"Cease fire!"

The echo of gunshots faded and the gas cleared. In its place, a red splotch on the once pristine grass -- writhing in pain. The sight made me gag a bit, the stench was fucking horrendous. My scrunched up face did eventually turn into a cheeky smirk. The plan worked.

It was well past 1300 once the guns stopped. I radioed in.

"Naird here, has the Colonel been informed of the situation?"

A pause.

"A-aye, sir." Came a soft, cracking female voice. Quinn.

"Copy, load as much as you can fit onto the vics and load up. Move the vics up to my position and take defensives around me, over." That last part I said a bit too strenuously. I don't like saying over. Feels weird, man.

"Aye," answered a different, more confident voice. Quite flagrant if you ask me, the tone he used. 'Twas like he were a teen answering back to daddy having slapped mum on the bum. Then again, I did just order a massacre. And I gassed the fuckers. Maybe it was warranted.

I held the young Obba at gunpoint, his head forced to look at the carnage that was once his massive army. If they were going to win any wars, it wouldn't be with numbers. Or morale.

I'd only taken a small chunk of the whole mass of man. Of this chunk, all that remained was bits of man and writhing bodies scattered about, screaming, grunting, groaning, moaning. All in cries of pain, for those they love, for that which they fight for.

No sight was nobler than men dying for their country, and I was quite surprised to see men of the former way stick it out to the end. Men who see shit don't usually offer nationalistic sentiment, especially not when they're on the brink of death (except for the determined fucks). Still, it was quite the sight to see.

Obba was squirming about on his knees, squealing and screaming at the horrors in front of him.

I held the gun closer to his head and pulled him in close. I could be imposing when I needed to be, and this kid needed a push. I was practically breathing on his ear.

"This is what we're capable of," I let out a slight chuckle. "You have your answer now, but I know you'll come around eventually."

The three vehicles rolled up to us, a few dismounted to secure the perimeter. I stood the hostage up and pushed him into one of the vics, the one with the autocannon, and entered myself. The rest piled back in, and they looked to me for instructions.

"Gunner, when we start moving, fire at the armoury 'til it lights up." The gunner replied with some form of affirmation shortly.

"All vehicles, cut through the forest to our South and radio in when you find something of note. We're getting the fuck outta dodge, and we need a place to hunker down for the evening."

The vehicles began to move through the flats, and the autocannon-fire began. This was followed by an explosion and the expected cookoff of all that burning ammunition. It crackled like an oversized firecracker, and the sounds were oversized, too.

We kept trudging along, the vehicles moved through the trees with caution. The cookoff kept sounding off in the distance as we knocked past the occasional felled tree through a seemingly endless woodland. It seemed kind of peaceful, minus the deep humming all-around, and dried sweat stinking the place up.

The only thing I could look through was a small slit in the doors you could peer through. Around me was ten guys and girls, with a bunch of mechanical bits and bobs sticking out at odd places all over the inside. A dim red light illuminated the cramped tin can.

It was clear from the atmosphere that every one of the soldiers was disturbed. I told you, some people are unimpressive when they've seen some shit. Empty gaze, tired slouch, sluggish reactions. Not even a grunt could be conjured from their partly hanging jaws. Above all, they simply sighed and stared at the dim light. None of them were looking my way, and my gaze was repaid with slow, sluggish nods.

"How goes the First Section?" I asked, moving forward. Now was as good a time as any to ask.

"No word from them," said Quinn, catching on the second word. She went from looking at the ground to staring daggers at me. Her mouth parted occasionally as if to say something, and I replied with an empty stare.

I kept to myself -- a focused frown on my face -- and closed my eyes, attempting to catch some sleep. I knew the debrief would take a while, and almost grunted at the thought of having to unravel a mess of emotions amongst the boys and girls riding with me. Quinn, especially. I'd have to somehow convince them this was the best way out, massacre be damned.

I crossed my arms in front of me and leaned on the corner, and somehow, I fell asleep.