Snippet #2207719

"Lion! Over here! We're gonna take the fight to them, and I would feel a helluva lot better having your grenade-happy ass nearby!" Was the first thing the Aussie heard after firing a second rocket into the fray, he couldn't help but grin under his snow and frost at the term "grenade-happy", just because he was a Boomer, or atleast that was what he called himself, did not make him grenade-happy. He moved over next to the Corporal and chuckled. "With all do respect Laughlin are you sure that's what you want? I could just end up blowing you up too... But since I got an invitation..." His accented voice shaky but amused in itself.

Squatted down next to the Corporal he wanted for the general order of attack, sliding his rocket launcher back into place on his back and pulling his LMG back off it's chest holster. "I will need cover Laughlin, I move slow, so would you mind...? It'll be like a dance." He uttered next, a small snerk in his voice. His hands still shaking on the piece of metal-covered death in his hand as he loaded a new clip. The soft clicking noise of the clip into the gun similar to that of dropping a marble on the floor over and over. Annoying a lot of the time but on this battle field oddly calming.

He peaked over the trench as he waited, watching the Gauss guns in the sniper nests tear the remaining Revenants apart in a glorious display of plasma and asymphony of destruction, the screeching and roaring of bending metal, the fizzle of falling plasma, burning its way slowly into the snow and ice covered earth of this hellhole of a planet. The screams and dying yells of unlucky pilots, getting torn apart by the meddly of dangerous flames, fumes, and shrapnel. To some soldier's this may have been a wondrous sight... To Greyson. Not so much. Even if they were aliens it made him think what ifs.. Like if the pushing vehicles where Warthogs getting shredded fuel-rod Shade turrets.

Ducking back down he took a deep shuddering breath before looking about the Trenches, his gaze, distorted lightly caught the eyes of a dead marine, blood dripping down the man's shoulders, eyes blank and abysmal, memories gone and burned away. He felt his heart begin to pound and blood rush to his head. The sound thudding over and over, this was battle, this was war. And he was trapped in its dimensions, seeing the reality of it for the first time. Shaking his head he pushed it all away and turned slowly to Laughlin. Looking towards her for a second. Wondering if she could be next to join the bodies on the ground or could he. But that didn't matter. He shook his head clear a second time and removed his mask for a second, vomitting onto the ice next to him nervous paranoia.

"Are you ready Laughlin?" He asked, popping back up. Head now clear, ready to charge, accepting the fact that not everyone came home from this deadly game know as warfare.