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This isn't about you and your loud mouth,
This is about me and my fucking beard.
Since last post: 2841 days
Last activity: 2465 days
|"Happy New Years, Max." As 2nd Lt. Zachary Murdoch spoke these words, he slowly cleaned off his dirt-coated flask and poured the sparkling contents into the glass before him.
"Already?" Corporal Maxwell Gacy replied, clearing his throat of its parched gruffness.
"I know, it's very surprising. Can barely tell when it's night or day with the weather we've been having." He passed a now filled glass to his friend across the bar table. The slide of the glass disrupted the dust resting on the table, and particles began floating into the still air of the bar the two men sat in.
"Well," began Max, his voice clear thanks to the splash of vodka, "at least we get to start the New Year's off right: out of the woods and out of combat."
"Don't jinx us, Max. Just drink up quick so we can get back to the troops. We'll bring them back some rum to keep them warm."
Max began rubbing his hands. "Think there's any left in here?"
Zachary rose and walked over to the bar. With a grunt, he lifted himself over the counter and began rummaging. Max turned at the sound of clinks to see Zach dropping newly discovered alcohol on the bar. Max rose, leaving his cracked cup on the table.
When Zachary rose, he found Max waiting for him, three bottles already in hand. Zachary grabbed the remaining two after one final heave over the bar.
"This'll certainly do." After Zachary was situated, they made their way towards the exit. Climbing over the rubble of the left side of the bar, they made their way into the snow-packed street.
"Max, I forgot to ask. What's your score?" Zachary said, stopping where he stood. He slowly put down the bottles and began unholstering his gun.
"Well, I'm pretty sure it was about fourty five."
"Damn. Well, congratulations. You beat me. To celebrate the new year, I nominate we institute a clean wipe of the tally." Zachary was hard at work adjusting his gun, ensuring the magazine was inserted properly and other tiny calibrations.
Max looked around and chuckled slightly. "Proposal accepted. Enjoy the head start."
Suddenly, the sound of glass broke the silence. Far above them, a hulk of flesh hurtled out of a skyscraper and plummeted towards them, howling the while.
Without a second's thought, Zachary raised his automatic and blasted away. He peppered the mutant with thirty bullets or so before it slammed into the ground. With his gun still raised in the ready, he slowly made his way to the body of the humongous beast.
With each step, Zachary savored the crunch of the snow beneath his feet, the whistling of the glass as it rained slowly around them, and the labored, guttural wheeze of the mutant.
Zachary stopped moving. As the mutant slowly lifted its head and met eyes with its enemy, it made a low moan, fueled by a predatory wrath. Shortly after, Max sneezed behind them.
"God bless you," Zachary joked before firing again, leaving little face behind.
Zach holstered his gun and made his way to the alcohol he'd laid down. "At least it wasn't a cognitive. Fuckers are never alone."
"Yeah, yeah," Max said, " well, one mutant's not necessarily the biggest lead, and we've got 365 days ahead. The game's only just begun."
The two soldiers laughed shortly before beginning the
quiet march back to base, five miles down. The rest of their unit, or what still remained, waited for them there. In the three years since the world ended, the 59th Battalion had become a very close knit group. Most weren't even really soldiers, but they all fought together to preserve sanity in the wreckage of a planet they were left to fix.
Since last post: 1823 days
Last activity: 1718 days
|There was the snap of a twig behind the duo. A young man stood behind them, wielding a metal longbow loaded with an obsidian colored bolt, the cord pulled back by a rudimentary mechanical arm. In one swift motion the bolt slid into a compartment in the mechanical arm, and the bow telescoped, forming a small package. The man, Warrant Officer Dylan Wheelis, snapped into a formal salute.
“Glad to see that you made it back safely, Sir.”
(Last edited by HAL 9000 on 06-03-09 09:14 PM)
Since last post: 895 days
Last activity: 880 days
|Ellen looked around. When she heard the twig snap her hair rose.
"Glad you made it back, Sir." She heard. Her eyes snapped to glee. Max.. she though...
She ran out. "Gacy!!" She shouted and takled hugged him. Sergeant Ellen Miles was so happy to see he made it back. Ellen was so happy to see her friend. Ellen smiled happily. Being in communication and a female meant she wasn't allowed to leave the FOB. She was so happy to see her friend from basic training. Ellen didn't even consider her rank since she was only one step above a corporal. She was only promoted because she scored a 300 on her PT test, got hawk eye on her qualifications, and found her way through the woods during the land nav quest easily. Of course she went to warrior leadership course with Max as well. Ellen would've been stuck in her corporal position had the last sergeant not gotten a medical discharge. Ellen looked at Max with her deep green eyes and then at everyone else. She immediately regained her military composure. "Ahem..." She looked at the group. "Surrender the radios, so I can go ahead and do maintenance."
Ellen's brown hair was a bit messy because she was constantly touching it out of stress because the person she considered her battle buddy was outside of the FOB. It was sort of a twisted way of her compassion towards Max.
is watching you, he sees your every move.
From: Victorian London.
Since last post: 2942 days
Last activity: 2916 days
|A man stepped slowly from behind his tent. The smoke from his cigarette trailed into the sky. "Gentlemen," Captian Ronnie Greere, flicked the remen"ants of his cigarette into the snow. "I hope you didn't come back emptyhanded." He cocked an eyebrow.|
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