Snippet #1246849

Whitesword felt his legs tighten, his neck straighten and his eyes widen as the rush of computerized control seized his body. In a split second, his eye had sprang to life with a ten fold magnitude. The six man patrol appeared almost as a bad color in the forest. The cybernetic implant, linked to a powerful ruggedized laptop attached to his armor, was boosted tenfold through a small relay system; this logistical wizardy allowed Whitesword to have a unique interaction with computers utilizing his implant.
"Hold up, team -- Spotting six, armed, two o'clock. By the downed trees." Whitesword shifted into a crouch as he raised the AR-23 to his shoulder and sighted down the holographic. Hopefully, the others would be following suit and remaining in thier positions as well.
"All Frigtheners, armed hostiles spotted, stalling operations."


Basya was trudging along with his group, doing his best to keep them in line, when he heard the radio crackle to life with a brief message. Basya stopped and instantly listened to the broadcast, Whitesword's voice quickly depositing the information, the Lieutenant wrapped his hand through the sling of his rifle and ordered his own troop to stop.
"Whitesword's up ahead and occupying 'em ... We're going to prepare to flank, get vertical, everyone." Basya repeated quietly before pointing to a break in the woods to allow them off the path and pointing toward it.
"If we're gonna' move, we're gonna' move now."


Chotsky and his team, the farthest in the back, where busy moving along the rear, their Polish commander obviously content with bringing up the rear even when everyone else was moving forward. He was directed his way over a downed log when the radio sprang to life, the same voice broadcasting to every communication device the mercenaries were equipped with.
"Six armed hostiles! Six!! Whole fucking Chinese army!" Chotsky repeated helplessly as he scanned the trail, seeing Basya's group farther down the way, and then the bend away into a snow-choked ravine where the patrol must have been spotted.
"We ... shall ... do something." Chotsky continued to himself as he stepped over the downed log and swung the rail-caster, yanking the loading mechanism and putting a high-caliber round into place.
"All in favor of locating and terminating enemy, vote now."