2096, UNPC Universal calendar, Installation 235, Augment training facility.

(This one is short, but I figure I won't integrate it with another one as I have done others)

---

Anton "Alpha 9" Schultz.

---

I entered the already open door of the house and cleared the living room swiftly.

I felt a mix of lighter on my feet and hindered without my armor. I was wearing a basic Multicam utility uniform with a cut similar to that of the US Marine uniform, a full 4 plate carrier with front back and side 4A plates respectably. I had other gear on too, but that's what mattered.

I went to step into the hallway leading to the kitchen, and was caught completely flat footed.

"HEY SHITHEAD" Tim "The Terror" "Bravo 1" Wright hollered, grabbing the long barrel of my V-06 and pulling it towards him with his right hand.

I let it go, knowing he'd pull it past him with it only connected to me by the sling. If I kept hold of it and tried to pull it back towards me he'd just lean into it and I'd eat the buttstock when he pushed it back into me.

He was standing directly in front of me with that dumbass grin on his face. I went for my Maxim-9, which was on a drop holster on my right thigh as the barrel of the rifle sailed over his shoulder, resting on it, but he shot his left hand out and kept it in the holster, pinning my hand to my leg while he was at it.

He stomped on my left foot and dropped my rifle as he gave me a hell of a right hook in the left ear, ringing my bell. Before I could recover he hit me below the plates on my left side twice, pummeling my kidney.

"ASSHOLE" I grunted between clenched teeth.

He stepped back, and I didn't know what the fuck just happened but he had my pistol in his hand, waving it back and forth. A sharp part of my rifle came around and smacked me in the right kneecap for added effect.

"Lose something?" He asked, still grinning.

I raised my rifle, aimed center mass, and tried to pull the trigger, which was locked back and rigid.

I tried to tap and rack, but found the magazine missing, and the bolt open. I fumbled for another magazine off of my carrier, but found every pouch empty.

He produced every one of my magazines from behind his back, holding them like you'd fan a deck of cards, seeming to grin wider, the blue piece of tape around his right bicep visible in the dim light provided by the window to my left.

along the flat wall with the window, which I knew lead to a covered carport area of the house, there was nothing to hide behind, just the kitchen to the right. This left hallway ran under the two upstairs bedrooms, with the staircase along the right wall near the front door.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

This motherfucker.

He dropped all of them in a pile behind him, and walked towards me calmly.

I tossed my rifle's sling over my head and let it fall to the floor next to me just as he met me.

He thew a left jab which I ducked under, I tried for a hook, but he ducked under, and I got charlie horse punch in the right thigh as he dropped down to dodge it.

I threw another six punches, but couldn't seem to fucking hit him.

It was like fighting a ghost, my fists were going THROUGH him. Every time I missed he came back three times as hard and hit every shot, finding every gap in my defense.

Out of frustration I threw a straight push kick with my right foot. Surprisingly, I caught him dead center, pushing him back.

What I didn't anticipate was for him to grab the bill of my black baseball cap with my earpro over it and pull me straight into the motherfucking ground, chin first into the cheap tile while my weight was right in the middle and he had the leverage advantage while I was on one foot.

I got knocked out for at least a few seconds.

When I came to he was laughing his ass off.

I groaned, stirring.

"You just got your ass kicked big man" he laughed.

I spit, finding dusty blood in my mouth, apparently I'd bitten my tongue. "No shit" I grunted, getting to my feet.

The only warning Terror got was a quick THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of approaching running footsteps before the wall directly to his right disintegrated.

Cheap lumber, asbestos siding, and drywall quite literally splashed inwards as I scrambled back, landing on my ass.

"Oh shit" Terror chuckled, stepping further into the kitchen as the 7 foot tall freight train that was Alex "Alpha Three" "Triple A" Anderson came at him full tilt, seemingly unphased even after running straight through a fucking wall.

Terror's fight or flight seemed to stutter as he was met with the behemoth in front of him. Before he could make a decision Triple A followed through with his momentum, and grabbed him.

A massive fist came around and slammed Terror's stomach, just below his front plate.

Triple A kept a good grip on the stitched ring of fabric on Terror's back that'd usually hook into a rope so you didn't fall out of a helicopter, and hit him in the same place again.

Terror's breath went out of him in a woosh, he tried to scramble for Triple A's right leg, but only caught a full force knee in the face, no doubt breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.

"You alright?" Triple A asked.

"Yeah, thanks." I said, accepting his extended hand, feeling my head pound as I was hauled up.

I remained hunched for a second, staring at the spot where I'd originally hit the ground.

"There's a fucking DENT where my chin hit the floor" I chuckled. "He really beat the brakes of me, holy shit." I licked my dry lips and blinked twice.

"What now?" I asked, standing up straight.

"Nothing, he was the last one on blue team" Triple A rumbled in reply, nudging Terror with his boot. "Game's over, get up" he coaxed.

Terror groaned, stirring.

Triple A leaned down, and hauled Terror up by his plate carrier. "Upsie daises, on your feet asshole" He said, setting the man on his feet, and holding him there until he regained his balance.

"Jesus Christ" Terror gasped, blinking rapidly.

"You alright?" Triple A asked. Terror nodded.

"Let's get out of this fucking house" I said, probing my chin, which was singing and already starting to swell.

---

I sat on a table with Terror next to me as Kate walked up, others milling around the tents setup for the support staff.

"You two got busted up" She said.

I smiled, holding a ice pack to my chin as Terror laughed.

"Sent him into the floor, chin first at about mach eight" Terror said as he probed his nose, which had stopped bleeding.

"Seriously?" she asked. I nodded.

"Right into the ground after I tried to push him away." I said, making him laugh harder.

"How many did you get with your rifle?" I asked.

"Three" she beamed. " Jolene, John and Charles" she said, who were C4, B3, and C3 respectively.

"Who got you?" I asked.

"Kugler, he fired a AT-4 at me" she frowned.

The AT-4 rocket launcher wasn't real obviously, but the rocket propelled artillery simulator couldn't have been fun to have been next to.

"Who got you?" Kate asked Terror.

"Triple A" He stated flatly. "I need a cigarette.

Remind me to never, ever tango with Terror ever again.