“Got mine!”
“Same here!”
With an ashy black and wispy red poof, the hellhound's bodies dissipated. The core energy comprising them were no longer able to hold their physical forms together as sufficient damage was incurred.
“Guess we’ve gotten better.” Osamu said. Sheathing his blade, he looked to Gen who was setting his sash around his Hakama.
“Maybe, or we got lucky.” Gen replied. “Though we couldn’t have done it without Chisuke, like always.”
A bitter expression was shared between them, but Osamu prodded a question.
“Luck? Really?”
“Yeah, Luck, it’s a stat right, for explorers.”
“I know that, but Luck makes no sense, I still think it's just a made up stat.”
“I can blame you there.” Gen cough, the smokey remnant of hellhound getting in his noise.
“Ugh, these things smell like back smoke after you put them down, what’s their deal?”
“No clue. Who ever made them might have added that to annoy us, either way we won.” Osamu sighed, rolling his shoulders and felt his scratched up skin twinge hot.
“Ouch, those things are monstrous, I wish we had a better tactic.”
“Well you can’t complain if it works.” Gen shrugged.
As gentle and elegant as their forms disappeared, these wild beasts had a ferocity that made Osamu and Gen recall their slight phobia of large dogs. Recoiling from the shivers they got when facing a trauma from the past they hadn’t want to remember, they finished up the last of the hellhounds.
In a slash of purple from Osamu’s short blade and Gen’s quickly drawn katana, another two hellhounds dropped and disappeared.
Thanks to Chisuke’s forward.. no, they meant, ‘suicidal approach’. The fight turned out better than expected. Their hits were clean, done in the hounds’ blindspots as their attention was pulled away from either Osamu or Gen.
Minutes ago, as soon as one of the hellhounds got through the kicked-up boulders and rock piles Chisuke had put up to take cover from the beasts encompassing breathes of flame, he immediately charged.
He did it in such a Chisuke kind of way that Osamu almost wanted to congratulate him for his reckless and relentlessly idiotic mannerism. Right in his own blindspot directly behind him, Chisuke immediately knew what to do without even seeing the hound break in, yet Chisuke reacted first.
As if drawn to all the violence and drive by a need to be the first to strike, he pushed Osamu and Gen aside. Even though they were supposed to have his back, Chisuke paid them no mind and turned around. He barreled through them roughly, sending them almost tripping to the ground.
At the time, they were annoyed by his lack of cooperation, but found a kind of compromise with him, a makeshift peace of sorts to use that idiot’s bad points and turn them into something beneficial.
All in all, he made for great bait. Cruel and demeaning as it sounded, and as justified as they were in hating Chisuke’s violent solo act, in their reconsidering eyes, he had actually taken the heat off them. Osamu and Gen were corebinders like Chisuke, and they came from the Eastern Bloc.
Getting stuck in and rampaging like a god of war was their M.O.
A commonality among them. So why exactly did they all have such different demeanors? And why did they not get along? Mostly because Chisuke was Chisuke, they thought.
But at least he’s not pointing his blade at me.
Osamu sighed in relief as he watched when Chisuke took gash after gash on his arms. Fending off the encroaching claws with his Nodachi, hellhound after hellhound snarled with red molten maws as two were slayed in one swing and then a third in Chisuke’s retreating slash.
With his blade’s longer reach, Chisuke could eliminate those hellhounds that got close to try for an extreme close range encounter. Yes, their claws were powerful, they could rip through an explorer’s defensive aura with ease, knowledge that Osamu and Gen had earned the hard way through years of experience, same as Chisuke.
A trial by fire. It made them better, improved from how they were in a time before.
But they were short and Chisuke used that against them with how he had the longer reach.
When Chisuke drew them in, Gen and Osamu immediately knew what to do and could pick off those which slipped up and were too inattentive to notice their maneuvering to flank, pincer, and down them in a heartbeat. By their count, between the two of them, Osamu and Gen downed maybe 3 to 4 hounds by the end of the fight.
