Operation Black Dawn
Mission 7 - Credere, Obbedire, Combattere!
September ? - 1995/1097
Seventy-nine minutes after mass Disappearances of GDI and Nod Forces
"Believe, Obey, Fight!"
- Slogan of the Allied Nations, prior to WW2, composed by (late) Alliiertenationenführer Joseph Goebbels
PFC. Alvin S. Payne - (Formerly) Camp Riverbed - Dated September 29, 1995.
"This is Blue Team, we are Oscar Mike, I repeat, we are Oscar Mike! Hold out until we get there, out!" I shouted into the radio as I hauled my ass, the civilians' asses, and Blue Team's asses into combat. However, before we continued any further, I just remembered that there were friendlies also participating in this operation, and their help was something I was going to need. I grabbed my radio and tuned in to the specific frequency that the units were assigned to for this operation and started speaking, ready to alert the rest about our request for backup.
"This is Dentist One, I repeat, this is Dentist One, calling all SAR teams! We are engaged in combat with hostile wildlife! Wildlife is compromised by NCID, so stay out of their range! I repeat, we are engaged with hostile wildlife! Send support, including HEAU! Over!" Were the words I blared into the radio as loud as I could, so that they could get the message.
"This is Sierra 1, send coordinates. We'll get you support, over." Sierra 1 replied. I take back all the things I said about you, Sierra 1. You seem like a good team. I voiced internally before moving in to reply.
"Roger! Sending GPS coordinates to command!" I finished, before preparing to link my coordinates to command's trackers so that they would give the other SAR teams an idea on where to find us. "Coordinates sent, consult command for further instructions! Godspeed, Sierra 1! Out!" I shouted, before switching to the squad's frequency. "Red Team, give me a SITREP!" I shouted, turning back to the civilians and the team following me. "Keep the Civilians out of the line of fire! Don't get them involved!" I ordered Blue Team. "Yes sir!" They replied, one of them turning and advising the civilians to stay behind the fighting.
"Goddamn it, if we don't get to Red Team in time, we'll be screwed!" One of the Blue Team members said. I perfectly agreed with him, and I voiced my response to that with a simple flat sentence. "Then we better move fast enough to unscrew them!" I said, changing my speed from simple running to outright fucking sprinting as fast as a human can. Now's my chance to take a giant risk, a big shot, perhaps. Rifle in hand, determination in my heart, and a fuckton of ammunition in my vest, I would help Red Team no matter the fucking cost!
"Well, I guess that's our chance to achieve big shots." I heard a soldier from Blue Team say. Was that supposed to be a reference to something? I couldn't really tell with the fact that my brain is hopped up on just simply rushing to assist Red Team before they get turned into soup. "Well, I don't know what you're talking about, but that sounds like a motivational message so I'll pretend that it was!" I shouted, accelerating even faster. Better get to Red, and I better be there or I'd be square. And I mean that physically. I'll probably morph into a fucking cube if I fail at this simple task.
In my haste running as fast as I physically could, my feet hurt. But I had to push through, Red Team were in danger. However... I forgot one crucial detail in my haste as well. Oh, well, GDI'd still take idiots over hostiles. "Red Team, could you describe your location?" I asked, still moving with my rifle in hand.
"Uh... we're holed up in a house. It's pretty average, but you'll tell it's us by the direction of the automatic gunfire!" I heard from West before a burst from his rifle echoed into the radio. "GPS trackers say you're pretty close, just follow the gunfire! Out!" West responded, with gunfire being abruptly being cut off. GPS trackers also said that he was pretty close. Thank God for GPS tracking. "Team, move left!" I ordered, abruptly shifting my balance to the left and running as fast as I could.
As I was running, I could hear the sounds. The sounds of gunfire, of brass falling to the ground, of drowned automatic weaponry. Reminded me of my very first combat deployment. Back in the GDI invasion of Panama.
The deployment that got me familiarized with how different our wars nowadays are.
Pvt. Alvin S. Payne - Panama Canal - Dated January 1, 1994
"Jeez, weather's bad today." Private Alvin Payne said, shielding his eyes from another splash of water as the weather started acting up. First it was simple rainfall, but then it mutated, for lack of a better word, into a massive fucking storm. Trees were being pushed back, waves and waves of water were splashing against the canal. It was not a good day for the GDI troops, as they disembarked from their Chinook. Hell, as soon as the ramp dropped, it was hit by water, and the disembarking troops also suffered the weather's wrath. Whee.
