Waking up with a start, a particular individual opens his eyes and immediately closes them. "It's so bright," he thinks, as if someone had turned on a spotlight in front of his face. It took a good minute for his eyes to adjust. He had been in an area of the world where clouds covered the sky and never let sunlight in. While lying there, the man began to wonder why he felt so different, other than his jaw being in agony. Deciding he would figure it out later, he noticed another feeling he currently has: most of his body is numb.
Slowly sitting up, he feels around and realizes he seems to be in a patch of dirt somewhere or a dirty room, judging by the sound his hand is making. Opening his eyes, he looks around his immediate surroundings but can't see much because it's so bright. He sees various pieces of equipment, most, if not all, have a bit of dry blood and concrete dust caking the discarded objects. The fact that he can see them means they aren't too far.
It was then he realized something heavy on his head and a thin cloth mask covering his face. Suddenly remembering he was wearing almost 40 kilograms of armor and load-bearing gear filled to the brim with random and probably important equipment.
He looks at a rifle attached to a sling dangling on his chest, picks it up, and pulls the bolt back, feeling dust inside the action. Clearly, the hole in the side of the gun under the fire selector doesn't stop dust and debris from entering the important parts. Seeing a gray cased round in the chamber, he lets go, sending the bolt back into battery. The rifle itself was slightly rusted and covered in concrete dust. Its stock was made of faded black polymer, and the handrail was made of what he assumed to be aluminum. It was covered in rails and had a flashlight on the left side.
In a flash of memories, he remembers the specifics of this gun: it's an AK-103 7.62x39. His battalion used these rifles and variants because of the abundance of them they found in the area. But for the life of him, he can't remember why they were there. His love for weapons seems to be coming back to him.
Putting the rifle down at his side, he winces at its condition. He decides to try and remember later, and he begins to feel around his chest. A tattered vest covered in Starburst marks greets his pained eyes, and something akin to shattered ceramic clinks inside the shredded armor inserts. There is also a set of two fabric straps and a belt holding together a series of bags and pouches to his belly. Looking further down, he sees armored pads with pouches on his outer thighs and more armor on his shins and knees. Below that were grey fleece pants. Looking back to his chest, under all of his gear was a green parka.
He starts feeling back up to his head and touches his helmet. "It's fucking heavy," he surmises. The thing has an awkward visor, currently half-flipped up, and a little microphone hanging from the right side of the helmet. Another random flash, and he recalls that the helmet is called simply Lynx-T, made of titanium and steel. The visor has a ballistic glass piece so the user can see when it's down.
Undoing the strap and taking the helmet off his head, he turns it around and admires the three distinct ricochet marks on the helmet and one on the visor. A nasty dent, as if someone hit him with an axe, was present on the right side of the helmet. After trying to remember why it's so banged up, he ends up remembering something else: 'Someone painted it dark green with splotches of grey, white, and black paint to help blend in with the snowy urban environment.' He thought to himself, trying his best to regain who he was.
Sighing again, he begins to roll his head, hearing pops in his neck. A wave of relief washes over him as his poor neck is given a much-needed break.
After taking in the moment, he then begins to strap the helmet to a belt at his waist. Feeling something shift on his back, he sees there is also a ratty dark grey cloak with a hood covered in concrete dust and a hexagonal pattern printed over every inch of it. Ignoring that for now, he begins to inspect the discarded equipment: 3 M2 ammo cans filled with ammo his battalion used, makeshift straps made of burlap clamped down by the tin's cover, 2 rifles, and a bag filled with both steel, orange bakelite, black, and dark red polymer magazines for the rifle at his side.
Looking down at his belt, he opens a similar bag and sees 8 magazines, in about 4 separate sections inside, two mags per section. Most were empty, while one was cracked, with a healthy mix of grey, orange, black, and red polymer present.
"Well, might as well," he says aloud after a millisecond of consideration.
Reaching forward, he begins dragging his ass over to grab the pouch. He buttons the strap to his hip, reaches for one box, hefts it up, and holds it out to determine its weight. "It's definitely full," he says, and pulls the strap over his shoulder.
"Damn, I gotta carry all this shit." He strapped the other boxes onto his back. Box number 3 was noticeably heavier.
As his sight continues to recover, he reaches for the rifles. Grabbing them in his arms, they look similar to his, except one has a shorter barrel while the other has a grenade launcher and a recoil pad. Holding onto one, he flicks the gun's fire selector to safety, repeating the action for the grenadier rifle. He then pulls the straps over his head and rests them on his shoulder.
