March 16, 2007. 02:14 AM
"Just broke through the reinforcement team. We're on our way," Sebastian said in a hurry, the subtle rain can be heard, even though the red mist still lingered in the air.
"Copy that." After hearing Ethan's answer, he dropped his hand while running. The movement caused a sharp wince he tried to hide from Fox.
Fox's eyes lingered on Sebastian's left shoulder for a second too long. The dark stain that spread across his upper sleeve. Sebastian ignored the stare, adjusting the sling of his SMG so the weight didn't pull directly on his shattered collarbone.
Their boots splashed through the thickening slush of mud and Serovians blood. The air was a sickening cocktail of rain and the metallic scent of open veins.
They slowed down at every turn, looking through their rifle scopes for any enemies. If there were none, they ran as fast as they could to reach the building.
As they broke into the clearing toward the silo,
"Вот цель, огонь! (Target spotted, fire!)"
From the left, tracer rounds sliced through the air. Sebastian ran to a nearby truck, but he doesn't just run, he threw himself toward the truck, his left arm dangling uselessly by his side as he moves
Fox took cover behind a large tree. The bark shattered in splinters as a bunch of hail mary bullets searched his silhouette.
Sebastian tried to return fire. His shots went wide. However, because his gun was an SMG, Sebastian's bullets couldn't fully reach the enemy.
The enemy returned for revenge, bullets tearing down toward Sebastian. He hissed as he hid back against the truck body, his breath ragged, shallow gasps.
Fox tried to line up his shot, but it was no surprise that he couldn't. Bullets flew toward the tree, forcing him to take cover behind it again.
They were stuck in a firefight, with rain falling steadily, soaking everything in sight. The sharp smell of gunpowder filled the air, piercing their lungs.
"Smoke out!" Sebastian shouted. He grabbed a smoke grenade from his belt with his good hand, pulling the pin before throwing it.
Ssstt!
The disenchanted gray began to appear.
"Run." Sebastian ran from the truck towards the building that served as Squadron No. 6's assembly point with Fox that ran behind him.
They entered the building.
Fox paused at the window, his bolt-action clicking with despise.
Psshtt!
A Serovian soldier's head snapped back. A halo of crimson mist marked the hit. Fox cycled the bolt. A brass casing clattered onto the floor like a serpent heartbeat.
There were still five enemies remaining. They hid from sniper Fox, not giving him a chance to take a shot.
Sebastian ran toward the staircase door. Fox followed slowly from behind, his gaze never leaving the enemies.
Sebastian burst into the silo's stairwell, while Fox nested on the door. Sebastian then reached the bottom and nearly collapsed against the railing. His face was a mask of pale sweat.
"Hey... Bruce... you good?" Sebastian's voice was a dry rattle.
"I've had worse," Bruce chuckled a little, leaning against the cold silo wall.
Pffst-psfft!
The trigger pulled by Fox. One missed. One hit the enemy's head.
Fox cocked his rifle again while watching the enemies through his scope.
From down below, Ethan ran toward Fox and asked, "How many left?"
"Not much left," Fox muttered, his voice lacking its usual swagger. "Just four. Ten o'clock, hiding in our blind spots."
Ethan raised his sniper rifle, bringing the scope to his eye like an eye angel. "Alright."
Rafa looked at Sebastian, noticing how he was leaning heavily to the right to keep his left arm from swaying. "Sebastian."
"Yes?" Sebastian answered.
"Still got some smokes left?" Rafa asked him.
"Three left." Sebastian sighed.
"Alright, hand it to me." Rafa approached Sebastian.
Sebastian took three smoke grenades from the strap around his waist. His fingers were numb. He handed them over to Rafa like they weighed seventy pounds each.
Rafa didn't waste any time. He distributed a canister to Arnold, who quickly caught it.
"Fox, Ethan, come here," Rafa said.
Fox hesitated for a moment, then slowly looked away and moved toward Rafa with Ethan.
"What is it?" Ethan asked.
Rafa tossed a smoke grenade to Ethan, who easily caught it too.
"We're pushing through. Arnold, take point. Fox, Ethan, on me," Rafa said, gripping a smoke grenade tightly in his hand.
Fox smiled, Ethan nodded, and Arnold... "WHAT!?"
Meanwhile, behind the door, the enemies were waiting for them, ready to kill Squadron No. 6.
"Как думаешь, у нас получится их убить? (Think we'll get them?)" a soldier whispered, his rifle stared on the door.
"Конечно, у нас же есть Свят на нашей стороне. (Of course, we have Sviat on our side.)" his partner replied.
Behind them was an opened door. Inside, the sniper cocking his own sniper rifle like a death whistle. It was Sviat.
He was young, so young that his skin glistened with a feverish sweat. He stared through his optic, his finger was lingering on the trigger.
They waited.
They waited.
They—
BOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!
The door suddenly exploded, sending a ravage of debris and heavy smoke that instantly filled the room.
From ashes—bullets burst through, killing a few soldiers standing nearby in an instant—to ashes.
"Блядь! (Fuck!)" The soldiers from before quickly got up and ran to the open door behind him, trying to take cover with Sviat.
