Good for you Ted
Intresting work from Shep
He went two whole Chapters without Shep killing anyone Wow!
The Division
Moderator: LadyTevar
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MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
Actually, more like on the order of seveal TENS of thousands of peopleTed wrote:Well, Ryan killed several tousand people, so he did actually kill people.
ala the bombing of Dresden, etc etc and Stalingrad
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
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Sea Skimmer
- Yankee Capitalist Air Pirate
- Posts: 37389
- Joined: 2002-07-03 11:49pm
- Location: Passchendaele City, HAB
Given the firepower TIE bombers should be able to haul around, he could do that without the benefit of a firestorm. Couple 5-megaton city busting airbursts would work nicely.MKSheppard wrote:Actually, more like on the order of seveal TENS of thousands of peopleTed wrote:Well, Ryan killed several tousand people, so he did actually kill people.
ala the bombing of Dresden, etc etc and Stalingrad
Excellent Fic.
"This cult of special forces is as sensible as to form a Royal Corps of Tree Climbers and say that no soldier who does not wear its green hat with a bunch of oak leaves stuck in it should be expected to climb a tree"
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
I ment PERSONALY IE the Charater Shep did not PERSONALY kill anyone for two whole chapters!Actually, more like on the order of seveal TENS of thousands of people
ala the bombing of Dresden, etc etc and Stalingrad
"A cult is a religion with no political power." -Tom Wolfe
Pardon me for sounding like a dick, but I'm playing the tiniest violin in the world right now-Dalton
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MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
Well then, how many should he kill in the next one, which I have yet to write?Mr Bean wrote: I ment PERSONALY IE the Charater Shep did not PERSONALY kill anyone for two whole chapters!
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
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MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
Actually, there are. You see, firestorms like that tend to burn everythingTed wrote:There are NO buildings left standing that can fall down, or did you not read the chapter?
in the interior out, leaving behind the gutted shells of concrete buildings,
while in real life, there are such freak events as eddies in the wind that
make a city block survive with scorched walls, while everything else beyond
that block is burned to the ground.
Also, there is a several-kilometres wide belt of undamaged buildings
on the Imperial frontlines (due to Crierie setting an avoidance zone for
his night-based terrorism, so he wouldn't torch Imperials)
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
-
Sea Skimmer
- Yankee Capitalist Air Pirate
- Posts: 37389
- Joined: 2002-07-03 11:49pm
- Location: Passchendaele City, HAB
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MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
Hmm. Study for my history exam this friday........or WRITE DIVISION?
Hell, I can do history in my fucken sleep, so DIVISION it is!!!! YIPEE!
Hell, I can do history in my fucken sleep, so DIVISION it is!!!! YIPEE!
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
-
MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
CHAPTER FOUR!!
Through the smoke, they could hear the sounds of battle up ahead. Crouching over
low so that shots aimed at where a man would be standing in the smoke would miss,
Ford led his platoon over to the HQ of what appeared to be one of the COMPFORCE
battlegroup's companies, which was crouching in a heavily-damaged building.
Walking through the door, Ford saw a COMPFORCE Colonel order a human wave
assault on the Kling positions. From outside came loud URRAHS and shouts of
"FOR THE EMPEROR!", followed by the sound of clattering boots, and then the
whine of disruptors and the high-pitched screams of wounded or dying men.
"What's going on here, Colonel?" asked Ford, while in the background,
a laser cannon began hammering away. The COMPFORCE Colonel looked at
Ford with venemous eyes. No, he didn't need help from the Army, no sir.
"We've been trying to take this damned building for the last half an hour.
We've tried everything from Caspels to laser cannons to blast the walls
down, but they're too thick for blasters."
Ford smiled thinly. "I think I may have the solution to your problem, sir."
Activicating his helmet mike, Ford opened a channel to the lead Assault Gun
assigned to his unit. "Skimmer! Get up here! We need you!"
"On my way, sir." replied John "Sea Skimmer" Pardel
A few minutes later, the clattering of tank treads off pavement was heard,
and from around a corner, the short barrelled snout of the Assault Gun
"Skimmer's Pride" poked it's way out.
"Skimmer, We got a problem here. The COMPFORCE boys are stopped by this Kling
stronghold across the street. We need you to liquidate it." ordered Ford.
"Okay. I'm on it. Is it the one with all the holes on it and the sign KRETH'S HOUSE
OF EXOTICS hanging by a thread?"
Ford lowered the boom mic and shouted across the room towards the COMPFORCE Colonel.
"Is it the whorehouse?"
"YEAH!" shouted the COMPFORCE Colonel in reply.