Since there were originally 10 enemies, Chisuke downed an impressive 6, a fact he took pride in. He smiled, a shit eating grin as if he had defeated a rival or bully, but Osamu knew Chisuke had no bullies, with the exception of one.
He shivered and Gen picked up on that, though he kept his silence and tried to look away as if he hadn’t noticed or realized who Osamu was thinking about.
“Finally!” Chisuke declared. “Come on you idiots, we gotta move!”
“Yeah yeah.” Osamu said wearily. “But doesn’t today seem different?”
“Hmmm? What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about today’s training. This is the first part, a simple real life battle that explorer’s usually go through, but we all know from our years here that it can be that simple.”
“True.” Gen said. “What twist have they given us this time I wonder?”
“Doesn’t matter!” Ignoring the question. Chisuke stormed off toward the navigation point in his HUD. Due to the hellhounds, they were cut off from the main frontline force. The ever changing nature of the battle meant instantaneous decisions needed to be made in seconds.
On top of the diminishing time limit, getting left behind seemed par for the course. Just another layer to understand from the cruel training and heavy expectation put on them, nothing new for upperclassmen like them.
If you couldn’t keep up with the incoming orders or comms chatter, then you’d be left behind, no questions asked.
Hurrying the two along, Chisuke took point.
“What matters is that we need to move forward.” He sped his pace up, pumping high amounts of core energy through his circulatory systems, boosting his lung capacity and muscular resilience, he ran at speed like that of car. Every explorer had their own method of using their core energy to augment themselves.
From his time and training in his homeland, the Eastern Bloc, having enough air was key to athleticism. Before, when he was a kid, sports was his bread and butter. Not anymore though.
With his powers as an explorer, his family and its clan, had him changing his extracurriculars.
Breath, just gotta breathe and get going. Pumping himself full of all the gutsiness he could. Chisuke grinned.
“Keep up you two! We took too much time and the frontline moved without us. We’ll regroup and go for the goal.”
Somewhat ticked off, Gen and Osamu nevertheless did the same and circulated their core energy, working up a sweat as they talked and ran.
Catching up in step along Chisuke, Osamu and Gen surveyed the area. Not only were they keeping a lookout for threats, but trying to understand the purpose of today’s training. Again, the idea that a simulated real life battle would help the student explorers become more adaptive in the future came to mind.
Yet the two couldn’t shake off the feeling something was up. Today's class was too straight forward, and while a few classes in the past had been simple, that wasn’t enough assured proof that nothing would change.
“Do you think they’ll add another objective?” Gen asked Osamu. “You know, like another destination after this one to throw everyone off? Make us think we won when we’re at our lowest and then over turn it to overwork us? It’s as sadistic as the previous years of practical class.”
“That’s possible, and don’t remind me. I’m still trying to scrub that out of my brain.” Rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear, Osamu continued as he pushed himself to run faster. “But! My bet is more on the 2nd part of today’s class. The first part must be leading into something else.”
“You sound sure of yourself. What do you think it’ll be?”
“I.. I have no clue.” Dejected, Osamu went silent in an attempt to deflect his flustering blunder. It was embarrassing that he knew something was up, but couldn’t bring up any concise evidence.
Breaking from the conversation, Gen checked the HUD. He had been doing this every practical class and was trying to use his manifested ability. His power.. was unique. He had an uncanny reaction speed that made him able to dodge almost all kinds of attacks.
While it was in part to his core energy enhanced physical abilities and cerebral chemistry. To an observer, Gen could evade attacks before he himself knew they were coming, either consciously or unconsciously.
He would seemingly be where the attacks weren’t or know what to do before knowing what it was for. If he put it into his own words, his powers were finicky, based more on luck and sudden bouts of instinct and intuition.
He had no real full control over how it is activated or manipulated, only vague feelings. And right now, his feelings were telling him to look at the map, like all those times before.
Maybe there’s an answer on here, but what? Gen thought, trying to scry the truth from what seemed like chicken scratches in the dirt. Utterly nothing made sense, he couldn’t read into it, the vague hints of subtle sensation in his head.