One of them failed. He took a burst of bullets in his spine that pierced through the heart. His body folded like a broken doll before he fell.
Several bullets hit the metal silo wall beside them.
The sniper grimaced, groaning in annoyance at Squadron No. 6's cowardly tactic.
Sviat pulled the trigger.
The rifle muzzle flashed with fire.
Cring!
It tore through the smoke, cutting it in half, and clearing a path in the haze, but no one is there.
Arnold, who was hiding behind the covered railing, shocked. "DAMN! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CALIBER?!"
Rafa, who was dragging Bruce behind the covered railing, caught a glimpse of the muzzle flash. "Of course it was heavy. Too heavy."
Ethan tried to aim, but he was exposed.
Schiewww!!
The round erased a chunk of his bicep.
Ethan fell, his sniper rifle clattering away to the back.
Ethan, on the floor, held his bicep like a limb that was now mostly just raw meat and shattered bone.
Rafa was stunned in place.
But then he threw a smoke grenade.
"Fuck..." Rafa cursed, crawling through the mist toward Ethan.
The sound of the grim reaper cycling his bolt was fucking terrifying. It felt like death had come closer. The squadron didn't know how they had ended up here.
Rafa ignored the spray of bullets from the remaining Serovians soldiers, he focused only on Ethan's mangled arm. He poured the alcohol down to his bicep, then wrapped it. Ethan's scream was muffled by the guns and the roar of the rain outside.
Meanwhile, Arnold and the others were shooting at the enemy. They could see through the smoke thanks to their NVGs, which were equipped with a black-and-white version of Thermal Vision.
"You'll be fine, son," Rafa whispered, though he is shaking.
"I kno—"
Thumpp!!
Another round from Sviat. The wind of the bullet's trajectory sucked the smoke away, leaving them exposed in the open.
The enemy pressed even closer toward the squadron, unleashing gunfire as bullets rained down on them. Worse still, the smoke had already cleared.
"Shit..., Arnold, Sebastian, Fox, try to hold them off." Rafa said to them. His breath weaken.
Their situation is truly disadvantageous. Bruce, struggling, slowly got up and took cover behind the railings.
Rafa looked at Bruce, he slid his assault rifle to Bruce. Bruce then took the assault rifle Rafa slid to him, giving him an assault rifle that was good for long range.
Rafa grabbed Ethan's sniper rifle behind him. He knew what to do.
Rafa threw his hand up. Opened.
Thuumpp!!!
Sviat took the bait...
The bullet missed, Rafa already pulled his hand down.
As Sviat cycling his bolt, in that split second, Rafa leaned out and shoot.
Sviat flinched. The bullet only grazed his right ear, tearing the skin.
"Lucky ass..." Rafa spat while cycling his own bolt rifle behind the railings.
Arnold crawled slowly through the blood, sicked floor, moving forward while the rest covered him up from behind.
As Arnold crawled further and further, some enemies tried to rush in, but they were too slow. Fox and Bruce shot them down, forcing Arnold to stop and sprayed with their blood.
A few Serovian soldiers crouched behind boxes and railings facing the squadron, they fired relentlessly. Pinned down, the squadron had no choice but to take cover and endure in silence, waiting for the moment to advance.
Sviat couldn't let Squadron No. 6 Squadron to advance that easily. He then started to aim at the covered railings.
The silo became a tombstone of metal and lead. Even though Sviat can't see behind the railings, he still shoot. Sviat's rounds punched through the heavy steel railings as if they were paper. But he didn't get anyone.
Sviat reloaded his gun, changing the magazine into a new one, and then continue to shoot at the railings.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Seeing this, Rafa slowly crawl back from the rest while Ethan slowly advanced while lying down, even though he had to endure the pain.
Sviat fired the round again and again, bullets piercing the railings, sparks and splinters flying. Yet none of them found their mark. Rafa retreated step by step until the corner of the railings embraced him.
When Sviat leaned out for a final shot, Rafa was prepared. He shot his own bullet, biting into Sviat's elbow. The impact sent Sviat's weapon spinning, until it fell into the floor.
The sniper hissed, retreating into the dark room.
"Эй, ты в порядке? (Hey, you okay?)" The soldier that took cover earlier rushed to Sviat's side, checking the wounded arm.
"Это... больно... (It... hurts...)" Sviat whispered. The terrifying ghost turned into a trembling boy.
The soldier didn't hesitate. He pulled put an alcohol and tried to pour it, but Sviat flinched, whimpering, his eyes wide and watery.
"Спокойно, спокойно... Я не пораню тебя... (Easy, easy... I won't hurt you...)" The soldier's voice was a low.
Sviat slowly calmed down, he started to approach that soldier. The soldier reached out to his hand gently. Sviat slowly let him take his arm.
"Меня зовут Иван. ("My name is Ivan.)" he murmured, bandaging the wound with practiced ease.
Sviat growled slightly, but he didn't pull his arm away from Ivan. When Ivan finished, he reached up and gently ruffled Sviat's damp hair.
"Всё будет в порядке. (Everything will be alright.)" Ivan locked at Sviat's eyes. Sviat leaned into the touch, nodding slowly, a child seeking shelter in the middle of a storm.
#4 End.