Inside the dimly lit fighting compartment of the gun, still warm from the
plasma welding carried out on it's armor plates the night before, Sergeant
John Pardel, who also went by the name "Skimmer" most of the time, centered
the targeting crosshairs dead center onto one of the windows of the now-defunct
whorehouse, and pressed the "quickfire" fuzing option on the flat panel next
to him.
Next to him, his gunner was doing final last minute ranging checks until
he gave a thumbs up, his white teeth shining through the dimness like a
beacon as he grinned evilly.
"Time to pop her cherry!" shouted Skimmer as he squeezed the firing trigger
as hard as he could.
With that, the Assault Gun Type 123, Chassis number #001 fired her first shot
in anger from her 175mm short barrelled howitzer.
The Krink standing in the window that Skimmer had picked had watched the squat,
ugly vehicle come grinding to a stop in the square, disruptor bolts dissipating
harmlessly off it's armor, and wondered what this new infernal Imperial weapon
was when he noticed that it's massive gun barrel was elevating towards his
position. He had barely made it towards the door when the massive dust-bin sized
175mm shell sailed through the window, and struck a wall, detonating in a flash
as the quickfiring fuze struck the wall.
A massive overpressure wave crushed the fleeing Krink against a wall, pounding
him into purple paste, while all over the building, Klings eardrums burst and
began to bleed purple.
Skimmer and his crew watched smoke and dust pour forth from the window they
had selected for a test firing. They seemed to have cleared out the snipers
from the upper levels with that shell.
Switching his commander's sight to thermal view combined with millimetric
wave radar scanning, Skimmer saw the positions of the klings inside the
building pop out with startling clarity. He grinned again as the autoloader
slammed a fresh shell into the breech with a high pitched clang.
Picking a particularly large concentration of Klings, Skimmer estimated
how many walls were between him and them, and then fuzed the fresh shell
with a time delay.
The howitzer then bellowed again, filling the entire square with smoke from
the propellant.
Ford watched from his perch on the 2nd floor of the COMPFORCE HQ building
as the second shot slammed into the Kling strongpoint before detonating
deep inside with a shudder that rumbled across the pre-dawn darkness.
With a low rumble, half of the wall that was facing the square began collapsing
in a shower of shattered building materials, revealing scenes of carnage inside,
of Kling body parts strewn all over the place and mixed in with bulding materials,
staining the walls inside purple with their blood.
From the smoke and dust of the half-ruined building came some sporadic disruptor
fire from a few surviving die-hards, causing Skimmer to sigh as he activicated the
remotely-controlled external T-21 repeating blasters mounted on the hull of the
Assault Guns and swivelled them to spray the inside while the howitzer reloaded,
a process which took only seconds.
Once again, the big 175mm howitzer belched smoke and flame again, and this time,
there was no return fire after the event.
As Ford watched the dust settle, his helmet's built in comm came to life. "Target
liquidated, sir. Ammunition expenditure, three rounds. Twenty-two rounds
remaining."
"Good work, Sergeant."
Switching to his platoon's Tac-Net, he got Ancaris on the line. "Sergeant Ancaris,
bring your men up, along with the other Assault gun for a sweep of the former enemy
strongpoint. Kill all survivors."
[50 meters away]
Ancaris grinned as he heard his orders. He was beginning to like his new Platoon
Lieutenant.
When he told his squad the news, Falk was the first to bitch. "Dammit,
let the COMPFORCE weenies check it out, that's all they're good for: mass
charges and clean-up work, not the kind of precision work we do."
Ancaris scowled at Falk, and Falk quickly shut the hell up, seeing as
Ancaris had killed a private the day before for simply vomiting at
a corpse, deciding it wasn't worth it to push your luck with the
insane Sergeant.
As the second assault gun began to rattle it's way towards the now-dust
filled square, Ancaris' platoon began to move with it, keeping a close
look at the windows of the ruined buildings around them for Klings
toting demo charges. That was how they'd managed to take out a Juggernaut
the day before in the 60th Coruscant Battlegroup's sector.
As they entered the square, visibility dropped to near-zero, causing
Sheppard to comment "Kriff, man, I can't see my own hand, and it's a
meter in front of me!"
Seeing a group of figures ahead of them in the dust, Shep raised his
E-11 and almost fired, a split-second before he recognized the bone-white
uniforms of COMPFORCE shock troops, who wore the same armor he wore, but in
white instead of gray like the Army.
One of the murky COMPFORCE figures walked up to Shep, and as it got closer,
he saw that it had a Colonel's bars on it's breast. "Corporal, Name's Colonel
Ray Cavendish, I'll be taking over the assault. Where's your commanding
officer?"
"Uh, Kriff, he's somewhere in this mess," replied Shep, waving his hand around
in the dust.
"That's fine, Son! You're under MY command, now Corporal, unless your officer
outranks me!"
"Uhm, yeah you do outrank him, sir!" replied Shep, remembering to say
it as 'cur'.