"Goddamn, why am I so sweaty?" The soldier's complaint falls on deaf ears. As he began walking in a direction, the trees began swaying in the wind, some tall grass in the distance, and the sun was shining.
It took a total of 30 steps before he realized the grass could be seen. Stopping suddenly, he looked around and gawked at the greenery. He was stunned; he hadn't seen anything like this before, only in pictures from 70 to 60 years ago.
"What-" Like a sledgehammer to the side of his head, memories began to flood into his mind. Remembering the events 20 minutes before his apparent demise.
mid-April 2103 Northwest Territories, Canada, nuclear Ice Age
Once a proud city sat in this frozen wasteland, a beacon of survival in this new frozen age. Unfortunately, a war is being fought over this land.
The city is occupied by a large force of an invading army, training varied, armed with armored vehicles, helicopters, and even a few fighter jets of various makes and models, though use was limited by the blanket of ash that covered the sky. An odd ensemble of Eastern and Western equipment from wars past.
12 years ago, they came by the thousands from the frozen sea, arriving in Nunavut. They started wars and skirmishes with the local powers and tribes. Some spoke various Norse and Slavic languages, but most knew enough English to throw insults. From what people can gather from the captured, there are more coming. Apparently, they have conquered most of that area of the world and set their sights on our continent, crossing the deadly north just to get to America. Locals call the invaders simply Bandits, Raiders, or Outlaws.
The locals numbered 2,300 guard troops, 3,000 militia, and 2,500 foreign volunteers from neighboring countries and city-states. New arrivals came each day to replace the lost souls who didn't make it out of the city. Trained armies were usually too busy guarding their own territories to help counter the bandit attack in the city.
In the back entrance of a half-collapsed school is our man of the hour. When he joined three years ago, he was merely a boy looking for purpose after tragedy struck his tribe. Lying about his age and using his height, he joined the local garrison three years early. Being trained for four months as a Garrison Riflemen private, he was then trained for another six months when the commander of a shock unit took notice of him and acquired him for his tribe's relatively recent warlike nature before they were wiped out. After being trained to be a replacement NCO, due to the egregious losses their force usually takes, he was field-promoted to corporal at 17 after his previous team leader was slammed out of a window on the fifth floor of a hotel. He turned 18 less than three months ago, but his identification says he's in his early 20s.
An explosion rocked the apartment where the bandit squad was hiding, and the rotor of a helicopter sounded as it flew by. Bright flares and mirror-like flakes popped out from the sides as a small missile whizzed past, missing the helicopter and slamming into another somewhat intact building. The roar of an engine passed by as a single-engine fighter jet of Northern European make flew by just below the speed of sound.
The squad of seven was sent to clear a building that civilians reported had multicolored lights and flashes of guided missiles being fired from it the night before. The intel was spot-on, and they were greeted with spotlight and machine gun fire the moment they entered the view of the building. The rest of the platoon was held back, licking their wounds, having lost three men to the emplacement and another six injured.
The Battalion was a shock troop battalion and used to being used as cannon fodder; they were trained in quickly assaulting whatever they needed to. Usually, they are better armed and armored compared to their peers.
Using the nearby school to get closer to the emplaced MG, they got within 30 meters. One trooper, garbed in a grey cloak, silently signaled to the group behind him. Another heavily armored shock trooper, this one with a cape and similar visored helmet, grabbed a green tube on his back and pulled another part of it, making it twice as long. He flipped a red switch, hoisted it up, and yelled, "Clear backblast!"
"Clear!" a reply from his right. He pressed a button on the top, and a rocket flew from the tube, expelling a deadly concussive blast from the rear and sending the dual-purpose warhead sailing into the window where the machine gunner was.
A cloud of debris and snow rose from the gunner's nest, and silence.
The soldier discarded the empty tube.
"Corporal, take your team and move in. We will cover you!" the old sergeant yelled.
"Rog, Dom, Amin with me!" The corporal responded and took the two men with him to the entrance. Looking back, he saw the two men nod to show they were ready, and the corporal turned back to the front and ordered, "Bound, double time it." He felt a pat on his shoulder in confirmation. He readied himself into a crouch at the doorway, doing a quick breathing exercise to calm his nerves.
"Crossing!" He took off at a pace his heavy armour allowed, and heard shots fly over his head from behind him.
Making it to the apartment's doorframe unharmed, he turned around and yelled yet again.
