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Another oneshot piece that may expand into something larger, this one also written for a competition. The judges have not convened yet but I will say something when they do. Hope you all enjoy.
“Down, down,” Sergeant Vikki Fenris hissed at her section, who all ducked behind what was left of the north wall on the second floor of one particular apartment complex amongst hundreds in the city.
As the soldiers ducked behind jutting pieces of concrete and steel bars, dust fell from the ceiling above their heads. The ground rumbled as a column of tanks rolled down the street, infantry walking alongside them, peeking into the ruins lining the road.
“What the hell are tanks doing here? Intel said the Entente had all their armour at the East end of the city,” Corporal Jaeger said, almost shouting above the roar of the approaching tank engines.
“Either they moved since we checked in five hours ago, or this is another squadron we didn’t know about. Just keep your damn heads down. Kessler, move over to the staircase and make sure none of them infantry get too nosey,” Vikki commanded.
The Private in question nodded, grasping his light machine gun and running in a crouch deeper into the building to watch the only remaining flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Vikki pointed at Private Mann and flicked her hand to indicate he follow the machine gunner. The soldier nodded and moved after his comrade.
Despite the noise of the passing tanks, Vikki knew this was a calm moment, and took the time to remove her helmet and run a hand through her grimy hair. She hadn’t showered in five days, not since her section had been dropped behind enemy lines to run sabotage and generally play havoc with Entente forces, while the Coalition moved in over land from the East.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from one of the pockets on her tactical vest, her eyes ran over the five other soldiers in the room with her. Lighting up, the flick of her lighter silent amongst the rumble, she took a deep inhale. It’d been five hours since any contact was made with friendly forces, and that was only by radio. They had no real idea on how the battle was going, but such was the life of a Coalition paratrooper.
Moments like these, where couldn’t talk to even the soldier beside them, were all too common in this city. Just yesterday the section had lain low while a friendly artillery barrage hammered an old office building being used as an operations centre. Thoughts of home crept into the mind, of crawling into a familiar and comfortable bed rather than sleeping in shifts in rubble. Thoughts of standing in a hot shower rather than stewing in your own sweat beneath armour that never got taken off. Memories of friends and family left behind, left to worry about your safety; it all came creeping back unbidden, and Vikki shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She had a job to do in this hell hole, and that was to keep the men under her command alive.
Pressing the smouldering butt of her cigarette against the ground before flicking it across the room, Vikki took a sip of water from the tube hanging off her shoulder and connecting to the hydration pack beneath the plates on her back, washing away the dust collecting in her throat. As she clipped the tube back into place the sounds of the tanks moved past, and started to fade into the distance.
Vikki held out her hand flat, palm down, telling the section to stay hidden as she peaked through the window above her head, the glass long since blown away. The infantry were close behind the tanks, and it wasn’t long before they were no longer a concern.
“Hammond, radio in and tell HQ there’s another squadron of armour headed east from our position, rest of you keep watch we move out in five,” Vikki said, standing and moving out of the room to check on Kessler and Mann.
Hammond nodded before pulling reaching behind him to turn on the radio. They often kept it powered down to prevent being tracked by enemy electronic warfare.
Vikki found Kessler kneeling behind a turned over desk at the head of the stairs, with Mann sitting beside him smoking. Kessler’s eyes never moved from the iron sights of his weapon, but Mann looked up at his sergeant and nodded.
“It’s all clear sarge,” he whispered, wisps of smoke punctuating each word.
“Good, we move out in five, still have to take out the anti-tank gun two K north east before we link up for extraction,” Vikki said quietly.
“Sounds just dandy,” Kessler muttered.
As Mann finished his cigarette he tapped his friend’s shoulder and the two swapped spots, as Kessler reached for the smokes stashed in the same pocket Vikki kept hers.
Moving back to the central room, Vikki pulled a map of the city from under her armour. It was these quiet moments, where boredom crawled over the fear, that could be the most dangerous. People lost their edge wallowing in these moments, soldiers became complacent, and people died. Vikki didn’t let her mind wander, and wouldn’t let the minds of her men wander either as she investigated the map unfolded on the floor before her. The other paratroopers all kept watch while Hammond moved over to his sergeant silently.
