Post by Robert on Jun 26, 2013 22:44:03 GMT -5
This is probably my worst story recently, as it's in first person. I wasn't able to reach the minimum length (bout .7K off), and I wasn't able to describe as I usually do, but here it is. I'm hoping the way I delved into the character's emotions better got me a few points. Here we go
The smell of blood was ripe in my nose, and its colour well worn on my eyes. Never had I seen so much bloodshed in one day, and I hoped I never would again. So many lives had been uselessly flung away, neither regard for human life nor the sufferings of others. This brutal war was a useless battle, and I, a mere infantryman, couldn’t do a thing to stop it when the reality came down on my shoulders. It was because the power-hungry President of Johto was going on a world conquering spree and decided to designate Sinnoh as his first target. We got no help from the other nations, albeit a bit from the Orange Islands, but that was mostly because they were a Johto province. Most of the males aged twenty to thirty living in Johto were drafted into the army and the third battle had recently started. My entire brigade of fifty men was slaughtered in a surprise attack. I only lived because I had upgraded my own body armour, using Kevlar armour instead of the ceramic plate type customary of the infantryman. I wasn’t very ecstatic about going into this whole mess in the first place and now I had to get the hell out of it.
I clutched my tools; the ones that I made a special point to buy for this. I had an Uzi with one extra cartridge of thirty rounds, a Heckler and Koch UCP with an extra cartridge of twenty rounds, a small two shot derringer, and a Calico M960 slung across my back. Then I had what I chose of the standard Sinnoh military issue Pokémon: A Mamoswine, Electivire, Magmortar, Probopass, Frosslass, and Dusknoir. Other men had those Pokémon, as well as having Weavile, Glaceon, Leafeon, Porygon-Z, Tangrowth, Gallade, Lickilicky, Abomasnow, Rhyperior, Magnezone, Gliscor, and Yanmega. I wanted to take one of each but…my current situation didn’t really allow any extra things. I would make do with what I had at this moment. I needed to focus on staying alive now, and I doubted that carrying around eighteen Pokémon would help that situation.
Trudging across the forest landscape that the battle had taken place on, I took careful measures to make sure that I didn’t run into the same armada that ambushed my fifty men before. As I hid behind a tree, my dark brown hair plastered with sweat to my pale white skin with sweat, my green and grey camouflage uniform getting rather hot on my skin. God I wished they installed air conditioners or something in these things.
And that was when I heard the voices, deep and rugged. There were about ten men a little ways to my right, and then up a bend that made a ninety degree angle. That was where the small group of men who took out my comrades were, smoking after finishing a meal. I’d kill them all. I wanted revenge, and apparently I would have to take up the role of the death dealer.
I grabbed my black Heckler and Koch UCP and settled myself in the trees. There were ten of them, and one was sitting behind another. I would take those two out first, as it would be easier to kill two at once. Then, while they were bewildered, I would switch to my Uzi.
A bullet flew through the air, faster than any human could ever even wish to see, and went straight through the two men’s heads. They instantly died in a shower of crimson blood, and one man’s eyes were covered by it. I instantly sheathed by UCP and pulled out my Uzi. I dispatched the man who couldn’t see, and then fired two shots at another man. By now they were starting to figure out what was going on; they were under attack. It was unfortunate that that had happened, now I couldn’t have my fun with them. I wasn’t very discouraged by this, although I knew that I’d have to act quicker now and use less accuracy.
I sent four bullets their way, two of them missing. Another man fell to the ground with a splatter of warm, red liquid. I then dispatched three more men with six bullets. Now four of them were left, and they had gotten the idea. They pulled on helmets, and that particular fact made this a whole lot harder. Thankfully I knew what to do. I put away my Uzi, which had seventeen bullets left in it, along with my UCP which had nineteen, and held up my Calico M960. I put the shoulder rest where it obviously went and sent two bullets straight at the men, watching them fall to the ground afterwards.
As I smiled at this I felt a searing pain in my left shoulder, as well as a stain of red blood on my uniform. I had been shot!