Everything is going fine, only about a few minutes left, some of the other frontline areas have made it but we haven’t. Only a few miles left. So what is the twist? Is there even a twist?
Gen started to believe otherwise. The more he tried to sense that feeling, like an itch or a sudden compulsion, it got farther away. He was grasping at fray lines of twine fluttering so fast that they licked his fingers, teasing him with bits of knowledge and truths, which only fed him with anxiety.
[Up the hill! Quick!] Chisuke roared over the crackle of the comms. Taking his attention off the map, Gen found a small incline ahead. Of course, Chisuke made his way up first, heartlessly not looking back to check on his allies as he yelled at them over comms.
A pain in the butt. Gen thought. But the guy was reliable. Violent, but reliable.
[Hold up! Will you! You’re getting too far ahead, what if you get ambushed again!] Osamu replied over team comms. He sounded like he was getting paranoid, and Chisuke was comparatively growing in irritation.
[Then I’ll deal with it! Just back me up like you idiots always do!]
[Really! Jeez, why do I even stick with you.]
[Don’t ask me, you stick to Gen and he sticks to me, so ask him about that ability of his.]
Without another word, Osamu gave up and hurried up the hill with Gen following his back. Osamu came in at a smidge to the right of Chisuke’s position, keeping his violent “friend’s” flank covered while Gen made sure to keep a watch on where he wasn’t looking.
Quite tactical if Osamu said it himself. All those hardcore training exercises with the other grunt class students from the academy were paying off. Young as they were, and awkward as it was to have 10 to 15 year olds teach you, when you yourself was supposed to be the adult, the older one, it was an enlightening past couple of sessions.
Thankfully, the awkwardness dissipated when the more senior grunts took over. Now those were some sharp laced professionals. Osamu couldn’t get the playback of how they cleared a room out of his head.
They looked all serious and used hand signs, as if it were in an action movie. Except this was real, Osamu grimly realized that and that they had used the tactic before. They’ve fought monsters before, they’ve seen people die.
A souring thought to his once congratulatory mood for himself.
[Wait. Hold on.] Stopping Osamu’s line of thought, Gen grabbed his shoulder from behind. That got his attention and they both stopped in their tracks and put their heads on a swivel. Gen turned right, saw nothing, then left, saw also nothing.
Osamu looked up and then checked behind. They had set up an unspoken rule to watch and monitor like this in order to prevent themselves from being snuck up on.
[Nothing?]
While Gen meant nothing by nothing, he actually meant there weren’t any downed tanks or jeeps out of commission nearby.
That made Gen’s brow twitch and he picked up on the tells Gen shot to him.
Did we not lose any vehicles? Gen asked himself, wary of the clean plains ahead. There were still signs of a fight, bullet casings and tank tracks, but too many to think they were reaching the climax of this fight. A showdown, or kind of trouble, was coming, Gen knew it, in fact, he bet all the other upperclassmen felt the same.
We lost about half getting here, heck, the aerial robots were aiming for them. Have they changed tactics? Or is a new factor being added? Ugh! My brow, it itches.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Gen?’ Osamu called to him. “I can’t understand why you’re stopping me if you keep staring into space.” He complained. “What is it? What could possibly be-“
“..! Huh!”
Gen suddenly let out a sharp breath, a second later he suddenly ran past Osamu up the hill, bumping him and making Osamu almost face plant into the ground. Getting himself balanced, Osamu hurriedly tried to catch up.
“Hey! What the heck! What was that for!”
His complaint falling on deaf ears, he creased the hill and found Gen staring out into the distance. Catching his breath, Osamu bucked him in the shoulder as payback.
“Oi! Will you hurry up and tell me what’s up?”
“Look! Over there!”
Gen pointed a finger to direct Osamu’s attention ahead. In the distance, across the rolling plains and scatter of green grass and foliage, they both saw lights in the distances. They hung over the tops of the small rolling hills ahead.
Chisuke saw it too, he was stood stalk still, disbelief evident in his now drained eyes. They were once full of light and violent fury. Now, now they were trembling, as if both scared and excited.
