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08-23-2006, 12:13 AM
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| Member  |  The Shroud Soldiers: Rising Intensity (Chapter 3) The Shroud Soldiers: Rising Intensity (Chapter 3) I dove for the floor in desperation, an instinctive move to avoid the bullets flying straight at me. I managed to fire half a dozen shots before landing with a thud. Roland dashed to my position with submachine guns blazing, keeping our enemies low, providing me with cover fire and enough time to get up and scamper to safety. We crouched behind a barricade of wooden crates. “You okay?!” Roland asked aloud as if I was deaf. I pressed a hand on my left shoulder, grimacing at the slight but sudden pain that shot through me like lightning. I blinked and breathed hard, nodding to him. “Good, ‘cause I need you sharp. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll go out there and present myself as a moving target, draw fire away from you. Snipe them down while their busy. Make your shots count.” Roland said in a clear commanding tone I rarely heard from him. I gripped my rifle and nodded once more. “Got it.” “Okay, let’s do it then!” I steeled myself the moment Roland dashed out. Multiple sounds of gunfire echoed out, our enemies trading shots with my decoy. This is it. I snaked out my rifle from a small opening of my cover and spotted three heads bobbing out. I exhaled and pulled the trigger. Two of the heads I shot went down stained. The third was able to crouch down in time, my bullet whizzing past him. I mouthed a curse and tried to bring him back to my sights. Then Malcolm came out of no where, his submachine gun sputtering out well aimed shots. He dispatched the third gunman in a heart beat. “Clear!” Boot steps pounded hard as Roland and I hustled toward Malcolm. We assembled before our fallen enemies, triumph evident on our faces “We’re a tough team to beat!” Roland howled with glee, waving an SMG in the air. Then the sound of rapid gunfire echoed out, a sudden shower of bullets following after. My body was struck several times, jerking forward in reaction. I released a strangled cry before hitting the floor, my teammates thudding beside me. My breath came in ragged pants, heart beat reverberating in my head. I looked up and saw a figure dressed in black leather tights, light body armor and a full cowl helmet the likes of which I have never seen before. “Bang! You’re dead.” It said to us in a hollow voice that didn’t seem to come from anywhere near where the mouth should’ve been. My eyes squinted, analyzing. Mounds on the chest, smooth curves of muscle on the hips and legs, and a voice that betrayed an effeminate nature. I cracked a tiny smile as my head fell back with a sigh. Team 3 was ambushed and beaten by a woman. “This exercise is over. Get up.” I heard Maxwell say. He must have gone down from the observation and control room. I stood up to my feet in attention, Team 2 and the rest of Team 3 blearily assembling beside me, all of us stained by paint. The woman shook her head at us then placed a hand on her hip. “You boys are getting rusty. Look at the mess you’ve made.” “Hey!” Roland said back. “You made this mess. This is your paint!” She let out a short mocking laugh and gestured with her gun. “Really? Well, be thankful I used paint ammo on you. If those were real bullets you’d be dead and unable to mouth off.” “Who the hell are you to-“ “That’s enough, Roland,” I said, cutting him off. “She’s right. If this was real combat we’d be dead. And she did beat us. That gives her bragging rights.” “I want a rematch!” Roland hollered, making a face. I made a face myself at the sore loser. Malcolm spoke up. “Miss, mind telling us who you are?” I already knew who the woman was. Her actions and way of talking were dead give aways. I was surprised that Malcolm didn’t recognize her. She scoffed. “Jeez, Malcolm, you’re the investigative type, right? You should’ve figured out it was me.” With that said she took off her helmet, revealing a long and wavy chestnut mane. She smiled mischievously at Malcolm whose eyes became wide as saucers, his jaw almost dropping to the floor. “Ellaine! What the hell are you doing here?!” he thundered. Her reply came in the form of three paint bullets well placed at Malcolm’s multi-colored chest plate. She grinned and said, “That’s my punishment to you.” “Punishment? For what?” Malcolm muttered under his breath. |
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