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Snippet #2739971

located in New Orleans, a part of Home is Where the War is, one of the many universes on RPG.

New Orleans

War-torn and recently occupied

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kalen Clarke Character Portrait: Marcus Dathe
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"Hold...hold..." Marcus whispered, dot of his ACOG scope tracing the steps of the Chinese engineer as he slammed the hood down on the lead truck. He called something out, something in his native tongue that barely caught on the breeze slipping through the crumbled streets. Another man, dressed down in loose figures and an officer's cap, stepped forward and the two had a quick inaudible conversation that ended with the officer throwing up a quick hand before shouting something across the convoy-line.

The convoy screamed to life, the armored trucks keying their engines in unison and the perimeter guards rushing back to remount the APCs peppered throughout the twelve-strong transport convoy. "You see that officer? Track him. Right before he gets back in the truck, take his head off."

Kirby nodded silently, adjusting the stock of his rifle and steadying his aim, "Got it" a cocky-grin spread across the kid's face.

At least he was confident, Marcus wasn't so sure. The whole plan was bordering on the suicidal, but they couldn't just let the PLA take members of the resistance. Sitting alongside however many American citizens had gotten on the wrong side of a Chinese officer or had the misfortune of being caught breaking the laws set down by the "Provisional Democracy", were at least a dozen resistance fighters. Things hadn't gone as smoothly as they could have when they first arrived in New Orleans, thanks to a trap or just faulty Intel...it was hard to say anymore.

It didn't matter right now, all that mattered was getting the survivors back while they still could. If they were lucky, the prisoners weren't a liability and they could bolster their numbers a bit. Maybe they even had some military veterans or ex-cops in those trucks. Hell, Marcus wouldn't even complain if they had a rent-a-cop cuffed up in there.

The officer took a stance beside the lead truck's driver side, overwatching as the perimeter guards made their way back. "Hold" Marcus reminded as he watched the officer do an about face and step around the hood of the vehicle, hand casually draped over the sidearm on his hip.

"Hold..." Marcus repeated one last time, letting his own sight drift from the officer to the driver of the lead truck. The SR-25 rifle was rifled for 7.62 and he'd gotten lucky scoring a few rounds of Armor Piercing for it, now he just hoped they'd breach the glass. He watched the officer move toward the door from the corner of his vision...he let his finger-tip coil tighter around the trigger.

The driver shot back in his seat, first from the surprise of his CO's head imploding, then from the two bullets, Marcus put through the windshield. The convoy roared to life and so did the windows of buildings and the covers of manholes, pipebombs and Molotov's burning tires and shredding suspensions as the trucks pulled away desperately to no avail. Ununiformed fighters popped from the shadows, laying sheets of bullets into the armored soldiers as they jumped from the sides of APCs and fumbled towards cover. Marcus followed them with his sights, a spray of gore-laced mist accompanying each squeeze of the trigger.

A leg was blown from the knee here, a spaying hole put in a neck there. Each bullet found a home somewhere in a Chinese soldier and when the gunfire died down he could hear the dying groan. He gave the battlefield one last scan, resistance fighters were slowly closing in from hiding spots on either side of the smoking convoy. "Come on" he motioned, shouldering his rifle and standing up, "let's get down there."

It didn't take long to get out of the house and make it down the street where the other resistance members where clearing out any stragglers. "Let's get these trucks open! Come on people, we only have five minutes to get the fuck out of here!"

Marcus screamed over the commotion, running up to the back of the lead truck. A Chinese soldier was desperately pounding on the back ramp and when Marcus approached, he held up a hand and rambled incoherently in Chinese. Marcus gave him a bullet in the chest for his trouble.

"What was he saying?" Kirby asked from behind, eying the dead soldier

"how the fuck should I know?" Marcus shot back, reading his rifle, "get up front and get that fucking ramp open"

Kirby acknoweldge and ran to the cabin, throwing up then door and leaning into the mess of blood. The driver groaned at him, in shock most likely, but did nothing as he hit the button and the ramp's lock disengaged.