With that, Shep fell in line behind the COMPFORCE colonel, making sure
that the Colonel was always blocking Kling lines of fire to him with
his body.
But this plan fell to pieces as the Colonel started to run towards
the shattered Whorehouse, his DL-44 at arms as he shouted exhortations
to his men.
"COME ON YOU KRIFFING BASTARDS! MOVE IT MOVE IT!"
_Kriff it,_ thought Sheppard. Why did he always have to get the
medal freaks?
As they reached the doorway of the whorehouse, the Colonel
shattered the lock with a single bolt from his DL-44 and then
splintered the door with a mighty boot to it, causing it to
swing inwards in a shower of splinters.
Lying on the floor inside the doorway was a single Krink,
bleeding heavily from both ears, holding a disruptor rifle.
Cavendish laughed a soulless laugh as he shot the Krink between
the eyes with his pistol, bone and flesh boiling away from the
ruined crater that was now it's face.
"COME ON ASSHOLES, THEY'RE HALF DEAD! MOVE IT!" shouted
Cavendish as he pumped a few more bolts into the corpse for
good measure.
Sheppard followed close behind the Colonel, his E-11 at the ready,
the safety off and his finger dancing on the trigger, ready
to unleah a hail of bolts at the lightest twitch.
He raised his voice slightly. "Sir, don't you think it isn't wise
to be doing it like this?"
The Colonel spun around to face him, his DL-44 aimed directly
between Shep's eyes. "Don't ever question me again, Corporal...
say, what the kriff is your name?"
"Sheppard, sir."
"Corporal Sheppard, in COMPFORCE, we shoot non-hackers, and I
say YOU'RE dangerously close to being a non-hacker."
"Sir, how can I be a non-hacker if YOU'RE doing all the
kriffing work?"
The Colonel thought about that for a moment. "You know, You're right.
You take the point instead." finished Cavendish with a fiendish
grin.
Muttering under his breath, Sheppard switched positions with
the Colonel, and they continued deeper into the smoke-filled
house, all their senses primed and operating at 200% efficiency,
ready to pick up the slightest noise and respond to it.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard caught movement,
and he swung his E-11 around, firing from the hip wildly as he
shouted "AMBUSH LEFT! AMBUSH LEFT!"
When the smoke had cleared from that, the Colonel walked over to
where Sheppard had emptied almost a quarter of a magazine and picked
up what was left of a klingon rat.
"Nice shooting, Corporal Sheppard. Can we try to be a little less
high strung the next time?"
Suddenly, at that moment, a hail of blaster fire was heard from above,
followed by a loud splintering noise, and both Cavendish and Sheppard
had barely enough time to move out of the way to avoid a Smoothie
corpse from falling onto them from the floor above. Noticing the
smoking holes in the corpse's chest, Sheppard looked up and shouted
out the callsign for the morning.
"Corporate!"
"Pride!" came the shouted reply, and a moment later Falk stuck his
head over the opening in the ceiling. "Sorry about that, Shep. This
fuckface surprised us and I had to shoot him point-blank, man."
"Remind me never to have an orgy in a Kling building. Damn shoddy
construction," cracked Cavendish.
"Who's the shithead from COMPFORCE?" asked Falk, not seeing Cavendish's
rank bars, or conviently ignoring them.
"That's *Colonel* Raymond Cavendish to you, you worthless scumbucket!"
shot back Cavendish as he raised his DL-44 towards the ceiling before
Shep lowered it with his hands. "He ain't worth it, man."
"I'll remember THAT, Shep, you FUCKFACE!" shouted Falk as he moved away
from the hole in the ceiling to help the rest of their platoon clear
the second floor.
"You've got some nice friends there Corporal," sneered Cavendish as
he examined a heavily armored hatch set into the floor that had been
uncovered by the Smoothie's fall from above. Apparently it had survived
the shelling from the Assault Gun with minimal damage, and using the
rudimentary hacking skills that were taught to every member of the
Imperial Military, he quickly bypassed the flimsy electronic lock
on the hatch.
Opening the hatch, he pulled a stun grenade off his belt and primed it
to detonate in ten seconds and dropped it down through
the hatch, closing it to shield him and the Corporal from the stun
grenade's effect.
Several high-pitched screams came from below, and Cavendish quickly
pulled the hatch open again and dropped down into the basement of
the building. It seemed to be heavily reinforced, and had survived the
near-destruction of the building with only a few scratches.
But what interested him the most was the group of what could only
be Kling whores cowering in the corner, their faces revealed by
his emergency flashlight.
From behind him, a grunting noise was heard as Sheppard also jumped
into the basement. When he saw the whores, he did a double take
before speaking.