“Command acknowledges. That was it,” he reported.
“Good. We stop for dinner after the gun is down,” Vikki said, folding up the map and tucking it away.
This time as she stood, securing her helmet, the others got to their feet as well. Without a word the section moved out of the house, Kessler and Mann falling into the rear of the patrol as the emerged from the crumbling apartment building and dashed across the street into a shadow filled alley.
Their boots made little sound, each soldier a professional; well trained, well equipped and no stranger to combat. Their eyes and weapons all locked into different niches, peering for any enemy that would gladly send them home in a flag draped coffin.
In the distance, explosions rocked the city and machine gun fire rattled off constantly; just white noise backdrop, a constant reminder of the dragging conflict of the soil hidden beneath the concrete.
Cutting through alleys, and moving silently through buildings, long since abandoned by the people who had once lived here, the soldiers made their way towards the coordinates given them hours earlier. They finally stopped in the rubble filled ruins of a basement, lying behind stumps of concrete. Across the street was a two story structure, its original purpose unclear, but nestled atop it on a metal platform and covered in camouflage netting was the objective. Entente soldiers stood around it, assault rifles held loosely in their hands, and Vikki could see another looking out through a second story window.
“All right, quick game plan. Jaeger, Kessler and Mann, you three stay back here and give us some covering fire, but don’t start until you hear shooting. The longer we keep quiet the better our chances. Everyone else is on me; we’re going in through the left door, nice and easy. Quiet kills if you can make them, but don’t play the hero. Petrov, I want the first two rounds in your shotgun to be slugs. Alright, prep yourselves, we go in once we good,” Vikki said after sliding down the rubble just enough to keep her head out of sight.
The paratroopers reacted instantly to her commands, rearranging their kit for close quarters, ensuring bayonets were within easy reach. It didn’t take long for them to finish; just a minute before they flashed Vikki a thumbs up to signal their readiness.
“Okay. Quick, quiet, clean. Huah?” She grunted to the men.
“Airborne,” came the whispered reply.
With that final word, five soldiers scrambled over the rim of rubble, quickly sprinting across the open road hoping that they wouldn’t be seen. Kessler and Jaeger took up positions watching the building, while Mann looked the other way, making sure no one came up to shove a knife between their shoulder blades.
Holding her assault rifle in one hand, Vikki carefully reached out and opened the door before her, and stepped into the building. She could hear people talking in low hushed voices, unaware of the enemy amongst them. Moving down the hallway that met her, butt of her weapon firm against her shoulder, moving like a ghost, Vikki didn’t need to pay attention to her men; she had full confidence in their abilities.
A door opened to her right, and a man walked out, clad in an Entente uniform and covered in body armour. He was running a hand through his hair, about to put on his helmet, when Vikki’s bayonet plunged into the flesh of his throat. Hot red blood gushed around the steel piercing his windpipe, pattering across the floor as he clutched at the wound, trying to scream but not even able to gurgle.
As Vikki eased the body to the floor, Sampson and Petrov moved into the opened room, quietly snapping the necks of the two guards huddled over the radio. Without orders they promptly cut the wires connecting the headset and scrambled the encryption making the valuable equipment inoperable.
Another soldier was coming down the stairs, footsteps echoing off the walls as Vikki hurried, hoping to get to the base to kill him quietly. She wasn’t fast enough, and the man let out a sharp yell of surprise, bringing his weapon up. Vikki’s finger pulled back twice, her rifle barking loudly in the confines of the building, empty shell bouncing off the wall beside her as the bullets tore through the man’s face, coating the stairwell with crimson, chips of white bone and clumps of gray. The corpse collapsed to the ground and rolled down the stairs as shouts of alarm went up on the second floor.
From outside came the punctuated crack of Jaeger’s sniper rifle, before the chattering hum of the light machine gun.
“Contact, to the south,” someone yelled before shots were returned.
“Petrov take point,” Vikki said, using her hands to give orders in case the man couldn’t hear her over the gunfire.