"Set". Turning back around, the Shocktrooper took aim at the dark stairwell, taking note of the doorways to the left and right, and a collapsed elevator next to the open stairway entrance. The apartment building was filled with Christmas lights to help visibility.
"Crossing!" came a distant reply.
This happened again until the trio reached the entrance. Steeling himself, he gave an order;
"Alright, we move fast. That gun was on the second floor, and that launcher was on the third. We'll let Sarge clear the first floor."
"Copy," came the first reply. Dom Norman, 32, one of three who know his true age, has been there for him for years.
"Got it," came the reply from Amin Siah, 19, one of three who knew him, having met four years prior in Amin's hometown before joining the military.
Three sets of footsteps made their way to the stairs. The leader's hand came to a rest on the outer handrail, and step by step they made their way up, walking backward and watching the upper levels.
Around a bend in the stairwell, they walked along the back wall and moved up again. Once they were on the second floor, the sounds of pained yelling could be heard from a doorway to the right. What's most concerning is that all the doors in this building that aren't blown out are closed and appear to be unlocked. Peeking through the second-floor stairwell entrance, the floor itself was littered with bullet casings, and the ever-present concrete dust covered everything.
"Can one of you watch our backs!" The corporal whispered loudly.
"You got our backs?" he heard from behind as Dom asked.
"On it," Amin responded, focusing on watching the other doors.
While in a low stance, the three walked forward. They heard gunfire erupt from a room to the left. A response from outside came in the form of another rocket sailing into the building, blowing the door off its hinges. Dust started falling from the ceiling, and some bits of the crumbling wall fell off.
Peeking into the room, the lights were out, and not much could be seen.
"Heh, we might not have to clear much after all," came the voice of Amin, and Dom let out some air through his nose.
The leader shook his head at the prospect of an easy mission, trying to put the uneasy feeling in his gut to rest. They stalked forward, and the corporal, resting himself on the door frame, heard footsteps not of his group start making their way away from them. The lead man reached up to his helmet and lowered the visor, then reached for his chest and grabbed a frag. The frag itself had a little bit of rust coating the M67. Our corporal let his rifle hang from its sling, looping his finger around the pin. The corporal breathed and let out a quick yell.
"Frag!" Pulling the pin and letting the safety spoon fall, he tossed the frag through the doorway and was rewarded with a surprised yelp and the rustle of rapid movement. A few seconds passed, and some bullets penetrated the wall and flew past him and his teammates before the frag went off.
"Damn, that was 3 seconds." The leader thought to himself, thanking the greater powers that they were told not to "cook" the rusted spheres of death.
While he thought there was a thump and a pained scream, the leader quickly rounded the corner, turning on his flashlight. In the narrow beam of light, he came face-to-face with a man on the floor, holding a bleeding leg a little ways down the hallway.
The man slumped to the ground when he was shot. The bullet went through his eye.
Seeing a flash of movement in the red and green lights to his left, he swung the rifle in that direction. Through a doorway, he saw a gunner's nest with two men inside. One was already aiming at him with some sort of SMG, and the other was motionless on the floor.
The one holding the SMG not sparing him a second started spraying the lead of the stack, most of the bullets comically bouncing off his helmet and vest.
Letting two shots out, he watched the man collapse onto the wall.
Switching to the man on the floor, he aimed at his neck and fired. The figure only flinched from the force of the bullet, so he started clearing the rest of the room. Going from left to right, he saw a closet filled with ammo and a machine gun in the window. To his right, he saw a broken wall leading into another room and another body. Taking aim for the back of his head, seeing the body's only movement caused by the bullet, he took a knee and felt around his chest and then his neck. Releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he felt two pats on his back and turned to see Dom, who had given him a quick pat to see if he was alright while watching farther down the hall.
The leader sighs, pats his own shoulder, and reaches for the radio on his chest.
*Click* "Grizzly One-two, this is Grizzly One-two Bravo. We've secured the second-floor machine gun nest and are moving on to the third floor. Over."
"Grizzly One-two bravo, this is Grizzly One-two alpha. We read you. We're moving into the apartment and clearing the first floor now. Then we'll move to the second floor. Break..." There was a pause.
Beep* "One-one is holding security, and one-three alpha is suppressing the third floor, over."
*Click* "Rog' we're heading up- Break" The corporal stops and seems to remember something.
Taking a moment to observe the bandits, the corporal points his rifle at one of them to get a good look, noting their gear and appearance. One is wearing a steel helmet and has a wood-stocked version of his rifle. On his chest was an ammo-bearing vest probably older than the building they were clearing. The fallen man's uniform was a winter gorka suit.
