For What It's Worth
A once bustling city, with towering skyscrapers and a population of well over a million, now a desolate wasteland. Turned into nothing but a sea of concrete, buildings that once stood tall, now crooked, or the cement behemoths laying in the street, some completely collapsed leaving behind nothing but hills of rubble. Between the heaps of debris and skeletal steel structures, patrolling down the once busy streets, a squad of olive drab infantry. All equipped in fatigues, combat boots, vests for ammo, grenades, backpack, steel helmet with fabric camo covers, and various weapons depending on the individual. Helmets that originally would be all the same, but worn by a soldier, now given individualism in the form of messy black marker, and items placed on them, kept secure by a thin black strap. The team only given the basics, what's necessary to get the job done.
The fourteen man crew stayed in a loose two columned formation. Certain members of the team paying less attention than the rest, making the usually uniform formation messy. A certain plain faced young man, with patchy stubble and tired lines that'd make a raccoon blush, kept falling behind from his original position to speak to squad mates.
Biting into his half spent cigarette he slowed his pace once again, falling back next to a more juvenile looking freckled kid. Though the difference in age between the men in the squad was one to three years max, the green eyed boy always felt like the metaphorical age difference between him and the rest was broad. Not only due to his young face, and shorter stature, but his demeanor and attitude as well. Tufts of dark green curly hair sprouted from underneath his helmet, the dark olive headband that he had wrapped around his forehead doing its job of keeping the mess of hair out of his face.
The odor of burning tobacco invaded his senses making his eyes water slightly. Glancing to his left he saw the cause of the smoky stench in the form of a rifleman with an amused smirk sporting his average features.
'Sero'
Tilting his head towards the kid he brought a hand off his rifle and tapped two fingers against the crumpled and now almost depleted pack of cigarettes strapped to his helmet.
Green eyes looked to the pack. Then back to Sero's smug eyes. With a sigh of exasperation he slung his carbine around his shoulder and rummaged through the leather satchel painted with a red cross. It was always attached to the kid like his life depended on it, because he knew that everyone else's did, which made him dependent on the brown bag. Hand finding a rectangular cardboard package he took out another pack of cigs. Opening the pack he only took half of the sticks and handed them to the waiting hand of his fellow grunt.
With a mock salute and huff through his nose that exhaled ashen smoke he slowed his pace yet again to start conversation with someone in the rear of the formation. The thought slightly confusing the medic, as the only people behind him were the three of the quietest people he has ever met in his short life.
As the "youngest" in the squad's mind became preoccupied with the intentions of his fellow infantryman, the two men taking point were a lot more alert and focused on the environment around them. The bespectacled squad leader taking the front left stood tall, every step being calculated, with no wasted movement. Rifle shouldered, and barrel pointed to the ground. Rectangular glasses, catching a glare hiding his eyes, brow slightly furrowed showing focus as he scanned any possible hiding space for the enemy. Smart, tall, muscular, calm, focused, and by the books, the epitome of a near perfect soldier.
Although the near opposite could be said for the other soldier taking point. Low to the ground, sweat pouring down his neck, mouth open exhaling. The designated scout, short and perverse. Eyes moving erratically from possible piece of cover to the next. Movement unorthodox, the already short soldier making himself even smaller as he hunched forward. Although far from what a loyal soldier's ideal image was, he was no doubt a valuable asset. Eyes that could scan for the smallest detail and quick on his feet with an overwhelming sense of self preservation. Able to pick out enemy's locations before they could spot his small frame.
Then, the squad leader stopped and put up his right hand balled up into a fist. Immediately the squad seized and dropped low. Everyone now on alert with weapons ready. The taller of the two pointmen motioned for the other to come to him. Whispering orders to the smaller man, who now made a face of discontent. Whispering back an argument against whatever he told him. In response to that the squad leader pressed the issue and ended with a louder more authoritative voice heard by most of the squad.
"That's an order Mineta"
With a disgruntled huff, Mineta looked over a chest high ruined concrete wall, looked back at the squad and then hopped over.
A sleeveless squad member showing off impressive arms stared ahead worriedly at the now, single point man. Frown adorning his features, visibly concerned about what was happening. In his arms was a menacing wooden and black steel pump action shotgun, scratches and chips scarring the stock, notches counting six carved into it by a knife. Thick black marker spelling "RED RIOT", and multiple shotgun shells decorated his helmet. Approaching the crouched soldier was the radioman as he stuck low, until he was right behind the shotgun wielding redhead.
"Yo what do you think they were talking about?"
The soldier jumped and his eyes went wide. Whipping around he smacked the soldier that spoke.
"Jesus Christ Kaminari you scared the shit out of me!"
The radio operator just smiled, and tapped his shoulder.
"Why're you so damn jumpy anyways? What happened to all that shit about manliness and the courage of God?"
The stronger soldier reached into his shirt and took out a silver cross held onto his neck by a string, then brought it to his lips.
"He still keeps me safe, and believe it or not I still ask for him to keep your ungrateful ass safe and everybody else's here too." Kaminari just gave him a doubtful look and cocked an eyebrow. "And I'm jumpy because Iida looks like he saw something. You know something is going to go down when he looks on edge."
Kaminari looked back towards Iida, the bespectacled squad leader constantly looked over the small concrete wall where Mineta had run off then back to the squad. Looking back towards his buddy he sighed. Swallowing down the new formed lump in his throat.
"Still that doesn't answer my question, what do you think he told him?"
