What was our mission? Yes, we had to defend our position between ourselves, but what truly was our mission? To kill, or to defend? How were we supposed to define these matters? In our depth, we could sense our failure beyond our soul. We have fought over ourselves, but turning to fiends…? No… In the noon, we hid amongst the structured buildings, waiting for our flanking action. Weren't we able to relocate? Let us find out whose destiny has been saved. We've been abandoned by our own people, fighting on our own. It is everymen for himself: Jackson
The ground is deceased as we lay wait. Our group felt silent, as anxiety took our destiny. Our voyage had begun. Let us define the matters that were here.
"I hear engines. They're here…" Ajax scrolled over to me.
"Prepare for the worst, guys. But remember: we are not monsters…"
Siris stood at the window, observing outside. "Any negative signs?" I inquired.
"Negative, Elias. It seems quite… still", he replied.
Then a gunshot penetrated the still air, and the distinguished guests arrived. "Ok, they're here. This is Alpha Squad, preparing for enemy engagements. Repeat: prepare for engagement. On my mark, we'll give 'em hell, over."
"Copy that, Alpha Squad. This is Mortar Strike, ready on your mark."
"Roger in, Alpha. Bravo Squad on the go. Ready when you are."
"This is Charlie, reporting for engagements. Let's have 'em dead."
"Good… Let's do this, over. Marksmen on your go."
They drew near, and our beliefs were notable from our lives. Now, we may only desire that we weren't here… Resonances of engines, but only a minor portion of it. There mostly were footsteps, echoing from the solid street. There, in the marks on our hand, we differenced our future, and leasing ourselves in.
"Here they come. Keep quiet", Siris reported.
Then the reality hit me as I observed the enemies. There were enormous quantities of those federation-like people, who had their weaponry and blades in. No way could we encounter such force.
"Fire-team, reporting in. They've set an outpost on the eastern section, outside the mountainous areas. They have a force over five hundred. They've deployed over hundred soldiers on your position, watch yourselves."
"Copy that, over."
"So… Take this tactical?"
"No… It's all or nothing", Rorke replied.
"Team, report in. Ready when you are…"
"We all have been waiting for this s*** to happen, now let's give 'em hell."
We have seen how they've prepared for us, and currently we need to provide them all we've got. Their armory and weaponry may be overpowered; nevertheless they intend not to demonstrate a privilege, which we ensure to be cooperation.
"For our last moment", Rorke lit his cigarette, and swooped himself for provision.
"Guys, get ready for the worst. Alpha-, Bravo-, Charlie-, Mortar-, and Sniper Squad, prepare. 3, 2, 1…"
"Give 'em hell!" our Lieutenant barked in the microphone.
"Sentry ONLINE!" Rorke yelled behind us.
I sighted the sentry gun on top of the next building, bending into its position. It held its Gatling gun and stood complete for action.
For a moment, there remained silence, as I heard the heating from the weaponry. The barrel rolled on the sentry, and it shot for moments. Soldiers fell down, and it simply was infinite. Screams reverberated throughout the field, and they ceased from caring. I saw Rorke's face… It remained pale. All of us were hesitating on our next move, but no one could describe our mission. Bodies covered the sturdy ground, screams resounding through the air.
Our destiny stood no dissimilar from theirs, as on the point of the edge. Soon, our story would conclude just alike theirs, no diverse.
Finally, our sentries completed its ammunition, and were wrecked down.
The Federations retreated toward the verge of the town, backing their turn toward the east. We decided to acquire our vengeance, turn the table, and so we relocated our position.
"Squad, move out. Get to Point Bravo, and check for any unexpected company. Our occupants need to be safe, although the Federations may not recognize civilians."
And consequently we returned to the corridor, and ambled toward the streets. Rakesh dashed outside, and what we saw, remained unpleasant. Bodies hung here and there, blood dripping from the bullets. Now, it was corrupted… My gaze twisted from it, not willing to recall the misery.
Simon came subsequently after us, and the whole squad repositioned from the structure. This stood our first strategy, and each of them would end up worsened than before. "Get your rifle ready, Simon. We need to take those assholes out."
"Copy, Rorke."
We were adopting our own fight style, and taking our revenge from past mistakes of what we've done. Our rifles were hung on us, and we were traveling to the infirmary area. Suddenly, a gunshot was heard, followed by others.
"S***! This war has initiated! We need to amend ourselves! Move out to Point Bravo, and defend it!"
Finally, we arrived to our destination. "Simon, get to the rooftop and join the Sniper Guard!"