*Click* "Be advised, these bandits are of the untrained horde, Out"
Letting the radio down, he looks back and nods. The others start moving back through the dusty hallway and to the stairs. Turning his flashlight back off, there isn't any more noise behind them. If there is anyone there, the other squad will clear it.
"I'll take the lead," came the voice of Amin, and a quick round of confirmations was shared.
Standing in formation at the doorway, multiple shots and yelling can be heard downstairs, and bullets can be heard being exchanged between the platoon outside and the defending bandits upstairs.
The corporal watched the other doors on the floor, Dom watched to their right, and Amin watched up the stairs. Finally, they reached the stairs and repeated their last ascent. Amin was in front, Dom was in the middle, and the team leader was in the back. Step by step, the shock troopers rose to the third floor, where more yelling could be heard. They made their way in, walking past an unseen door to their left.
An explosion rocked the building, and the shock troopers were vaguely aware of the sound of another helicopter flying by outside.
As he staggered, a piece of the roof hit the corporal in the head, and he heard someone running behind the doorway. His world spun; the door was kicked into his helmet's facemask, and his consciousness flashed for a second.
A Boot then kicked Dom back into a wall and he fell rolling to the side, The Bandit switched his sights back to the corporal. Said, Corporal coming back in the nick of time to see an odd-looking hatchet raised about to strike him, Aiming for his neck. The Corporal raised his right hand and gripped the Bandit's arm stopping the Massive man's attack, Then a knee hit his stomach, and the Corporal fell backward on the floor.
The bandit, taking advantage of the surprise, stomped on the corporal's exposed jaw. He then raised his left arm, revealing a revolver and taking aim at Dom, letting off two shots. One bullet struck Dom's neck, and another hit a gap between his arm and the vest.
Switching back to the Fallen corporal, the bandit swung his axe and struck the right side of his helmet, knocking him unconscious. The burly bandit then began to charge at Amin, taking aim with his pistol while he raised his hatchet.
Amin, having been thrown onto the floor, got up and turned around. He was greeted by a man, a whole head and a half taller than him, charging at him with a pistol raised. Amin got his rifle on target and fired. Both managed to fire. The bandit once, and Amin quarter of the magazine. The rounds struck the man in the chest and went through the light chest rig he was wearing. But that didn't stop his momentum, and the bandit had enough fight left in him to swing the hatchet at Amin, tearing through his left shoulder, cutting muscle, and cracking bone.
"Fuck!?" Amin swore, and the bandit collapsed on him. Both man and boy fell; the bandit died instantly, and Amin tried to move his arm to push the heavy bastard off.
"Fuck!" Amin swore again as his left arm didn't move.
"Fuck!" he swore again when he saw Dom unmoving near him.
"Fuck!" This is getting old, he swore more as the situation dawned on the private; his team leader was unconscious, Lance Corporal Dom was probably dying, his favorite arm wasn't doing what he willed, he didn't eat breakfast or dinner before that, the letter from his mom was left unread, and he heard more noise from the doorway off to his right.
Amin calmed himself by using a breathing technique the sergeant taught them all.
Raising his rifle with his good arm, the 19-year-old rifleman held his guard. The sound of gunfire was heard below him.
'I just need to hold out until someone saves my ass,' Amin thought to himself as the footsteps got louder.
"Alexi! Bartek!" he heard the thick accent of the bandit yell.
"Alexi," another bandit asked. He rounded the doorway and saw his eyes move from his team leader to the stairs, then to Dom, and then to the aforementioned bandit.
"Ah, Nej," he then saw the rifle pointing at his head.
Amin didn't let the chance go to waste. He pulled the trigger and unleashed a burst of rounds into the man. Three connected.
"FUCK!" Amin swore once more as grey matter and skull fragments sprayed him and the surrounding area. Unfortunately, he was wearing a three-hole mask, and he got a decent amount of bandit mush in his mouth.
Hearing a yell, he felt his rifle leave his grip as another bandit rounded the corner, holding a shotgun, kicking his rifle away, and aiming for his head. Closing his eyes, he awaited his end.
He was instead greeted with another spray of blood hitting the exposed parts of his face and a blast of air. With ringing ears, he opened his eyes and looked around, seeing the bandit sprawled on the floor, screaming and holding a wound in his face. Turning his head, he saw the corporal holding a dinky pistol in his left hand.