Bobbing like leaf to leaf like fireflies at night, all three of their hearts dropped as they saw it get closer. Osamu's mouth went slack jawed, agape as if he were a fish on land for the first time.
“This.. This is impossible.”
***[Frontline Group Beta – North Sector – Approximately 12.48 miles to Goal]***
***[Time Remaining - 19 minutes]***
[Contact! New Enemy forces at Point 1120. Activating Passive Long radar.]
A young communications trainee waited as his view screen from within the tank refreshed. The long range radar in this tank had many highly precise scanning functionality that is higher than the earpiece he and everyone else wore.
Thanks to the antenna and supplement supply from the tank’s engine, the long range was increased exponentially. It wouldn’t help much since the target destination was so close, only about 10 miles left he thought, and then he’d be home free.
The screen pinged and a line of text scrolled across his retinas.
[The count is, the count.. is..!]
His words growing slower, the trainee swallowed a lump that quickly formed in his throat. Sweat dripped onto his earmuff headphones. While it reduced high decibel sounds and was for hearing incoming communications, the loudest noise he couldn’t stop hearing in his head was the thump of his ever increasing heart beat.
It pressed like a jackhammer into brittle concrete, and he considered double checking before addressing his findings to the man in charge.
That man was S1, the senior trainee leading this certain north sector alliance of a hodgepodge group of students and trainees. So far, they were behind in making it to the goal of this training exercise.
According to his aid’s eavesdropping over long distance comms, it made sense. With how scattered they were in the beginning of the hours of the training exercise, it took time to muster up into a coherent group.
The other more concentrated groups of students that dropped in, hooked up with other CAU and CDU groups, who knew what they were doing.
Not to mention how this year’s batch of first years students had a variety of colors to choose from. As customizable, adaptable, and as flowery his mind tried to spin it, having too much variety could be a disadvantage.
In S1’s words, we have a lot of good options except they don’t mix well.
Luckily, they eventually did, but other northern sector groups were faster, and this became a bit of a sore spot for S1. So when he heard the communications officer start to say something, then stop, he rushed the kid to spit out whatever he had to say. Time was ticking and he had little patience.
“What is it kid? What’s the count!”
S1 kicked him in the back for good measure, making him jump in his seat.
[T.. tw.. T-two..]
Annoyed by how much of a stuttering mess he became, S1 glared hard at him, bearing down on him like a drill sergeant would on an indecisive private in training.
“Spit it out! Now!”
[TWO MILLION! SIR!]
“..What!”
Taken back, S1 for a moment wanted to scold the communications officer for making a mistake. He stopped himself. The kid had been doing one heck of a fine job the last half hour, so he gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Come over, S1 checked the long range radar himself and gaped. These numbers made no sense. That was too many, too many for a damn training exercise. A few thousand sent in waves made sense per the prior briefing before he and his guys were dropped into this hell of a training exercise, but over a million was too cruel of a joke.
S1 reviewed the radar’s data and confirmed the sighting, an enormous wave of enemies were bearing down on them and they’d be on them soon. He’d have minutes, and he was using them to figure out if this was still true or not, if this was some kind of mistake on management’s parts.
Did the CDU and CAU instructors want them to fail? Did their commanding officers in charge of their training want to haze them again? Like they did for all new trainees.
It all made sense, he thought. He stared at the HUD’s map, seeing a literal tide of an oddly misshapen red line roll across his view. Not only that, but the groups in the rear were being beaten down.
New enemies were appearing left and right, in places he thought he once knew were clear, now they were covered on the map with red. Pockets of resistance, their green icons flashing, were holding, though not for long. There were just too many and scattered across different positions.
Doubling back would cost them time and ammunition they didn’t have.
Grateful as S1 was for them having his group’s back, he dared not to turn back, to not let everything go to waste to save a few by sacrificing the many. He cursed in his mind, not letting his discomfort show so that it didn’t affect his group’s morale.