Petrov nodded, clutching his shotgun as he started to move up the stairs, Vikki close behind him, aiming her rifle around his arm. As they moved onto the second story they saw Entente soldiers firing out the windows, bullets digging into the wall behind them. As one fell back, clutching at his arm, Petrov let his shotgun roar. The twelve gauge slug punched into the closest soldier, tearing through his armour and crushing through his ribcage. Gore exploded from the exit wound and he crumpled to the floor as Vikki began to fire down the hall. For just a few seconds it was utter chaos as bullets and blood sprayed everywhere, chipping and painting the walls with carnage.
Passing by the first window, Vikki planted a green stick on the sill, letting the three outside know their progress while the other four began to clear the side rooms. Vikki glanced out the window towards Jaeger and pointed up, while behind her the sounds of gunfire flared as her section ruthlessly cleared the building.
Seeing his sergeant’s signal, Jaeger swiped his hand across his throat. They were incapacitated in the least. Petrov emerged from the last door at the end of the hall, placing a green stick of his own in the window, earning a thumbs up from Kessler who stopped firing.
Silence fell over their little portion of the city, their ears ringing from the barrage.
“You three get inside. Rest of us are moving up top,” Vikki shouted out the window and began moving towards a second set of stairs that led up to the roof. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins after the quick burst of intensity. The firefight couldn’t have lasted any more than five minutes, but it gave her the spike of excitement she always craved. The burst of life that prevented her from ever getting out.
The muzzle of her rifle led the way as her boots hammered on the grated steel of the steps, her ears picking up the others behind her. There was a door between her and the open sky, and she put two shots into the lock before kicking out. The connection of boot on wood sent the door crashing open, and Vikki stormed onto the roof, turning to the right, checking for hostiles. All she found was a dead man, half the contents of his skull splattered across the rough ground.
“Don’t fucking move,” Petrov shouted, and Vikki turned to see the point man holding his shotgun to a wounded Entente soldier’s head who was sitting on the elevated platform, leaning against the cannon.
“I’m not,” the man said, clutching at his limp right arm, blood soaking into the dull gray of his uniform. There weren’t any weapons around him, though Vikki spotted an abandoned and unloaded rifle lying beneath the weapon platform.
Vikki clipped her rifle to the carabineer on her chest and simply let it hang from her armour as she moved up to the wounded man, crouching in front of him, reaching into one of her abdomen pouches.
“Name and rank?” she asked him.
“Corporal Eliot Taylor. Other than that, I ain’t telling you dick,” he said, his face calm.
Vikki nodded, and pulled out a package BioCement, some gauze and a bandage from her pouch. Taylor eased his arm away from the wound, letting Vikki use her bayonet to cut away the fabric and find the hole.
“Looks like a through and through Taylor. I’m going to patch this up, then me and my team are going to blow up this gun, and we’re going to leave you in the basement with your hands tied. Understand?” Vikki told him, fully aware of the shotgun aiming over her shoulder at Taylor’s head.
“You’re... not going to kill me?” Taylor asked, watching as his captor opened the package of BioCement and wincing as she used the gauze to wipe away most of the blood gushing from his wound.
“We’re soldiers, not murderers Taylor. Even if people have trouble making that distinction,” Vikki said, not looking into the man’s face as she pulled what looked like black clay out of the package, and shoved it into the hole in his arm. He screamed in pain as Vikki packed the putty into his flesh, blocking every vein and artery. As Vikki wrapped the gauze and the bandage around Taylor’s arm, the clay turned to concrete. All the doctors would need to do now is tap it so it breaks, and let it fall out.
“Sometimes even us,” Petrov muttered off to the side, pulling Eliot to his feet before strapping his hands together in front of his belly at the wrists.
As Petrov and Hammond guided Taylor back to the basement Vikki stood before the large anti-tank weapon and pulled out a block of explosives. The pliable explosive stuck easily to the weapon’s firing chamber, and the detonator slid easily into place.
“Let’s get the hell out of dodge,” Vikki said, calmly moving back through the building and onto the streets.
The section moved like phantoms back into the desolation, leaving Taylor with a bottle of water sitting outside the building, unarmed. Vikki looked over her shoulder, before thumbing the switch in her hand.
The explosion roared, a cloud of dust obscuring the building instantly, pieces of metal scattered everywhere, bouncing off the surrounding structures and the road below.
“Time to go home yet sarge?” Mann asked carefully.
