Snippet #2827552

"Alright, you heard them. Easier to send an apology, I guess."
There's a general nodding from around the interior of the barrier, a clock ticking down on the rod stuck in the ground.
Eight minutes.

The Unit Leader, 10-Charlie, does a quick mental assessment of the situation.
They've run through around 28 magazines, each 20 rounds. They don't know if they've hit anything beyond the visual confirmation of targets dropping. There's a zombie or something at the back of the protective barrier breathing down the back of their necks, and they don't want to shoot that thing for obvious reasons. The airstrike that was called in by the Imps wasn't coming, he figures, as TOC would have called it in already. Well, unless they killed comms, but that meant they couldn't talk to them in the first place. There were... things... in the fog, and they seemed to go down with a shot or two. The objective was safe, so if they could keep it that way, then they could get out of here. The Imps seemed to have thrown a grenade, by the smell it was probably something anti-maj, so maybe that would help.
"Fuck," he whispers, running his hand over the top of his helmet.
"Alright, team. Kill the shield and set it to widening, high freak. Rifles loaded, we're getting the fuck out of here."
He calls the rookie over to work the shield, holding a hand up to signal the timing, as the rest of the Death Unit load their C-CARS with fresh magazines.
"SEC to 2nd Marine Squad, sounds good. We'll be disengaging shortly, have fun with this. Security and Exchange Company FOT-10 out."
He gives the signal, everyone withdrawing to close in on the barrier rod, forming a tight circle around it, one of them taking the time to activate the containment cube. The force shield slowly withdraws, the light making it up dimming as it does so, until it's a close circle around the soldiers. Then, unexpectedly, it brightens tenfold and widens drastically, forcefully shoving even the fog backwards as it continues to widen, likely the Kreznik as well. "Alright, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE," shouts the UL, and the soldiers uproot the stake and begin to sprint with it across the woods in an attempt to make a path to the outer edge of the fog. The units, shooting and moving, do their best to clear out the figures in the fog before they hit the barrier, the timer rapidly ticking down as they sprint towards the clearing across the treeline.