I lay next to my 12 man team in the rubble of a partially destroyed administration building, peering across an open street through the darkness praying that my eyes would soon adjust and give me a better sight of our kill zone.
Our cell leader moved across the fireline to report that the scout team had spotted a 5 man patrol headed our way, composition of patrol unknown.
We had all heard tales of the United States Colonial Marines and what they could do but we had never actually seen a marine in action before. Hell that’s the whole reason we lie covered in dirt and muck amidst rebar and concrete poking us in the ribs, the USCM had failed to ever do anything for us. When pirates came to raid our colony it wasn’t the United States Colonial Marine corps and their knights in shinning camo armor who liberated us but rather first platoon second squad of our local self defense cell. When the USCM had finally decided to respond to our distress signal, nearly 3 weeks after the incident, they had no care for how we had been affected nor did they offer any humanitarian aid, they were simply concerned with the fact that a group of men were armed and willing to fight against tyranny in all its forms existed within this colony.
So now here I lay clutching my MAR-40 in nothing but my work overalls and a light armor vest we liberated from the local CMB armory.
Upon hearing the report our squad medic, a doctor at the medbay when he’s not with us, shuts off his glowing green medical hud. Our MAR-50 machine gunner knocks his bipod down and places his gun in between a sizable hole in the rubble. The firing line is now totally silent, we wait.
Soon sounds in the distance are heard, these sounds then become clearer and turn into voices, the voices get closer and closer, then, total silence again. By this point my eyes are wide open and I must look like a bug, my hands shake slightly and I feel nervous.
Soon a figure appears at the end of the street, they make their way around the corner and begin a slow walk to our position, then another, and another, until the full patrol is out in the open and walking towards us hunched down. Our cell leader has his hand on the shoulder on our MAR-50 machine gunner and whispering to us “Hold”. The men in the street get closer and closer until a fist from the lead figure shoots up in the air and they all kneel.
Our cell leader says nothing.
Then, all at once, the men break into multiple positions across the street and open up on us before our cell leader can even give the order to fire. Immediately a short burst of gun fire strafes our position killing a man on our line. Now its turned into a total shit show of screaming rounds and yelling men. Our MAR-50 gunner attempts to lay down suppressive fire to keep the marines heads down so we can shoot back but as soon as he lets out a rip of machine gun fire down the street he is hit twice perfectly dead center in the chest and once in the head by a smart gun.
Now its on, a fireteam marines lay down a hell storm of fire on our position as another fireteam approaches closer, chips of concrete and dirt fly up in my eye as I keep my head down, clutching the top of my head. Soon there is a short break in the fire and I prop my rifle up on a destroyed section of wall firing down the street at the figures as they approach, most of the men join me in this and we managed to blow out a section of flesh from the front most marine’s leg, as he falls down to the ground, making an audible clang, he screams in sheer pain. As we continue to lay a volley of fire down the street a quiet thunk is heard and our cell leader screams “DOWN” before a man of the right flank has sections of his flesh, guts, and limbs thrown on top of us, direct hit. Two men of the right flank scream in a level of pain I’ve never heard before, the shrapnel ripped through their makeshift armor and burried itself deep within them. Our squad medic low crawls to their position and attempts to pull one man, a former store clerk, back behind a low wall. As he gets off his knees his head is aired out by smartgun fire and he flops sideways against the ground, his medical hud shattering.
Our cell leader attempts to salvage the ambush by ordering one of his men with a Basira-Strongarm rifle to target the Smart Gunner but he is refusing to even acknowledge the words as he lays in a ball. Our cell leader crawls to him under the oppressing sound of wizzing gunfire and rips the rifle out his hand before crawling back and propping the rifle up on a low wall. Just as he does this however, another thunk is heard and our cell leader has a section of his jaw blown out his mouth before slumping to the floor. The blast sends shrapnel into yet another man leaving him in a state of screaming agony.
One man in the center of the line throws a smoke grenade down the street as he orders us to “FALL THE FUCK BACK”. That one poor soul still lays in his ball at the edge of the wall, we get up and run back without him. We take up position down a hallway attempting to regroup and figure out what our next move is. As we hurriedly make plans of stashing our gear and running back to our homes we hear the distinct sound of a flamer click on and the roar of fire jet out, the man we left behind does not make a sound.
The remaining 3 of us decide this ambush is fubar and attempt to make a run for it, we exit out a back air lock that has to be pried open, carrying our guns haphazardly by our sides. As our defacto second in command runs out the airlock he is confronted with another marine patrol stacked up on a door to an opposing building, he is hosed down by M41A fire before he can stumble his way back through the door way.
With just the two of us trapped between two patrols we try to find a vent or some sort of unknown side exit to escape out of. Its in vain though as we hear the beating of boots from our former ambush position rush down the hallway, the man next to me primes some old UPP grenade and flings it down the tight hallway, just barely exposing his hand. A short “SHIT” and “BACK” is heard before it detonates collapsing that section of hallway. We throw a filling cabinet, barrels, and some other stuff as a makeshift barricade, we are trapped against a dead end wall and no place to fall back to. As we hold ourselves against the wall of the admin building the other patrol of marines finally begin to make their way through the airlock, I throw my rifle down and am immediately met with a “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” screaming in my right ear. He does not have time to verbally berate me anymore though before the first marine in the stack makes his way over the dead body of our recently dead fighter, I drop down hands spread out while he stands and sprays down the hallway with a stream of inaccurate fire managing to clip one of the blue streaked marines in the arm before he is met with a burst of M41A fire killing him on the spot.
The marines rush my position and stomp on my back, pointing rifles at me before one pulls out a set of zip ties, restraining me. I now sit on a dropship with a red beret wearing marine in black armor staring me down waiting for my interment.