"Too right mate." An AN soldier among the disembarked GDI troopos said in response to Payne, sighing. "It's like God really wants to strike down on us for simply existing." He took a puff from a cigarette just before it was immediately extinguished by the shitty weather conditions the troops found themselves in. "Damn it, God." A Russian soldier in the group also complained.
"Right, our orders are to link up with a Mechanized force about 500 meters away. Or 1640 feet if you're a Yankee." The highest-ranking AN Soldier, a Sergeant, said. "We're to join up with an offensive into West Panama. If you have any objections to God, you better state them now because we are moving out." He says, before moving out. The rest of the squad also followed with him into combat. Well, almost the rest of the squad.
"God, this is my first time in combat..." Payne thought, holding the M16A2 in his hands. "I don't expect much of the fighting I'll see, but hey, I've HEARD it described in books. I don't actually know what fighting is like. I can only hope that those memoirs courtesy of the Allied Nations Peacekeeping Forces are true." Payne finished, finally moving over.
Payne's rifle wasn't exactly maintained perfectly, but it's an M16A2, it'll work even if it's immersed in mud. As long as the user can clean up the harmful blobs, it'll still work even if some mud is on it.
He followed the troops as they moved to link up with the armored force.
"Jeez, how long do you think it'll take for us to reach those goddamn friendlies?" A Tokyo Pact soldier asked, running with his rifle in hand.
The Sergeant responded in what might just be the most deadpan tone Payne has heard.
"When you stop complaining, that is." The Sergeant said. "Speaking of, we're almost there. Just another 150 meters of running." The Sergeant informed the squad, and then he broke out into sprinting. The squad, Payne included, also broke down into mad dashing as they just wanted to get this over with already, and so clearly, bumrushing their way to the link-up was the best option.
The squad finally reached the RV point, and stopped at the designated point, and waited for the friendly forces to actually, you know, arrive.
"Where the hell are the tanks?" An American peacekeeper asked, kind of exasperated at the absolute lack of M1 Abrams tanks being tossed around like fish in a barrel.
"Any minute now..." The Sergeant said, looking at his wristwatch... "Now."
"Oh come on, Sarge, they're still no-"
Just then, a bright light flashed in front of them. Some GDI soldiers covered their eyes, but not Payne, or some others. They just kept their eyes open.
And in front of them were several vehicles, covered in soot, that then started to move, making the ground shake as those steel beasts lumbered their heavy cargo around. They weren't mere beasts, though. They were the armored backbone of the Initiative!
The first type of vehicle that went first, was one iconic in GDI propaganda posters and generally any news report regarding GDI peacekeeping. From Korea to Africa, the silhouette of the vehicle was recognizable, even to military casuals. The vehicle? Well, it was the M1A3 Abrams. Lugging around a 120mm cannon, and covered in up to 3400mm of composite armor enough to take lots of 70mm shots. Alongside this? A 12.7mm co-axial machine gun, loaded with high-explosive rounds. The M1A3 is one hell of a tank.
The next was something that was infamous in GDI for being the participant of several suppressed protests. It was made in Italy, using spare parts from M113s to create it. The Allied Nations wanted a derivative of their famous M113 APC, and they also needed a Self-Propelled Anti-Air Gun. So, when given the time and money, the Allied Nations made it. The SIDAM-25. Armed with four 25mm autocannons and vehicleborne variants of the FIM-29 Light Anti-Air Weapon System. The SIDAM-25 was designed to suppress air units, but it suppressed civilians instead.
The last one was the representation of the infamous war machine that devastated Europe years ago. Back during the years of 1946-53. Officially, the Design is American, but every history buff knows that it wasn't originally American. It was sold to the US after the War, in an attempt by Russia to disassociate itself with the... Red Union during those years. Why, it was perfectly recognizeable and scary. It was the Mammoth tank. A hulking beast, it's equipped with a formidable arsenal. Two 150mm autoloading cannons, a perfect tool for destruction. On its sides? Rocket pods. Or, more accurately, guided missile pods. Hydra 140s. An upgraded rocket design. And its last armaments were purely for self-defense, but, it was also equipped with a 12.7x108mm machine gun. Located at the top.
They were beautiful.
They came in via Chronosphere. A device that rarely saw use outside of rapid deployments such as this once. Ever since Einstein killed himself during the closing days of the Second World War, Chronospheres have been a rare sight alongside Weather Control Devices. Prism weaponry and the Prism tank, however, are in comparison, easier to make, but hard to update to fight modern armor. So GDI just mostly sticks to missiles and bullets. After all, those are easy as hell to make.
