Beautancus
Well-Known Member
Operation: Blackout .2
Brigade Combat Team (BCT) "Blizzard"
East-Southeast of Ouistreham
Disputed Western Burgundy
Now this is getting it stuck the fuck in, Sgt. Redwald Hines would have stepped back to take the time truly required to fully appreciate the surreal majesty of the moment, were that not likely to see him reduced to largely disassociated gore and viscera.
The Cussian Sergeant couldn't estimate how long his squad and the rest of BCT Blizzard had been actively engaged with the foe, and wouldn't have even if he wasn't being shot at besides. Bad form, more important business...
Engaging the magazine release "paddle" on the lower receiver of his ASR operating on muscle memory alone, the noncom took long enough to tap any excess dirt or trash from the next before feeding it home. That had made four magazines put fully through in this firefight so far, more than Hines had ever gone through in this short a span before. Never had it stuck in this hard either Redwald, Hines chided himself.
Having pushed much deeper into the old Burgundian depot, which now seemed more a hornets nest that had been kicked than a wooded countryside blasted flat by modern gunnery, Hines' squad now found themselves the focus of such very particular attentions as well. Still clearly reeling from the pounding the Cussian artillery had brought down on their heads not that long before, the Burgundians were making up for what they lacked in unit cohesion with dogged tenacity and bravery approaching the suicidal.
Blizzard's advance through the depot had brought them here some minutes before, to what appeared to have been the laundry for the base. A sturdy built structure, it was far enough into the site to have avoided the worst of the Cussian artillery's concentrated bombardment. A force of North Burgundians had thought to make use of the position before Hines and his squad, and the settlement of their dispute over the building's rightful management had been a near-run thing.
Hines glanced to the nearest wall, yellowed from age and a leaky roof allowed to slide for too many months, if not years, and partially obscured by dark-crimson spray from the men that'd died here just minutes before. Hines had lost one man in the action, KIA, dropped as they breached the door. Two more had been injured seriously before the structure was fully cleared, badly enough that they were combat ineffective, bringing the butcher's bill to four overall for the day. Wonder how Cap'n Pound is making it, been a while since we were in visual contact...
From the next room Pvt. Buck opened up with his autorifle-configured ASR, its increased rate of fire rendering the already sharp, hammering report of the weapon a distinctly murderous chatter, even in the tightly clustered bursts being sent out now. Hines ducked down fast, lining up with the nearest peep-hole to try and catch some glimpse at what - who - Buck was going for. Catching it just right to see every bit of a single Burgundian's back and shoulder as he died and flopped to the ground, heaving and twisted as he was pounded by .26 rounds - not altogether helpful or informative.
A rasping voice from the stairwell provided all the intel the peephole had lacked for, though Hines found rather quickly that he'd almost rathered not to know. Somewhere between a hissing whisper and full shout, eyes white and wide against a face darkened with ash and soot, Cpl. Outlaw skidded over the ground-floor after coming down two and three stairs at the time.
"Sarge, we've got eyes on a fucking platoon of EI picking their way up that drainage canal, high-high-tailing it our way like they got a powerful urge to have a talk about something."
Hines blinked, suddenly unsure of his ability to hold their current position against a platoon, and perhaps more unsure of the ability of the position itself to hold up to that much concentrated firepower.
To underscore the severity of the Corporal's entirely unsolicited revelation, Pvt. Buck was letting go with long, heavy streams of automatic fire now - none of the more controlled bursts from even a few seconds prior. As soon as the autorifle ran dry, the normally jolly soldier slammed another home and resumed firing, getting off a few aimed shots, then a double-tap before defaulting to much longer bursts.
The tell-tale crack of gunfire outside was spiking in volume again, the laundry building shaking a bit each time a Burgundian bullet found its home in an old brick or piece of timber. Hines wasn't waiting around for any of it now, come what may.
He and Cpl. Outlaw were back up the stairwell as fast as Outlaw had descended it, both couching their rifles in anticipation before even taking up their (prepared) firing positions. Daring a look over the edge of this much larger hole, Hines involuntarily clenched his buttocks in response to what he found outside. The bullets that chewed into the outside of the wall, just inches from his eye, helped matters not one bit.
"They're fanning out, and the bastards for sure have an idea of where we are in here..." Sgt Hines spoke to Outlaw alone first, quietly, then reconsidering the situation he bellowed out the rest so the whole squad could here.
"Here they come boys, sumbitches rolling like they mean it! Time to thank em for the target practice!" Hines poked the muzzle of his rifle through the hole now, generally in the direction of the largest concentration of troops he'd seen, and let her rip. So did every other man in the squad with a trigger to pull.
Alright Redwald, you've got it good and stuck in - how're you gonna unstick it? Hines had no answer for the shitty little voice inside his head, none save to keep firing.
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