Post by Agouti on Jun 2, 2007 23:04:53 GMT -5
The AK was in the shop and my MC-51 went kaput -all I had was my MAC-11. The thing hung at my side with a sling I originally had used on my AK. A young man with revolver and his friend with an MP-5 accompanied me during a walk down the orchard during a certain day, complaining, most likely, about the stupidity of the amount of ammunition needed to hit an enemy to destroy them. The amount was five, which I though was ridiculous, but the man with the revolver was a paintball player, and most likely was even more outraged. Of course, the man with the MP-5, which he was borrowing from the enemy, was probably the angriest about it.
However, we took this in stride, and instead decided to joke around, mostly avoiding the enemy, at times eating peaches, and just generally having a good time.
However, somehow we were without vehicle and the peaches were on the other side of the orchard. The heat was becoming somewhat oppressive, when I heard a rumbling from behind me which made my heart sink into my stomach. There was no doubt in any of our minds -the enemy had found us, and was closing in on us with their vehicle. My friends, being far more athletic than I am, decided to flee further into the orchard or perhaps the woods, I never really saw where they went. However, I was quite out of shape, and had to think fast and act even faster.
All along the edge of the orchard ran a bush, which predominately covered a chicken wire fence. However, the path on which I was on, bordered for a short area, a piece where the fence was exposed. I noticed a small gap under the fence, either done intentionally by humans, or more likely, by some manner of beast. I quickly dove to the hole to find I couldn't quite fit.
My friends had disappeared into the dark forests, the journey to which would have been my un-doing. I grabbed the chicken wire and hoisted it over my head, and held it up as the rest of my body slithered under it. Unfortunately, I was now on some unused stretch of road, which didn't offer much cover. I ran for the chicken wire -not to recross, but to hide in the bushes, the side I was currently on.
I crawled into a roadside ditch, keeping my legs below ground level, in order to ensure that my legs would remain unseen, as denim is poor choice to wear when attempting an ambush.
Slowly the rumblings grew nearer, and the party approached. I had no green gas on me. There was a bottle every one was passing around back at base, but what good was that to me now? I had no ammunition on me either. Now, I'm not one to be a mooch, it's just that my bag is at base, which for some reason, we abandoned. Which brings me to my next point -my hop-up was practically off, resulting in almost no range, and the piece to adjust it was also in this bag.
I brought out my stock, and set the selector to semi.
The golf cart was getting closer, though I had to wait until they were directly in front of me to hope to get close enough, especially with five shots a piece needed to take them out. The rumbling drew even nearer; they were purposefully driving slow, requesting a peaceful submission. My actions spoke my response -I refused to show myself, and my sights were following them. I was mildly shaking and I felt the adrenaline rush through my body, aggrandized by the fact that they just seemingly wouldn't drive their vehicle directly in front of me. They never did.
They stopped, grew bored with calling out for me and my comrades, and turned around. I was somewhat conflicted: I was quite relieved that they had left, though I had badly wanted to open fire on them. Waiting until I was sure that they were gone, I carefully crawled out of the ditch, up to the path, under the chicken wire, and I was back in the orchard.
I went down the path, calling out to my comrades, though saw no sign of them. I had to expect that they were captured.
I meandered down the edge of the orchard, calling out to my friends, hoping that they were still free. No luck. I desperately needed to get that piece to adjust my hop-up, but there was no way in hell I was going to make it back to the base unseen, and the heat was becoming more intense.
As I walked on, I saw the golf cart which was held by my enemies, and signaled for them to pick me up. I didn't try to shoot them; I knew better not to. This was an act of kindness from them, and they had far more firepower that I had, most of which came in the form of a classic army m4. I was ordered to ride in the backseat, which I did so, while the driver scoured the area looking for the magazine for his desert eagle. The man with the m4 rode shotgun. He drove past base, a barn, and there was no sign of the magazine. I asked them if they had captured my comrades, and apparently they were still free. They said they were holed up in the trailer, which was approaching on our left. I saw the faces of my comrades through the curtains in the windows: they were signaling me to join them. I knew what I had to do.
Apparently, those which held me captive could sense my plan, and threatened to light me up if I tried anything. As we were quite close to the trailer, the magazine was found. The man riding shotgun handed me his m4 to watch, knowing that I was honorable and would not use it against him. What he had not anticipated, however, was that as he ran for his magazine, I still had a plan. I set his m4 down in the leather seat next to me. If I had set it in the metal bed, it would have given me more time, but I would have risked scratching it. Once the m4 was next to me on the seat, and somewhat out of reach of the driver, I leapt out of the seat, and ran to the trailer. Of course, the door was on the other side, and I was on the base of the broadside. Apparently the driver had grabbed the m4, as I heard shots being fired at me. The pellets ricocheted off the trailer wall, and became frighteningly close. He didn't lead it properly, though quickly caught on, though I was fast approaching the corner, which could shield me from his fire. As I rounded the corner, I sensed several pellets whizzing inches past my face, though I had made it to the short side of the trailer, and subsequently, the door.
