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| Military Precision | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 19 2007, 05:58 PM (110 Views) | |
| Enigma | Feb 19 2007, 05:58 PM Post #1 |
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Live, laugh, love.
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Quickly shifting my weight, I silently moved out from the cover I had been crouching behind, and darted across the sodden earth, the small amount of light given to me by the moon allowing me to pick out and avoid the particularly waterlogged patches of ground. Moving low to the ground, I gently pressed my form against the damp, wooden shack situated in the centre of this particular clearing. My eyes closed, I rested my ear against the woodwork of the building, listening for any signs that we had alerted our long-hunted quarry to our presence. A few little scratches, but not louder than anything some woodlice or termites could create as the burrowed through the wood. It appeared as though we had avoided detection, for the moment at least. I took a moment to compose myself, brushing a lock of my hair from my eyes, and checking my grip on the weapon that was clutched in my hands. I locked my gaze on the spot I knew Vince and the rest of my unit were waiting, and made the slightest of inclinations with my head. With just this slight movement, the entire circumference of the clearing became a flurry of silent motion, and in moments, with perfect military precision, every possible entrance and exit to the shack was covered by at least one man. Glancing at my long time friend and colleague across from me, a slight smile crossed my features as we exchanged nods, my heart lightened slightly as Vince suppressed a chuckle. And with that brief exchange, we were focused once more, military machines. I nodded to him, and he stepped out from his cover, taking a step away from the door we were positioned next to. Barely audible squelching sounds gave away the rest of my unit following suit. Vince took a breath, before heaving a massive, steel toe-capped boot through the brittle wooden door, splintering it with the single blow. His huge frame ploughed through what rubble remained, with my slightly smaller frame following suit. All around us other doors were being ripped from their hinges and glass panes smashed as soldiers vaulted through windows. Within seconds, the entire expanse of the shack, which wasn't too large an area, granted, was secured. Flash light beams swept across the interior of the building, finding nothing at all out of the ordinary. Nothing at all. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. We had been tracking a rag-tag group of ex-convicts for three days now, and this morning we had finally arrived here. We had surveyed them for twelve hours, and all of the information we collected pointed to them all being here. We hadn't seen a single person leave, or a single person enter for the entire period we had been watching them. By all rights, they should all be here, all seven of them. But, excluding the men in my unit, this building was completely empty. There wasn't even a spider, as far as I could see. But there was absolutely no way they could have slipped through our fingers. My reconnaissance men were the best in the district, hell, the best in the whole damn world, as far as I was concerned. There wasn't a man, woman, child, or even a pokémon that moved within a half a mile radius of here without one of them knowing it. Reflexively moving constantly so as not to have my back exposed in any one direction for too long, my eyes scanned every nook, cranny and crack in the frame of this building. Well, what remained of it, after my unit had made their dramatic entrances. Then my foot snagged on something, and I crashed to the ground. Immediately, eight heavy weapons were trained on me, infra-red light causing me to raise my hand in front of my eyes to keep from wincing. I heard the weapons lowered, and grabbed Vince's outstretched hand, letting him haul me to my feet. I dusted down my trousers, before turning and closely running my flash light along the ground where I had fallen. Maybe I had just tripped over my own feet, maybe I hadn't, but I didn't fall often, which meant there was most likely something worth seeing down here. I picked up the thinnest of cracks in the floorboards, running in a different direction to the rest of them. Tracing it with my fingertip for a moment, I confirmed what I had dreaded finding from the moment I had realised that there was no one here. A trapdoor. The one point of escape I didn't, but should have predicted. The schematics for the shack hadn't shown any trapdoor, but the latest ones were twenty years old. Someone could easily have forged one by then, and as it turned out, they had. I let out a deep sigh, cursing under my breath. Standing up, I turned to Vince, the look on his face showing his obvious frustration with the situation, feelings I sympathised with. We had never lost a target before, never failed to meet a