The last man had seen and effectively shot me in my left shoulder. The bullet, although it hurt, went straight though my flesh and avoided crashing into or breaking any bone. Thanking the Gods that this man was a horrible shot, I looked through the Calico’s scope, quickly took aim, and fired.
The last man fell to the ground, and I smiled as I saw the blood squirt from the wound on his chest. Surely these were not the last men I would come across, but hopefully they had things I could use. The food would temporarily sustain me, and they had refills for my Uzi.
I quickly downed two apples, and then washed my hands with a bottle of water that I half drank, half used as hand cleaner. I knew that the death of ten men wouldn’t be taken well, and that getting out of here quickly was of the utmost importance. Ergo, I did.
Creeping out of the small camp, I heard gunshots and shouting, and I immediately got on all fours. God, this had to be another battle or small scrimmage, there were so many bullets whizzing through the air, I thought for sure that if I risked standing up I’d be turned to Swiss cheese.
But right now, I saw what was happening. It was another one of those ambushes, now it was sixty on one hundred men. Although Sinnoh had the advantage in terms of numbers, the goddamned Johto government gave their soldiers the best they could offer. Thankfully, some of the soldiers got their own armour and weapons like I did, and therefore I was better equipped than many of the men here.
I flipped out my Calico, which had ninety nine bullets left in it, and quickly took aim on every black and brown coloured bastard I could take sight on. I quickly downed about ten, still unseen by most of the men. Thankfully, I was hidden by underbrush and was well hidden. What would give me away was if the noise, if anything, as many people’s larger rifles and guns had run out and now they were resorting to smaller firearms.
This behavior continued for minutes, and I had downed twenty men and was down to exactly sixty four bullets. Deciding to save the rest for later, I let the gun hang by my side on its strap and pulled out the Uzi. I quickly relieved it of many of its bullets, and I no doubt left a few of my own men dead, but in exchange I dispatched the entirety of the enemy forces.
Or so I thought.
I was immediately sent backwards, and my Kevlar helmet hit the ground along with the rest of my body. There was one man left, and he had just hit me with the last bullet in his F2000 tactical assault rifle. I saw another gun at his hip, and swore loudly when I saw it. It was a pistol, and the worst kind that he could have in this situation.
It was an FN Five seveN pistol, the only one of its kind. While having a normal capacity of twenty bullets and a slightly smaller than usual round, it was more deadly than most other pistols. Its bullets were armour piercing rounds, the only ones in a pistol of any kind, and could go straight through my helmet. If I didn’t act fast, I was screwed.
I grabbed my Uzi that had strayed from my hand when I had fallen, and unloaded the magazine. They were all stopped dead. He was wearing Kevlar armor, and my Uzi rounds were nothing compared to it. Typical, it was deadly hard to pierce Kevlar with flat noses, but it was typically easy with armour piercing rounds.
He fired two bullets straight at me, and while I dodged one, the other went straight through my boot and into my foot.
I howled in agony as the bullet went in and out of my foot and bone. The tumbling effect hurt like Hell. Instead of just having an entry and exit point, the bullet was made so that it would tumble once it punctured skin, making the wound as big as the bullet itself. Thankfully, it was a relatively small bullet, but any bullet wound hurt a ton, and having the ability to make a wound bigger than the circumference of the bullet base only increased my agony.
“Jackass…” I muttered, sprawled on the ground. My Uzi had nothing on this guy, as did my UCP. I doubted I could easily get out my Calico, but I’d have to do it. I quickly grasped at it, jutting to the side as a bullet went into the ground. These things were killer, and they went through Kevlar like rice paper. I doubted my skin would do much better.
I quickly fired a few bullets, which whizzed around him rather than hitting skin, and after ten went through, I finally hit. The bullet wound was at the shoulder, straight through the bone, and left him on the floor. He still had control of his right hand though, and was firing bullets.
Now that he was closer, he had more accuracy, and his bullets were hitting more. He unloaded the rest of the cartridge, and left five bullets in me, one that penetrated my vest and went through the flesh around my stomach, one into my left arm, another flesh wound at the shoulder, and one in my leg. It hurt like ******* Hell, but this wasn’t over yet. He made the mistake of finishing off his magazine, that would prove fatal.
