Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round Two: The Great Battlefield)
06-27-2011, 08:05 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The gorge sprawled out, after a few minutes’ marching, into something more like a sheer-walled dip in the ground as it snaked its parched way to a bend in the River Shrin. The three survivors of Cobalt Squad fanned out on Anzhi’s tacit command, hopping across the rocks to scout out the chokepoint. Zita scrambled atop a particularly large boulder, peered upriver, then turned and waved with a little more enthusiasm than strictly recommended under protocol. Isolation must be getting to him, pondered his commander. Probably getting to all of us. Best regroup; being stuck behind enemy lines’ll just strain morale.
Anzhi took one step. He then swore as the private keeled slowly over and tumbled off the rock - a rude bloodied mess of bullet where his eye should’ve been. “PLATOON, WE’RE UNDER FIRE!” he roared, trying to mask his desperation.
Corporal Lacatus, downriver, was struggling to figure who had earned his uneasy admiration more - the sharpshooting Petrović, clutching his rifle as though scared it would spin possessedly round and deal his pancreas a similar fate to the Blue’s eye; or the cyber-snake calmly relaying that its sensors detected no periwinkle platoon ready to jump them in the gorge.
“Petrović, Lakatos, hold the bend –Nyoka and Molnár, follow me. We’ll ford the river downstream, out of their sight, and hit them from behind.”
Gilchrist was an understandably nervous wreck at this point; the more-than-adequate number of years he'd spent training as a loyal soldier of the Blue army had never really prepared him for any kind of heroics. Hell, his near-hour of comparative peace with Zita and Towser post-massacare, wandering the gorges, being oblivious (with a nagging sort of realisation at the fact) to the rattle of gunfire from above - all that was right out of the soldier's comfort zone. Gilchrist had about ten minutes - not content to merely let the fact it was Zita dashed across the riverbed sink in, but to let the thought ferment into the realisation he couldn't have matched a single other face to a name in his entire platoon.
This was all very distressing, but not nearly as bad as when Zita jerkily stood with a ripple of red, snatching for his rifle without the slightest hesitation when he caught Gilchrist's eye. The Blue private had to actually choke back a sob at this point, and Molnár's crossfire catching him unawares was something of a relief. Towser had retreated, sharpish, to the scree-slip Anzhi had hidden behind, until he bit a freshly crimson Zita's bullets. Anzhi grabbed the sergeant's pistol before kicking him away, then emptied the gun into Molnár's chest.
A series of clicks echoed through the gorge - perhaps accompanied by a faint curse, before the scuffle concluded with the retort of Corporal Lacatus' gun.
There was an oddly introspective moment of silence, interrupted only with the shufflings of Red soldiers rising to their feet. With Anzhi their effective commanding officer, everyone (including Tengeri, who'd prudently placed herself out of harm's way for the duration of the firefight) saluted.
"Excellent work, corporal." Anzhi’s face betrayed no pain. He even looked pleased, much to Tengeri's well-disguised horror. "That’s the last of the Blue infantry that got pinned between us and those - hold it." He snatched Lacatus' gun before the corporal could argue, and shot Molnár smartly between the eyes as his uniform began to darken. "Right. That's the last of them. Now," he concluded, tossing the pistol back and glaring at Tengeri, "I haven't been briefed on…"
"private tengeri nyoka of-"
"Recently recruited, sir. No indication of duplicity; she's got an array of sensors and appear to act in a purely intel-based capacity."
"Riiight. I was going to request the private speak for, uh - themselves, but I assume that's beyond them?"
"only until my vocals chords are repaired," fumed Tengeri, but she needn't have bothered, considering the attention the lieutenant was paying her. Anzhi had, after all, not attained his respectable rank by eschewing protocol.
"I trust," glowered the lieutenant, "you only came to... retrieve myself as Towser, Zita, Gilchrist and I were directly en route to base? Where you would've reported Private-" he flashed the glare of one already dismissive at Tengeri- "Nyoka's… recruitment to your superiors without delay?"
"Of- of course, sir."
"Good. We're heading back, pronto. I've had enough of creeping round these trenches like a goddamn blue rat."
Anzhi ran a hand through his greying hair, shot Tengeri with a glance so brazenly mistrustful it was almost wounding, and followed Corporal Lacatus out of the gorge without another word.