Climbing back up and halfway out of the tank’s top hatch, S1 peered forward with his binoculars.
He was coming up with a plan, the best he could in such a short amount of time. He had to, he was the most senior CDU or CAU trainee here, he had the guts, the guts to make it through more training than the other younger ones here. Because of that, he needed to set an example.
If he failed to keep his composure, their system of command would fall apart.
No way am I losing!
As if the demon inside of him was released, S1 screamed orders at the top of his lungs as they came to him.
[All Units! Halt!]
His command given, the traveling column of students and trainees stopped dead in their tracks. They traveled at a good clip, about 40 to 50 miles per hour, so the trainees jerked in their seats as the drivered braked. Those that ran skidded their boots into the ground to stop.
Confusion and chatter filled the comms. S1 ignored them, shutting his comms to transmit rather than receive.
They’d listen to him, whether they liked it or not.
[To all Armored Divisions, Tanks! Form a wedge formation at our 12 o’clock! On the double! Armored Infantry, Prep bombardment rounds and load up on the tanks. Use the tanks to brace yourselves and wait for my signal to fire! All non armored grunts, mount up on jeeps and ready grenade launchers. Prep for interception runs! For all explorer groups, take up positions at our flanks! We’ve got more coming, so get in gear!]
He flipped his comms back to receive and heard everyone out. He knew there would be some push back, this event was too sudden and they likely hadn’t seen it on their shorter ranged radars or HUD’s restricted tactical map.
[Wait what! I thought it was over.]
[Yeah, the goals right over there!]
[Yeah, hey! S1 was it! Can it, you runt!]
[This grunt’s probably just riling us up! You don’t scare me!]
[Yeah, what he said! What’s your deal with stopping us now!]
These sons of a..
S1 reigned in his anger. While the first couple of responses were normal skepticisms, the last few were definitely from a few cocky first years. The most infuriating kind to S1. People who didn’t get it and were not native.
The deep Russka, Chinsui, and other assorted dialects in their tone made it obvious.
Stupid Tourists. S1 scoffed and then calmly barked over the comms. He was in command and the trainees listened to him. So if they wanted to turn tail and run off, so be it, but he wouldn’t let his trainees, his fellow brothers and sisters in arms, go along with their foolishness.
[Look at your HUDs you freaking dolts! If I hear anymore back talk, I’m going to leave you for dead! Got it! Now move! Bearing left! 0.25 clicks south east!]
Cutting his connection off permanently with those dissenting voices, S1 fed those who didn’t wish to listen to the wolves. Quite literally.
As soon as the frontline group moved to get into their positions, many disgruntled first year students charged ahead. Thinking they could make it, a minute later, some came running back with their tails between their legs, while the more reckless ones tried their luck. Only, those that did had their green blips cut out a couple seconds later.
A sad but rightful ending for a bunch of unruly failures. S1 relished for a second as he imagined how those arrogant first years were probably beaten black and blue. The constructs didn’t hold back, they didn’t kill, but they’d tear into the trainees and students enough to render them unconscious.
With how the Andromeda students had more highly enhanced bodies due to their core energy, a few broken bones and internal bleeding seemed sufficient to make them pass out.
“Serves you right.” S1 muttered.
Taking a forward position in his tank, S1’s armored division of tanks rolled up and steadied themselves. If S1 and his group had any hope of blasting or even surviving their way through that swarm of 2 million incoming enemies, they’d need a plan.
Currently, they stood no chance of obtaining a complete victory. So the best option now was to rush forward and blaze a path through for some of their forces to reach the goal. S1 was fine if he’d be left behind, he at least wanted to win and he knew tacitly that the other trainees did as well, they were the grunts, they did the heavy lifting, no hard feelings.
Another tank leader gave him a nod and his HUDs indicator winked green several times.
Thanks guys. Offering a quick thanks in his heart, S1 hardened it, knowing that he couldn’t let his emotions distract him in the middle of a fight. Monitoring the long range himself, S1 had the communications officer feed the data to his earpiece in real time, establishing a data link.