"Sithspit, I know they're Klings, but damn, the Divisional Morale
Eggheads are gonna want them!" he remarked as he tried to raise
Divisional HQ on his helmet comm.
He failed to take notice of the Colonel slowly holstering his DL-44
and unslinging the flechette rifle he had been carrying during the
battle for just this opporturnity.
With a twisted grin appearing on his face, Cavendish released the
safety on the rifle, and with a final laugh that was choked
off by an insane giggle, he emptied an entire magazine into the whores,
his eyes reflecting an insane glimmer as he watched the flechettes tear
into their bodies, splattering purple gore all over the walls.
With a look of abject horror on his face, Sheppard ran up to the mad Colonel
and tried to knock the rifle out of his hands, but the Colonel easily
backhanded Sheppard into the duracrete wall and calmly ejected the spent
magazine from his rifle and loaded a fresh magazine.
Licking his lips like he was about to devour a nerf steak, Cavendish
walked up to the whores and methodically fired several more short bursts
into what was left of their bodies, enjoying how the purple gore was
splattering onto his once-white armor.
He was so caught up in the delicate ballet of flechettes striking
womanflesh that he failed to notice several newcomers coming down
the hatch behind him.
Before he could do any more, he was tackled from behind by both
Falkenhorst and Sheppard, while Lieutenant Ford looked at the
charnel house that the basement had become with an ashen look on
his face.
"Sith.....SPIT! Get me the Divisional JAG corps, they'll want
to have a nice little...talk with our 'friend' Colonel Cavendish
here." ordered Ford as he motioned for the platoon medic,
Specialist 1st Class Kelly Antilles, to check out what was left
of the whores on the off chance that one of them had survived
Cavendish's insane rampage.
Antilles, or as everyone else in the platoon called her, 'Mom',
took out her portable medscanner and was checking the corpses
of the prositutes when all of a sudden she leapt back, cursing
a blue streak.
"SITH SPIT! THEY HAVE THE ROT!"
"KRIIFFF!" shouted the entire platoon in unison, and they all
scrambled for the hatch, eager to get away from the infected
bodies, leaving behind Colonel Cavendish in their haste.
He looked longingly at the bloody corpses before deciding that
having his dick cut off to save him from the ROT wasn't a nice
exchange for this moment of intimacy.
He bolted from the whorehouse just as the Assault Guns fired
their 175mm inciendary rounds into the top floors of the infected
building, while Ford and his men began lighting the lower floors
up with their hand-held flame projectors.
After laying in a particularly long burst through a window with
the flame rifle that had been supplied to him by the Divisional
medical units for sterilization, Falkenhorst noticed that Cavendish
had escaped.
"KRIFF! HE ESCAPED!" shouted Falk as he swung the flame rifle towards
Cavendish.
No one could tell if the ROT hadn't infected someone until a sadly
fatal brain probe, so it was better to just kill anyone who was
suspected of having the ROT, rather than spending the time to
quarantine them.
"NO! Don't kill him!" shouted 'Mom' as she knocked Falk's flame rifle
from his hands, causing him to look sharply at her.
"And why shouldn't we? He's probably infected, what with the nearly
half a liter of Kling blood on him."
Kelly sighed. Men could be so difficult at times. "If he hadn't
killed those whores, do you know how many soldiers would have
come down with the ROT?"
"Y'know, Falk, 'Mom' does have a point..." replied Shep as
he lowered his flame rifle.
"Kriffin' waste of life..." growled Falk as he lowered his
flamer. "Get the Meat Wagon here NOW. I don't want this fuckface
walking around here any longer than he has to, spewing his filthy
germs all over us..."
Thirty Standard Time Units later, after the Colonel had been taken
away by a heavily modified Quarantine LAV, and after they had all
burned their old uniforms and changed into fresh new ones after
going through a decontam shower, the platoon gathered in front
of the burning whorehouse.
"You know guys, this calls for a song." chimed in Falk.
"What shall we sing then?" asked Lt. Ford.
"How about the Mickey Mouse Club Song?" suggested Corporal Spyda,
who had just returned from a bout of leave on Earth.
"How about you lead us off, Spyda?" replied Ford as he shifted his
weapon and called the platoon to attention.
"OK, Sir." Coughing slightly to clear his throat, Spyda began to sing
the song the Federation had banned for the last 500 years.
"Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
Sounding off to the beat of the song, the platoon marched
further into Ikonos city, silhouletted against the burning
whorehouse as the men sang the song lustily.
"Hey there. Hi there. Ho there. You're as welcome as can be."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold our banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Here we go a-marching and a-shouting merrily."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"We play fair and we work hard and we're in harmony."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold our banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Boys and girls from far and near you're as welcome as can be."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Who is marching coast to coast and far across the sea?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold his banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Come along and sing a song and join the family."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E....."
low so that shots aimed at where a man would be standing in the smoke would miss,
Ford led his platoon over to the HQ of what appeared to be one of the COMPFORCE
battlegroup's companies, which was crouching in a heavily-damaged building.