"Amin bro, are you green!?" The corporal slurred as he stood, sliding the pistol into his boot and grabbing his rifle from his back. He stumbled towards Amin, falling at an awkward angle when he got knocked out. Meanwhile, the leader aimed his rifle at the bandit and fired, ending the outlaw. Continuing towards Amin, the corporal reached for him and pushed the heavy bandit off of him. Checking him over, he patted his good shoulder. Amin saw a little relief in the corporal's brown eyes.
"Dom!" Amin squealed, and the corporal looked at the fallen man, handing Amin a red pack he had grabbed from his waist. After grabbing another, he started moving toward the slumped trooper but stopped as he looked closer at Dom's condition. Reaching for the fallen man, he pulled a glove off his hand and held it to the blood-drenched neck.
"Dom's not gonna make it." Those words made Amin's stomach feel heavy. He had found companionship with the Quebecois man, already feeling down about the loss of his other teammates.
The leader grabbed a chain from his neck and tore it off, tucking it into one of many vest pouches. Then he stood and walked back to Amin. Grabbing the little pack from Amin, he opened it, shook something into his hand, and revealed a small painkiller injector. He jabbed it into his arm, receiving a grunt as a response. The corporal started dressing Amin's wound to the best of his ability.
After packing the cut, with many pained noises coming from the private, the shock trooper lightly slapped the side of the helmet and began to give another order.
"Hold this doorway and tell any of our guys I went on alone... I'll be back in a few." The Corporal on the outside seemed cold about the loss. But on the inside, however, he was barely keeping it together. Three days before, he lost another teammate under his command. A week before that, he lost another; these ones were newer to the platoon than Amin. Yesterday, their squad's alpha team was nearly wiped out. Currently, the squad leader was acting as their replacement team leader, not to mention another squad had been cut down to half its strength by the gun downstairs.
"Sir," Amin responded and began to reload his rifle with his good hand
The Corporal took his rifle in his hands and tried to shake the last bits of dizziness out, "definitely concussed" He thought to himself. Leaning on the doorway he grabbed A Frag at his belt, Pulling the pin he whispered back "Frag" Amin braced himself while watching the doors behind.
He threw it into the doorway and waited...
And waited...
"For God's sake!" he complained.
He was about to grab another when gunfire erupted from behind. A quick glance showed that a bandit had mustered the courage from another room and decided to peek out. Straight into where Amin was tasked with watching. He turned back and was about to round the corner and clear without the grenades' help, but the grenade went off.
Amin flinched while the corporal managed to not move an inch, internally grumbling about the shoddy equipment.
"12 seconds," he said aloud. "Better late than never!" The attempt at humor was met with silence, and without another word, he rounded the corner. The unmistakable smell of burning plastic greeted his nose.
Amin watched the corporal turn his flashlight on and leave; he began to shiver. He felt weak and colder than usual. Unbeknownst to the corporal and idiotically kept hidden was the bullet lodged in his thigh. At the time, he didn't feel it. At the time, he thought Dom needed help first. The thought never crossed his mind as he was being treated for the axe wound.
"Hey, Corporal?" were the last words the young private said, as a few seconds later, a massive explosion shook the building, and he saw a flash of light before his world went dark.
Forest
The corporal remembered Amin asking for something before, but at the time he was distracted by a bandit trying his best to put out a fire caused by either the grenade or something else. The fire was small, but what was on fire concerned him: the ATGM tubes were on fire. A bandit was using a blanket to put out the fire while the bright green tube began to sizzle.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened.
Reaching under his parka, he found a chain and pulled it out. Looking to see a set of dog tags that held some information.
his name birth name was Alan Lynx, and below that; Zaasaakwe. He remembers the day he was given the name during a ceremony in his tribe, It meant war cry in another language. Unfortunately, it was almost forgotten. under that was his blood type and serial number.
Looking down at his uniform, he sighs, deciding that wearing multiple layers was a bad idea out here and begins stripping most of his gear and winter attire, leaving him in a woodland camo shirt and pants.
Tossing the black vest away He gave it a quick salute. 'That vest served me well up until I got blasted'
He begins regaling himself up with his ammo belt and webbing. Staring at himself he said to himself "How convenient," referring to The woodland-colored uniform. Tying the coat and winter pants together and strapping them to the rear part of his belt, He then threw the cloak back over his back and began walking. thinking to himself 'I look a little goofy without the bulk from the vest' he then realized something.
