Chapter Seven: Clash of the Colonel One Hundreds

Aria of Caspian Border Arc

"HALT! Hold your positions! HOLD IT!"

With a stomp of his foot, DeviantOne slammed the brakes of the Growler after hearing the order. Photonous lurched forwards and slammed his helmet into the top bar while using his left hand to tightly grip the seat.

"The hell was that?!" Higgins barked. He too was stunned.

"Standby! Standby!" the team radio buzzed, "Alpha squad has encountered an obstacle while assaulting point Bravo. You are all to await for further orders."

Photonous glanced at DeviantOne for an answer but to no avail, he too was confused. As he turned his attention into the direction of Bravo, he felt the ground shaking.

"Do you… do you feel that?" Photonous asked.

The shaking grew more violent until the entire Growler angrily bounced about. Even the Abrams tanks were vibrating.

"Colonel!" DeviantOne managed into the radio, "what the hell is happening?!"

There wasn't a response for several seconds until one finally came bearing a hysteric voice:

"FALL BACK! FALL THE FUCK BACK!"

It begun with a stand off.

Four men upon a glorious hill with their flag fluttering proudly upon its zenith. Their teammates, gone. Retreated. And they didn't need them. They stood arrogantly in one perfect line; not a single millimeter off and not a single difference in their appearance say for their weapons.

And there they were, the other four men, standing in opposition. They had more variety for they were all four classes.

"So this is where we meet our match," said a low and mature voice, "I presume that we'll abide by honorary conducts?"

The United States Assault class pointed at his opponents' USAS-12. The man holding it gave a light shake of his head before pointing at the speaker's M320.

With a generous smile and an articulate voice, "ah you have a good eye. Very well then."

He waved at both his own squad and his opponents'.

"No rules, no exceptions."

After the conclusion, the man lowered his head to the side while a bullet whizzed past him missing it by mere centimeters. He pulled out his own M16A3 and fired a burst towards the AEK-971 user, but he too saw it coming.

There was no cover between the two sides say for small rocks.

But being Colonel One Hundreds, they didn't need cover.

The United States Engineer class leaped towards the AEK-971 user while dodging suppression from a man firing his FAMAS in precise shots. The distance between them was about thirty meters and closing, he pulled out his knife and gave a sinister laugh.

"To your right, Clauz!" he heard his squad leader.

Clauz sidestepped left while fragmentation rippled past his right. He glanced and glared at the man pointing his ASUS-12 at him.

"Tch!" he spat, "frag rounds? REALLY!"

The man was about to pull the trigger before suddenly leaning backwards as a heavy caliber round streaked overhead. Clauz took this opportunity to slit his throat until he saw his original target lunge at him with his own knife.

Upon seeing Clauz locked in a two-way battle, Logan heaved his heavy M60E4 and began unleashing a fusillade of bullets. Trident primed his M98B for a second shot while back peddling.

The AEK-971 user slashed his knife in a manner that exhibited professionalism, strongly contrasting to Clauz's bestial and aggressive strikes. They exchanged parries, scored occasional but insignificant wounds, countered and counter-countered. The USAS-12 user turned his attention away from Clauz and strafed his way towards the heavy man firing an M60E4. He took several hits, but not before managing to level his weapon and pulling the trigger. Though seconds before he could do that, the man who pointed at his weapon tackled him to the ground, interrupting the flight path of the fragmentation rounds. Several managed to imbed themselves into Logan, and with a loud grunt he shrugged the pain off.

"HOLD STILL, BABIES!" he let a cry, his accent heavily Russian.

The FAMAS user turned his attention away from the melee and locked himself on Trident. He would be easy prey; a sniper in such close quarters wouldn't stand a chance. He sprinted towards his target while holding his weapon in his right hand and firing bursts. All his shots missed, and those that were meant to kill him were dodged. No matter, he would finish him up close.

Trident felt an exiguous amount of surprise when he saw the FAMAS user charging directly at him. In those precious seconds he considered the options: no-scope shot? No, he would probably miss. Pull out pistol? No, not enough time. Combat roll? No, at this range he would surely get hit.

The FAMAS user grabbed the sniper's M98B's barrel and planned on trusting his own weapon down Trident's mouth. At that moment of contact, Trident had his plan.

With a flick of a switch, he activated his laser pointer.