“I hope so, but I doubt it,” Vikki replied, and slipped away once more, to strike again somewhere else.
St. Michael’s Seraphim
“Down, down,” Sergeant Vikki Fenris hissed at her section, who all ducked behind what was left of the north wall on the second floor of one particular apartment complex amongst hundreds in the city.
As the soldiers ducked behind jutting pieces of concrete and steel bars, dust fell from the ceiling above their heads. The ground rumbled as a column of tanks rolled down the street, infantry walking alongside them, peeking into the ruins lining the road.
“What the hell are tanks doing here? Intel said the Entente had all their armour at the East end of the city,” Corporal Jaeger said, almost shouting above the roar of the approaching tank engines.
“Either they moved since we checked in five hours ago, or this is another squadron we didn’t know about. Just keep your damn heads down. Kessler, move over to the staircase and make sure none of them infantry get too nosey,” Vikki commanded.
The Private in question nodded, grasping his light machine gun and running in a crouch deeper into the building to watch the only remaining flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Vikki pointed at Private Mann and flicked her hand to indicate he follow the machine gunner. The soldier nodded and moved after his comrade.
Despite the noise of the passing tanks, Vikki knew this was a calm moment, and took the time to remove her helmet and run a hand through her grimy hair. She hadn’t showered in five days, not since her section had been dropped behind enemy lines to run sabotage and generally play havoc with Entente forces, while the Coalition moved in over land from the East.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from one of the pockets on her tactical vest, her eyes ran over the five other soldiers in the room with her. Lighting up, the flick of her lighter silent amongst the rumble, she took a deep inhale. It’d been five hours since any contact was made with friendly forces, and that was only by radio. They had no real idea on how the battle was going, but such was the life of a Coalition paratrooper.
Moments like these, where couldn’t talk to even the soldier beside them, were all too common in this city. Just yesterday the section had lain low while a friendly artillery barrage hammered an old office building being used as an operations centre. Thoughts of home crept into the mind, of crawling into a familiar and comfortable bed rather than sleeping in shifts in rubble. Thoughts of standing in a hot shower rather than stewing in your own sweat beneath armour that never got taken off. Memories of friends and family left behind, left to worry about your safety; it all came creeping back unbidden, and Vikki shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She had a job to do in this hell hole, and that was to keep the men under her command alive.
Pressing the smouldering butt of her cigarette against the ground before flicking it across the room, Vikki took a sip of water from the tube hanging off her shoulder and connecting to the hydration pack beneath the plates on her back, washing away the dust collecting in her throat. As she clipped the tube back into place the sounds of the tanks moved past, and started to fade into the distance.
Vikki held out her hand flat, palm down, telling the section to stay hidden as she peaked through the window above her head, the glass long since blown away. The infantry were close behind the tanks, and it wasn’t long before they were no longer a concern.
“Hammond, radio in and tell HQ there’s another squadron of armour headed east from our position, rest of you keep watch we move out in five,” Vikki said, standing and moving out of the room to check on Kessler and Mann.
Hammond nodded before pulling reaching behind him to turn on the radio. They often kept it powered down to prevent being tracked by enemy electronic warfare.
Vikki found Kessler kneeling behind a turned over desk at the head of the stairs, with Mann sitting beside him smoking. Kessler’s eyes never moved from the iron sights of his weapon, but Mann looked up at his sergeant and nodded.
“It’s all clear sarge,” he whispered, wisps of smoke punctuating each word.
“Good, we move out in five, still have to take out the anti-tank gun two K north east before we link up for extraction,” Vikki said quietly.
“Sounds just dandy,” Kessler muttered.
As Mann finished his cigarette he tapped his friend’s shoulder and the two swapped spots, as Kessler reached for the smokes stashed in the same pocket Vikki kept hers.
Moving back to the central room, Vikki pulled a map of the city from under her armour. It was these quiet moments, where boredom crawled over the fear, that could be the most dangerous. People lost their edge wallowing in these moments, soldiers became complacent, and people died. Vikki didn’t let her mind wander, and wouldn’t let the minds of her men wander either as she investigated the map unfolded on the floor before her. The other paratroopers all kept watch while Hammond moved over to his sergeant silently.
“Command acknowledges. That was it,” he reported.
