[STORY] The Lone Soldier

[zendude]

The Lone Soldier

Through the darkness the thumping in his ears was almost deafening. Fuelled by adrenalin, his heart pumped like a piston under load. It took a great deal of focus to maintain his composure. “Focus Roger, you old fool” he said to himself. “You only have once chance at this.”

He drew in a breath through his nostrils and opened his eyes. The bright afternoon sun bit hard into his retinas, making him flinch briefly. It must have been around 1500 he guessed, but he could not tell for sure as his watch had become entangled in barbed wire and was torn from his wrist 3 weeks ago in France. As his eyes adjusted to the light again, he peered upwards to the sun in a vain attempt to scan for clouds, perhaps some respite in the form of shade. The sky over Victory Village was clear, punctuated only by a searing sun.

Victory Village. Aptly named he mused to himself. Only yesterday, a fierce altercation between the Royal s and Nationals occurred in the very street upon which Roger stood. He realised he could not afford the luxury of reminiscing – well not at this moment anyway – and quickly moved around the corner of a building on the main street. He pressed his back to the wall of the shaded alley and breathed in the cool air that dwelled in the narrow crevice. His heart once again began to race, forcing him to close his eyes and focus on his composure. “You can do it old boy” he muttered reassuringly to himself.

Yesterday’s battle was indeed fierce. The Nationals were well armed and well skilled; but the Royals had established a defensive line that was able to withstand the brunt of the attack. The battle lasted probably only 15 minutes, but in the presence of death, time seems eternal. The line of defenders almost came apart when the Nationals drove a pointed attack like a bronze spear into our weakest point. They would have been overrun had it not been for some quick thinking by two hardened Royal Gunners performing a beautifully executed pincer move on their flanks. It sounded like the world itself was exploding, the machine gun fire screamed like a possessed banshee. When the battle was over, three good Royal men were lost, however the enemy fared far worse, their entire company cut to pieces.

Roger’s mind snapped back into focus. His eyes sprung open and he strained to listen. Earlier that day, forward scouts had spotted a 3 man Nationals patrol car in the hills to the south of Victory Village. The estimates were sketchy as to when, let alone if, they would pass this way. Was this them coming now? Roger’s heart once again accelerated. He held his breath intently, listening, listening. In the distance a Raven cried, and the wind whispered secrets to the alleyways, but the sound of mechanics was absent.

Roger’s training was substantial. He had accomplished the highest level of Combat Medicine, but that was not his crowning achievement. Six grueling months had been invested in the Forest training camp in the South of Old Blighty honing the skill of the Blasting Strike ability. He not only achieved the highest award for this particular ability, he also achieved the highest score out of all the Cadets that summer. Unfortunately an escalation of the conflict between Royals and Nationals had meant that many cadets were forced to end their training and head to the front. Roger was among those ordered to move out. He had only reached Level 1 Burning Bullet ability. He was not particularly pleased with this level of training, but he convinced himself that it will have to do for now. His exceptional abilities with the Blasting Strike seemed to attract the attention of the Mission planners. Clearing the battlefield of enemy combatants with a single blast was welcomed amongst the Royal front line fighters and valued by the Generals in the war room.

Yesterday’s battle seemed to extract some toll from all the members of the Royals squad – except Roger. Perhaps luck or a protecting spirit guided the bullets and bombs around and away from him. Regardless of how it happened, he was the only one unscathed, the only one able to face any further encounters with the Nationals.

Weapons check . Self Check. Situational Awareness check. Roger performed these three motions without evening thinking. He repeated them once more, not really aware he was doing them. He was about to cycle through them again, when he froze. His eyebrows narrowed in a moment of concentration while he tilted his head to listen more carefully. He swore he could hear the drone of an engine. The faint, low sound seemed to mix with afternoon breeze, but every now and then, the wind would carry the distant noise of a motor to Roger’s ear. The broken droning slowly grew louder until he could clearly hear it without mistake. It was not a Royals jeep, he could tell that even when the sound was faint. As the noise grew louder, the pitch and tone rose and fell as the engine labored and freewheeled through the foothills. When the droning leveled out he knew the vehicle was now within the Village limits where the streets were much flatter. Roger’s adrenaline level rose with the rising sound of the engine, and his focus grew sharper. Carefully, he peered around the corner of the building – just enough to see with one eye - and then instantly withdrew and pressed his back hard against the wall of the alley. A three man Nationals patrol car had rounded the corner at the far end of the street and was heading his way.

The vehicle was very close now. In response, Roger’s heart pumped hard: adrenaline coursing through his veins. Every muscle in his body pulsed with a mix of fear and determination. With a deathly focus, Roger stepped out of the dark alley directly into the oncoming National Vehicle. A Gunner was driving, a Soldier was shotgun and a Commando had taken the rear seat. All three managed only a brief look of surprise before Roger mustered his inner strength and focusing all his energies, released a shockwave from his right arm. A powerful but invisible pulse of energy surged forward, lifting the Scout car from the ground, occupants still inside. This all happened in a split second , but the adrenaline in Roger’s blood made the entire sequence look like an orchestrated ballet of man and machine. As if in slow motion the vehicle barrel rolled as it was blasted back, and all Nationals were ejected from their seats. After the initial rush, time resumed normality and Roger witnessed the Gunner land with a heavy splash in the water near a low wharf. The soldier was thrown back striking against an Oak tree in the center of the town, whilst the Commando triggered his cloak mid-air effectively disguising himself from the Royal.