Hah, it was interesting to see that he thought that a few unaimed shots from the ground while wounded would kill me. That was funny, and a fatal flaw on his part.
I unbuckled my Calico and let it tumble to the ground, instead grabbing my UCP and trudging over to him. I first picked up his gun, and then went to his side, and took the two extra magazines that he had, and put them all at my waist. I’d leave my Uzi and UCP here, instead hunting out better guns. I’d take this guy’s FN Five Seven, as well as a Calico M950, a hundred round pistol that I saw.
I next took a tactics light I found on his waistband, as well as a small grenade, and screwed the former onto the gun, the latter at my waist. Finally, I decided to put him out of his misery in a display of gory effects, courtesy of the lead of my UCP.
I threw the UCP aside, content with its use and sure that the Five Seven would prove an adequate replacement. There was a cling of metal on metal as I saw the gun bounce for a bit before landing facedown in the dirt. Next, a small Pokeball rolled out. Deciding to take a prize from my opponent that I would probably keep my whole life, I grabbed the Pokeball, pocketing it. Next, I took a large backpack that he had, which was occupied with around ten minimal size Pokeballs. The jackass was probably harvesting them like some sort of hunter. It was disgusting.
I put the puke green coloured knapsack on my back, and started going around, handing Pokeballs to survivors with backpacks and small waist pouches, something that I unfortunately lacked. A blond man with a tall stature was nice enough to pass me an extra one, as I could fit more Pokemon to salvage in there. Soon enough, I had made sure that the Pokemon of the fallen men were going to safely be brought to a nice new home and shelter, as well as my backpack being three quarters full with about seventy five Pokeballs.
Most of the surviving men had taken all of the guns, ammunition, and Pokemon of the dead bodies. I didn’t object to this, as long as they didn’t loot real valuables. It was just reusing things that would otherwise be forgotten, right? I didn’t really loot all that much to be honest, simply reloading and taking a few Pokeballs and a gun.
I sent fifteen men to go back to the other battle sites and rescue Pokemon, and get any guns and ammunition they could find. According to what I had heard at the Army base a few miles away from the outskirts of the forest, a small brigade of around two hundred men were in this forest. We had already taken down around seventy five (the five being stragglers that were slow getting back to camp. Looted them too. It was more of a noble thing to rescue Pokemon than anything).
I planned to take control of the group, as the leader was killed in the recent assault. As the fifteen men I sent to pick up our old comrades’ and enemies’ weaponry, I fired a Calico round into the distance, immediately shushing any other men. “Ahem,” I coughed, clearing my throat before delivering my speech. “As you know, your Captain has been killed in a firefight, and as the only first rank Private here, I’m taking charge. Our plan is to ambush the remaining one hundred twenty five men in the forest, as well as find the last thirty men of our own that are in here. There is a good chance that they have been slaughtered by our opponents’ dirty tactics, but we will prevail. This small army of Pokemon and men will utterly destroy the enemy forces. Altogether, we have around sixty one men and six hundred fifty Pokemon. There are one hundred twenty five soldiers max in our opposition. The other fifteen I sent to get the supplies from my brigade of fifty murdered men will only increase our stockpile, and honestly I doubt that we can lose to the reduced brigade that they have now. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have ninety one men and over one thousand Pokemon. I’d like to see them try to beat us,”
After I finished this small speech, I heard an eruption of cheering, and immediately roared out a command of silence. “If they hear us,” I explained, “They’ll attack and kill us. Do we really need to lose more men? No, now I don’t want to have the burden of losing sixty men on my shoulder, in addition to the fourty nine others I lost today. It’s just too much for one person. Thank you for listening, and we’ll be departing as soon as the other men get back, which should be right about…now!” I exclaimed, looking towards the heavily armed men that were coming in our general vicinity. In addition to the fifteen men, I saw another, one who was limping and bloodied.