“Good. We stop for dinner after the gun is down,” Vikki said, folding up the map and tucking it away.
This time as she stood, securing her helmet, the others got to their feet as well. Without a word the section moved out of the house, Kessler and Mann falling into the rear of the patrol as the emerged from the crumbling apartment building and dashed across the street into a shadow filled alley.
Their boots made little sound, each soldier a professional; well trained, well equipped and no stranger to combat. Their eyes and weapons all locked into different niches, peering for any enemy that would gladly send them home in a flag draped coffin.
In the distance, explosions rocked the city and machine gun fire rattled off constantly; just white noise backdrop, a constant reminder of the dragging conflict of the soil hidden beneath the concrete.
Cutting through alleys, and moving silently through buildings, long since abandoned by the people who had once lived here, the soldiers made their way towards the coordinates given them hours earlier. They finally stopped in the rubble filled ruins of a basement, lying behind stumps of concrete. Across the street was a two story structure, its original purpose unclear, but nestled atop it on a metal platform and covered in camouflage netting was the objective. Entente soldiers stood around it, assault rifles held loosely in their hands, and Vikki could see another looking out through a second story window.
“All right, quick game plan. Jaeger, Kessler and Mann, you three stay back here and give us some covering fire, but don’t start until you hear shooting. The longer we keep quiet the better our chances. Everyone else is on me; we’re going in through the left door, nice and easy. Quiet kills if you can make them, but don’t play the hero. Petrov, I want the first two rounds in your shotgun to be slugs. Alright, prep yourselves, we go in once we good,” Vikki said after sliding down the rubble just enough to keep her head out of sight.
The paratroopers reacted instantly to her commands, rearranging their kit for close quarters, ensuring bayonets were within easy reach. It didn’t take long for them to finish; just a minute before they flashed Vikki a thumbs up to signal their readiness.
“Okay. Quick, quiet, clean. Huah?” She grunted to the men.
“Airborne,” came the whispered reply.
With that final word, five soldiers scrambled over the rim of rubble, quickly sprinting across the open road hoping that they wouldn’t be seen. Kessler and Jaeger took up positions watching the building, while Mann looked the other way, making sure no one came up to shove a knife between their shoulder blades.
Holding her assault rifle in one hand, Vikki carefully reached out and opened the door before her, and stepped into the building. She could hear people talking in low hushed voices, unaware of the enemy amongst them. Moving down the hallway that met her, butt of her weapon firm against her shoulder, moving like a ghost, Vikki didn’t need to pay attention to her men; she had full confidence in their abilities.
A door opened to her right, and a man walked out, clad in an Entente uniform and covered in body armour. He was running a hand through his hair, about to put on his helmet, when Vikki’s bayonet plunged into the flesh of his throat. Hot red blood gushed around the steel piercing his windpipe, pattering across the floor as he clutched at the wound, trying to scream but not even able to gurgle.
As Vikki eased the body to the floor, Sampson and Petrov moved into the opened room, quietly snapping the necks of the two guards huddled over the radio. Without orders they promptly cut the wires connecting the headset and scrambled the encryption making the valuable equipment inoperable.
Another soldier was coming down the stairs, footsteps echoing off the walls as Vikki hurried, hoping to get to the base to kill him quietly. She wasn’t fast enough, and the man let out a sharp yell of surprise, bringing his weapon up. Vikki’s finger pulled back twice, her rifle barking loudly in the confines of the building, empty shell bouncing off the wall beside her as the bullets tore through the man’s face, coating the stairwell with crimson, chips of white bone and clumps of gray. The corpse collapsed to the ground and rolled down the stairs as shouts of alarm went up on the second floor.
From outside came the punctuated crack of Jaeger’s sniper rifle, before the chattering hum of the light machine gun.
“Contact, to the south,” someone yelled before shots were returned.
“Petrov take point,” Vikki said, using her hands to give orders in case the man couldn’t hear her over the gunfire.
Petrov nodded, clutching his shotgun as he started to move up the stairs, Vikki close behind him, aiming her rifle around his arm. As they moved onto the second story they saw Entente soldiers firing out the windows, bullets digging into the wall behind them. As one fell back, clutching at his arm, Petrov let his shotgun roar. The twelve gauge slug punched into the closest soldier, tearing through his armour and crushing through his ribcage. Gore exploded from the exit wound and he crumpled to the floor as Vikki began to fire down the hall. For just a few seconds it was utter chaos as bullets and blood sprayed everywhere, chipping and painting the walls with carnage.