"It's still too damn hot," he began to complain again. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a caw. Looking to his left, he saw a blackbird. It watched him with curious yet cautious eyes. Said eyes were a distinct shade of red.
"What are you looking at?" he said to the crow. It just flapped its wings and cawed again. Hearing his stomach rumble, the corporal contemplated. Slowly, he began to reach for his boot, hoping to use the small pistol to get some food.
As it looked away, he flashed into a stance, holding his compact .380 pistol and aiming at the bird. He fired.
"What in the?" He stops and Stares at the bird as it is covered in a weird flash of light, Seemingly dazed at the small bullet hitting it. It flies away
"No, don't go!" he yelled at it and gave chase. Alan saw it look back at him.
"I'm hungry!" He manages to say before something on the forest floor catches his boot and sends him flailing to the ground.
Picking himself up, the only sounds are his breathing and the birds' calls, seemingly mocking him. While on the ground, he quickly takes aim at the bird and fires twice more. One manages to connect, and the bird flashes again, falling out of the sky into a nearby bush.
"Corporal!?" He stops once again and rolls to his right to look at the voice. Seeing Amin leaning on a tree, holding a bleeding wound in his left thigh.
"Amin!?" The corporal yells in confusion and begins to make his way towards Amin, stowing his handgun in his boot once more.
Without a word, Alan immediately pulls out his last first-aid kit and opens it. Taking off his dusty gloves, he takes the white elastic gloves inside and puts them on his hands. The private complains, looking at him as he pulls out a roll of gauze, and the team leader begins to ask.
"Where did this come from?" Amin looks at Alan and winces.
"The axe guy, he... shot me"
After a second, a hand hit the side of Amin's helmet. "Retard, tell me these things!"
"I was concerned-"
"Doesn't matter," the corporal cut him off and hit his helmet again.
"Can you stop that?" Once more, hand meets helmet.
Shutting up after that, Alan rips the private pants to get to the wound. As Alan is treating the wound, he asks.
"You still numb?" receiving a nod he continued
After a few minutes of silence, only broken by the pained whines of Amin.
"Did you see where that bird landed?" asked Alan, receiving a head shake. "Great, well there goes dinner," he sighed, finishing the packing. The majority of the bleeding stopped after he painfully stuffed it with the packing bandage and covered it with a seal.
"What about the bullet?" After a second, the corporal hit his helmet again. After a moment of silence, Alan took the short rifle off his back and handed it to him. He took it without another word.
The corporal is about to respond but the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the lack of forest sounds nearby. Glancing to his left and right, he sees nothing out of the ordinary.
"You'll live with it. Keep pressure on it," he says, grabbing his own rifle and turning around.
Only to freeze. Something was staring at him with a hateful glare, a white face mask, and black fur. The thing was staring at him from a good distance away.
Its head was in the shape of a bear's skull, white with red markings. Its fur is black, with boney spines poking out of its back. Both troopers shiver in place and remain still for a moment, only reacting as the bear stands and gives out a great roar, standing around 10 feet tall.
Both Amin and Alan let out a manly yell, totally not two high-pitched squeals. Alan stops, remembering how armed they are. He takes aim and fires. Years of training make the spread of around 20 rounds deadly accurate. The rounds hit its stomach, and it seems to double over and lie down.
Amin raised his rifle with his right arm.
Regaining its composure, it stands back up on all fours and begins to charge at them. Amin begins his assault; the rounds are less accurate due to the one-handed firing stance he is stuck with for now.
The bear reaches the two and lunges for an attack, and both shock troopers roll out of the way. Though Amin just flops to the right and starts crawling away.
As the demon bear slams its paw into the tree Amin was leaning on, destroying the trunk, the tree begins to fall over. The bear roars in frustration.
As Alan gets a good distance away the bear looks to Amin, crawling away.
"Ah! Amin's not food you fat fuck!" Alan mocks the bear, and it switches to him as a result. The bear gives the corporal a red-eyed glare and begins to charge again. Alan manages to knock free the empty mag and rock in a new one just as it nears him. He gives his gun the old AK reach-around and begins to aim, but it's too late; the bear is just barely upon him, ready to maul the corporal. Just in the nick of time, more rounds enter from behind, and it starts to collapse. Unfortunately, it collapses onto Alan, pinning him underneath.
After a few seconds of consideration, he also wondered how his ribs weren't crushed. He decided that being under a dead bear wasn't what he'd call comfortable.