"What the fuck do you think short circuit!? He told short shit to scout out the enemy."
A rough voice cut in between the two and they both turned to the eavesdropper. Crouched just a few yards from them was the grenadier. Single shot grenade launcher on his back, sleeves rolled back showing off muscular forearms the right one having a dirty orange cloth tied around a burn on his wrist, helmet proudly presenting in black, bold letters "KILL EM ALL". The rifle he held with tape on the stock. His brow furrowed and smoldering eyes burning with pent up rage.
Footsteps broke the stares directed on the grenadier. The smell of burning tobacco greeted them as a chatty rifleman approached them from behind.
A puff of smoke between the redhead and blonde, an amused face, Sero joined the fray, cigarette bit between his lopsided grin.
"Looking like things are gonna get a little more interesting, eh? Kami?" Looking at the blonde he playfully jabbed him with his elbow.
With a sigh the radioman wore a worried expression. Eyes dragging from the smoking rifleman over to the bespectacled squad leader.
"I hope not"
"What's the point of patrolling if we don't find anything!?" A heavy hand landed on the radio man's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll get through it fine… and chicks dig scars." With a roguish wink the redhead turned his attention back to the front.
Patting both colored haired soldiers he handed both a cigarette, and continued his way up. Usual smug expression changing into something more grim, smirk quite literally turning upside down into a mix of a frown and grimace. The dark circles under his eyes becoming more apparent as his brow began to furrow. Passing his fellow brothers in arms, he only gave them sidelong glances, as his main focus was on the strict squad leader, and noticing the absent midget. Cigarette being pinched tighter by his teeth with every step forward.
Before passing another couple of squad mates he stopped. Approaching two of the biggest men in the team. One with their sleeves ripped off exposing large arms with muscles that stretched the skin and seemed to want to rip out of the vascular tissue. In said arms was a large menacing jet black machine gun, ammo belts wrapped around the large man's torso, black and dark green shemagh pulled down on his neck. Narrow chin and broad defined jawline, sharp eyes, silver hair peeking out from under his helmet, creeping over to his left eye. The quiet machine gunner, Shoji.
The other being a large man with even bigger lips, Sato. Intense eyebrows and a powerful build, heavier but shorter and less toned than Shoji. In his hands being the typical black rifle, but slung on his back a large tube shaped weapon, it being none other than a highly explosive rocket launcher. Well it was a "recoilless rifle" but that shit shot out explosive ordnance from the shoulder so it's a rocket launcher in his book.
Keeping low he approached them, whistling to get their attention.
"Yo, what's it look like before I talk to old egghead?" he questioned as he reached out with two sticks in between his fingers. The two larger men taking one without hesitation, Shoji pocketing the stick of nicotine as Sato putting it between his large lips, leaning forward as Sato lit his cigarette with a polished zippo.
As Sato inhaled the sweet ashen cancer, whispering a soft "thanks", Shoji turned to the rifleman and decided to fill him in.
"Not much I can tell you to be honest. Mineta doesn't look too hot on the idea of scouting and IIda is pretty on edge, ever since he sent him he's been checking back on the squad, back to where mineta went and then the surroundings in short intervals… As far as I can tell he's definitely seen something he doesn't like and it's starting to get to me."
As he was filled in, he began scratching at the patchy and ungroomed bits of stubble on his cheek. Noticeably becoming more irritable from what his friend told him.
Sniffling, he looked over to IIda absentmindedly speaking his mind, "it'd be fucking great if he filled us in immediately."
"I think he doesnt wanna tell us any useless information if he's wrong though, ya know, create unnecessary worry and all." Sato decided to chime in.
Starting to move in the direction of IIda, Sero answered not sparing a look in his direction.
"Being left in the dark does more harm than good in my opinion."
Finally passing up the rest of the squad he reached his target. Crouching behind the leader he got close, said leader looking back at him for a second then back over the wall.
"What is it Sero?"
Grunting as he passed him and set himself directly in front of him on the right side of the wall he looked dead into his eyes.
"I don't know, you tell me sir."
The officer's eyes narrowed as he glared back at Sero. A staring match between the two ensuing for just a couple of seconds.
Until Iida finally relented, sighing and closing his eyes. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer.
"Movement, to the NorthWest, 330 degrees."
Sero, peeked over the wall, trusting in his inner compass as he scanned the sea of concrete, and over the cracked street, then stopped at what looked to be the corner of a city block where there sat a partially collapsed building. The first floor being visible inside just barely, and an orange light peeking through, flickering like a flame. He narrowed his eyes and spoke without turning away from the light,
"Probably a camp, i doubt its scavengers though, the Greys have been spread out thin in this area after what happened at 'FOB Gloom'," Turning to eye Iida, he looked him up and down "Search and destroy right?" he nodded back and Sato wore a grim smile before heading back.
Not long after Sero headed back, Mineta quickly threw himself over the wall, landing next to the squad leader, sweat dripping down his forehead and panting.
"You're such a fucking dick Iida."
"Yes I know, now what'd you see?"
Motioning with his hand he pointed over to where he and Sato had been staring, both now peering over as the unruly scout explained the situation.
"Small force, they seem to be waiting for orders or to regroup with any of the survivors from the last incursion," Iida eyed him worriedly but he shook his head "They've been there too long though. They're alone."
Looking down at the short infantryman who he gave grief and received it back, he scratched at his well shaved chin. Then back to where the Grays were.
"Head back with the rest of the squad, pass it down to get ready for an ambush."