He could feel his grip loosening.
His mind slipping.
His body relaxing.
His entire being, preparing itself to die.
And there was nothing he could do.
Resigned, he laid his head against the wall and closed his eyes, eyelids coming down effortlessly, ready.
He turned the ever increasing gunfire out and began taking slow and steady breaths, not letting the pain bother him.
This.
He could feel it.
Death's soft touch.
It was warm.
Within his mind, he reached out his hand, and as he and death were about to touch one another...
He was suddenly yanked off the floor and put onto another green man's shoulder.
"Sorry sir, but you don't get to die just yet."
It was Flynn.
And by his tone, he wasn't sorry at all.
He was speechless.
Not because his words left him.
But because the pain from his wounds flared and he couldn't breathe.
He closed his eyes again, shooing away death who had waited for him, and began sleeping, having to be content with only this much.
-
"GET SOME YOU INSIGNIFICANT GRAINS!!!"
He kept firing whenever and wherever he saw a tan pop out a head.
At this point, they had taken cover and were hunkered down, hiding away from his relentless hail of whatever the hell he was shooting.
They had already tried flanking him a few times, each time only adding a scratch to his body and more victims to his onslaught.
All the while using the time he needed to deal with them to move up closer to his position.
Which he was fine with.
It was less of a toll to lob a grenade than to throw one anyway.
His reasoning was a vapor while his battle madness, his blood lust, was a thick ball of liquid, enveloping his mind.
With each kill, his sight deepened in it's red hue, with himself going deeper and deeper.
He was aware of it.
It had bothered him slightly.
What would happen if he got too deep.
But by his second belt, he no longer paid it any attention.
He was going to die anyway.
Who would care if he lost himself in his madness.
But with that being said.
The sound did not escape his attention.
He mumbled to himself.
"huh...I thought...I thought I killed them all..."
Speech was strenuous, but physical activity was not.
He jumped off and rolled to below, taking cover.
Then the mortars hit his previous position.
-
The sound of mortars pounding an area shook him from his rest.
He found himself back on the floor, his back propped against a wall.
It took a few moments to recall where he was and what he was doing.
When he was finished with that, everything made sense.
The greviously wounded lined against a wall, waiting to be taken care of.
The able bodied off to the side by the window, many trying to pry it open.
The few guards that could be spared keeping a look out for any incoming tans.
And the remaining officers having a discussion.
It didn't take long for one of them to notice he was awake.
It was Flynn.
He made his way over and the others followed after.
He spoke to them but his voice was hoarse and his throat felt swollen.
"whats the situation."
"Bad."
He said it without hesitation.
Bell didn't ask how bad.
After looking everything over, he had a rough estimate.
They only had one thing going for them and it was a big maybe on if it even was going to work out.
"what's the word on the window."
He was slightly afraid over what he was going to hear next, shrinking back and wincing as the lieutenant gave him an update.
"It's moved a little, the odds are good we'll get it open if we blow a nine-vee or two."
That didn't sound so bad.
It was actually better then he expected.
"batteries huh... will it not budge without them?"
If they blew a battery, especially one of that size, they'd create noise.
Plenty of it.
"Those damn hinges are rusted to hell, won't budge, or at least won't in any reasonable amount of time, we found some battery packs nearby, so we were discussing whether or not it would be a good idea. But hearing those mortars again, I dont think we got much of a choice."
The others nodded in agreement.
He did too.
The man had a point.
But they had to be quick.
Otherwise the tan's...
Wait.
If everyone was here, who were they throwing mortar rounds at...
"who..."
He began saying but seeing his expression, Flynn quickly responded.
"No one. Don't worry about-"
Before the man could finish, another green came charging towards the lieutenant, hitting him square in the jaw.
"DONT YOU EVER SAY HE WAS A NO ONE. I'LL BREAK YOUR GODDAMN FACE."
The green was enraged and had to be held down.
Bell noted the various wounds that were visible under the bodies of the greens.
"who was he."
He asked softly, ignoring Flynn who was sitting up with a hand to his jaw.
At his question, the green claimed down, and dug his forehead into the floorboard.
"Is. He is Connor Bloomhouse."
He said the name as if it physically hurt him.
And at it's mention, his memory flooded back and he recognized the pinned green.
Sergeant Markus Cherry.
"he was your friend was he not?"
"He IS."
He hissed.
"i see."
They were then interrupted by Flynn who had recovered.
"We're wasting time here speaking, someone get a team together and set the nine-vees on the the hinges. Miller can you help them? Ostrander can you keep an eye on this one? I'm not sure he's in any condition to keep himself safe."
Bell watched as Flynn pulled out another cigarette and quickly sucked in smoke, noticing the slight clench in the greens jaw as he remembered the pain.
Flynn noticed Bells gaze but only briefly glanced before walking away to do something else.
Everyone began moving as Bell watched on.
-
Am I dead?
Mr. Death sir, have you welcomed me into your home?
No?
Rude.
My body aches and I'm half sure my foot is partially melted.
Better than being dead.
I think?
Somehow I survived the bombardment of mortar rounds.
Which is a miracle I suppose given that it lasted NEARLY TWO GODDAMN MINUTES!
I MEAN WHO IN THEIR RIGHT FREAKING MIND WOULD WASTE THAT MUCH AMMUNITION ON ONE SINGULAR GREEN.
PETTY TAN BASTARDS I HOPE YOU ALL ROT.
It doesn't take long for the red to regain its dominance in his vision.
His bloodlust was given an injection of new vitality.
He shambled his way around on one dragging foot and one bad bad leg, picking up whatever weapon he could find.
Which happened to be his LMG with a half ran through belt and a pistol with an entire magazine left.
It would have to do.
He made his way through whatever devastation the tans had created, slowly, as if strolling through a peaceful town.
Whenever a tan was spotted, he gunned them down with 5 rounds or less.
This soon caught the attention of whoever the hell was in charge as they sent another unit of tans to contest the area with him.
He didn't learn of this event unfolding, it was simply intuition.
A hunch he had after creating a mound of corpses high enough to climb after the order was given.
He shambled on, having dispensed of his LMG after it had ran out of ammo.
Pistol in hand with only one bullet left, he made his way to wherever he heard movement.
And as soon as he turned a corner, his tired eyes widened in surprise.
A tank had been brought up.
It soon took notice of him, rotating it's main gun to return his gaze.
He lifted the pistol and aimed it down the barrel of the tank.
"DIE MOTHER FUC-"
He and the tank both let loose a round, but just before they did, a roar and a rumble bellowed through the attic.
-
Thankfully it fell the other way.
Bell peaked over the edge and into the snow white landscape before him.
The cold entered the attic and brought a chill that would not be ignored.
"are we even ready for this..."
He asked himself.
But Flynn heard him.
"No. We aren't equipped to deal with the elements. We might make it a few days off the remaining batteries but once those are gone, we're done. We've been dealt a shitty hand."
"at least we're alive."
"Yeah... I guess we are."
Bell then gestured for everyone to listen to him.
"There's no time, but I feel it is my duty to remember those that have died today. They fought bravely against the tan's, fighting back as best they could, however they could. They had the courage to fight till the end. And no amount of applause or rewards is enough to give them the recognition they deserve."
He finished, and felt his throat tightening, while lightheadedness assaulted him.
He was weak.
And would be for some time.
Taking a glance back, he could almost feel the tans rushing to get to the window.
This gave him fear.
He looked farther and at the thin smoke that was in the distance.
This gave him courage.
He looked back out and sucked in cold air, preparing himself.
It was time to leave.
He signalled everyone to follow him as he stepped over the edge and fell down below.