"Damn it, get this thing off!" While under the bear, Amin begins to try and push it off but gives up after a failed attempt. After a moment, Amin starts again, and this time with the help of his team leader. They manage to push it off him. They crawl away, sitting down and staring at the bear.
"Thanks," muttered Alan. Amin began talking.
It is then Alan only hears ringing.
"Give me a minute, I can't hear shit!" he says pointing to his ears. He receives a blank stare.
after a few minutes, they continue watching the bear's corpse as it starts to smoke and disintegrate, Alan begins to regain his hearing.
"That was unusual," The corporal says.
"what the smoking bear?" Amin asked Alan.
"Well, yeah what else" is his response, Alan deciding the bear is getting a bit stale looks to Amin and from what little of it he can see, the dressing is forming a red mark.
"We gotta get you medical," He begins to stand
"I, think so too, can't think straight" The private responds, shakily rising up, before collapsing. dropping the barrel of his rifle in the dirt.
Rushing to grab him, the corporal let him down and begins to say
"It's hot out here, we should take off your cold weather gear" and after a few minutes, he's out of the green parka and windbreaker pants. Under his winter clothes are a set of similar BDUs his left pant leg ripped. His vest managed to survive, It was Grey with little loops sewn into it, and various pouches held onto these. On top of his vest was more load-bearing webbing holding an 8 mag pouch for himself.
The corporal raises his good arm around his shoulder and props him up, they look in various directions and Amin begins to say
"Let's go that way," the injured private tries to point, but immediately switches to his right and points to their left, and they begin the trek through the forest, ignoring a black bird as it follows them.
later
"Look at a sign!" Alan yells. Amin, staying conscious by the width of a hair, flinches at the Corporal's outburst. The last twenty minutes were spent in some awkward silence. Both troopers look at a sign and a road leading in three directions.
"Town of Patch 2 km," Amin says, looking at the next sign. Both shock-troopers stare at the little note pinned to the board. Alan begins to say...
"Patch farms, Signal Combat school training in progress" Seeing a smiley face on the bottom of the blue note, they pay attention to the 'combat school' part of the sign.
"Maybe they have a medic?" Amin askes
"Yeah, probably. You wanna go to town or potential bandit school?" The taller of the two, Alan, responds.
"Fuck it, I say," Amin blurts out before wincing and tries to move his left hand to the wheel but sighs as it still doesn't respond. "I am like a bear ready to pounce on a distracted rifleman," Amin attempted a joke.
"Man, shut your trap. That shit was traumatizing." After another minute of bickering, the riflemen started their short journey to the farm, walking through the forest, vaguely following the direction the road led. The men walked in silence.
Finally making it to the farm, they stared out into it.
"Well, I don't see anyone," Amin points out the obvious.
"No shit," Alan responds, referring to the field of bushes with red berries. In the distance, there are more fields and other crops, those ones much taller and limiting visibility.
"well, we're hungry right?" Amin presents a good point
"Stand by the forest edge," Alan says, placing Amin behind some roots and a tree, giving him a good overlook of the field, a good 50 meters away.
The corporal unstraps his helmet from his belt and straps it on his head. Then, he lowers his microphone and points to it. Without looking back at the private, he hears him rustle with his own. A few popping sounds come from his right ear speaker.
"This is Scimitar to Bow Bender, do you read? Over." These radios didn't need a button to be pressed.
"Bow Bender, this is Scimitar. I read you, over." Alan whispered back.
"Commence operation... Berry picker, over." Amin played the role of command.
"Roger Bow Bender Commencing Berry picker, pull security for me will ya? Out" With that done the Corporal begins to make his way towards the berry field.
Berry Farm
Ruby Rose was having a great time, eating strawberries, left alone in the empty part of the farm.
She and her classmates were on a field trip and were supposed to make groups of four. They were assigned patrol routes to patrol for Grimm, and her father, uncle, and other teachers played the role of thieves. However, her friend's group was apparently full, leaving her alone. She didn't mind, as it left these strawberries with her, at her mercy.
About half an hour ago, there was a lot of gunfire coming from the east, so some teachers, including her dad, went to see what it was. Her uncle left about an hour before that, saying he got a message and needed to check something out.
As she ate, the red-hooded girl heard a crash and a curse somewhere in the distance. Suddenly alert, she brought her folded weapon to her side and began to stalk toward the sound. A tall irrigation fence blocked almost any visual she could get. As she neared, she heard an unfamiliar voice talking,
"-mitar I'm fine, it's just a bucket... out" She peeked over the water pipes and bushes and saw a man wearing a camo uniform, with a cloak that reached to his knees, and some helmet that encompassed most of his head, a visor flipped up. Her eyes glimmered as she saw a battered rifle dangling from his chest and another on his back, completely ignoring the fact that a stranger was standing in front of her.
