The small band of men, including Vincento, led by a skinny fellow by the name of Goviani quietly creeped past the fountain towards the stairs. Perhaps it was the light but I thought Vincento looked different... older maybe. He did after all look so very tired in the cafe just now. We watched as they crept up and finally when they were up, Marcello gave us the go. Slowly marching up the pathway, the loud clanking sound could still be heard. We were already halfway up the path I was about to ask Marcello about it when behind us there was the sound of a splash followed by desperate screams from the men at the back.
"AMBUSH!" Marcello cried out beside me. The empty ledges above us suddenly came alive with snipers and demomen. Behind, though I could not see it, I heard the sound of heavy machine guns rattling. Trapped I thought. To my horror, a grenade landed nearby whilst I tried to provide covering fire for my comrades. Marcello saw it as well but was helpless due to his bandaged leg. I was stunned, and not knowing what else to do screamed out.
To my horror and salvation, a young man in robes carrying what I believed to be a bread roller leaped upon the grenade. Brother Lucient took the brunt of the damage, while me and Marcello only got scathed. The half cracked bread roller lay at my feet, vigil. It was Marcello who lost it. He roared like a rampaging bull and charged headlong into the enemy fire. I tried my best to cover him, and at one point even taking out an enemy sniper with a lucky bullet to the head. Perhaps the men felt the same way as Marcello did or perhaps his fury ignited their spirits and the fought harder than before.
"Keep moving!" I yelled out amidst the din, as Marcello did not seem to care anymore. He only lashed wildly whenever and at whoever he could. I was afraid he might mistake me for the enemy as well. "MOVE!" I called out, because it only seemed logical. Marcello and a few other heavy gunners had cleared somewhat of a path for us. I ran dragging my now empty gun behind me. Grenades flew in every direction and I did my best to avoid it, but the machine gun slowed me down.
Further ahead some people began to scream. I lifted my head for a moment to watch my burning townsfolks run by me. Flame throwers! The sheer thought of it terrified me. To be burnt alive. I watched as more and more fire filled the market area.
"Take this!" Vincento cried. I was surprised at first to see him but nonetheless glad. "Picked them up from the corpses!" He threw a sniper rifle at me. Much to my gladness, I threw aside my gun and took the rifle. I didn't know how to operate these things, but in a tight situation like this, you had no choice. More and more men left their machine guns for the grenade launcher or the sniper rifles. We needed the advantage of range right now. I finally fired the rifle but it did not even slow down the oncoming flame throwers.
"Squeeze the trigger longer before you let go!" I could hear a man telling everyone, because the others had the same problem that I did. The machine gunners up ahead had been reduced to crust. Charred bodies lay astrewn, and the enemy advanced.
"NOW!" I heard Marcello's voice above the crowd. Much to my relief he was still alive.
Everyone let go of the trigger. The enemy fell by the numbers.
"Quick, cover the area before they return!"
We did. One by one we picked off any lone enemy who was hiding and blocked the entrance to the market with heavy gun fire. Most men took this chance to pause and rest their weary bodies. The medicine men came by the group and began treating those with more serious wounds. The other men who could still move began gathering weapons, readying for the next assault. I passed my rifle to them as I looked around for something more tactical. The rocket launcher might do. At the other end of the market, near the bazaar, I watch Vincento teaching a few younger ones some sniping lessons.
All the same, time was running out. The enemy had become desperate, and now that we have taken over the market, it is only a matter of time before their psyche runs out and they decide to eliminate the hostages. I prayed my Maria had not been among the hostages when they do. At the same time, something bothered me. We were ambushed and was it not Goviani who should have warned us before hand? What happened to his band of men?
I was about to head towards the bazaar when I noticed Marcello sitting down, leaning against a wall. Lucient's death must have grieved him alot. The man was bleeding all over with bandaged wounds and still there was determination in his eyes. Or was it determination?
"Marcello..." I began, hoping to comfort him, but then I noticed Vicento walking to his side. Again it must have been the moonlight because something did not look quite right there. I turned my head in the other direction to see another Vincento standing by the bazaar entrance giving sniper lessons.
At once all my senses screamed out but it was too late. The fake Vincento stabbed an ice pick into Marcello's neck. It happened so quickly that nobody had even noticed it until I took action. With unbridled rage, I charged at the imposter with a shotgun and filled his chest with lead. The disguise fell off and then I understood what had happened to Goviani. Marcello must have understood as well.
"Of course!" he said, as I put his head on my lap, "Spies!" His voice now was bloody and there was nothing I could do. There was poison no doubt. "And the clanking noise..." he said with much effort, "I know what it is..." Quietly the men gathered around us. "Beware... beware of the sent-" he gurgled blood as it finally filled his lungs and spoke no more.
"Maybe now, Marcello can drink the fine wine with Lucient," a man said dejectedly. The others mummered in solemn agreement.
I closed his eyes and then looked around me. The men were silent and perhaps without a leader, their spirit would break completely. I did not know why, but perhaps it was my short bond with Marcello that gave me the strength.
"No," I said grimly. "Marcello and Lucient will not dine on any wine." A few eyes raised in objection to my words. "They will not dine yet. Not until we have completely liberated this town. Our town. Let us give them a reason to dine!"
