L337 Lemming
06-25-2006, 05:03 PM
sorry if this is meant to go somewhere but i didnt know if i should have put it at the end of Mooses one as it is his thread safter all. im not rly good but i like what i wrote, dont expect the next divinci code, and i know i ramble a bit but thats how i write. enjoy (i hope) !
only part one of two as it is longer than i thought! :D
Crapes knew it wouldn’t be long until they were all dead. He had seen the “leftovers” from when those things killed, when they burst out of the floor and wiped out such a large amount of Sera’s population. This was ridiculous; how were they to fight these…things? They came in all shapes and sizes, and it took nearly a full clip to put one down. It didn’t help that these friggin’ rifles were so ineffective. The lancer rifles he and his men carried into battles were good against human opponents and had proven that time and time again during the imulsion wars, but they were prone to jamming mid battle, causing any kind of tactical manouvers involving covering fire, pretty useless. He was amazed he wasn’t already dead like the three who hadn’t been as fortunate. Or was he fortunate? The only reason he wasn’t like Kibbs, Mcmahon, and Ryder was because they had stayed to suppress whilst him and the handful of survivors ran like cowards. There was no honour in that which he had done, and boy did he know it. The pain that cut deep into his guts when he turned from them and ran was unbearable, he had effectively sent those men to their deaths and for what? So he could sit here in this empty resturaunt and wait for the locust to find him? “Some war hero” he muttered under his breath whilst taking a slow drag on his limp cigarette. Crapes had been awarded the distinguished cross of honour but three weeks ago for taking over one of the key imulsion drilling sites, and now he was slumped behind a table, feeling sorry for himself and wishing it would all end, well if the locust didn’t find and kill him, then maybe the cigarette would speed up the process.
“any sign of the bastards?” Crapes murmered into the general direction of the window
“No sir, no sign yet” replied Miller, the sharpshooter of the group “looks like they got bored of hunting and gave up”
“they don’t ‘Give up’ son, they’re ruthless and when they find us, I’m sure they would be only too happy to demonstrate this to you” Miller stopped looking over to Crapes and tried to focus his scope so as he could see the surrounding plaza better. Well, it was a plaza, but now all that remained were some lumps of stone, and half a pillar upon which once stood a monument to the simpler days, when nobody shot each other over some ‘new age petrol’ but what did he know? He wasn’t drafted in to contemplate the pros and cons of the situation, he was called in because he could handle the sniper rifle better than his fellow ‘green horns’ and had stupidly volunteered for this outfit, thinking it would be a simple life, but this ‘life’ had been anything but simple, they had to move during the light hours because the creepy bastards didn’t like the light, and at night they would hunker down for hours of keeping watch and not sleeping. He was exhausted, the last time he had a night of uninterrupted sleep was weeks ago, now he’d be lucky to get such a luxury. It was just him, corporal O’Conner and the sergeant now though, the three of them hiding in this crap hole of a resturaunt, and only him doing any of the important work. He put it down to being the most inexperienced, the rookie of the group. That or it was because the sergeant Crapes was a hard ass, though it would take a brave man to tell it to him, and that man sure as hell wasn’t Miller.
Just as he was getting comfy, O’Conner received a transmission over the squads com-link system,
“what is it Miller?” he wearily asked
only part one of two as it is longer than i thought! :D
Crapes knew it wouldn’t be long until they were all dead. He had seen the “leftovers” from when those things killed, when they burst out of the floor and wiped out such a large amount of Sera’s population. This was ridiculous; how were they to fight these…things? They came in all shapes and sizes, and it took nearly a full clip to put one down. It didn’t help that these friggin’ rifles were so ineffective. The lancer rifles he and his men carried into battles were good against human opponents and had proven that time and time again during the imulsion wars, but they were prone to jamming mid battle, causing any kind of tactical manouvers involving covering fire, pretty useless. He was amazed he wasn’t already dead like the three who hadn’t been as fortunate. Or was he fortunate? The only reason he wasn’t like Kibbs, Mcmahon, and Ryder was because they had stayed to suppress whilst him and the handful of survivors ran like cowards. There was no honour in that which he had done, and boy did he know it. The pain that cut deep into his guts when he turned from them and ran was unbearable, he had effectively sent those men to their deaths and for what? So he could sit here in this empty resturaunt and wait for the locust to find him? “Some war hero” he muttered under his breath whilst taking a slow drag on his limp cigarette. Crapes had been awarded the distinguished cross of honour but three weeks ago for taking over one of the key imulsion drilling sites, and now he was slumped behind a table, feeling sorry for himself and wishing it would all end, well if the locust didn’t find and kill him, then maybe the cigarette would speed up the process.
“any sign of the bastards?” Crapes murmered into the general direction of the window
“No sir, no sign yet” replied Miller, the sharpshooter of the group “looks like they got bored of hunting and gave up”
“they don’t ‘Give up’ son, they’re ruthless and when they find us, I’m sure they would be only too happy to demonstrate this to you” Miller stopped looking over to Crapes and tried to focus his scope so as he could see the surrounding plaza better. Well, it was a plaza, but now all that remained were some lumps of stone, and half a pillar upon which once stood a monument to the simpler days, when nobody shot each other over some ‘new age petrol’ but what did he know? He wasn’t drafted in to contemplate the pros and cons of the situation, he was called in because he could handle the sniper rifle better than his fellow ‘green horns’ and had stupidly volunteered for this outfit, thinking it would be a simple life, but this ‘life’ had been anything but simple, they had to move during the light hours because the creepy bastards didn’t like the light, and at night they would hunker down for hours of keeping watch and not sleeping. He was exhausted, the last time he had a night of uninterrupted sleep was weeks ago, now he’d be lucky to get such a luxury. It was just him, corporal O’Conner and the sergeant now though, the three of them hiding in this crap hole of a resturaunt, and only him doing any of the important work. He put it down to being the most inexperienced, the rookie of the group. That or it was because the sergeant Crapes was a hard ass, though it would take a brave man to tell it to him, and that man sure as hell wasn’t Miller.
Just as he was getting comfy, O’Conner received a transmission over the squads com-link system,
“what is it Miller?” he wearily asked