The gorge sprawled out, after a few minutes’ marching, into something more like a sheer-walled dip in the ground as it snaked its parched way to a bend in the River Shrin. The three survivors of Cobalt Squad fanned out on Anzhi’s tacit command, hopping across the rocks to scout out the chokepoint. Zita scrambled atop a particularly large boulder, peered upriver, then turned and waved with a little more enthusiasm than strictly recommended under protocol. Isolation must be getting to him, pondered his commander. Probably getting to all of us. Best regroup; being stuck behind enemy lines’ll just strain morale.
Anzhi took one step. He then swore as the private keeled slowly over and tumbled off the rock - a rude bloodied mess of bullet where his eye should’ve been. “PLATOON, WE’RE UNDER FIRE!” he roared, trying to mask his desperation.
Corporal Lacatus, downriver, was struggling to figure who had earned his uneasy admiration more - the sharpshooting Petrović, clutching his rifle as though scared it would spin possessedly round and deal his pancreas a similar fate to the Blue’s eye; or the cyber-snake calmly relaying that its sensors detected no periwinkle platoon ready to jump them in the gorge.
“Petrović, Lakatos, hold the bend –Nyoka and Molnár, follow me. We’ll ford the river downstream, out of their sight, and hit them from behind.”
Gilchrist was an understandably nervous wreck at this point; the more-than-adequate number of years he'd spent training as a loyal soldier of the Blue army had never really prepared him for any kind of heroics. Hell, his near-hour of comparative peace with Zita and Towser post-massacare, wandering the gorges, being oblivious (with a nagging sort of realisation at the fact) to the rattle of gunfire from above - all that was right out of the soldier's comfort zone. Gilchrist had about ten minutes - not content to merely let the fact it was Zita dashed across the riverbed sink in, but to let the thought ferment into the realisation he couldn't have matched a single other face to a name in his entire platoon.
This was all very distressing, but not nearly as bad as when Zita jerkily stood with a ripple of red, snatching for his rifle without the slightest hesitation when he caught Gilchrist's eye. The Blue private had to actually choke back a sob at this point, and Molnár's crossfire catching him unawares was something of a relief. Towser had retreated, sharpish, to the scree-slip Anzhi had hidden behind, until he bit a freshly crimson Zita's bullets. Anzhi grabbed the sergeant's pistol before kicking him away, then emptied the gun into Molnár's chest.
A series of clicks echoed through the gorge - perhaps accompanied by a faint curse, before the scuffle concluded with the retort of Corporal Lacatus' gun.
There was an oddly introspective moment of silence, interrupted only with the shufflings of Red soldiers rising to their feet. With Anzhi their effective commanding officer, everyone (including Tengeri, who'd prudently placed herself out of harm's way for the duration of the firefight) saluted.
"Excellent work, corporal." Anzhi’s face betrayed no pain. He even looked pleased, much to Tengeri's well-disguised horror. "That’s the last of the Blue infantry that got pinned between us and those - hold it." He snatched Lacatus' gun before the corporal could argue, and shot Molnár smartly between the eyes as his uniform began to darken. "Right. That's the last of them. Now," he concluded, tossing the pistol back and glaring at Tengeri, "I haven't been briefed on…"
"private tengeri nyoka of-"
"Recently recruited, sir. No indication of duplicity; she's got an array of sensors and appear to act in a purely intel-based capacity."
"Riiight. I was going to request the private speak for, uh - themselves, but I assume that's beyond them?"
"only until my vocals chords are repaired," fumed Tengeri, but she needn't have bothered, considering the attention the lieutenant was paying her. Anzhi had, after all, not attained his respectable rank by eschewing protocol.
"I trust," glowered the lieutenant, "you only came to... retrieve myself as Towser, Zita, Gilchrist and I were directly en route to base? Where you would've reported Private-" he flashed the glare of one already dismissive at Tengeri- "Nyoka's… recruitment to your superiors without delay?"
"Of- of course, sir."
"Good. We're heading back, pronto. I've had enough of creeping round these trenches like a goddamn blue rat."
Anzhi ran a hand through his greying hair, shot Tengeri with a glance so brazenly mistrustful it was almost wounding, and followed Corporal Lacatus out of the gorge without another word.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow