Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190809183350/@comment-5583506-20190917024258

"Return fire, damn you!" the lieutenant roared, firing his gun from behind a collapsed wall.

They could barely hear him. The Reds were bombarding their position with heavy artillery and bullets. Shane knew that this was it. This was the place where he would finally die. And Molly wouldn't be the wiser. His muscles tensed up and he blinked, seemingly unfazed by the brooding dangers outside of their defenses. It was almost as if he had accepted his fate before the fight had even begun. It didn't matter if they had been winning over the Chinamen and were slowly gaining control over the region. This place would be his grave.

"Return fi..." The lieutenant's voice trailed off in a sickening groan as the left side of his head was completely blown off. His body collapsed forward, before being shredded to pieces in a hailstorm of bullets.

Blood sprayed over his comrades in cover behind the ruined shed.

"LIEUTENANT!" Private Kinsky exclaimed, shocked by the sight.

Shane hadn't bothered to look. Just hearing the officer's voice being cut off so abruptly was enough for him to know what their situation was.

"Stay calm!" Sergeant Fang said. "Stay fucking calm!"

A grenade exploded just behind their cover. The noise roared like a deafening cannon in their ears, followed by a shrill ringing. They wouldn't be able to stay here for much longer. Shane had already made his peace with the idea that he wouldn't come back to Molly and his newborn daughter, but nevertheless he at least wanted to give the Reds a piece of his mind before he went down like another idiot. Just like the lieutenant.

"Kinky, Spits, Narrow, Lu-Loo!" Sergeant Fang called out their nicknames. While private Kinsky had at this point gotten used to his, whereas the others still took a moment or two to realize that Fang was referring to them. "You return fire, cover our asses! Shanks, Fiddler, Hockey, you are with me! We need to relocate!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Private Finn "Fiddler" Deeler exclaimed. "We will be ripped to ..." Another explosion sent gravel and shrapnel raining down on them, causing Fiddler to flinch and clench his helmet hard. "We will be ripped to shreds before we are even halfway through!"

"You got any better idea?! You are under orders, private! And I am ordering you to follow suit!"

Fiddler swallowed hard, his arms were shaking and he could barely hold his own rifle steady.

"See that building over there?!" Fang said, motioning over at a partially collapsed three-story building. "We need to set up defenses there, draw their attention there! Once we've got their attention, Kinky, Spits, and Narrow will rendez-vouz with us in the building, setting up defenses on the first floor and together we will drive these bastards off. Is that made clear?!"

Another grenade explosion shook some parts of the shed down, exposing their position further. The damn Commies sure wanted to draw them out of there, and it seemed as if they were about to get their wish fulfilled.

"Corporal", Fang said, looking at Shane. "You got my back, you hear?! I don't want a single damn China-made bullet near me as we move!"

Shane nodded. "Sir", he said steadily.

Fang furrowed his brow. He was either concerned for the corporal's mental composure, or impressed at how resilient the man was in the face of danger.

"Alright, stay frosty, men", Sergeant Fang said. "Remember, we make it out of this alive and drinks will be on me back at Mandakh."

Fang's confidence seemed to ease the tension somewhat as some of the soldier readied themselves to follow orders. Kinky, Spits, Narrow, and Lu-Loo, all reloaded their rifles and checked their ammo reserves. It was more than enough to follow the plan through.

"Shanks", Fang said, motioning with his head. "Fiddler, Hockey."

Shane moved up behind the sergeant's back, gripping his rifle tightly. He swallowed hard and breathed out. If he got ripped into thousands of small parts he didn't want to give the Chinamen the pleasure of claiming his last breath.

"On my mark ... GO!" Fang commanded.

Rifles pattered, grenades boomed, and debris flew in all directions as they crossed the fields between the shed and the building. Shane was sure that the moment he set foot outside of their cover that he was a dead man. But his feet carried him forward, bullets flew past him so close that he could hear their whistling in his ears. He believed that he had already died and that his ghost was simply continuing to go bravely forward, not stopping for anything. And if he was dead, then surely the sergeant was dead as well, running just in front of him. Or maybe they had somehow turned invincible? He was walking on flying bullets, trudging over body parts. Blood, ash and soot, all mixed together. The stench of burnt flesh, metals, and exhaust filled his mind. He had no idea how they all made it over in one piece, but they did.