Passing by the first window, Vikki planted a green stick on the sill, letting the three outside know their progress while the other four began to clear the side rooms. Vikki glanced out the window towards Jaeger and pointed up, while behind her the sounds of gunfire flared as her section ruthlessly cleared the building.
Seeing his sergeant’s signal, Jaeger swiped his hand across his throat. They were incapacitated in the least. Petrov emerged from the last door at the end of the hall, placing a green stick of his own in the window, earning a thumbs up from Kessler who stopped firing.
Silence fell over their little portion of the city, their ears ringing from the barrage.
“You three get inside. Rest of us are moving up top,” Vikki shouted out the window and began moving towards a second set of stairs that led up to the roof. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins after the quick burst of intensity. The firefight couldn’t have lasted any more than five minutes, but it gave her the spike of excitement she always craved. The burst of life that prevented her from ever getting out.
The muzzle of her rifle led the way as her boots hammered on the grated steel of the steps, her ears picking up the others behind her. There was a door between her and the open sky, and she put two shots into the lock before kicking out. The connection of boot on wood sent the door crashing open, and Vikki stormed onto the roof, turning to the right, checking for hostiles. All she found was a dead man, half the contents of his skull splattered across the rough ground.
“Don’t fucking move,” Petrov shouted, and Vikki turned to see the point man holding his shotgun to a wounded Entente soldier’s head who was sitting on the elevated platform, leaning against the cannon.
“I’m not,” the man said, clutching at his limp right arm, blood soaking into the dull gray of his uniform. There weren’t any weapons around him, though Vikki spotted an abandoned and unloaded rifle lying beneath the weapon platform.
Vikki clipped her rifle to the carabineer on her chest and simply let it hang from her armour as she moved up to the wounded man, crouching in front of him, reaching into one of her abdomen pouches.
“Name and rank?” she asked him.
“Corporal Eliot Taylor. Other than that, I ain’t telling you dick,” he said, his face calm.
Vikki nodded, and pulled out a package BioCement, some gauze and a bandage from her pouch. Taylor eased his arm away from the wound, letting Vikki use her bayonet to cut away the fabric and find the hole.
“Looks like a through and through Taylor. I’m going to patch this up, then me and my team are going to blow up this gun, and we’re going to leave you in the basement with your hands tied. Understand?” Vikki told him, fully aware of the shotgun aiming over her shoulder at Taylor’s head.
“You’re... not going to kill me?” Taylor asked, watching as his captor opened the package of BioCement and wincing as she used the gauze to wipe away most of the blood gushing from his wound.
“We’re soldiers, not murderers Taylor. Even if people have trouble making that distinction,” Vikki said, not looking into the man’s face as she pulled what looked like black clay out of the package, and shoved it into the hole in his arm. He screamed in pain as Vikki packed the putty into his flesh, blocking every vein and artery. As Vikki wrapped the gauze and the bandage around Taylor’s arm, the clay turned to concrete. All the doctors would need to do now is tap it so it breaks, and let it fall out.
“Sometimes even us,” Petrov muttered off to the side, pulling Eliot to his feet before strapping his hands together in front of his belly at the wrists.
As Petrov and Hammond guided Taylor back to the basement Vikki stood before the large anti-tank weapon and pulled out a block of explosives. The pliable explosive stuck easily to the weapon’s firing chamber, and the detonator slid easily into place.
“Let’s get the hell out of dodge,” Vikki said, calmly moving back through the building and onto the streets.
The section moved like phantoms back into the desolation, leaving Taylor with a bottle of water sitting outside the building, unarmed. Vikki looked over her shoulder, before thumbing the switch in her hand.
The explosion roared, a cloud of dust obscuring the building instantly, pieces of metal scattered everywhere, bouncing off the surrounding structures and the road below.
“Time to go home yet sarge?” Mann asked carefully.
“I hope so, but I doubt it,” Vikki replied, and slipped away once more, to strike again somewhere else.