This was someone who was on my brigade before! The only other survivor…I was grateful for that. Thankfully I didn’t lose all of my acquaintances in the murder that I had been forced to watch. Only living by playing possum was horrible, and I sometimes wondered if it was worth it to see my comrades die and live to tell the tale.
But I could do nothing about it, I had to move on from it and this man was all I need. His name was Hunter Tena, and he was a close friend of mine. We went way back, and his black hair and brown eyes were never seen away from my brown hair and blue eyes.
Until today, that was.
It seemed that he had a bullet wound in his chest, and that it had gone through the stomach. Blood was heavily pumping through the entry and exit points, and his breathing was ragged and heavy. Bloodshot eyes stared into mine, and tears welled up in both. “Are….are you okay, Hunter?” shocked at my friends appearance.
He smiled into my face, and then a hazy complexion overtook it. My friend had died.
My friend had died.
_____________
Blood. I wanted blood. I wanted their blood in a bowl, I wanted it by the gallons. I wanted it spilled all around the jungle. Blood and death would be full in the air for weeks, months, years after I was done with them. And they would pay for ever daring to let my friend die in my face. When I couldn’t do anything about it. Goddamnit…
Learning of his liveliness and then seeing it ripped away from him was just too much. And I found myself asking myself how many other bloodied and dying men had I walked away from, leaving them to spout their blood onto the dirt until it was nothing but a river of crimson floating with lifeless bodies?
Countless, I was sure.
And I’d sell my soul to the Devil and walk to Jerusalem and back from this very spot for my revenge.
Their blood would be oh so sweet.
________________________
The assault was planned, and at the price of a small disadvantage at losing the element of total surprise and the loss of one man’s left hand and left eye, we found out their position. I would make sure that the soldier who sacrificed his trigger finger and aiming eye (he was a lefty) wouldn’t be repaid for that particular sacrifice. I was sure I would get a promotion for this coup, as well as getting tons more ammunition and singlehandedly planning the defeat of a small brigade of enemy soldiers.
Marching our way there, we had little to no problems getting there. I was confident in our ability to utterly and completely rip through their forces and then loot the corpses blind in a matter of minutes. Excitement rushed through all of our heads as we approached where we thought were the remaining enemy soldiers.
Key word: thought.
When we came to a certain spot, a soldier tripped and two died. A trip wire grenade was just tripped over, and it took its toll on my men. Two died, but we knew that they were there. Idiots.
“Free your Pokemon!” I exclaimed, ducking down to avoid a whistling bullet. Immediately, six hundred Pokemon were released. Bad idea…
They went rampant, having all of them in one place. Trampling over each other, crushing people, and being shot dead by manmade bullets…my plan was turning out to be a disaster. All these Pokemon were dying…but at least they were lessening the bullet shell laden burden on my own men.
But that burden was being replaced with one of heavy monsters crushing their ribs. Honestly, I didn’t know what was worth, but I prayed to whatever God was letting this nightmare happen that they died quickly and painlessly.
I just knew I had to get the hell out of there…and so I ran. Ran like a coward, Pokeballs spilling out of the backpack that I had so religiously filled, only leaving several inside of it. What remained of my men were flanking me, only about seven or eight of them in total. The rest were dominated by the intense weights of Rampardos, Mamoswine, and Rhyperior, in addition to free flying bullets and countless other lighter weight Pokemon.
And then there was the enemy; it wasn’t that depleted, only about fifty or sixty men gone, and still standing strong. What was in this for us? My men were down to a fraction of what we had begun at when we entered the forest (around two hundred), and there was only the chance that fourty men could defeat nearly a hundred of them in close quarter battle.
And what had I done to the ecosystem of this majestic forest? Releasing hundreds of Pokemon that shouldn’t be there would have some sort of horribly negative toll on it.
Guilt overran me; I had done this because I wanted revenge, and it only brought pain and destruction on me and everything around me.
And from my pocket I pulled my gun, brought it up to my head, and fell to the ground. While this happened the Pokeball which I had taken from the one man fell from my pocket, opened in a haze of red, and released a purple cloud that was a Gastly. It slowly floated away, a sense of depression hovering over it. After a while, it left the forest.
