It was late in the day, less than an hour after school let out. I felt my heart racing as "Fortunate Son" played on the radio. My friend, Super Major Dylan told Top Brass to turn it up. Top Brass reminded him to say "please." He complied with a grumble and occupied himself with polishing scuffs off of his water soaker. The Creedence Clearwater Revival song drowned out any potential for conversation. Not much to say in moments like these anyway. I triple checked the chamber of my foam dart gun. Still eleven darts like last time. I'm still feeling the sting of losing the twelfth one in my basement last week.
Pinewood Park used to be a nice place before the bad guys came along and turned it into a war zone. Whether it's a misguided sense of pride or just pure animal instinct, they will not stop until they take control of everything. Only soldiers like Dylan and I can stop them. Too bad for them, our spirits are high, our weapons are loaded, and we didn't have much homework today.
When the transport finally landed at the LZ, Dylan and I unbuckled our seat belts and eagerly awaited for the automatic door to open just wide enough for us to squeeze out. As soon as we had an opening, we didn't even wait for the order. We could hear Top Brass yelling at us to wait. We jumped out, guns blazing, and pushed toward the objective. Our blood ran hot as we dispatched bad guy after bad guy. We pushed forward to the basketball hoop as Top Brass ordered us to stay where she can see us. Soon enough, my gun was spent and Dylan covered me while I gathered my darts. One of the bad guys almost got past him and closed in on me, but I reloaded just in time. I put two in his chest and one in his head. After about an hour of mop up work, we secured the area and gained a valuable foothold for the war effort.
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We had hoped to accomplish more, but Top Brass said it was getting dark out and Dylan's CO didn't want him out too late on a school night, so we had to call it for now. It was a rather successful offensive, though I think the worst is yet to come. We ended the day back at HQ and enjoyed some well-deserved MREs. Civilians call them Lunchables. Top Brass won't say much, but Dylan and I are sure it's going to be a long war.