skycomv2: I didn't like chapter 19, but it was imperative that the tale move on. I considered having Isara mellow over time, but that didn't quite mesh – Isara is a kinder person at heart. As for the Gallian "kevlar" uniforms, remember that Isara was wearing Celes's plainclothes jacket at the time. Her own jacket was cut away during surgery.
Soviet Sniper92: Nice to know I have dedicated readers! I know I should have longer blurbs, but I've got a LOT of work. Not to mention, I'm considering beginning a second writing project (AW NAWH), so that could get hairy fast.
Cloner4000: Yeah, quantity over quality. I'll fix them… someday… :3 As for basements being safe from shelling, FALSE. If anything, it's actually more dangerous – if the house is hit, it'll hit the roof/penetrate into the house anyways. But when it collapses on you… yeah, you're screwed regardless. Unless you're in full armor.
Now we get a look somewhere else while our titular characters are busy being unconscious underneath a smoking ruin…
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"Direct hit! Ha!"
The Gallian militiaman lowered his binoculars and pumped his fist into the air. Flowers of smoke and fire bloomed within the filthy town with throaty roars, cleansing it of Darcsen stink, while they watched a long distance down the road, perhaps few kilometers.
"Hey, what are we going to say to the higher-ups about this?" whined Marat. His voice might have sounded so nasal due to the huge glasses that weighed down on his face. "I mean, there isn't exactly an Imperial platoon massacring the town right now…"
"They ran away."
Marat let out a huge bark of laughter, impossibly loud for his stick-like frame. "Of course." Shakily, Marat raised his own binoculars to his face. Inwardly, Rooney wondered how Marat could possibly need further optics after those spectacles, but he kept quiet, instead turning back to watch the fun once more. A Darcsen burst out of a house only to fly apart in an especially large plume of smoke and flame, adding his own limbs to the spectacle. The militiaman chuckled.
"Sir!" Larry called from his own perch, on top of a fence along the stone path. He waved an arm – his left, as his right was in a sling at the moment from the fiasco earlier – pointedly towards one of the hills. "I thought I saw an Imperial, on top of that ridge!"
Rooney jumped, almost dropping his binoculars onto the hard surface. "WHAT?!?"
"I don't know sir, it was a man in armor –"
The pop of gunfire was barely audible underneath the grumble of the ordnance, but it was perfectly apparent when Larry toppled off his perch with a loud curse amidst a flurry of bullet impacts. Wood from the fence shredded into the air and chips of stone whizzed like angry hornets as the fire lines chased the man's scrambling form along the ground, shredding into him again and again.
A second later, he was dead, armor no match against concentrated fire.
"AMBUSH!" someone screamed. The other members of Rooney's squad – all who were still able to stand after the last time – freed themselves of their own optics and began scrambling for weapons, real Gallian arms. Rooney swung his head from side to side, searching frantically for a sight of their attackers. Damn! While they'd been chuckling about dropping artillery on phantom Imperials, some real ones had actually snuck up on them!
When Nathan received a brutal earwaxing in front of him, sniper rifle toppling from his hands, Rooney found his orientation, following the path of the bullet to the same hilltop that Larry had waved to. Shocked, he raised his binoculars, not believing what he thought he saw.
What he saw only confirmed his fears. There was a full fireteam of Imperial soldiers along the crest of the position, using it as cover as they opened up with small arms: carbines, automatic rifles, and a few sniper rifles.
A bullet ricocheted off of the casing of the binoculars – they flew out of his hands, shattering into a dozen pieces. Rooney thought it best to find some cover.
There was a small ditch alongside the road – he rolled into it, alongside the seven or so other Darcsen hunters that he'd dragged out for revenge. Their faces were shocked, pale with fear. Perhaps four of them were dead on the road already.
Hands shaking in terror, Rooney bent over the radio that they'd dragged with them to call in the artillery. Dials twisted in his hands as he moved the frequency over to the distress channel. "Mayday! Mayday! Heavy Imperial presence! Need backup! Send tanks!" he blindly screamed into the pickup.
A response crackled through the speakers – the dials flew in his hands as he struggled to cut the interference out of the signal. A female voice filtered through the speakers.
"… soldier, report your location and business."
"Sergeant James Rooney, of Squad 2! Was on a reconnaissance mission with around a dozen assorted militia!" He stopped, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. A bullet zipped by his ear – wincing, he began screaming again. "Found some Imperials in a village, called in a barrage! Looks like there were more of them than we saw! Need reinforcements!"
"… report enemy numbers, soldier. Help is on the way."
Rooney risked a glance out of the ditch – he could only see a line of tan armor along the hillside before a line of fire forced his head down again.
"There's a whole hill of them! Maybe a full squad, I can't see! I've lost half my men already!"
"… understood. Squad 7 is in the area. They are en route right now."
Squad 7 – how ironic. Their leader, Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, was a practical war hero, having found victory at campaigns such as the Kloden Wildwood and Fouzen. But he was also a Darcsen lover – not only did he not see any good reason to hate them, he encouraged peace with them. He even had an adopted Darcsen sister!
But anything was better than getting cut to ribbons by an Imperial force.
Another line of fire traced across the ditch, this one from a new angle – another one of his team flailed wildly, fatally pierced.
"Run!" Rooney screamed. "They're flanking us!" Abandoning the radio, he scooped up his rifle and fled through the ditch. Clumsily, his teammates followed.
Imperial fire would claim almost all of them before they were out of sight.
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Oh, Rooney. You provide so much suction… you're going to be such a scrappy villain.
This blurb is short not only because there really isn't too much else for Rooney to see – he IS under fire, after all – but also because I'm running ragged.
Next up, just what does Welkin see? How does Isara leave the story line?
And if you see anything, tell me.