That was the one of my men that did.
|It's for a Gastly teehee|
Escape
The smell of blood was ripe in my nose, and its colour well worn on my eyes. Never had I seen so much bloodshed in one day, and I hoped I never would again. So many lives had been uselessly flung away, neither regard for human life nor the sufferings of others. This brutal war was a useless battle, and I, a mere infantryman, couldn’t do a thing to stop it when the reality came down on my shoulders. It was because the power-hungry President of Johto was going on a world conquering spree and decided to designate Sinnoh as his first target. We got no help from the other nations, albeit a bit from the Orange Islands, but that was mostly because they were a Johto province. Most of the males aged twenty to thirty living in Johto were drafted into the army and the third battle had recently started. My entire brigade of fifty men was slaughtered in a surprise attack. I only lived because I had upgraded my own body armour, using Kevlar armour instead of the ceramic plate type customary of the infantryman. I wasn’t very ecstatic about going into this whole mess in the first place and now I had to get the hell out of it.
I clutched my tools; the ones that I made a special point to buy for this. I had an Uzi with one extra cartridge of thirty rounds, a Heckler and Koch UCP with an extra cartridge of twenty rounds, a small two shot derringer, and a Calico M960 slung across my back. Then I had what I chose of the standard Sinnoh military issue Pokémon: A Mamoswine, Electivire, Magmortar, Probopass, Frosslass, and Dusknoir. Other men had those Pokémon, as well as having Weavile, Glaceon, Leafeon, Porygon-Z, Tangrowth, Gallade, Lickilicky, Abomasnow, Rhyperior, Magnezone, Gliscor, and Yanmega. I wanted to take one of each but…my current situation didn’t really allow any extra things. I would make do with what I had at this moment. I needed to focus on staying alive now, and I doubted that carrying around eighteen Pokémon would help that situation.
Trudging across the forest landscape that the battle had taken place on, I took careful measures to make sure that I didn’t run into the same armada that ambushed my fifty men before. As I hid behind a tree, my dark brown hair plastered with sweat to my pale white skin with sweat, my green and grey camouflage uniform getting rather hot on my skin. God I wished they installed air conditioners or something in these things.
And that was when I heard the voices, deep and rugged. There were about ten men a little ways to my right, and then up a bend that made a ninety degree angle. That was where the small group of men who took out my comrades were, smoking after finishing a meal. I’d kill them all. I wanted revenge, and apparently I would have to take up the role of the death dealer.
I grabbed my black Heckler and Koch UCP and settled myself in the trees. There were ten of them, and one was sitting behind another. I would take those two out first, as it would be easier to kill two at once. Then, while they were bewildered, I would switch to my Uzi.
A bullet flew through the air, faster than any human could ever even wish to see, and went straight through the two men’s heads. They instantly died in a shower of crimson blood, and one man’s eyes were covered by it. I instantly sheathed by UCP and pulled out my Uzi. I dispatched the man who couldn’t see, and then fired two shots at another man. By now they were starting to figure out what was going on; they were under attack. It was unfortunate that that had happened, now I couldn’t have my fun with them. I wasn’t very discouraged by this, although I knew that I’d have to act quicker now and use less accuracy.
I sent four bullets their way, two of them missing. Another man fell to the ground with a splatter of warm, red liquid. I then dispatched three more men with six bullets. Now four of them were left, and they had gotten the idea. They pulled on helmets, and that particular fact made this a whole lot harder. Thankfully I knew what to do. I put away my Uzi, which had seventeen bullets left in it, along with my UCP which had nineteen, and held up my Calico M960. I put the shoulder rest where it obviously went and sent two bullets straight at the men, watching them fall to the ground afterwards.
As I smiled at this I felt a searing pain in my left shoulder, as well as a stain of red blood on my uniform. I had been shot!
The last man had seen and effectively shot me in my left shoulder. The bullet, although it hurt, went straight though my flesh and avoided crashing into or breaking any bone. Thanking the Gods that this man was a horrible shot, I looked through the Calico’s scope, quickly took aim, and fired.