The vehicles moved first, only stopping when they got close to the rest of the men. One of the GDI crewmen popped out of the hatch of a Mammoth tank, somewhat dizzy, but still ready to fight.
"You boys part of the infantry?" He asked, almost lurching to the side, clearly somewhat dizzy.
Teleportation from a Chronosphere inside a vehicle, while not lethal compared to teleporting outside a vehicle, has its own share of side effects. Dizziness, cold sweats, fatigue, headache, and other symptoms. It was motion sickness but on crack. While it lasts for only like twenty minutes, it's an experience so painful and confusing many crewmen find themselves discharged later. There's a reason Chronospheres are so rare.
"Yeah. Beta Team." The Sergeant said, pointing at the rest of the unit. "We're here to join up a mechanized offense. I assume you're part of the mechanized force?" He continued, before a bunch of Humvees teleported in, the bright light taking some by surprise, but not the Sarge. "I guess they're also a part of it, too." He responds, clearly having enough of the teleporting-in shit.
"Yipee. We're the guys going to be sent in first. Other tank units'll be teleported into the battlefield alongside our sorry asses, but until then? It's just us and a bunch of Humvees you saw a few minutes ago." The crewman's hand moved to point his thumb at the direction the humvees were located in. Specifically, behind his tank.
"Get on the damn hull, we're going to be moving in a few minutes, so you might as well pull a Red Army and have infantry ride on the tanks. Deep Battle, after all." The crewman says, before going down the hatch and closing it. The Sergeant looks at the team and smiles. "Well, that's our signal. Get on the Mammoths. We're going to disembark when we reach battle. Oh, and no shitting on the hull." Payne had a feeling the last one was directed to some of the younger GDI soldiers. Inexperienced ones... like him. Ah well, can't have shit in the Initiative.
No time to complain, though, so Payne just did as told and got on the tank. Climbing onboard the hull, he threw his rifle across and tried to climb, stepping on the tracks on the process.
"Hey, let me help you up!"
A soldier shouted, then pushing Payne above and letting him get on the hull. Thanks to this, he was able to recover his rifle. After grabbing it, he moved himself upright and sat on the hull.
The man presumed to be the soldier who helped him immediately sat on the armor, rifle pointing upwards. "Whee, that was an experience." He said.
"Yeah. God, I never want to climb on a Mammoth ever again." Payne said, immediately sighing in relief that the whole task was short.
"Well, it could be some good exercise for you." The soldier responded, chuckling. "You look a bit too big."
"Oh shut up." Payne said, pouting. "It's just the BDU."
"Well, whatever." He responded, taking out a cigarette pack, taking a cigarette, and lighting it with a lighter in his hand. "Need one?" He asked, turning to Payne.
"Nah, I'm good." Payne responded, and the soldier turned, putting the cigarette pack back in his BDU.
"Hey, what do you expect when he reach the objective?" Payne asked, curious.
The soldier next to him sighed. "Look, man..." He said, before taking a puff from his cigarette. "It's..." He says, before stopping and taking another puff. He contemplated telling Payne the truth, and decided to tone it down a bit, as to not demoralize other soldiers who might hear their conversation. "I don't know. It's war. It's unpredictable. It's not about the good or the evil, it's about... chaos, you know? By chaos, I mean disorder, a chance for us to die immediately. We don't have immortality, man. We can survive, but we can't. That's war. It's random chances, that grow more disorderly each day it continues." He says, before taking a long puff from a cigarette. "War has more shades to it, and those shades shift. A lot." He finished, before letting out another puff.
Surprisingly, despite the heavy rain, the cigarette survived getting wet. And was still being puffed out of.
"What the hell do you mean?" Another GDI soldier said, asking the soldier.
"I mean that it's up to the universe to decide who lives or dies. Don't set too high expectations, and don't worry. We're all going to kick the bucket someday, just from different methods." He responded, and then spoke again, as if he was trying to be a philosopher. "The evil in war is there, you know? War's not only death, war's also misery and the absence of any kind of routine." He says, before taking a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs, before exhaling it all out. "Look at the world, man. There's no organized rule of engagement, high command's full of shit, and civvies are losing their minds. We've got hate in our hearts and sometimes we're just not accepting the fact that we have to take a lot of shit to live a fulfilled life. We know it, the civvies know it, everyone knows it. And yet, we're still fighting for something that's going to kill us anyway." He finished, before tossing the cigarette onto the road. He sighed. "Well, here we go."
