."

Crazy yankee girl.

I hit the detonator and the C-4 charges along the opposite cliff go off, burying the cave under tones of rocks.

"It's done, I'll stay here and make sure no survivors come out; you take care of the supply delivery." I order, scratching my back on the wall.

Damn bad time to be itching…

"Understood. I just got a call from the general though, you have a new assignment; Patterson's strike team has run into some trouble at the ice camp and we're the only ones close enough to assist. I'll take care of the supply truck, you go help them."

I slide down the Icicle for thirty meters before jumping to the ground, five meters bellow.

"Roger that, I'm on my way."

And, with that, I start jogging; roughly heading north, since it's really the only way to the camp.

My feet dig deep in the snow as they pound the ground, but I feel light, like my whole armor and gear weights nothing and my lungs seem huge… Hard to describe, but running just seems very easy now… except for the sharp pain in my bones, but I guess that'll go away.

The canyon is twenty meters large and fifty meters high with ice dripping from both sides like froze waterfalls; with the sun right over my head, the whole thing look like a valley of diamond.

I hop over a rock, barely noticing it's actually two meters tall, and decide to see just how fast I actually am.

I take a deep breath, lean forward and begin sprinting like I had a rocket up my ass.

The whole canyon is reduced to a blur as my feet barely graze the ground.

Wind is lashing at my face something fierce and I soon have trouble seeing anything but a white mass with a yellow rod in the middle.

Instead of slowing down, however, I center myself on the yellow rod and push as hard as I can.

My hands cut trough the air with a hiss and wind screams in my hears.

Fuck yeah!

*Bang!*

Complete darkness for a few seconds the Banji's amused face.

"Buddy, you just carved your mark into the 68th armored battalion."

What?

I look up and see a tank with a small dent on the side.

Did I do that?

I take a quick look around. Two U.S. A1M1 tanks are taking pot shots at something I cannot see, and getting hosed with small caliber bullets in return… That must be why the twenty infantry guys -Patterson's Strikers and Montgomery's Hellbringers- are cowering behind the tanks.

We're still in the canyon, although the heat of the battle is slowly melting the ice on the walls into an actual waterfall, and the two tanks are presenting their flanks to the enemy, so to offer more protection to the infantry.

A glance over the tank tells me the Chinese are around two hundred meters away from us; just out of range for our tank's main gun… Well, on the paper, the things can shoot down a target from five kilometers away, but it's so cold and dry in Alaska that plasma disperses after a hundred and fifty meters.

"What's the situation, sarge?" I ask after remembering I'm here to reinforce them.

"Shitty, as always; we've got a walker out there raining five millimeter shit on out infantry and a chimera tank keeping our armors at bay, so until one of them dies of natural cause, we can't do shit."

Yeah… Are rocket barrages a natural cause? I mean, bleeding out or burning is a natural way to die, isn't it?"

"Where's Patterson?"

Montgomery nods toward the tank.

"In the tin can, trying to solve that mess; I can raise him on the comm. if you want."

Alright, so here's the Colonel's plan… Actually, no, he doesn't have one; Chase won't send any gunships to help us, Power armor troops are on their way, but he's pretty sure the Chinese are expecting that and have something ready for just that scenario.

All in all, I need to do something they don't expect and do it before the strike team gets wiped out.

"Alright, sarge," I bark after a few minutes of reflection, "do you have any Mini-Nukes?"

Benji glances at Corporal Darling, his second in command, who nods and lift his right hand.

"Yeah, five, but we're out of range and the guy with the launcher's on the other side of that tank.

I smile and shrug.

"Who cares, just gimme the nukes."

A soldier, hidden behind the other tank, tosses a black plastic box to the sarge who hands it to me.

"So, what's the plan?"

I grab a nuke from the box, break the safety cap and toss it like a football…

It soars trough the sky like a missile, turning gracef… Okay, that was a crappy throw and the thing's pirouetting like it had seizures, but in the end, the result if the same; it slams into the six legged turtle robot, aka turtle, and rips out a good chunk of its head before going off.

"Fuck yeah! That's how it's done!" I whoop.

Exactly two minutes after, the Chimera's smoking and the strike team is back on its way to the ice camp.

A radio operator runs up to me.

"Sir! Are you Private Roach?" He asks.

Private Roach? I almost feel like blasting his skull for calling me that.

I rest my M14 behind my neck, hanging my arms on it and nod.

"Sir, General Chase's on the comm.; he's got a new assignment for you."

Jesus Fucking Christ.