"Nice going, boys!" Fang said, catching a moment to breathe. It began to dawn on the officer that they were somehow still alive, and Shane could tell, judging by the man's twisted grimace, that he was on the moment of a breakdown. This was a fight not even the most hardened of men could walk away from unscathed in body and mind. "Right", he said in an exasperated voice. "Defenses! Shanks and I will take the top floor, assuming it's still available. Fiddler and Hockey, second floor, the far left windows. Get going! We need to draw away the fire from that shed!"

Shanks followed suit, his mind had been somewhere else these past few days. He felt completely stunted, and like a machine he was just following commands, not bothering to question them. A lot had happened since his first brush with death. A few months ago he had been arriving to this blazing hellscape of a warzone in a downed Vertibird, killing a Chinaman out of sheer reflexes. From that moment onward he had been like a completely different man. He had to undergo several mental evaluations from field doctors back at the camp. His composure had not as much been regained, as it had been almost completely removed. He didn't flinch at the sound of gunfire. Even killing came as easy to him. And he followed orders like a Gutsy. Those qualities combined had quickly earned him a couple of ranks in the field, inheriting them from previous officers who had lost their lives in the fight.

"Shanks? Corporal?"

"Hmm?"

Sergeant Fang glanced him over with a worrying stare. "Are you alright?"

Shane couldn't tell how they were already seated up at the windows of the third floor. How had they even gotten there?

"I am fine", he replied.

"No, you are fucking not. You are spacing out. And I need you alert right now, you got that?"

"Yes sir",  Shane sighed, adjusting his rifle as he peered over the window sill.

Fang was clearly on the edge, and the only thing that seemed to worry him more about urban warfare against a frontline of angry Chinamen, was that his second-in-command was beginning to turn into a brick wall than a human being.

Together they began to draw the attention of the soldiers of the People's Republic, lowering their numbers with some well-placed sniper shots from above. The Chinamen returned fire, but wouldn't be able to keep their pressure going for long as their numbers quickly dwindled, allowing the remaining soldiers behind the shed to make their move inside the building. The exchange of fire kept on going for quite some time, until eventually the tables turned and the Reds were forced to retreat further into the town, hiding among the collapsed buildings.

The sergeant peeked out through a side window. "Alright, they are retreating. And our boys made it in. Safe and sound. Not a single casualty, lieutenant not counting. God watch over his soul."

Shane didn't say a thing. He hadn't really paid attention. He was too busy taking out enemy soldiers with his sniper rifle. Cold sweat had poured from his forehead and down to his eyes, yet he hadn't let that affect his sight or aim. He hadn't even blinked in five minutes.

"They won't be bothering us for a while now", Fang said calmingly, as he took note of the corporal's steely gaze. "Let's make it back downstairs, but tread lightly. More of these bastards might be lurking about. Narrow will pursue radio contact and we will soon be regrouping with Beta squad."

Shane just nodded in response. "Mhm. Right."

He then sat still for a short moment, his eyes still fixed on the slaughterhouse outside. American soldiers, Chinese soldiers; whole bodies strewn across the plazas and the streets, or blasted to gory pieces that you could just barely make out the details of. The sergeant's footsteps faded in the distance. The man could obviously tell that the corporal needed some time for himself, to recollect and calm down.

A couple of minutes went by and Shane slowly began to come to his senses. He couldn't tell by this point if the water in his eyes were tears or more sweat, but nevertheless he wiped it off on his sleeve, hung the rifle onto his back and then drew his revolver. If there were more Chinamen skulking around, he would make sure that he would be the one to come out alive of such an encounter. He was already a dead man, after all. There was nothing to fear at this point. But if there was anything that this war had taught was that even dead men had the resilience and the strength to fight back.

"Molly..." he muttered. "Shannon... Daddy will be home soon."

As he approached the staircase he could hear the sound of footsteps just nearby. Scurrying footsteps, not the heavy thumping of American army boots.