After he said this, the Mammoth tank lurched forward as its engine started. The mechanized offense was about to begin, and the infantry were just another part of it.
"Alright, here's the briefing." The Sergeant says, as the tank pretty much damaged the road it was travelling on. "We're to hit a Nod armored force when we reach our objective. They're supported by a support base, and since we couldn't really deploy a proper MCV, we're Chronoshifting in units from Cuba. We take them by surprise, then we annihilate every single one of their forces. Got it?" The Sergeant says. Payne, alongside some other infantry, nodded and replied. "Yes, sir."
"Good." He says, taking a hold of his rifle.
As the tank and its assorted friends split up to form a spearhead formation, Payne couldn't help but wonder...
What the fuck was that guy on about?
"We're here, everyone disembark!" The Sergeant said, before jumping off the tank's hull.
Payne followed suit, falling out of the tank. The fall was painful, but he shook it off as he got up and grabbed his rifle, flicking the firing switch to three-round burst.
When the rest of the squad also got off the hull, they weren't expecting anything, but...
"Contact!" Payne shouted as he saw a figure in the distance that he could definitely identify as a Minigunner. A Nod one at that.
Payne pulled the trigger on his rifle and let a burst of ammunition spray at the Nod soldier.
"Man. 200 Meters. Front!" The Sergeant shouted, also joining in on the gunfire.
They were interrupted when another hail of gunfire came from the east.
"Contact! Gunfire from the east!" Payne heard a soldier say, before seeing one of the tanks turn its turret eastward.
"Target acquired."
"Fire!"
He heard from the radio as the M1 Abrams tank opened fire with its 120mm cannon. Payne wasn't really sure if it loaded HEAT, HE, or AP. But hey, hopefully, unlike most cases where the infantryman simply just wouldn't die, hopefully this time the Abrams tank got him.
"Open fire!" A soldier shouted. "AS IF WE WEREN'T DOING THAT ALREADY!" Another one shouted in the distance, before being cut off by automatic gunfire.
The mechanized units were reinforced.
Payne could tell that by seeing the lights of chronospheres on both east and west. Trees came crashing down as tanks materialized out of bright light. SIDAMs, Abrams tanks, and Mammoths. All were converging on the spot, and they weren't stopping.
"Move up!" Payne heard the sergeant say.
He sprinted forward, as the tanks and the AA guns protecting them continued their stalwart advance.
"Contact! Apache!" A soldier said, before a burst of 20mm autocannon fire cut him down.
"Target acquired!" A SIDAM said. "Locking..." It said, before a beeping tone sounded in the background of the radio. "Firing!" The SIDAM warned as it opened fire with its 25mm autocannons and four Stinger missiles. The Apache came crashing down as GDI AA suppressed the air.
"Move on!" The sergeant says, once again, before breaking out into a full sprint.
The soldiers and the tanks advanced, with the only real objective in their minds just one thing. To annihilate all Nod forces in Panama.
"Sarge, look!" One of the soldiers commented as he pointed out something in the distance that they would come to know and fear sooner or later.
The sight of M2 Bradleys coming to meet them, with Chinese ZTZ-99 tanks supporting them. "Here they come!" One of the Anti-Tank soldiers says, before switching to an M29 LAW. "Fire when you have a bead on them! Don't waste rockets! One wasted rocket is the difference between a tank getting killed and you getting killed!" He said, immediately opening fire with a LAW. The rocket hit one of the Nod ZTZs and managed to knock a part of its armor off. Though that didn't stop the ZTZs from simply rushing forward.
When the ZTZs and the Bradleys met face-to-face, the first immediate reaction every side had to seeing each other was to load up and open fire.
ZTZs dueled Abrams tanks with grace as they twisted and turned around wreckage or surrounding obstacles just to kill one more tank.
Bradleys, for what they could do, were not able to take down the advancing Mammoth tanks. They had some luck destroying SIDAMs, but even those had their autocannons cut through armor. When it came to the Mammoth though, it was another story. Several Bradlies tried to make a break for it, but they were either destroyed by cannons, autocannons, or just plain ran over.
The battle was an indescribable flurry as UN Peacekeepers and the Panamanian Military under Noriega, with Chinese support, clashed in yet another proxy war. Nod vying for control, and the UN trying to do their job. When they clash, they clash hard. Without mercy or respite. Yet, they do so with orderly grace... swarming enemies in hordes of tanks, dealing with infantry caught in the crossfire, using aircraft to tip the scale...
