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Firestarter Squad: Chapter 1 (In the Beginning)
Posted By: Iden
Date: 11 November 2000, 7:29 pm
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"Jesus! Hit the ground or you'll get us all killed!", Jerry reached over and yanked on the sleeve of the crouched marine. A startled yelp and the rookie fell back down into the trench as gunfire blazed overhead.
"B-but its gunfire! It's not the ene-" started the shaken private, more like a young boy, they let anyone into the marines now, they were getting desperate.
"I don't give a rat's ass if its gunfire or your god-damned mother has come to take you home, keep your head down and you might be able to keep it attached to the rest of you." He barked again, his teeth grinding lightly as more rounds of ammo from an assault rifle tore up the ground in front of them, covering them in a fresh layer of dirt.
"B-but . . . " the boy started again.
"Dammit boy, do I have to explain everything? Just because its gunfire doesn't mean it's a case of friendly fire, these blue bastards have the capability to wipe out colonies. What makes you think they can't pick up our own god-damned rifles and fire at us?", he growled, his free hand, the one that wasn't holding his assault rifle with a death grip, came up to wipe at his own face, his dark skin not contrasting much against the fresh soil.
The shout of "Incoming!" sent them all sprawling as a blue arc of energy came from over the opposing crest and lambasted the trench right behind them. The frightened scream of the young and the death cries of the veterans filled their ears after the ringing left, those who weren't incinerated in the intimal blast found themselves suffering horrible slow deaths, unable to even have the dignity to bleed to death as the heat cauterized the wounds.
"Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch...." the young private repeated as he rocked back and forth quickly, his fingers white as he held even tighter to the flame thrower he held, the pilot light no longer even lit. Turned off after the first few hours of being held low in these trenches, that had been how many hours ago?
"T-t-this was s-supposed to be an i-i-in-n and ou-out, w-wha happened?" stammered the private as he continued to rock back and forth.
"To hell I should know, they were ready for us though, we just have to keep this small party directed towards us as the heavy support flanks them, just keep your ass attached to the ground and we might survive this, damn it, where are those son-of-a-bitchin' tanks?"
And then one after another he knew where they were, a series of explosions began to rock the ground as tank after tank was destroyed, he couldn't be sure if it was their's or not, but in the end....
It was silent.
Very quiet.
"J-Jerry?"
"Yeah?"
"The man... is beeping..."
"What?"
"The...the Communications man, he's beeping..."
"Christ... I don't know anything about that... see if you can answer it or something, man, and no more berserk packs for you, Christ boy, you're strung as it is."
"I'm f-f-f...." he stammered.
"Fine... yeah... answers the friggin' Com."
"Fuck... he's a mess..." muttered the private as he got into the 'spirit of things'.
"Shit man, what the hell do you think people look like after a needle gun tears em up and spits 'em out?" Jerry muttered.
Silence settled back in as the private began to tinker with the relatively undamaged communications pack, needed for long range communications, the helmet mounted ones being for short to medium range.
"God, there are so many damn blinky friggin' lights, ain't you ever seen one of these used man?" grumbled the private.
"It's one of the top right ones I think... just toggle them all on and off, we're grunts, not rocket scientists, but it's not exactly brain surgery to use one of these things man."
The private muttered something darkly and began to toggle the little switches on and off, a music chip sounding for a moment, an old classic, music was basically reused after the 22ndcentury. Another bark from Jerry set the private's mind back on course and after a few more flicks of switches voices sounded from the headset of the Com man. The other's headset was unplugged and Jerry inserted his own to headset.
"Kccccccckkkkkkkhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh- peat- I repeat. All remaining units must storm the enemy trenches. The start will be signaled by a green flare. I repeat. All remain-"
"Shit oh Shit..." Jerry muttered as he yanked his set back out and grabbed the private, puling him close. "Listen up maggot, you flip out on me here and you won't have to worry about those blue bastards guttin' ya, I'll do it. Listen carefully and breathe deeply. We're going to storm the trenches, its goi-"
"Suicide! Frig man, that's suicide! Frig you and the command, man! That's flat out suici- ", yelled the private as he tried to scramble away but Jerry held him close, shaking him with his free hand until the other calmed down.
"Shut up Private, shut the hell up!" he bellowed until the other quaked with more fear of him than the Covenant. "Listen, their artillery has been taken out..", hopeful lies, "and they've taken heavy casualties, you just keep your ass down, your finger on that trigger and follow me, and you might possibly survive you damn maggot."
"Y-y-y-ye-s-s, S-sir." the private managed to stammer as his nervousness began to takeover once again.
"Pathetic..." muttered Jerry. Slowly the fated green flare straggeled up into the sky, from behind enemy lines.
"Good and bad news I'd say... it's either a helluva a trap or they did inflict some heavy damage and get some men behind the lines." the third man remarked. He had been silent the entire time. He looked like he had Martian descent in him, Mars had been more of a melting pot than the old country "America" could have dreamt of being. His face was clean shaven as Jerry's but he had long black hair, sort of made him look like his descent leaned more towards Old Asia on Earth. Jerry on the other hand was bald and brawny, he barely fit into his uniform, and came from one of the moon colonies. Rugged. They were all rugged there.
"S-s-sir?" stammered the private.
"Yeah?" muttered Jerry.
"M...m...my name is Scot.", the man swallowed and closed his eyes.
"Private Scot, hold your damn tounge and if you try to get sentimental on me I'll skin you alive. I'm Sergant Jerry and the other is First Class Private Jing. Now turn that pilot light on and get ready, we'll need you to fry a few of those trenches."
So there they were, Scot sniffeled softly and with that he yanked on Scot's shirt as he scrambled up and over the top, followed closely by Jing, and then...
...BLAM!
((Anyone who is eager to see Chapter Two please post so to the Forum- I'll pick it up. :-) ))
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