Reds... he reflected and kept his revolver at the ready.

He steadily descended down the stairs. It had clearly been an apartment building at one point and time, now turned into a blasted ruin. The smaller cities surrounding Mandakh had suffered enormously in the wake of war, and only God knew how many civilians were among the total body count.

The scurrying footsteps crept up along the wall just ahead of him on the second floor. The pace of his heartbeats slowed down to the point where he had to give his own chest a soft pound to make sure that they hadn't stopped for good. Everything had turned eerily quiet. Some gunfire echoed in the faraway distance, and the sound of some rubble collapsing from a rooftop contributed to the sensation that this ghost town would not be inhabitated for at least a decade or more. Yet the soft footsteps remained... just behind the corner now...

He cocked his gun. The footsteps seemed to react to the clicking sound and quickly approached him from around the bend. Shane clenched his teeth together hard and rushed around the corner where he delievered a hard shot to the guts of his opponent.

I got you...

No. There was no one there. He had been expecting to come face-to-face with the Chinese soldier, but there was no one there. It took his eyes a while to adjust and realize that the face of his opponent was further down. A little Asian girl stood before him.

She couldn't be more than 10, he thought.

She looked up at him. Her eyes met his. They were filled with a silent fear and her little body was shaking. A dark spot in her belly began to grow bigger, and bigger, and bigger. She opened her mouth as if to scream, yet there was no sound coming from her.

His mind was wandering. He was still confused. Where was the Chinese soldier? Why was there a child here? Why was she bleeding? Once all the pieces had fallen into place it suddenly dawned on him. He subconsciously dropped his revolver.

The girl reached out for him, her little hand wandering aimlessly in the air as if she wanted to hang onto something or hold his hand.

"H-hey!" he stuttered, not knowing what else to say. "H-hang ... hang in ... Hang in there!" He seized her little hand in his own, as if trying to hold her up. To comfort her.

Strained breathing emitted from her body, and she began to shake uncontrollably as she sank down towards the wall.

"H-help me", he uttered with a faint whisper.

The girl chipped for breath like a fish on dry land, wishing for a safe return to the sea.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" he exclaimed, waking up from his state of lockdown.

The dark spot in her belly had coated the entire lower part of her dress, and a pool began to grow from underneath her. The sound of approaching, steadt footsteps echoed in the staircase.

"You will be fine, you hear?" he assured her. "I am with you! You will be fine!"

The girl didn't seem to understand what he was saying, or even what was going on. Her gaze drifted off and seemed to focus on something in the faraway distance, as if she was seeing right through him: a shallow window to another plane of existence.

"Shane?" Fang's voice said askingly. "Corporal, what in the ..." He then took note of the dying girl, lying halfway between the wall and the floor. "Aw, fuck..." he sighed. "I thought the civs had evacuated completely. She must have been left here."

"She'll be fine", Shane assured him, his voice wavering. "Bring Lu-Loo. He's got the medkit."

"Shane, I ..."

"BRING THE FUCKING MEDKIT!" the corporal shouted, turning to the sergeant with a livid gaze, not caring that Fang was his superior in command.

Fang looked distraught at him. "She's gone, Shane."

Shane's attention turned back to the girl. She was completely still, her eyes wide open. She seemed serene, even in the moment of her passing.

She's gone, Shane, Fang's words echoed in his mind.

"Yes. She is." He pinched his sellion and rubbed his brow, feeling all of a sudden ready to collapse.

It only occurred to him just now that a man was like a proverbial water tank. There was only so much you could fill it up with before the water eventually began to spill over. His eyes began to water, and this time he was confident that it wasn't from the cold sweat. His water tank was full. It was now spilling over.

While the group buried the lieutenant, he made sure to dig a grave of his own. Child-sized. Just the mere thought of that made his stomach turn. He choked up at the idea that somewhere out there, whether alive or dead, some parents were missing their daughter. A girl he had so easily taken from them. It didn't matter now, he thought. It didn't matter if he somehow made it back alive to the States. Was a child murderer worthy of safe passage back under the good grace of God? How could he ever hold his own girl with these hands without being reminded of the fact that he had snuffed out the life of someone else's?