It was beautiful.
Payne was snapped out of his fascination when a bullet whizzed next to him and almost ended his life. That signalled for him to get the fuck down and focus on his job. That is, shooting at other infantrymen that don't wear the UN's tan flag. He was propped up next to a wall as another UN infantryman next to him opened fire on Nod soldiers. "You know, WP strikes would be very useful right now!" Payne said, clutching his helmet as the battle continued.
The soldier next to him heard what he said, and was about to make it a reality.
"CENTCOM, this is Tombstone One. Requesting Willy Pete fire mission at these coordinates. I say again, Tombstone One requesting Willy Pete fire mission at these coordinates, over."
"Copy Tombstone One, this is CENTCOM. Warthogs arriving in two minutes. CENTCOM out."
The soldier turned to Payne. "Hey bud! I just called in Willy Pete on those bastards! Let 'em have it!" He says as he switches to using the grenade launcher on his M3, firing it at Nod soldiers, and causing a small explosion in which some Nod soldiers shouted as they died and flipped over like it was one of those action movies. "Just keep your head down! Control your shots, don't waste 'em!" The Soldier said, before returning fire.
Payne immediately grabbed his M3 and also returned fire. That being said, he shot a Nod soldier in the head, with the soldier dropping to the floor with a simple 'flop'.
As Payne continued the cycle of 'take cover, open fire, retreat, repeat' he heard a noise that made GDI soldiers cheer and Nod soldiers panic as they heard it.
The Classic jet engine whine of the A-10 Warthog.
The Warthogs made gun runs, opening fire with their 30mm autocannons at enemy infantry, wiping them off the face of the earth, before dropping White Phosphorus bombs, as they came to show to Nod what Willy Pete feels like.
The WP came crashing down on the Noddies, and some were unlucky enough to get too close for comfort. Their agonizing screams filled the air alongside gunfire as men in Panamanian uniforms burned to a crisp and fell, writhing and twitching. Well, those that were unlucky.
"Good lord. I thought Napalm was bad." A GDI soldier said over the radio.
"I thought so too." Payne responded, turning on the radio.
Then the shooting continued. This time, with Nod getting damaged by an airstrike, their armored assets were bait for the GDI Rocketeers.
Several Rocketeers immediately advanced forward, before immediately crouching and pulling their M29 LAWs in one swift motion.
"Rocketeers! Volley fire!" One of them said, raising his launcher. Other rocketeers did so.
"NOW!" The same man shouted, as several Nod M2 Bradleys with some ZTZs went up in flames as direct rocket hits took out their ammunition rack, causing a hilarious amount of damage.
The remaining ZTZs and Bradleys fled. Probably for the best of them, to be honest. Many were destroyed trying to flee, but some lucky bastards made it out. No matter, the rest of their unit was dead.
After the shooting stopped, Payne took the time to relax. The battle was glorious... at least on TV. In person it's like a fucking reality show where God himself sees who gets offed first. A cruel game, if you will.
"When this deployment is over, I'm gonna get myself some hookers 'n blow." A GDI Peacekeeper said, slinging his rifle and sighing in relief.
"We all want that, bud." Another soldier replied, before moving.
After the battle, GDI units were recalled and sent back to base for debriefing and some R&R. Infantry had to travel via APC this time, and not riding on Mammoths. M113s may be a death trap, but they were reliable ones. Ones that, when not being shot at, were the best at their job.
As the other troops loaded themselves onto APCs, Payne thought something to himself.
"So this is what GDI Peacekeeping is like..."
PFC Alvin S. Payne - (Formerly) Camp Riverbed - Dated September 29, 1995.
I shouted into the radio that we were about to arrive there, going something along the lines of "HANG ON, BOYS! WE'RE ALMOST THERE!" and then switching frequencies to Command HQ's frequency.
"Command, this is Dentist One, we've got a situation report!" I shouted as loud I could onto the radio, moving my arse with a rifle in hand. The rest of my team were following me like lemmings, except we actually had our own reasons rather than just following for the sake of following. I awaited a response from command, and I didn't get one for a few seconds. I almost felt like choking, but then it came through. I finally received an answer with a hurried "Roger, Dentist One. What is it?" from the radio. Sighing in relief while running, I shouted into the radio again.