"YES!"
We continued to pack our devices, our dinners within it. This was our headquarters for nowadays. From the eastern window, I could distinguish hostile recons, shifting toward us. They held their machine weaponry, and unnoticed us. I took my own conclusion, and stuck myself onto an insignificant crack, which pointed toward them.
Certainly, they continued toward this infirmary from the southern way, not perceiving my image. My rifle's barrel protruded from the wall, pointing right toward them. I acquired a close aim, and pulled the trigger. One man fell out of their positioning; therefore, others fell back to their cover.
Rorke turned toward me with an inquiring facial feature.
"Just taking care of these guys", I replied.
He twisted away from me, acquiring ammunition and so forth.
Back against the field, Federations were on their cover. In a precise proverb, there remained two men from their unfortunate ending. My armament stood accurate and obligated of a high rate of fire, which perfected the usage of assassination.
One of those Federations pitched a grenade toward my position, exploding in front of the wall, generating a larger crack as a feature. Then, it fell down — the wall collapsed, but the building structured on itself. Just a hole on the wall, nothing to be concerned about.
"What the hell is that!?" Rorke replied unexpectedly.
"Err… grenade?"
"Keep your position, Elias, or you'll be dead."
I turned back, just slaughtered a man on his skull. He fell, collapsing on the floor.
War is hell, so show us your power. Confirmed by our own thoughts, we slaughter without notion.
"Simon, I need help!" I yelled into the radio.
"Roger that, Elias!"
"Taking aim, bro…!" With that, a silenced shot landed onto the Federation behind the cover. "…And dead!"
"Thanks", I replied.
"No problem."
"You guys done with the loadings?!"
"Affirmative, Elias. Move to west Mortar position, and prepare for flanking."
"Ok, move out!"
We ran from the back corridor, escaping through the backup exit. Our objective is not purified… "So… northwest flanking position?"
"Yes, Elias. We'll hit them from behind."
And so our expedition continued throughout the land. Our Mortar Squad was preparing themselves with the shells, making sure aim out of our enemies.
We crossed the street to the upper side of the town, and soon we managed to establish toward the northern verge. "Ok, let's get off from the radar, and stay quiet."
Although there were no threats on the edge, we could distinguish gunfire through the initiated war. Our lives would end worsened… and our thoughts burned.
"Stick close, although this is a narrow part beside the buildings."
Our position was between few buildings, narrowing our path. Though it continued till the eastern edge, we would want shelter from the bullet storm.
"Hold your position", Rorke said while remaining still.
"Wait… I see something…" Jackson reported.
"…Get your ass into COVER!" Rorke shouted as a beam of smoke formed in the air, drumming toward Jackson.
"Man DOWN! Repeat, MAN DOWN!" Keegan screamed. I turned my face toward my teammates, and the scenery horrified me.
Jackson was hit, and dripping blood. "Simon, get YOUR RIFLE HERE!"
"Yes SIR!"
"Take that asshole out!"
From afar, other mercenaries were discovered. "Watch your position, soldier! We got Feds incoming!"
"AMBUSH!"
Our move was being tormented by our own squad. "What do we do, Rorke?"
"WE FIGHT!"
Bullets flew aside us, and gunfire slaughtered the air. "I got the sniper! He's down!"
"Good, advance!" Rorke barked.
"Negative, sir. Enemies' numbers are too great, and Jackson's hit!"
I had a plan inside my head disguised with this situation. "Guys, I got a plan. Hear me out!" The gunfight was still ongoing and Jackson remained losing blood. "Let's retreat few meters aback and move ourselves into a building through its window. What do you say? We'll have bulletproof cover!"
"Ok, let's go. Siris, you take Jackson!"
"Yes, sir!"
I covered their back, amazed by the blast completed by my rifle. It remained powerful, beaten. The thrill stood enormous, although it felt enjoyable. It pleased my hunger, shooting and killing. "Stop!" Rakesh yelled as he observed my face. "Look at yourself, Elias. Look at us… What do you see? I see misery, but you seem satisfied."
He was correct. I have transformed my style of war through myself. "Move!"
Glancing at Rorke, they busted the window, proceeding inside. Rakesh advanced toward them, thus I followed beside him.
Swiftly, I peeked back at the Federations, perceiving a crucial idea. I swiped to my pocket, feeling a sphere-shaped object. "See you in hell, jackasses…"
It was a M36 Frag Grenade. Pulling the pin, I tossed it across the air, turning my head back, and swooping toward the window. A giant explosion was followed after few seconds, and a satisfaction overwhelmed me. Maybe I am a monster after all, I just haven't found it.