The laser blinded him as he swung his FAMAS about in random arcs while firing it. In one fluid motion, Trident holstered his M98B and managed to successfully slash the FAMAS user with his knife. But it wasn't fatal.

He slashed again, this time at his throat, but as the steel began to come into contact with skin, the FAMAS user grabbed Trident's wrist and punched him squarely in the jaw.

Trident saw stars as he tumbled to the ground, his knife released from his grip.

"Bastard," the FAMAS user spat as he readied his weapon.

Logan saw what had happened and rushed to Trident's aid. He fired his weapon while sprinting, and when he was close enough, swung his weapon like a giant club. The FAMAS user ducked low and jabbed the weapon up the assailant's abdomen and emptied the remains of his magazine. The bullets ripped through him, viscous blood emerged from his mouth.

But he wasn't dead.

The man let out a roar of rage and with his backhand, slammed the FAMAS user away.

"Come on little Sniper! Kill the FAMAS baby with your rifle!" he hoarsely yelled.

Trident trained his M98B at his dazed opponent before an explosion sent him and Logan flying.

Clauz couldn't find a single opening in his opponent, and neither could the AEK-971 user. By now each of them had hideous cuts, their gifts to each other. The AEK-971 user skillfully twirled his knife in arrogance and mockery as they circled each other. Clauz let out another challenge before slashing at his opponent like an enraged bull. The AEK-971 user parried the first blow, dodged the next, parried again, and quickly elbowed him in the nose before he could deal his fourth blow. Clauz flinched, but before his opponent could finish him he swung his left arm in reflex and managed to block the fatal blow.

He saw in his peripheral that Logan was struggling with the FAMAS user, and that momentarily distracted him. His opponent saw this opening and rammed his knee into Clauz's groin. With a high-pitched yelp, Clauz stammered forwards as he saw the AEK-971 user raise his combat knife to deliver the final blow.

The sudden explosion threw the two off over a cliff.

Sanders was outnumbered. The ASUS-12 user was frantically spamming while an M16A3 user somehow managed to slip into the melee without him noticing. He ducked low as the fragmentation rounds flew overhead, side stepped right as a trio of bullets grazed his chin, backpedalled as a knife slashed the spot he was standing on. Sanders knew he wouldn't last like this, but that didn't stop him from holding a knife in one hand and his M16A3 in another. He parried knife attacks with his own and dissuaded his opponents with bursts of his assault rifle.

All this happening within melee range.

The ASUS-12 user saw an opening in Sanders' dance, and managed to score a direct hit right below his chest. The knockback caused him to stammer, before the M16A3 user jabbed his knife into his right shoulder before violently kicking him away.

Sanders' vision blurred and grayed as he tumbled on the dirt ground. Blood fell like thick rivulets from his mouth. He saw vague dots, he saw Clauz in the distance about to be executed with a knife, he saw his two opponents slowly walking towards as if in mockery and in victory.

And then.

He saw behind them an oil truck with its payload denoting a red warning symbol.

Ripping the M320 off his M16A3, Colonel One Hundred Sanders leveled the grenade launcher with his left hand, and fired.

"Why are we falling back? Why are we falling back!" Photonous shouted as the Growler ITV changed its course back to the spawn point. The ground was still shaking violently, does Caspian Border have earthquakes?

Before any of his squad members could respond, the Growler's engines erupted and the glass windshield shattered. Higgins tumbled out of his cupola and slammed into the ground while DeviantOne hit his head on the headrest with such a force he slumped.

Photonous suffered the most minimal of injuries, but what he saw in front of him he wished he'd fainted as well.

Right there, lying on the Growler's destroyed engines was a man who looked like as if he was scorched. He gave off a putrescent stench while small flames still licked his vest, or what was left of it. In a moment of awkward silence, Photonous prodded the man's shoulder with his index finger.

He stirred.

Looking up, Photonous realized that the man somehow fell from the sky. And yet he was still alive? In a moment of panic, he tried to shake DeviantOne awake before the man who fell from the sky lifted his head and looked at Photonous with black visors.

He had an ASUS-12 with him, and a badge that had a golden eagle spreading its wings with the number "100" under it.

Furthermore, even though Photonous couldn't see what was under that mask of his, he seemed pissed.

Very pissed.

[END CHAPTER]