The excitement rose, and I felt grand for once. I lay Marcello gently to the ground and stood up. The people expected me to say something. Expected me to lead them. Even old Vincento. He smiled in respect and admiration. Fight on, his eyes told me.
"AMBUSH!" Marcello cried out beside me. The empty ledges above us suddenly came alive with snipers and demomen. Behind, though I could not see it, I heard the sound of heavy machine guns rattling. Trapped I thought. To my horror, a grenade landed nearby whilst I tried to provide covering fire for my comrades. Marcello saw it as well but was helpless due to his bandaged leg. I was stunned, and not knowing what else to do screamed out.
To my horror and salvation, a young man in robes carrying what I believed to be a bread roller leaped upon the grenade. Brother Lucient took the brunt of the damage, while me and Marcello only got scathed. The half cracked bread roller lay at my feet, vigil. It was Marcello who lost it. He roared like a rampaging bull and charged headlong into the enemy fire. I tried my best to cover him, and at one point even taking out an enemy sniper with a lucky bullet to the head. Perhaps the men felt the same way as Marcello did or perhaps his fury ignited their spirits and the fought harder than before.
"Keep moving!" I yelled out amidst the din, as Marcello did not seem to care anymore. He only lashed wildly whenever and at whoever he could. I was afraid he might mistake me for the enemy as well. "MOVE!" I called out, because it only seemed logical. Marcello and a few other heavy gunners had cleared somewhat of a path for us. I ran dragging my now empty gun behind me. Grenades flew in every direction and I did my best to avoid it, but the machine gun slowed me down.
Further ahead some people began to scream. I lifted my head for a moment to watch my burning townsfolks run by me. Flame throwers! The sheer thought of it terrified me. To be burnt alive. I watched as more and more fire filled the market area.
"Take this!" Vincento cried. I was surprised at first to see him but nonetheless glad. "Picked them up from the corpses!" He threw a sniper rifle at me. Much to my gladness, I threw aside my gun and took the rifle. I didn't know how to operate these things, but in a tight situation like this, you had no choice. More and more men left their machine guns for the grenade launcher or the sniper rifles. We needed the advantage of range right now. I finally fired the rifle but it did not even slow down the oncoming flame throwers.
"Squeeze the trigger longer before you let go!" I could hear a man telling everyone, because the others had the same problem that I did. The machine gunners up ahead had been reduced to crust. Charred bodies lay astrewn, and the enemy advanced.
"NOW!" I heard Marcello's voice above the crowd. Much to my relief he was still alive.
Everyone let go of the trigger. The enemy fell by the numbers.
"Quick, cover the area before they return!"
We did. One by one we picked off any lone enemy who was hiding and blocked the entrance to the market with heavy gun fire. Most men took this chance to pause and rest their weary bodies. The medicine men came by the group and began treating those with more serious wounds. The other men who could still move began gathering weapons, readying for the next assault. I passed my rifle to them as I looked around for something more tactical. The rocket launcher might do. At the other end of the market, near the bazaar, I watch Vincento teaching a few younger ones some sniping lessons.
All the same, time was running out. The enemy had become desperate, and now that we have taken over the market, it is only a matter of time before their psyche runs out and they decide to eliminate the hostages. I prayed my Maria had not been among the hostages when they do. At the same time, something bothered me. We were ambushed and was it not Goviani who should have warned us before hand? What happened to his band of men?
I was about to head towards the bazaar when I noticed Marcello sitting down, leaning against a wall. Lucient's death must have grieved him alot. The man was bleeding all over with bandaged wounds and still there was determination in his eyes. Or was it determination?
"Marcello..." I began, hoping to comfort him, but then I noticed Vicento walking to his side. Again it must have been the moonlight because something did not look quite right there. I turned my head in the other direction to see another Vincento standing by the bazaar entrance giving sniper lessons.
At once all my senses screamed out but it was too late. The fake Vincento stabbed an ice pick into Marcello's neck. It happened so quickly that nobody had even noticed it until I took action. With unbridled rage, I charged at the imposter with a shotgun and filled his chest with lead. The disguise fell off and then I understood what had happened to Goviani. Marcello must have understood as well.
"Of course!" he said, as I put his head on my lap, "Spies!" His voice now was bloody and there was nothing I could do. There was poison no doubt. "And the clanking noise..." he said with much effort, "I know what it is..." Quietly the men gathered around us. "Beware... beware of the sent-" he gurgled blood as it finally filled his lungs and spoke no more.
"Maybe now, Marcello can drink the fine wine with Lucient," a man said dejectedly. The others mummered in solemn agreement.
I closed his eyes and then looked around me. The men were silent and perhaps without a leader, their spirit would break completely. I did not know why, but perhaps it was my short bond with Marcello that gave me the strength.
"No," I said grimly. "Marcello and Lucient will not dine on any wine." A few eyes raised in objection to my words. "They will not dine yet. Not until we have completely liberated this town. Our town. Let us give them a reason to dine!"
The excitement rose, and I felt grand for once. I lay Marcello gently to the ground and stood up. The people expected me to say something. Expected me to lead them. Even old Vincento. He smiled in respect and admiration. Fight on, his eyes told me.