I dashed into the building, inspecting Jackson's misery. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Not sure… But… you need to hear me out…"
"What is it? Just don't say it is the end. You're going to be ok."
"No… Elias. I see you as my friend, and now… I'm dying. Well… I guess this is the end…"
"Don't you dare say that, Jackson", Rorke screeched.
"This is the end. I just need to accept my destiny. But you need to know something… This is a cruel world, and you may only survive by fighting" Jackson stated.
"Jackson, I guess you've learned something after all", Siris replied.
We collected into a group, surrounding Jackson himself. "What you see is the edge of reality, and what you need is vital. This is a cruel world, followed by the fights. But you know why we fight? We fight for our freedom, and we fight for our country! What we see is the part of death, but there is beauty in this belligerence. You just have to find it by your own…"
"Siris, that was very kind of you to say that… WHILE I AM DYING!"
"It simply is something worth before death, you see…" Siris responded.
"But you know what, guys? I need to confess something before I die. Well, you see, I am a poor man, not having my own opportunities to do for this world. I always wanted a legendary death: Like getting killed by a unicorn, or kamikaze inside of a nuclear plant. But it is just too idiotic, and nonsensical. My life may not be worth anything, but here and now, we fight as brothers. But Rorke, just tell me that my life was worth something for! My loss today is changing something!"
Rorke attained on Jackson's hand and tightened around it. "Your loss today is noble, and we would always know you. You made a difference and you are worth something. You always will be with us-"
"SIR, I think… He's…"
"Did he hear my words…?"
"Affirmative, sir."
"Rest in peace, Jackson… Our mission isn't done yet, so see you in hell."
There was a moment of silence, which surrounded our souls. His life remained always worthy, and always with us.
Shots were fired on the main street, followed up by unexpected screams, screaming as if they were disemboweled. "MAN DOWN!" They yelled. Well, we got a man down… but doing nothing… just silence.
"Today we lost a soldier on field. His name was Jackson Smith, and I declare his loss. His fortune will live with us, and his soul will guard us. Let us hope the best in his afterlife. His dog tag states the following: Jackson Smith, 21 of January ****, Squad Alpha: Codename: 'Machine-Gunner'. We lost him, but we believe the best of him. As our rule states, "see you in hell", and so let it be!"
Rorke's statement was nobly done. We appreciate Jackson's loss, and we wished him the best… Hope he is still our friend…
In the event, a fighter is executed. His remains are placed face down with his head pointed in the direction of his home, his weapon next to him. We do it this way, so when our fallen are taken to the other side… they can watch over us, and keep an eye on our enemy. Jackson was gone. Nothing could change that. But we were here… We were still here, and we still could make a difference about this conclusion — just as we were alive.
"Jackson, I hope to see you in hell", I whispered, turning my head around.
The streets were still in mayhem, and we should clear it up. "Sir, reports are in! We suffered casualties over five men. This is critical! We cannot continue without executing our enemies with brute force!"
"Weapons free!"
Since we only had a mercenary count of sixty, we cannot have casualties over ten by one day.
Our lives are burned with the cards loosened. We were required to fight back. "Guys, come over here! I have a plan!" Wilson said abruptly. "We'll still go from the north, as I assume it is clear. We flank over from their backs and go against them from behind. But we need to be perfect at what we are doing, so use a silencer."
"Affirmative, Wilson. Sounds like a plan. Move out!"
"Not yet. I think what we just affirmed was cruel, and I assume we need a rest."
In this building, there was nothing. What we confirmed was cruelty, but essential in the war. We acquire losses, and we simply need to deal with the brutality. Fatality rate is punishing, and our lives have been changed by it. We need to play cautious.
"Mortar Squad, we need a strike on our area! Exclude several misleading accidents, just fire at the street!"
That was odd, considering the fact that Rorke never calls for backup. Our Mortar Squad wasn't active, although we've got company.
But now, condensing our powers, we had to fight back. But how? Well, we were mercenaries, and we do what we can to protect. "Let's do this, guys!"
M18 Smoke:
A modern era smoke grenade, manufactured for military purposes. Used as a protective gear, blinding enemy vision off, but at the same time your own vision will be distorted. It is an essential piece of armament as you cannot let your enemy describe your location, and instantly killing you. I would propose using it while you are capable to vision enemy position, flanking them from the edge. In-depth, it is crucial as a protection, but nonsensical in a positive way. And I am safe to assure: "Like a ninja."