The last man fell to the ground, and I smiled as I saw the blood squirt from the wound on his chest. Surely these were not the last men I would come across, but hopefully they had things I could use. The food would temporarily sustain me, and they had refills for my Uzi.
I quickly downed two apples, and then washed my hands with a bottle of water that I half drank, half used as hand cleaner. I knew that the death of ten men wouldn’t be taken well, and that getting out of here quickly was of the utmost importance. Ergo, I did.
Creeping out of the small camp, I heard gunshots and shouting, and I immediately got on all fours. God, this had to be another battle or small scrimmage, there were so many bullets whizzing through the air, I thought for sure that if I risked standing up I’d be turned to Swiss cheese.
But right now, I saw what was happening. It was another one of those ambushes, now it was sixty on one hundred men. Although Sinnoh had the advantage in terms of numbers, the goddamned Johto government gave their soldiers the best they could offer. Thankfully, some of the soldiers got their own armour and weapons like I did, and therefore I was better equipped than many of the men here.
I flipped out my Calico, which had ninety nine bullets left in it, and quickly took aim on every black and brown coloured bastard I could take sight on. I quickly downed about ten, still unseen by most of the men. Thankfully, I was hidden by underbrush and was well hidden. What would give me away was if the noise, if anything, as many people’s larger rifles and guns had run out and now they were resorting to smaller firearms.
This behavior continued for minutes, and I had downed twenty men and was down to exactly sixty four bullets. Deciding to save the rest for later, I let the gun hang by my side on its strap and pulled out the Uzi. I quickly relieved it of many of its bullets, and I no doubt left a few of my own men dead, but in exchange I dispatched the entirety of the enemy forces.
Or so I thought.
I was immediately sent backwards, and my Kevlar helmet hit the ground along with the rest of my body. There was one man left, and he had just hit me with the last bullet in his F2000 tactical assault rifle. I saw another gun at his hip, and swore loudly when I saw it. It was a pistol, and the worst kind that he could have in this situation.
It was an FN Five seveN pistol, the only one of its kind. While having a normal capacity of twenty bullets and a slightly smaller than usual round, it was more deadly than most other pistols. Its bullets were armour piercing rounds, the only ones in a pistol of any kind, and could go straight through my helmet. If I didn’t act fast, I was screwed.
I grabbed my Uzi that had strayed from my hand when I had fallen, and unloaded the magazine. They were all stopped dead. He was wearing Kevlar armor, and my Uzi rounds were nothing compared to it. Typical, it was deadly hard to pierce Kevlar with flat noses, but it was typically easy with armour piercing rounds.
He fired two bullets straight at me, and while I dodged one, the other went straight through my boot and into my foot.
I howled in agony as the bullet went in and out of my foot and bone. The tumbling effect hurt like Hell. Instead of just having an entry and exit point, the bullet was made so that it would tumble once it punctured skin, making the wound as big as the bullet itself. Thankfully, it was a relatively small bullet, but any bullet wound hurt a ton, and having the ability to make a wound bigger than the circumference of the bullet base only increased my agony.
“Jackass…” I muttered, sprawled on the ground. My Uzi had nothing on this guy, as did my UCP. I doubted I could easily get out my Calico, but I’d have to do it. I quickly grasped at it, jutting to the side as a bullet went into the ground. These things were killer, and they went through Kevlar like rice paper. I doubted my skin would do much better.
I quickly fired a few bullets, which whizzed around him rather than hitting skin, and after ten went through, I finally hit. The bullet wound was at the shoulder, straight through the bone, and left him on the floor. He still had control of his right hand though, and was firing bullets.
Now that he was closer, he had more accuracy, and his bullets were hitting more. He unloaded the rest of the cartridge, and left five bullets in me, one that penetrated my vest and went through the flesh around my stomach, one into my left arm, another flesh wound at the shoulder, and one in my leg. It hurt like ******* Hell, but this wasn’t over yet. He made the mistake of finishing off his magazine, that would prove fatal.