He had avoided doing so until now since it reduced the tank’s scanning ability. Because of the data link, it would take up the computer’s processing to keep sending his ear device info. But this was do or die, so for now, to hell with the tank’s other doodads and gizmos.
Coming into short range view, S1 raised his arm up, signaling the tanks over comms as well.
[Contact within Artillery range! All tanks, Adjust sights! Change Round to Timed Fuse! 5 Seconds!]
[Time fuse confirmed!] They all replied. [All Tanks Loaded! Awaiting Firing Trajectories]
[Sending now.]
[Received! Order when ready.]
[Roger. I detect enemy waves 1 and 2 on approach. Get ready!]
Hot sweat sweltered on S1’s neck. In moments, he’d see if his reckless plan would work. Experienced as he was, his status as a trainee was still a hit to his confidence.
He pushed down all the indecision and worry that welled in him, putting on a mask of calm vengefulness.
What is in front of us is the enemy. As a grunt of Andromeda, as a grunt of the CAU, we fight to the last. We assail the enemy with body and steel!
The red icons came into his marked range and he ordered with a heavy heart and deep baritone voice he thought would be enough to instill confidence in his men.
[All units! FIRE!]
A harrowing echo of tank guns spewed fire, their thunderous shells rocketing up into the air like fireworks. Streaking into the sky, their cascading lines of white trail help to pull S1 into the zone. Grinning, he swung his arm forward. Chasing after them, S1 commanded the tanks forward at a slow advance.
[Continue firing! Max Artillery Suppression and Spread! Fire everything we have!]
[Sir! Yes sir!]
Hefting shells one after another, the tank crews put their backs into them. In return, the distant lands ahead echoed quakes as red plumages of fire erupted. Moments later, figures crested a distant hill.
[Contact! Enemy within sight! All Tanks! Change to Armored Piercing Munitions! Sending Targeting data! DEAD AHEAD!]
[Affirmative. Munnition change confirmed! Data confirmed! Firing!]
Not needing any prompting, the tank gunners sighted in. Moments as the figures crested over the distant plain’s rolling hills, they saw in their scopes the charging swarm of white, brown, and red figures filling their eyes.
Joints clattering, white puppets sprinted with bladed arms.
Earthen golem stomped in step and the hounds of hell heralded their fiery end. But not today, they fell to the might of 122 millimeter tank fire, the rounds ripping a swath of carnage and splinters.
Giving command over the tanks to his aid, S1 switched comms channels to the heavy infantry mounted atop the tanks.
[HOLD!!!!! HOLD!] S1 held his hand up, keeping the armored infantry incheck as they continued to steadied their iron cladded hearts. Their heavy gun’s held at the ready, S1 kept an eye on the distance indicator of his HUD.
8000 meters, 7500, 7000, 6000. They were within range, but he had to make this count, 6000, 5500, 5000, 4900, 4800, 4700, 4600, 4500. Time slowed for S1, he could hear his blood pumping with every pulse in the bottoms of his boots.
With the slowing clarity, he witnessed the ever present yet hidden trembling in his fellow trainees.
No, not in them, it was the ground. The ground was shaking from the sheer number of enemies rushing at them. He gulped, and watched his distant indicator tick down as the meters of distance decreased. The tanks continued to fire, his aid’s voice was muffled, he tuned it out.
The recoiling tank’s barrel’s shockwaves hit his cheeks in rapid succession, rattling his eyes for splits of a second.
4400, 4300, 4200, 4100, 4050.
NOW! NOW! WE DO IT NOW!
Without even the time to breathe, S1 shouted.
[FIRE! ALL GUNS! FIRE!]
Opening up, heavy guns rocked the encroaching enemies that dared to cross the fields ahead. Very much in their range, the heavy guns hit with an incredible accuracy. With the tanks slow advance, followed by the armored infantry’s cacophonous fire, the line pushed forward as more and more enemies were whittled down like a field of wheat to a scythe.
[To all Explorer Groups! Begin Search and Destroy! Priority Target! Tactical Earth Golem! Focus suppression at point 2348 to 3420.]
