Mercenaries: Feur Frei
Chapter II: Assault on China
A/N: Back again with chapter 2! Thanks for the review Ominae, and I hope to see more reviews from more people!
Ominae: Really interesting. Haven't read a good and exciting Mercenaries story for a while.
Splatz: Thanks. Nice to see someone actually read my story!
As he steered the helicopter and listened to the troops in the back moan over their injuries, Chris felt his PDA vibrate; he had a new e-mail. I'll check it when I get back to HQ, he thought.
Upon sight of the HQ, all the machine guns on the roof and on ground floor aimed up at him for safety reasons. He honked once, and they all aimed back at the road. He brought it down close to the door, and made the soldiers get out. They laid the one or two of them who'd been shot on stretchers, and carried them in. The officer guarding the door came up to Chris at the open door.
"What was this? Where'd you guys go, and why are two of my guys hit?" the officer said, steaming.
Coolly, Chris replied, "They'll live. Quit worrying. We just went for a patrol around Tyongdan, found a camp, and attacked. Got a problem?"
The officer scowled. "Don't do it again, Merc. I'm watching you, and so is Garret."
"Whatever."
The officer tromped away, shooting a sandbag to bits to get out his anger. When he felt better, he refreshed his clip, and retook his post. Chris shut the copter off, got his PDA out, and checked his e-mail. It said he had one new message. "Fortune Cookie: Agent Mitchell Buford".
From Mitchell Buford: Private
Fortune Cookie
Hey. Buford here, and if you're lookin' for some extra cash, I got something for you to do.
So I heard about the assassination of Peng you just did, and I'm so happy I could jump for joy. Problem is, the problem ain't over. See, if we ever want to disable the Chinese forces here, we gotta strike now. They don't have a leader. No commander, nothing except guns and ammo. If we can get 'em now, they got no chance. Right from your spot, twenty steps forward, ten left, fifty forwards. See ya there.
---End of Message---
Chris read the last part again. Twenty, ten, fifty. Ok, whatever. He noticed that his helicopter was pointed straight at the HQ, although he was in the parking lot. Twenty steps looked like it would get him right to the door. He got out of his copter. He took five, looked both ways across the street to make sure he wouldn't get run over by some careless allied soldier or mafia henchmen. He sprinted the next five, walked the next ten, and came to the officer.
"Let me through, bud." Chris said.
He grudgingly stepped aside, knowing he'd lose his rank if he refused. Chris took the last five, right up to the front door. He noticed the officer looking over his shoulder covertly. Chris pulled a stun grenade off his belt, pulled the pin, threw it behind him, and waited for the quiet sound. It went. Chris felt the nudge of the force, but didn't stun him. He looked behind to see that he was stunned, confirmed it, and ran the ten steps left. It got him right to the edge of the building. He sprinted the fifty more, and slid down into the trees below.
"Afternoon," said Buford, standing at his feet.
"Hey, Mitch. What'cha got for me?" said Chris, getting to his feet.
Buford held out a paper with a blank spot on it for him to sign. Chris got out his pen and signed it without question. He looked at the contract, took it, and looked again. The reward was a hefty $500,000. Buford really was desperate to get China out of the game.
"Any questions, Chris?"
"No way. Got any vehicles for me?"
"You don't expect to take over all of their HQ single-handedly, do you? I know you probably could, but I'm better than that." He pointed into the trees. Chris followed his finger. Upon leaving, Buford said, "Good luck. I expect confirmation in a few minutes, yeah?"
As he stepped out into the light, Chris shielded his eyes from the sun. In front of him, he saw lined parallel to the road, two landed South Korean attack helicopters, five parked South Korean scouts, three with machine guns, and two with rocket launchers, and two South Korean APCs. After he took in the sight, he wondered how he was going to join in. He then saw one of the missile scouts' rocket launcher was unmanned. Life was so sweet.
When he jumped in, the helicopters sounded their horns, and the convoy started up. The copters flew alongside the vehicles, and Chris yearned to pull the trigger. Unfortunately, the convoy was slow to maintain their perfect column. After almost thirty minutes of boring driving, Chris was face down in the gun, snoring.
Chris woke to the sound of helicopter blades buzzing on the sides of him. Everyone inside the scout was getting anxious, as they were nearing the Chinese HQ. Chris woke up, rubbed his eyes, and put his hands back on the gun.
"Chris! Sorry, I was sleeping. It's almost four A.M. here. Let me log in to your account… wow, what are you doing?" said Fiona over his COMM.
"Buford's giving me five hundred grand to get rid of the Chinese here. I brought some friends," replied Chris.
"Really? Wow, that's quite a deal. Think you can pull this off?"
"Are you questioning me?"
"No, sir."
"I hope not, bec-" Chris was interrupted by an explosion and sharp turn of the driver. The scout to the left of them exploded into a fiery void. South Korean troops soared out of the wreckage, screaming in pain.
Chris looked ahead to see two Chinese tanks guarding the bridge in a roadblock. Two heavy machine guns surrounded by sandbags and Chinese troops. He looked down the barrel of his rocket launcher to make sure his aim was true, then fired. His target hit true, right at the body of the tank. Part of it exploded, leaving a gaping hole, and pieces of it flew everywhere. One hit the tank's gunner, and he fell over dead. The scout next to him fired a rocket too, and it finished the blazing tank off.
As the rest of the scouts finished off the troops, Chris aimed at the second tank. He fired, but only too late. The tank found its mark and shot. The rocket and shell whizzed by each other in the air, and both found their targets. However, one of them survived, and the other didn't.
Chris was flung outwards from the now blazing scout. The tank he'd just shot at was smoking, almost down. He flew almost ten feet and hit the ground, hard. He rolled over a few times, landed on his back, and he got back up again.
His right forearm had been gashed deeply by a sharp piece of shrapnel from the tank. Blood freely gushed from it. He knew if he didn't get it bandaged up as soon as possible he'd have to drop out and call Buford and tell hem it's a no go. He saw a dead medic on the road, and his medical kit was clipped on his belt buckle. He crawled over to it, pulled the kit off, and opened it up. Inside there was bandages, wrapping, scissors, antibiotics, medicine, a syringe, and hydrogen peroxide. He pulled out the hydrogen peroxide, bandages, wrapping, and antibiotics. He opened the cap of the hydrogen peroxide and dumped all of it onto his wound. It fizzed up with the blood and erupted out of his arm, slowly dumping out blood. He then put some antibiotic on a wipe, and wiped his bloody spot. He felt the sting, but he knew it would take the pain away. Then he bandaged the gash up, wrapped it, then pulled his sleeve back down. He picked up his prototype rifle, sniper rifle, and walked over to the smoldering wreckage of the tanks.
A/N: This is a long one, so I'm going to bring part II some other time. Right now, I'm gonna get some halo in! Appreciate your reviews a lot!