New Round Robin - Desperado
Posted: Thu May 23, 2002 2:24 pm
Post if you want, just don't do anything moronic like "he gets run over by a Desoto."
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A shot flew past Anthony's ear, cutting the skin and sending a splatter of blood over his shoulder as he ducked down behind the barricade, ejecting the clip from his Grease gun before roughly packing in another. Jason raised up and unloaded a few rounds into the darkness of the building as suppresion fire, the top windows lighting briefly to herald the counterfire which landed in his shoulder, sending him back on the dirt with a grunt. Looking about, Anthony watched as ally after ally fell down from bullet wounds, some fatal, some not, but all of them gruesom and bloody. He reached down and squeezed on the shoulder of his friend before reaching into a nearby leather sack, retrieving a molotov cocktail which he grasped in his sweaty palm for a moment, peeking up over the barrier. Suddenly standing, he brought back his arm before letting out a might grunt, throwing the Nuka-Cola bottle flying through the air and smashing through a window. A vociferous explosion wracked the building, and its already-decaying walls were quickly lit aflame, being eaten away by a burning conflagration. Screams were heard from inside, soon followed by several figures stumbling out, parts of them on fire, soon shaking with gunfire. One, however, escaped into the shroud of an alley which led to the center of the city. "I hate Necropolis..." muttered Jason, holding the wound on his shoulder and gasping for air through his words.
"He'll tell Set, you know." murmured Anthony, picking up a radio with the Brotherhood Of Steal symbol painted on it. Quickly raising up the antenae, he punched at the numbers with one hand and reached into the pack for a crudely drawn map of Necropolis, outlined into sectors. "Command, this is private first-class Anthony Burgund reporting that the skirmish at..." he jabbed at the map, squinting before continuing, "...Sector 4, quandrant 1, has concluded in a routing of the Mutant forces." A crackle came over the radio in confirmation, and Anthony didn't bother asking for a repeat. They always just told him and the squad to advance, no matter what the circumstance.
He glanced to his right, where that great, beastly bastard of a corporal had been barking orders from not ten minutes ago, seeing that his Power Armor shell has been broken open by a blast from a Supermutant's laser rifle to the helmet, leaving the poor man brutally disfigured and maimed. Anthony smiled, looking to his medics and motioning to the other men before that titanic figure which now writhed on the ground in searing agony. War was hell, and Anthony prefered it that way.
"One got away, you know..." murmured Atticus into his ear, the snively, smarmy, secretive sniper of the squad, "He's probably already told Set about our push here..."
"Don't be such a cynic!" commanded Anthony, crossing his arms over his chest and giving a satisfied "Hmph!" before the football-pad on his shoulder was shot off by a large-calibre sniper round. Everyone hit the ground, medics and all, and looked around at the silent dusk. "Snipers..." someone whispered. "Probably Ghou..." added another, her words cut off by another shot, a distant, far away one. Anthony looked up at the high buildings that sat as great monuments in the distance, tombs and wrecks, and wondered how many sickly beasts each one carried in it. The dirt nearby one of the medics picked up as a shot landed near a girl's hands, causing her to squeel in surprise and pull her arms against her chest. Another soon came, closer, and landed in the corporal's chest, piercing the semi-removed armor and bringing a loud gurgle from him. Then he was quiet. "Manholes..." whispered Anthony, his hands moving out to motion to all of the rusty, circular gateways that were built into the pavement. "Quickly." Everyone in the group, now cut down to maybe twenty people from thirty five from the start, made their way to the manholes. Fires rang out around them, but none of the cock-eyed ghouls could manage to land a shot. Down into the bowels of the city they went, quickly shutting the manholes over their heads. The loud sounds of heavy mutant feet came quickly near the manholes, and the engineers in the group quickly reached for their blow torches, working as quickly as they could to seal it up after them. The sizzling stopped, suddenly, and the sound of a mutant heel coming down onto the metal caused a great stir among the now forsaken soldiers. Anthony looked to his radio, stared at it a for a great while, and then put it away. He raised a hand and pointed in a random direction, and started to plod off slowly through the supposedly abandoned sewers of Necropolis, his troops following reluctantly behind...