"Get us some fucking cavalry support! I want SIDAMs and Light Tanks transported via Chinook, and bring infantry reinforcements and air reinforcements too! Nighthawks, Blackhawks, Chinooks, Apaches, Orcas, Harriers... I don't care, just send any available assets towards Red Team!" I requested a lot of firepower just to support Red Team against whatever kind of wildlife we were going to face; but to be sure, I sent it in anyway.
"Roger that. We're getting the assets up and running. Godspeed, over."
"Alright- Oh, and one more thing! Could you get an A-10? We're going to expect heavy wildlife so we'd like all the firepower we need. Out."
"Copy that, alerting A-10 squadron. Out."
As I was running, I turned my head towards the civilians who were at the very back of us, tugging behind. I thought bringing them along to Red Team might make them feel safer as they had more soldiers that would guard them. That idea was going to be put to the test though; considering-
Ack!
I coughed heavily while in the middle of running, putting my advance to a halt, and my squadmates stopped as well, wondering what the hell was going. I didn't exactly want them to leave Red Team hanging, so in the middle of my coughing, I ordered them.
"Just... go!" I said in between hacking and wheezing, I bent over forward with my head down as my squadmates advanced and got the civilians behind them as well. After what seemed like forever of hacking, wheezing, and coughing violently, I finally managed to get my coughs out...
...And get blood from my mouth splattered onto my hands.
I looked on my gloves as I realized what I had coughed up.
A black crystal. Smaller than my palm, and roughly about the same size as a penny from back home.
And it was split in half, with a green glow in between the sliced bits.
Oh, and it was also obviously painted red with my blood.
I had nothing else to say at the moment, besides the particularly obvious statement anyone would make.
"Shit."
Staff Sergeant D. Ornan - Camp Tiber - Dated September 29, 1995.
"Let's go, ladies! Move it! Move it!" I shouted as I waved my hands into the CH-47 Chinook. Infantry clad in the GDI, Nod, and Humanitarian uniforms entered the helicopter with them covering their heads from dust. I saw people with patches of various countries and organizations fly past me as I moved people into the helicopter. From Americans, to North Koreans, and some Humanitarians either came from IDAP, or the Red Cross, and some from the Chinese Shanghai HRF. Ironically, the humanitarians had assault rifles alongside their medical equipment. Though untrained, they still were pretty armed.
"We don't have all the time in the world, so please, hurry it up!" I shouted as some more infantrymen entered, and it was getting pretty cramped. When nobody was next in line for the Chinook anymore, I turned and headed inside. I was part of the relief force sent towards the poor Search-Aid-Rescue bastards who were getting harassed by the local wildlife. I mean, if they're threatened by the wildlife, then clearly, these ladies are dealing with a threat above what they currently know.
I watched from my position near the ramp as the base roared to life mass-producing Bradley Light Tanks and SIDAM anti-air vehicles. They were loaded inside the Chinooks, which took most of the space away from the infantry. Seeing this, I smiled. If GDI and Nod simply got aside their differences, they'd be able to achieve great things in the years to come.
"Sarge?" One of the soldiers, a Grenadier, asked.
"Yeah?" I replied, looking at him.
"Why's the whole Initiative being mobilized for a reinforcement mission?" He asked, holding an M26 hand grenade as he had an entire backpack and belt of those things.
"Because we're dealing with wildlife beyond our control. Dangerous ones."
As I answered the recruit, I also became aware of several other conversations within the background.
"Why're you sitting on your helmet?!"
"So my balls don't get blown off!"
I swear I heard one of the Nighthawk gunners on the radio talk about how he'd give the enemies a "Get some!" style of suppression. And I heard another one say "The Horror..." in another part of the helicopter. In response, I just sighed.
People've been watching too many Iran War movies.
Author's Notes:
Happy REALLY BELATED New Years! I got stuck in the sink pit that is School, and was caught up in other projects, and procrastination reared its head and kicked me in the balls several times until I recovered today. I'm sorry for putting this on a delayed update, but I swear to God if I get lazy again I'm going to binge-watch 10 hours of Markiplier jumpscares just to get myself motivated.
But yeah, here I am. Also, it's worth noting that; yes, I did reference a fuckton of shit in here, but I swear it's all for the sake of funny. However, I will use them as assets within the story so they're not only references, chances are they're probably going to be actually used in the story as a character or as dialogue to quote to the AK characters and confuse them. For the sake of funny.
Well, I hope I'll see you again, and this time, with a more appropriately timed update.