[Copy, we’re moving in.]
Spreading to the flanks, the student explorers who trusted in S1 came forward. Hurrying around his wedged formation of tanks from the left and right flank, core energy flared around like creeping flames. Clashing against the tide of enemies, the student’s both cover S1’s increasingly speeding up forward advance while eliminating key targets.
Countering his plans, hellhounds jumped from the swarming tide. Fiery eyes honing in on the students, some first years trembled. Not missing a beat, S1 put forward all his effort. His eyes on the entire changing battlefield, they darted around and across the map in his HUD.
[Left Flank, move 5 tanks to point 2578. Infantry Group 32! Run fire support! Keep those explorers safe. Right Flank, we have a group of hungry hounds coming for our guests, give them the main course of a fine piece of smoking lead!]
[Understood! Sir! Come on you shits! Kill the bastards!]
Viciously forming small and mobile groups, S1 diverted some of his frontline forces to intercept encroaching threats. As much as he wished this would all end well, the indicators of his group's total munitions were decreasing. If only unfire and tanks were enough to get through this, but that just wasn’t possible.
After close to an hour of fighting, fatigue and munition supplies were falling. He’d have to abandon his tank soon and meet the enemy in melee, a situation not in favor for grunt classes like himself and the majority of his group.
S1 was putting his bets on the explorers and that they could create a miracle, like those that did during the war, like the stories he studied like mad.
[Hey! HEY! S1 DO YOU COPY! This is GROUP 6. I SAY AGAIN! THIS IS GROUP 6. CAN YOU READ ME! HEY! PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE!]
A familiar and incorrigible voice buzzed over his comms. S1 wasn’t happy to hear it, though was nonetheless glad, but he didn’t smile.
[Hmph! Good, you survived and made it on time.] S1 said curtly. [That’s a first. Get going! I’m sending you coordinates! We got incoming and I’m sending you to do your favorite pastime.]
[To hell with your coordinates! What the heck is going on! What’s with all the-]
[Shut it Chisuke! No time for talk, time for kill. And you’re great at that, so get to work.]
S1 cut his reunion short but heard the satisfactory sound of Chisuke’s tongue clicking. He didn’t like the uppity and boorish senior student, not one bit. Right now though, S1 thought to at least maybe get a couple beers with the guy after this.
As long as you fight, I’ll have your back, so don’t disappoint me.
“And when this is over, we’ll laugh and have a good time over a good drink.” He mumbled. “I turned 18 yesterday, so why not.”
A renewed confidence spread within S1, his voice becoming clearer as he grabbed his rifle.
[FORWARD! WE FIGHT FOR VICTORY! GIVE THEM EVERYTHING YOU GOT! THIS IS THE FINAL SPRINT GO! GO! GO!]
Melodious and deep cries roared around him, so loud that the tank guns, explosions, and barraging rifle fire was overwhelmed. Trainees, aged from 10 to 20, raged around. Giving their all as thousands came to stand in their way.
“Victory! Victory! Victory!” A chant went out, united in one overriding purpose. Guns roared, soldiers charged, tanks rolled, explosions rang all about. When one tank ran out of ammo, it charged the line of enemies, mow and crushing puppets under their tread.
When it was silenced and broken, the crew held on for dear life. Kicking and screaming, they fought for as long as they could. The constructs would have to drag them out and the trainees didn’t let them have it the easy way.
Combat knife and pistol in hand, they hunkered down and carved the eye out of any puppet or hound that tried to get in. The tank rolled and the trainees screamed.
Knocked unconscious, they were dragged out and sent back for first aid by the constructs. They bought time, they bought seconds of inattention from the enemy. And those seconds added up. The front moved inching closer and closer.
The armor infantry kept the tide at bay, heavy guns heating so red that trainees winced as heat ran up their armored gloved hands.
Sweltering in their armor, the heavy infantry continued to fire. Aim, hold the trigger, fire, reload, and repeat. Constantly constantly, they called for ammo and ripped through it.