Hah, it was interesting to see that he thought that a few unaimed shots from the ground while wounded would kill me. That was funny, and a fatal flaw on his part.
I unbuckled my Calico and let it tumble to the ground, instead grabbing my UCP and trudging over to him. I first picked up his gun, and then went to his side, and took the two extra magazines that he had, and put them all at my waist. I’d leave my Uzi and UCP here, instead hunting out better guns. I’d take this guy’s FN Five Seven, as well as a Calico M950, a hundred round pistol that I saw.
I next took a tactics light I found on his waistband, as well as a small grenade, and screwed the former onto the gun, the latter at my waist. Finally, I decided to put him out of his misery in a display of gory effects, courtesy of the lead of my UCP.
I threw the UCP aside, content with its use and sure that the Five Seven would prove an adequate replacement. There was a cling of metal on metal as I saw the gun bounce for a bit before landing facedown in the dirt. Next, a small Pokeball rolled out. Deciding to take a prize from my opponent that I would probably keep my whole life, I grabbed the Pokeball, pocketing it. Next, I took a large backpack that he had, which was occupied with around ten minimal size Pokeballs. The jackass was probably harvesting them like some sort of hunter. It was disgusting.
I put the puke green coloured knapsack on my back, and started going around, handing Pokeballs to survivors with backpacks and small waist pouches, something that I unfortunately lacked. A blond man with a tall stature was nice enough to pass me an extra one, as I could fit more Pokemon to salvage in there. Soon enough, I had made sure that the Pokemon of the fallen men were going to safely be brought to a nice new home and shelter, as well as my backpack being three quarters full with about seventy five Pokeballs.
Most of the surviving men had taken all of the guns, ammunition, and Pokemon of the dead bodies. I didn’t object to this, as long as they didn’t loot real valuables. It was just reusing things that would otherwise be forgotten, right? I didn’t really loot all that much to be honest, simply reloading and taking a few Pokeballs and a gun.
I sent fifteen men to go back to the other battle sites and rescue Pokemon, and get any guns and ammunition they could find. According to what I had heard at the Army base a few miles away from the outskirts of the forest, a small brigade of around two hundred men were in this forest. We had already taken down around seventy five (the five being stragglers that were slow getting back to camp. Looted them too. It was more of a noble thing to rescue Pokemon than anything).
I planned to take control of the group, as the leader was killed in the recent assault. As the fifteen men I sent to pick up our old comrades’ and enemies’ weaponry, I fired a Calico round into the distance, immediately shushing any other men. “Ahem,” I coughed, clearing my throat before delivering my speech. “As you know, your Captain has been killed in a firefight, and as the only first rank Private here, I’m taking charge. Our plan is to ambush the remaining one hundred twenty five men in the forest, as well as find the last thirty men of our own that are in here. There is a good chance that they have been slaughtered by our opponents’ dirty tactics, but we will prevail. This small army of Pokemon and men will utterly destroy the enemy forces. Altogether, we have around sixty one men and six hundred fifty Pokemon. There are one hundred twenty five soldiers max in our opposition. The other fifteen I sent to get the supplies from my brigade of fifty murdered men will only increase our stockpile, and honestly I doubt that we can lose to the reduced brigade that they have now. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have ninety one men and over one thousand Pokemon. I’d like to see them try to beat us,”
After I finished this small speech, I heard an eruption of cheering, and immediately roared out a command of silence. “If they hear us,” I explained, “They’ll attack and kill us. Do we really need to lose more men? No, now I don’t want to have the burden of losing sixty men on my shoulder, in addition to the fourty nine others I lost today. It’s just too much for one person. Thank you for listening, and we’ll be departing as soon as the other men get back, which should be right about…now!” I exclaimed, looking towards the heavily armed men that were coming in our general vicinity. In addition to the fifteen men, I saw another, one who was limping and bloodied.
This was someone who was on my brigade before! The only other survivor…I was grateful for that. Thankfully I didn’t lose all of my acquaintances in the murder that I had been forced to watch. Only living by playing possum was horrible, and I sometimes wondered if it was worth it to see my comrades die and live to tell the tale.