contract deadline. Yet here we were, only twenty four hours from the deadline, and we hadn't managed to get our hands on even one of these creeps. I waved my arm in the direction of the trapdoor, muttering instructions to open it up to my comrade, as I wandered to the remains of one of the windows, leaning against it for a moment, gazing out into the dimly lit outdoors. A chill ran down my spine, the kind of feeling you get when someone walks over your grave. But it wasn't cold outside at all; it was actually a quite pleasant temperature out, considering the time of night. This whole situation made me uneasy. The only method we had of tracking the targets once we were through the trapdoor would be old fashioned tracking, which would take a good deal of time. I turned, and the position in which I was standing gave me a perfect view of the trap door. As Vince hooked the tips of his thickly gloved fingers under the trapdoor and pried it open, I saw a faint flashing light. My heart skipping a beat, I opened my mouth to warn my comrade, but then the faintest of clicks echoed around the silent hut, and with a rush of fire, my world went black. --- So now you know. You know what a failure I am as a commander, a strategist, and a tracker. I should have predicted the bomb, but I didn't. Two of the seven were demolitions experts, after all. It was what they did best. And what I thought I did best.. I didn't do. I still don't know what happened to my men. I still don't know what's happening to me, really. Maybe I'm dying, maybe I'm in a coma.. You see, I still haven't woken up from that terrible explosion. I have no concept of time, of hunger, of thirst, of anything. With such a cheerful thought in my mind, perhaps I better explain to you who I am and what I was actually doing there. My name is Michael Bourne, former soldier, current gun-for-hire. I'm as close to a commander they could trust as my men ever had, and now I let them down. You see, we were all in the army, once upon a time. We've all known each other for the majority of our lives, though myself and Vince go back the farthest, to when we were just toddlers. All of us left the armed services though, and each for our own reasons. Some of us talk about them, some of us don't. Though we're friends, we understand the concept of privacy, and as such, it's a general rule of ours not to pry into matters that are not our own. Anyway, we had been hired anonymously five days ago to track a group of ex-convicts that had joined together to apparently create as much chaos as possible. Murderers, arsonists, you name it, you could probably find at least one among them that had committed the crime at one point in their lives. Three of them had military backgrounds, one formerly a general, the other two formerly in demolitions. We had been given highly detailed profiles on them, and everything pointed to them being an extremely dangerous and volatile group, but I had never really expected them to do anything that required any thought. I had predicted them to simply destroy anything and everything that they felt like tearing apart, which they had, across the three days we had tracked them. But it had all seemed so primitive, I never predicted that they would actually be capable of using explosives to the point where none of our instruments detected them before we entered the building. It was a prediction I should have made, and because I didn't.. Well, you know where I ended up. I can only hope and pray for my men's.. no, my friend's safety, but right now, it looks like I'm finally going to wake up. At least, that would explain the big dark blur becoming a big light blur, as it was right now. |
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| pyrostinger | Feb 22 2007, 03:09 AM Post #2 |
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Sup?
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The old man smiled as you woke up. "Now, don't move. You're still injured, even though you've been sleeping for near a week! Hold on, I'll get the wife... she knows more about takin' care of injuries than I do." As the wife came in, you gradually got the story that you had been found, alone, somewhat near the site of the explosion. This old couple had taken you in and cared for you while you rested off your injuries, which, amazingly enough, weren't that extensive. "A couple of bruises" was all she said in response to your inevitable inquiries. Upon your leaving, they had pressed upon you their life savings, saying they didn't need it anymore. It was quite a bit: 3900z. They also pressed a lightly used Poketech into your hands. It wasn't much, but, having mistaken you for a trainer, it was the least they could do. |
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Stats of the Journeyman APL: 5 Currently: Hillmoss Grasslands "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy people enough to make it worth the effort." -Herm Albright Vestri matris eram a hamster quod vestri abbas nidor of elderberries | |
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