Post by Tex on Apr 24, 2007 14:50:38 GMT -5
2100 Hours
MOA CQC Building
The evening sky a pure black through a dusty, cracked window. Clouds thick, covering the sky, no moonlight shone into the damp warehouse. A string of Christmas lights and a flickering old fluorescent emit a faint light throughout the building. The lingering smell of sweat and dirt fills the nostrils of the small group of men attempting to seize the building from the rebels.
*BAM*
The large iron door is slammed open, a spray of bullets whiz past his head as he methodically works to prop the door open. His rugged commander laying down a cover fire as he slides the rusted old laundry cart into the opening. A bullet ricochets off his mounted flashlight, he lets out a soft evil cackle; blood will be shed this night.
Leaving his team to play in the fire fight he crawls slowly. Silently making his way to the enemies flank, slithering across grime and broken glass. A dark object moves across the wall, creeping closer, he can make out the faint silhouette of an M4. Readying his gun he waits patiently for the body to emerge.
Suddenly he realizes something is not right. No longer does he hear an exchange of fire, there is nothing but silence.
*Pop! Hisssssss*
The smell of rancid sulfur floods his nose as smoke begins to float over the floor around him. Lungs on fire, it takes everything that he has not to cough. Focused on the shadow, waiting for his opportunity. The tip of a rifle peeks out around a corner, slowly moving toward him. Eyes burning, tears filling them he concentrates as much as he can.
Suddenly he is blinded. a flashlight directly in his eyes, he opens up in the direction of the light, missing horribly. Loud thuds of a man running and knocking over barrels can be heard as his enemy retreats.
Slowly climbing to his knees he advances around a dark corner, not knowing what lies on the other side. Peering around the crate that was knocked over finding no signs of an enemy he moves forward.
A crunch comes from around the corner in front of him and he quickly slides to the corner, hunched beneath a shelf, completely cloaked in darkness. Silently, he waits, ears straining to hear anything.
A whisper pierces through the silence of the night. Another whisper answers back followed by very slow, and careful footsteps. He can now clearly make out the voices of two men, and see the soft glow of their tactical lights and they approach his position. They check the room quickly and efficiently, checking up on shelves and in the darkest corners. Their lights pass within inches of him making the hair on his arms stand up.
A sleek black combat boot comes into view followed by another careful, silent boot. He readies his rifle, finger on the trigger, waiting patiently for his enemies companion to show himself. A grin grows across his face as he sees the toe of his second victim.
Eagerly they move forward, light illuminating every inch of the room but the small crevice he has squeezed himself into. As they both come into view, he opens fire on their legs mowing them both down, cackling maniacally at the looks on their faces, rolling into the open with a cocky, overzealous attitude as a third enemy appears in front of him.
"Oh s***t!"
He falls backward spraying a handful of bullets into his enemies torso, taking two into his own face in the process. All is silent as their bodies lay their in the dark, murky warehouse.
MOA CQC Building
The evening sky a pure black through a dusty, cracked window. Clouds thick, covering the sky, no moonlight shone into the damp warehouse. A string of Christmas lights and a flickering old fluorescent emit a faint light throughout the building. The lingering smell of sweat and dirt fills the nostrils of the small group of men attempting to seize the building from the rebels.
*BAM*
The large iron door is slammed open, a spray of bullets whiz past his head as he methodically works to prop the door open. His rugged commander laying down a cover fire as he slides the rusted old laundry cart into the opening. A bullet ricochets off his mounted flashlight, he lets out a soft evil cackle; blood will be shed this night.
Leaving his team to play in the fire fight he crawls slowly. Silently making his way to the enemies flank, slithering across grime and broken glass. A dark object moves across the wall, creeping closer, he can make out the faint silhouette of an M4. Readying his gun he waits patiently for the body to emerge.
Suddenly he realizes something is not right. No longer does he hear an exchange of fire, there is nothing but silence.
*Pop! Hisssssss*
The smell of rancid sulfur floods his nose as smoke begins to float over the floor around him. Lungs on fire, it takes everything that he has not to cough. Focused on the shadow, waiting for his opportunity. The tip of a rifle peeks out around a corner, slowly moving toward him. Eyes burning, tears filling them he concentrates as much as he can.
Suddenly he is blinded. a flashlight directly in his eyes, he opens up in the direction of the light, missing horribly. Loud thuds of a man running and knocking over barrels can be heard as his enemy retreats.
Slowly climbing to his knees he advances around a dark corner, not knowing what lies on the other side. Peering around the crate that was knocked over finding no signs of an enemy he moves forward.
A crunch comes from around the corner in front of him and he quickly slides to the corner, hunched beneath a shelf, completely cloaked in darkness. Silently, he waits, ears straining to hear anything.
A whisper pierces through the silence of the night. Another whisper answers back followed by very slow, and careful footsteps. He can now clearly make out the voices of two men, and see the soft glow of their tactical lights and they approach his position. They check the room quickly and efficiently, checking up on shelves and in the darkest corners. Their lights pass within inches of him making the hair on his arms stand up.
A sleek black combat boot comes into view followed by another careful, silent boot. He readies his rifle, finger on the trigger, waiting patiently for his enemies companion to show himself. A grin grows across his face as he sees the toe of his second victim.
Eagerly they move forward, light illuminating every inch of the room but the small crevice he has squeezed himself into. As they both come into view, he opens fire on their legs mowing them both down, cackling maniacally at the looks on their faces, rolling into the open with a cocky, overzealous attitude as a third enemy appears in front of him.
"Oh s***t!"
He falls backward spraying a handful of bullets into his enemies torso, taking two into his own face in the process. All is silent as their bodies lay their in the dark, murky warehouse.