But I could do nothing about it, I had to move on from it and this man was all I need. His name was Hunter Tena, and he was a close friend of mine. We went way back, and his black hair and brown eyes were never seen away from my brown hair and blue eyes.
Until today, that was.
It seemed that he had a bullet wound in his chest, and that it had gone through the stomach. Blood was heavily pumping through the entry and exit points, and his breathing was ragged and heavy. Bloodshot eyes stared into mine, and tears welled up in both. “Are….are you okay, Hunter?” shocked at my friends appearance.
He smiled into my face, and then a hazy complexion overtook it. My friend had died.
My friend had died.
_____________
Blood. I wanted blood. I wanted their blood in a bowl, I wanted it by the gallons. I wanted it spilled all around the jungle. Blood and death would be full in the air for weeks, months, years after I was done with them. And they would pay for ever daring to let my friend die in my face. When I couldn’t do anything about it. Goddamnit…
Learning of his liveliness and then seeing it ripped away from him was just too much. And I found myself asking myself how many other bloodied and dying men had I walked away from, leaving them to spout their blood onto the dirt until it was nothing but a river of crimson floating with lifeless bodies?
Countless, I was sure.
And I’d sell my soul to the Devil and walk to Jerusalem and back from this very spot for my revenge.
Their blood would be oh so sweet.
________________________
The assault was planned, and at the price of a small disadvantage at losing the element of total surprise and the loss of one man’s left hand and left eye, we found out their position. I would make sure that the soldier who sacrificed his trigger finger and aiming eye (he was a lefty) wouldn’t be repaid for that particular sacrifice. I was sure I would get a promotion for this coup, as well as getting tons more ammunition and singlehandedly planning the defeat of a small brigade of enemy soldiers.
Marching our way there, we had little to no problems getting there. I was confident in our ability to utterly and completely rip through their forces and then loot the corpses blind in a matter of minutes. Excitement rushed through all of our heads as we approached where we thought were the remaining enemy soldiers.
Key word: thought.
When we came to a certain spot, a soldier tripped and two died. A trip wire grenade was just tripped over, and it took its toll on my men. Two died, but we knew that they were there. Idiots.
“Free your Pokemon!” I exclaimed, ducking down to avoid a whistling bullet. Immediately, six hundred Pokemon were released. Bad idea…
They went rampant, having all of them in one place. Trampling over each other, crushing people, and being shot dead by manmade bullets…my plan was turning out to be a disaster. All these Pokemon were dying…but at least they were lessening the bullet shell laden burden on my own men.
But that burden was being replaced with one of heavy monsters crushing their ribs. Honestly, I didn’t know what was worth, but I prayed to whatever God was letting this nightmare happen that they died quickly and painlessly.
I just knew I had to get the hell out of there…and so I ran. Ran like a coward, Pokeballs spilling out of the backpack that I had so religiously filled, only leaving several inside of it. What remained of my men were flanking me, only about seven or eight of them in total. The rest were dominated by the intense weights of Rampardos, Mamoswine, and Rhyperior, in addition to free flying bullets and countless other lighter weight Pokemon.
And then there was the enemy; it wasn’t that depleted, only about fifty or sixty men gone, and still standing strong. What was in this for us? My men were down to a fraction of what we had begun at when we entered the forest (around two hundred), and there was only the chance that fourty men could defeat nearly a hundred of them in close quarter battle.
And what had I done to the ecosystem of this majestic forest? Releasing hundreds of Pokemon that shouldn’t be there would have some sort of horribly negative toll on it.
Guilt overran me; I had done this because I wanted revenge, and it only brought pain and destruction on me and everything around me.
And from my pocket I pulled my gun, brought it up to my head, and fell to the ground. While this happened the Pokeball which I had taken from the one man fell from my pocket, opened in a haze of red, and released a purple cloud that was a Gastly. It slowly floated away, a sense of depression hovering over it. After a while, it left the forest.
That was the one of my men that did.
|It's for a Gastly teehee|