“Prioritize your targets” ran through his mind. His training officer had hammered into him the battlefield survival doctrine over and over again. “Gunner in the water” Roger thought. No threat. “Soldier still alive” – high threat. “Commando vanished” – unknown threat. He instinctively raised his sub machine gun and began pumping bullets in the Soldier’s direction. The National soldier had not regained his bearings; Roger knew he had the jump on him. Bullet after bullet slammed into the National Soldier. An attempt to apply Combat Medicine did not yield the results the National soldier so desperately needed whilst Roger’s aim remained true and unfaltering. “No time to relax yet” he thought to himself as the National Soldier slumped lifeless to the ground, expended. “Gunner next” he muttered through gritted teeth.

The pin let out a shrill ping as he yanked his last grenade from his belt. His mate Bill had tossed him this Nade just before yesterday’s battle. “Use it wisely” the old bugger shouted to Roger, grinning widely. The pain of Bill’s death was still raw in Roger’s heart and mind, but somehow throwing a ball of death at an enemy combatant seem like a somewhat satisfying form of revenge for his fallen mate. Bill’s Bomb bounced once and detonated right in front of the Gunner as he pulled himself from the water. Roger could not remember reloading, but when he checked the gun, the clip was full again. Instinct had yet again guided his hand through the reloading sequence. The Gunner was hurt but still standing and had maintained the clarity to level his heavy gun at Roger. The National’s weapon spat fire in a wild visceral spray of death. Roger’s body protested loudly under the barrage of fire, but it did not deny him true aim. As the Royal’s machine gun leveled at the National enemy a rhythmic explosion of slugs found their way into the gunner’s chest. Roger felt his body starting to collapse under the weight of the Gunner’s bullet train, but through the melee he managed to briefly pause and within his mind, summon up his skills in Combat Medicine. Rejuvenation surged through his body, uplifting his spirits and refocusing his mind. He pressed forward leaning into his sub machine gun, directing each and every bullet into his enemy. Roger’s gun fired another 5 rounds into thin air before he realized the National Gunner lay upon the ground in a crumpled heap, his heavy machine gun still smoking from the encounter. “Quickly now” he thought to himself. “Still one more”.

Stealth was the Commando’s greatest ability: one could easily have their throat slit and not even see it coming. Roger taxed all his senses to try to catch any sign of where the Commando may be lurking. Nothing except perhaps the disconcerting feeling of being watched. The Royal soldier knew open ground was a death trap so a quick roll to a position behind a low wall of a fountain afforded a little more time to survive. Staying put meant certain death in light of a sniper’s creed to ‘only take a sure shot’. Giving a Mando time to move into the kill position was undoubtedly foolhardy. “Keep moving, keep moving” ran through Roger’s mind. Better cover was fundamental to his survival now. His eyes scanned the street looking for avenues of protection. The cool narrow alley way where he first took shelter caught his eye and without a second thought, impulsively sprang into a sprint, his legs driving his body forward as fast as humanly possible. There was a at least 20 meters to cover before Roger knew he was relatively safe from the sniper’s eye. His heart pumped furiously as he neared the opening into the alleyway.

In an explosion of pain, he felt something pierce his left shoulder. He knew instantly the Mando had a bead on him and expended a round with a deadly accuracy. “Flee or fight, flee or fight?” Roger asked himself in a surge of adrenaline. He answered his own question by turning around, aiming at the now visible sniper and pulling the trigger. Roger’s thumb simultaneously released the safety switch on the bullet igniter on his weapon at the same time. Fire clung to each bullet as it made its way across the gap between the Royal and National warriors. Engulfed by flames, the Mando maintained the reserve to keep his aim steady. Another deadly round left the sniper’s weapon and struck Roger in the stomach. This time the pain brought him to his knees, but he still kept his firing weapon trained on the Commando. The third bullet from the sniper’s rifle punched through Roger’s skull and he fell heavily to the ground, unable to move. The last moments of life were surreal. No sound, no pain, only vision. “He....got...me...” were the last thoughts that Roger could draw together. As darkness crept in around the edges of Roger’s vision as he lay on the hot dusty street, he could just make out the form of the National Sniper falling to his knees, with the rest of his torso to fall heavily to the hard ground soon after – the burning bullets had extracted a final toll from the National Commando. Post Mortem.

[Eragh]

[Luca111]

(24-04-2012 05:13 PM)Eragh Wrote:  

why do you troll this reasonably good story?

OT: Nice story

[3awel3afritgeh]

Good story bro, but remeber paragraphs an chapters are ur friends

[3awel3afritgeh]

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[X4nothingx]

Really good dude.

[S.A.S.S.Ryan]

This story is good, but can we have some more parts to it, like maybe a prolouge chapet==ter explaining how he got there in greater detail?

[FancySniper]

Maybe splitting it into parts? I don't think people would read something that massive. I'm not saying you have a bad story, but its a big wall of text.

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(24-04-2012 07:02 PM)3awel3afritgeh Wrote:  [img][/img]
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Fail