As she stared at the rifles, the man looked at a bush and picked up a bucket. He lifted his mask a little, revealing light bronzed skin and a smooth face. He then started putting berries into a plastic bucket, throwing every other one in his mouth and humming in satisfaction.
"Haven't had fruits in months," he said to himself, reveling in the sweet taste.
After a few seconds, she stopped and realized that she should probably do something.
Stepping under the irrigation pipe and through a bush, she stood back up in a confident stance.
After a second, she faltered, and the thief didn't notice her.
"No, I hadn't had anything for breakfast," she heard him mutter to himself. It was then she realized he had a microphone on the side of his helmet.
"A Co-conspirator," she whispered. After a few minutes of awkward silence, she was about to unfold Crescent Rose when the man stood straight and started talking again.
"What? What do you mean little gir- oh," he said, turning to his right and seeing nothing, then he looked to his left and saw her finally.
He froze, and stared at her, his Amber eyes and Oval shaped Pupils looked around awkwardly then finally at her
"Uh, hey," said the thief. He reached for his face and pulled his mask back down.
"You aren't supposed to be here," Ruby responded nervously, standing in front of the tall man.
"Well, you see, my counter to that is," he dropped the bucket and rose up to a pose, hands on his hips, "I am fucking starving, and my teammate is bleeding to death." The potential thief said.
"Hey, watch your language!" "Wait, what!?" The red girl was about to scold the tall thief in front of her for swearing, but that last bit caught her off guard.
"He got shot, and we are hungry." The corporal lost his posture, bent down to pick the bucket back up, and started grabbing berries again.
"What!?" she exclaimed. "Does he need help? Of course, he needs help!" She began to panic as the man crouched to pick more berries. She started to think and then concluded, "I can lead you to the hospital!" she offered. "Yes, we must go," she said. As she said that, the man seemed content with the quarter of a bucket's worth of berries.
'good enough and that hospital sounds nice' Alan Thought, and he planned out how to get her to lead them, but as he looked back, she grabbed hold of his arm and began trying to drag him somewhere, she just failed at dragging him along. her boots failing to find a grip in the dirt.
"Okay, let's go get Amin," he said. She stopped her futile dragging, and worry crept up to her face.
"Alright, let's go! I know a shortcut through the forest!" Ruby yelled.
"Okay, okay, let go of me." She let go of his arm, and with that, they started their way to the forest edge. As she neared, she had a feeling of unease rise to the forefront of her mind, remembering what her dad said about stranger danger.
Her grip on Crescent Rose tightened, ready to unfold at a moment's notice.
That feeling grew as she observed the man in front of her more closely, realizing that there was blood splattered all over his guns and he had multiple dents and ricochet marks on his helmet. That feeling faltered ever so slightly as she saw another man, this one shorter and leaning against a tree, with his left arm hanging uselessly, bloody bandages on his shoulder and leg. The feeling grew again as she saw his equipment in similar condition, more blood splattered on his helmet and some staining his mask. She looked at his face when she realized he was wearing a different mask, this one showing his pained grimace through a hole.
"Hey, Corporal!" The shorter one began, looking at her. "Why'd you bring her?" He asked.
"says she knows a shortcut," Alan grabbed his arm and propped him up like before. This time, using his dangling left arm, Amin used his good arm to begin picking at the berries in the bucket.
Alan Looks at the red hood-wearing girl and says "Lead on kid!" Ruby taking offense to that comment places her weapon on her back and folds her arms.
"I'm not a kid," she confidently pointed to herself. "I drink milk!" Ruby proclaimed and began leading them to a path in the forest.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Ruby pulled out a little device, and both Alan and Amin stared. As she unfolded the little device into a large holographic pad, she tapped it rapidly, pressed a button several times, and folded it again. "Alright, let's go quickly!"
Alan looks at Amin, and Amin shrugs, content with just following the girl to potentially life-saving medical treatment.
Above a black bird observes the trio leave the farm.
AN
light editing finished at 4:08 am
First chapter of this, I guess. I haven't wrote anything since 2019 or 2018, please leave any feedback if you wish, Expect sporadic updates from weeks to months. Chapter 2 is around half way written so expect something soon.
on the topic of earth, something catastrophic happened a long time ago.