Walking through the door, Ford saw a COMPFORCE Colonel order a human wave
assault on the Kling positions. From outside came loud URRAHS and shouts of
"FOR THE EMPEROR!", followed by the sound of clattering boots, and then the
whine of disruptors and the high-pitched screams of wounded or dying men.
"What's going on here, Colonel?" asked Ford, while in the background,
a laser cannon began hammering away. The COMPFORCE Colonel looked at
Ford with venemous eyes. No, he didn't need help from the Army, no sir.
"We've been trying to take this damned building for the last half an hour.
We've tried everything from Caspels to laser cannons to blast the walls
down, but they're too thick for blasters."
Ford smiled thinly. "I think I may have the solution to your problem, sir."
Activicating his helmet mike, Ford opened a channel to the lead Assault Gun
assigned to his unit. "Skimmer! Get up here! We need you!"
"On my way, sir." replied John "Sea Skimmer" Pardel
A few minutes later, the clattering of tank treads off pavement was heard,
and from around a corner, the short barrelled snout of the Assault Gun
"Skimmer's Pride" poked it's way out.
"Skimmer, We got a problem here. The COMPFORCE boys are stopped by this Kling
stronghold across the street. We need you to liquidate it." ordered Ford.
"Okay. I'm on it. Is it the one with all the holes on it and the sign KRETH'S HOUSE
OF EXOTICS hanging by a thread?"
Ford lowered the boom mic and shouted across the room towards the COMPFORCE Colonel.
"Is it the whorehouse?"
"YEAH!" shouted the COMPFORCE Colonel in reply.
Inside the dimly lit fighting compartment of the gun, still warm from the
plasma welding carried out on it's armor plates the night before, Sergeant
John Pardel, who also went by the name "Skimmer" most of the time, centered
the targeting crosshairs dead center onto one of the windows of the now-defunct
whorehouse, and pressed the "quickfire" fuzing option on the flat panel next
to him.
Next to him, his gunner was doing final last minute ranging checks until
he gave a thumbs up, his white teeth shining through the dimness like a
beacon as he grinned evilly.
"Time to pop her cherry!" shouted Skimmer as he squeezed the firing trigger
as hard as he could.
With that, the Assault Gun Type 123, Chassis number #001 fired her first shot
in anger from her 175mm short barrelled howitzer.
The Krink standing in the window that Skimmer had picked had watched the squat,
ugly vehicle come grinding to a stop in the square, disruptor bolts dissipating
harmlessly off it's armor, and wondered what this new infernal Imperial weapon
was when he noticed that it's massive gun barrel was elevating towards his
position. He had barely made it towards the door when the massive dust-bin sized
175mm shell sailed through the window, and struck a wall, detonating in a flash
as the quickfiring fuze struck the wall.
A massive overpressure wave crushed the fleeing Krink against a wall, pounding
him into purple paste, while all over the building, Klings eardrums burst and
began to bleed purple.
Skimmer and his crew watched smoke and dust pour forth from the window they
had selected for a test firing. They seemed to have cleared out the snipers
from the upper levels with that shell.
Switching his commander's sight to thermal view combined with millimetric
wave radar scanning, Skimmer saw the positions of the klings inside the
building pop out with startling clarity. He grinned again as the autoloader
slammed a fresh shell into the breech with a high pitched clang.
Picking a particularly large concentration of Klings, Skimmer estimated
how many walls were between him and them, and then fuzed the fresh shell
with a time delay.
The howitzer then bellowed again, filling the entire square with smoke from
the propellant.
Ford watched from his perch on the 2nd floor of the COMPFORCE HQ building
as the second shot slammed into the Kling strongpoint before detonating
deep inside with a shudder that rumbled across the pre-dawn darkness.
With a low rumble, half of the wall that was facing the square began collapsing
in a shower of shattered building materials, revealing scenes of carnage inside,
of Kling body parts strewn all over the place and mixed in with bulding materials,
staining the walls inside purple with their blood.
From the smoke and dust of the half-ruined building came some sporadic disruptor
fire from a few surviving die-hards, causing Skimmer to sigh as he activicated the
remotely-controlled external T-21 repeating blasters mounted on the hull of the
Assault Guns and swivelled them to spray the inside while the howitzer reloaded,
a process which took only seconds.
Once again, the big 175mm howitzer belched smoke and flame again, and this time,
there was no return fire after the event.
As Ford watched the dust settle, his helmet's built in comm came to life. "Target
liquidated, sir. Ammunition expenditure, three rounds. Twenty-two rounds
remaining."
"Good work, Sergeant."