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Someone pickup, will you?
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A shot flew past Anthony's ear, cutting the skin and sending a splatter of blood over his shoulder as he ducked down behind the barricade, ejecting the clip from his Grease gun before roughly packing in another. Jason raised up and unloaded a few rounds into the darkness of the building as suppresion fire, the top windows lighting briefly to herald the counterfire which landed in his shoulder, sending him back on the dirt with a grunt. Looking about, Anthony watched as ally after ally fell down from bullet wounds, some fatal, some not, but all of them gruesom and bloody. He reached down and squeezed on the shoulder of his friend before reaching into a nearby leather sack, retrieving a molotov cocktail which he grasped in his sweaty palm for a moment, peeking up over the barrier. Suddenly standing, he brought back his arm before letting out a might grunt, throwing the Nuka-Cola bottle flying through the air and smashing through a window. A vociferous explosion wracked the building, and its already-decaying walls were quickly lit aflame, being eaten away by a burning conflagration. Screams were heard from inside, soon followed by several figures stumbling out, parts of them on fire, soon shaking with gunfire. One, however, escaped into the shroud of an alley which led to the center of the city. "I hate Necropolis..." muttered Jason, holding the wound on his shoulder and gasping for air through his words.
"He'll tell Set, you know." murmured Anthony, picking up a radio with the Brotherhood Of Steal symbol painted on it. Quickly raising up the antenae, he punched at the numbers with one hand and reached into the pack for a crudely drawn map of Necropolis, outlined into sectors. "Command, this is private first-class Anthony Burgund reporting that the skirmish at..." he jabbed at the map, squinting before continuing, "...Sector 4, quandrant 1, has concluded in a routing of the Mutant forces." A crackle came over the radio in confirmation, and Anthony didn't bother asking for a repeat. They always just told him and the squad to advance, no matter what the circumstance.
He glanced to his right, where that great, beastly bastard of a corporal had been barking orders from not ten minutes ago, seeing that his Power Armor shell has been broken open by a blast from a Supermutant's laser rifle to the helmet, leaving the poor man brutally disfigured and maimed. Anthony smiled, looking to his medics and motioning to the other men before that titanic figure which now writhed on the ground in searing agony. War was hell, and Anthony prefered it that way.
"One got away, you know..." murmured Atticus into his ear, the snively, smarmy, secretive sniper of the squad, "He's probably already told Set about our push here..."
"Don't be such a cynic!" commanded Anthony, crossing his arms over his chest and giving a satisfied "Hmph!" before the football-pad on his shoulder was shot off by a large-calibre sniper round. Everyone hit the ground, medics and all, and looked around at the silent dusk. "Snipers..." someone whispered. "Probably Ghou..." added another, her words cut off by another shot, a distant, far away one. Anthony looked up at the high buildings that sat as great monuments in the distance, tombs and wrecks, and wondered how many sickly beasts each one carried in it. The dirt nearby one of the medics picked up as a shot landed near a girl's hands, causing her to squeel in surprise and pull her arms against her chest. Another soon came, closer, and landed in the corporal's chest, piercing the semi-removed armor and bringing a loud gurgle from him. Then he was quiet. "Manholes..." whispered Anthony, his hands moving out to motion to all of the rusty, circular gateways that were built into the pavement. "Quickly." Everyone in the group, now cut down to maybe twenty people from thirty five from the start, made their way to the manholes. Fires rang out around them, but none of the cock-eyed ghouls could manage to land a shot. Down into the bowels of the city they went, quickly shutting the manholes over their heads. The loud sounds of heavy mutant feet came quickly near the manholes, and the engineers in the group quickly reached for their blow torches, working as quickly as they could to seal it up after them. The sizzling stopped, suddenly, and the sound of a mutant heel coming down onto the metal caused a great stir among the now forsaken soldiers. Anthony looked to his radio, stared at it a for a great while, and then put it away. He raised a hand and pointed in a random direction, and started to plod off slowly through the supposedly abandoned sewers of Necropolis, his troops following reluctantly behind...
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Someone pickup, will you?