The door burst open with my comrades’ hands, which helped me into the trailer, then quickly slammed the door behind me, and locked it.
However, we took this in stride, and instead decided to joke around, mostly avoiding the enemy, at times eating peaches, and just generally having a good time.
However, somehow we were without vehicle and the peaches were on the other side of the orchard. The heat was becoming somewhat oppressive, when I heard a rumbling from behind me which made my heart sink into my stomach. There was no doubt in any of our minds -the enemy had found us, and was closing in on us with their vehicle. My friends, being far more athletic than I am, decided to flee further into the orchard or perhaps the woods, I never really saw where they went. However, I was quite out of shape, and had to think fast and act even faster.
All along the edge of the orchard ran a bush, which predominately covered a chicken wire fence. However, the path on which I was on, bordered for a short area, a piece where the fence was exposed. I noticed a small gap under the fence, either done intentionally by humans, or more likely, by some manner of beast. I quickly dove to the hole to find I couldn't quite fit.
My friends had disappeared into the dark forests, the journey to which would have been my un-doing. I grabbed the chicken wire and hoisted it over my head, and held it up as the rest of my body slithered under it. Unfortunately, I was now on some unused stretch of road, which didn't offer much cover. I ran for the chicken wire -not to recross, but to hide in the bushes, the side I was currently on.
I crawled into a roadside ditch, keeping my legs below ground level, in order to ensure that my legs would remain unseen, as denim is poor choice to wear when attempting an ambush.
Slowly the rumblings grew nearer, and the party approached. I had no green gas on me. There was a bottle every one was passing around back at base, but what good was that to me now? I had no ammunition on me either. Now, I'm not one to be a mooch, it's just that my bag is at base, which for some reason, we abandoned. Which brings me to my next point -my hop-up was practically off, resulting in almost no range, and the piece to adjust it was also in this bag.
I brought out my stock, and set the selector to semi.
The golf cart was getting closer, though I had to wait until they were directly in front of me to hope to get close enough, especially with five shots a piece needed to take them out. The rumbling drew even nearer; they were purposefully driving slow, requesting a peaceful submission. My actions spoke my response -I refused to show myself, and my sights were following them. I was mildly shaking and I felt the adrenaline rush through my body, aggrandized by the fact that they just seemingly wouldn't drive their vehicle directly in front of me. They never did.
They stopped, grew bored with calling out for me and my comrades, and turned around. I was somewhat conflicted: I was quite relieved that they had left, though I had badly wanted to open fire on them. Waiting until I was sure that they were gone, I carefully crawled out of the ditch, up to the path, under the chicken wire, and I was back in the orchard.
I went down the path, calling out to my comrades, though saw no sign of them. I had to expect that they were captured.
I meandered down the edge of the orchard, calling out to my friends, hoping that they were still free. No luck. I desperately needed to get that piece to adjust my hop-up, but there was no way in hell I was going to make it back to the base unseen, and the heat was becoming more intense.
As I walked on, I saw the golf cart which was held by my enemies, and signaled for them to pick me up. I didn't try to shoot them; I knew better not to. This was an act of kindness from them, and they had far more firepower that I had, most of which came in the form of a classic army m4. I was ordered to ride in the backseat, which I did so, while the driver scoured the area looking for the magazine for his desert eagle. The man with the m4 rode shotgun. He drove past base, a barn, and there was no sign of the magazine. I asked them if they had captured my comrades, and apparently they were still free. They said they were holed up in the trailer, which was approaching on our left. I saw the faces of my comrades through the curtains in the windows: they were signaling me to join them. I knew what I had to do.
Apparently, those which held me captive could sense my plan, and threatened to light me up if I tried anything. As we were quite close to the trailer, the magazine was found. The man riding shotgun handed me his m4 to watch, knowing that I was honorable and would not use it against him. What he had not anticipated, however, was that as he ran for his magazine, I still had a plan. I set his m4 down in the leather seat next to me. If I had set it in the metal bed, it would have given me more time, but I would have risked scratching it. Once the m4 was next to me on the seat, and somewhat out of reach of the driver, I leapt out of the seat, and ran to the trailer. Of course, the door was on the other side, and I was on the base of the broadside. Apparently the driver had grabbed the m4, as I heard shots being fired at me. The pellets ricocheted off the trailer wall, and became frighteningly close. He didn't lead it properly, though quickly caught on, though I was fast approaching the corner, which could shield me from his fire. As I rounded the corner, I sensed several pellets whizzing inches past my face, though I had made it to the short side of the trailer, and subsequently, the door.
The door burst open with my comrades’ hands, which helped me into the trailer, then quickly slammed the door behind me, and locked it.