Switching to his platoon's Tac-Net, he got Ancaris on the line. "Sergeant Ancaris,
bring your men up, along with the other Assault gun for a sweep of the former enemy
strongpoint. Kill all survivors."
[50 meters away]
Ancaris grinned as he heard his orders. He was beginning to like his new Platoon
Lieutenant.
When he told his squad the news, Falk was the first to bitch. "Dammit,
let the COMPFORCE weenies check it out, that's all they're good for: mass
charges and clean-up work, not the kind of precision work we do."
Ancaris scowled at Falk, and Falk quickly shut the hell up, seeing as
Ancaris had killed a private the day before for simply vomiting at
a corpse, deciding it wasn't worth it to push your luck with the
insane Sergeant.
As the second assault gun began to rattle it's way towards the now-dust
filled square, Ancaris' platoon began to move with it, keeping a close
look at the windows of the ruined buildings around them for Klings
toting demo charges. That was how they'd managed to take out a Juggernaut
the day before in the 60th Coruscant Battlegroup's sector.
As they entered the square, visibility dropped to near-zero, causing
Sheppard to comment "Kriff, man, I can't see my own hand, and it's a
meter in front of me!"
Seeing a group of figures ahead of them in the dust, Shep raised his
E-11 and almost fired, a split-second before he recognized the bone-white
uniforms of COMPFORCE shock troops, who wore the same armor he wore, but in
white instead of gray like the Army.
One of the murky COMPFORCE figures walked up to Shep, and as it got closer,
he saw that it had a Colonel's bars on it's breast. "Corporal, Name's Colonel
Ray Cavendish, I'll be taking over the assault. Where's your commanding
officer?"
"Uh, Kriff, he's somewhere in this mess," replied Shep, waving his hand around
in the dust.
"That's fine, Son! You're under MY command, now Corporal, unless your officer
outranks me!"
"Uhm, yeah you do outrank him, sir!" replied Shep, remembering to say
it as 'cur'.
With that, Shep fell in line behind the COMPFORCE colonel, making sure
that the Colonel was always blocking Kling lines of fire to him with
his body.
But this plan fell to pieces as the Colonel started to run towards
the shattered Whorehouse, his DL-44 at arms as he shouted exhortations
to his men.
"COME ON YOU KRIFFING BASTARDS! MOVE IT MOVE IT!"
_Kriff it,_ thought Sheppard. Why did he always have to get the
medal freaks?
As they reached the doorway of the whorehouse, the Colonel
shattered the lock with a single bolt from his DL-44 and then
splintered the door with a mighty boot to it, causing it to
swing inwards in a shower of splinters.
Lying on the floor inside the doorway was a single Krink,
bleeding heavily from both ears, holding a disruptor rifle.
Cavendish laughed a soulless laugh as he shot the Krink between
the eyes with his pistol, bone and flesh boiling away from the
ruined crater that was now it's face.
"COME ON ASSHOLES, THEY'RE HALF DEAD! MOVE IT!" shouted
Cavendish as he pumped a few more bolts into the corpse for
good measure.
Sheppard followed close behind the Colonel, his E-11 at the ready,
the safety off and his finger dancing on the trigger, ready
to unleah a hail of bolts at the lightest twitch.
He raised his voice slightly. "Sir, don't you think it isn't wise
to be doing it like this?"
The Colonel spun around to face him, his DL-44 aimed directly
between Shep's eyes. "Don't ever question me again, Corporal...
say, what the kriff is your name?"
"Sheppard, sir."
"Corporal Sheppard, in COMPFORCE, we shoot non-hackers, and I
say YOU'RE dangerously close to being a non-hacker."
"Sir, how can I be a non-hacker if YOU'RE doing all the
kriffing work?"
The Colonel thought about that for a moment. "You know, You're right.
You take the point instead." finished Cavendish with a fiendish
grin.
Muttering under his breath, Sheppard switched positions with
the Colonel, and they continued deeper into the smoke-filled
house, all their senses primed and operating at 200% efficiency,
ready to pick up the slightest noise and respond to it.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard caught movement,
and he swung his E-11 around, firing from the hip wildly as he
shouted "AMBUSH LEFT! AMBUSH LEFT!"
When the smoke had cleared from that, the Colonel walked over to
where Sheppard had emptied almost a quarter of a magazine and picked
up what was left of a klingon rat.
"Nice shooting, Corporal Sheppard. Can we try to be a little less
high strung the next time?"
Suddenly, at that moment, a hail of blaster fire was heard from above,
followed by a loud splintering noise, and both Cavendish and Sheppard
had barely enough time to move out of the way to avoid a Smoothie
corpse from falling onto them from the floor above. Noticing the
smoking holes in the corpse's chest, Sheppard looked up and shouted
out the callsign for the morning.
"Corporate!"
"Pride!" came the shouted reply, and a moment later Falk stuck his
head over the opening in the ceiling. "Sorry about that, Shep. This
fuckface surprised us and I had to shoot him point-blank, man."
"Remind me never to have an orgy in a Kling building. Damn shoddy
construction," cracked Cavendish.
"Who's the shithead from COMPFORCE?" asked Falk, not seeing Cavendish's
rank bars, or conviently ignoring them.
"That's *Colonel* Raymond Cavendish to you, you worthless scumbucket!"
shot back Cavendish as he raised his DL-44 towards the ceiling before
Shep lowered it with his hands. "He ain't worth it, man."
"I'll remember THAT, Shep, you FUCKFACE!" shouted Falk as he moved away
from the hole in the ceiling to help the rest of their platoon clear
the second floor.
"You've got some nice friends there Corporal," sneered Cavendish as
he examined a heavily armored hatch set into the floor that had been
uncovered by the Smoothie's fall from above. Apparently it had survived
the shelling from the Assault Gun with minimal damage, and using the
rudimentary hacking skills that were taught to every member of the
Imperial Military, he quickly bypassed the flimsy electronic lock
on the hatch.
Opening the hatch, he pulled a stun grenade off his belt and primed it
to detonate in ten seconds and dropped it down through
the hatch, closing it to shield him and the Corporal from the stun
grenade's effect.
Several high-pitched screams came from below, and Cavendish quickly
pulled the hatch open again and dropped down into the basement of
the building. It seemed to be heavily reinforced, and had survived the
near-destruction of the building with only a few scratches.
But what interested him the most was the group of what could only
be Kling whores cowering in the corner, their faces revealed by
his emergency flashlight.
From behind him, a grunting noise was heard as Sheppard also jumped
into the basement. When he saw the whores, he did a double take
before speaking.
"Sithspit, I know they're Klings, but damn, the Divisional Morale
Eggheads are gonna want them!" he remarked as he tried to raise
Divisional HQ on his helmet comm.
He failed to take notice of the Colonel slowly holstering his DL-44
and unslinging the flechette rifle he had been carrying during the
battle for just this opporturnity.
With a twisted grin appearing on his face, Cavendish released the
safety on the rifle, and with a final laugh that was choked
off by an insane giggle, he emptied an entire magazine into the whores,
his eyes reflecting an insane glimmer as he watched the flechettes tear
into their bodies, splattering purple gore all over the walls.
With a look of abject horror on his face, Sheppard ran up to the mad Colonel
and tried to knock the rifle out of his hands, but the Colonel easily
backhanded Sheppard into the duracrete wall and calmly ejected the spent
magazine from his rifle and loaded a fresh magazine.
Licking his lips like he was about to devour a nerf steak, Cavendish
walked up to the whores and methodically fired several more short bursts
into what was left of their bodies, enjoying how the purple gore was
splattering onto his once-white armor.
He was so caught up in the delicate ballet of flechettes striking
womanflesh that he failed to notice several newcomers coming down
the hatch behind him.
Before he could do any more, he was tackled from behind by both
Falkenhorst and Sheppard, while Lieutenant Ford looked at the
charnel house that the basement had become with an ashen look on
his face.
"Sith.....SPIT! Get me the Divisional JAG corps, they'll want
to have a nice little...talk with our 'friend' Colonel Cavendish
here." ordered Ford as he motioned for the platoon medic,
Specialist 1st Class Kelly Antilles, to check out what was left
of the whores on the off chance that one of them had survived
Cavendish's insane rampage.
Antilles, or as everyone else in the platoon called her, 'Mom',
took out her portable medscanner and was checking the corpses
of the prositutes when all of a sudden she leapt back, cursing
a blue streak.
"SITH SPIT! THEY HAVE THE ROT!"
"KRIIFFF!" shouted the entire platoon in unison, and they all
scrambled for the hatch, eager to get away from the infected
bodies, leaving behind Colonel Cavendish in their haste.
He looked longingly at the bloody corpses before deciding that
having his dick cut off to save him from the ROT wasn't a nice
exchange for this moment of intimacy.
He bolted from the whorehouse just as the Assault Guns fired
their 175mm inciendary rounds into the top floors of the infected
building, while Ford and his men began lighting the lower floors
up with their hand-held flame projectors.
After laying in a particularly long burst through a window with
the flame rifle that had been supplied to him by the Divisional
medical units for sterilization, Falkenhorst noticed that Cavendish
had escaped.
"KRIFF! HE ESCAPED!" shouted Falk as he swung the flame rifle towards
Cavendish.
No one could tell if the ROT hadn't infected someone until a sadly
fatal brain probe, so it was better to just kill anyone who was
suspected of having the ROT, rather than spending the time to
quarantine them.
"NO! Don't kill him!" shouted 'Mom' as she knocked Falk's flame rifle
from his hands, causing him to look sharply at her.
"And why shouldn't we? He's probably infected, what with the nearly
half a liter of Kling blood on him."
Kelly sighed. Men could be so difficult at times. "If he hadn't
killed those whores, do you know how many soldiers would have
come down with the ROT?"
"Y'know, Falk, 'Mom' does have a point..." replied Shep as
he lowered his flame rifle.
"Kriffin' waste of life..." growled Falk as he lowered his
flamer. "Get the Meat Wagon here NOW. I don't want this fuckface
walking around here any longer than he has to, spewing his filthy
germs all over us..."
Thirty Standard Time Units later, after the Colonel had been taken
away by a heavily modified Quarantine LAV, and after they had all
burned their old uniforms and changed into fresh new ones after
going through a decontam shower, the platoon gathered in front
of the burning whorehouse.
"You know guys, this calls for a song." chimed in Falk.
"What shall we sing then?" asked Lt. Ford.
"How about the Mickey Mouse Club Song?" suggested Corporal Spyda,
who had just returned from a bout of leave on Earth.
"How about you lead us off, Spyda?" replied Ford as he shifted his
weapon and called the platoon to attention.
"OK, Sir." Coughing slightly to clear his throat, Spyda began to sing
the song the Federation had banned for the last 500 years.
"Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
Sounding off to the beat of the song, the platoon marched
further into Ikonos city, silhouletted against the burning
whorehouse as the men sang the song lustily.
"Hey there. Hi there. Ho there. You're as welcome as can be."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold our banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Here we go a-marching and a-shouting merrily."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"We play fair and we work hard and we're in harmony."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold our banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Boys and girls from far and near you're as welcome as can be."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Who is marching coast to coast and far across the sea?"
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Mickey Mouse. (Mickey Mouse.)"
"Forever let us hold his banner high."
"High. High. High."
"Come along and sing a song and join the family."
"M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E....."
Last edited by MKSheppard on 2003-01-02 11:25pm, edited 2 times in total.
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
Re: CHAPTER FOUR!!
That was madness, the fucking Mickey Mouse club song?
You've really lost it now.
You've really lost it now.
Go, tell the Spartans, stranger passing by,
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie.
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie.
You think he HAD it before?
Though I don't know how Kelly will like you stick her in your twisted War Fanatasys
But then its a fanfic all you have to do is not read it and its ok
Kinda like Portal
Though I don't know how Kelly will like you stick her in your twisted War Fanatasys
But then its a fanfic all you have to do is not read it and its ok
Kinda like Portal
"A cult is a religion with no political power." -Tom Wolfe
Pardon me for sounding like a dick, but I'm playing the tiniest violin in the world right now-Dalton
Re: CHAPTER FOUR!!
Naw, I'm sure that's a reference or homage to the ending of Full Metal Jacket.Ted wrote:That was madness, the fucking Mickey Mouse club song?
You've really lost it now.
Wherever you go, there you are.
Ripped Shirt Monkey - BOTMWriter's Guild Cybertron's Finest Justice League
This updated sig brought to you by JME2
Ripped Shirt Monkey - BOTMWriter's Guild Cybertron's Finest Justice League
This updated sig brought to you by JME2
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Sea Skimmer
- Yankee Capitalist Air Pirate
- Posts: 37389
- Joined: 2002-07-03 11:49pm
- Location: Passchendaele City, HAB
175mm direct fire? That nearly as evil as the Russians guided 240mm mortar round..
"This cult of special forces is as sensible as to form a Royal Corps of Tree Climbers and say that no soldier who does not wear its green hat with a bunch of oak leaves stuck in it should be expected to climb a tree"
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
-
Sea Skimmer
- Yankee Capitalist Air Pirate
- Posts: 37389
- Joined: 2002-07-03 11:49pm
- Location: Passchendaele City, HAB
What 15-inch mortar? The Germans had a 8.2 mortar and 16.5-inch short-barreled howitzer at various times along with bigger and smaller stuff, but nothing that’s 380or so mmTed wrote:Not nearly as bad as the Germans 15" mortar.
The Russian 240mm SP mortar doesn’t need to be disassembled to move more then 500 feet though, unlike most f the big German weapons, so you don't need a long static siege to have time to bring it into action. It actually more mobile then the SO-203 or M110 8-inch guns. It also has about ten times the rate of fire.
Anyway, a 240mm shell with Copperhead auccracy is going to beat a larger much less accrate weapon for evil potentional
"This cult of special forces is as sensible as to form a Royal Corps of Tree Climbers and say that no soldier who does not wear its green hat with a bunch of oak leaves stuck in it should be expected to climb a tree"
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956