Fallen Comrades

[ag]

OOC: I didn't include a legend because if you can't figure out what I did it means that I didn't do a good enough job in my description and I shouldn't be posting in the first place.

Fratelli trudged along the treacherous dirt road his boots were heavy and so was his gear. His steps were cautious and precise as he made his way toward the war zone. Smoke was ahead and so was the atrocious smell of burning and rotting flesh, he knew he was close and emanate danger was near as well. His thoughts were heavy as were his eyelids. Fratelli found that becoming attached to fellow soldiers was pointless and served only as a grievance when he had found that they had passed on to the great abyss. Fire and smoke were thick now and the smell was sickening. Through the smoke he saw a tank over turned and shelled to hell and back... bodies were all around and the smell of death was surrounding his every sense of being.

Fratelli stood still listening intently and peering across the river for any signs of an allied foe. His rifle was in hand and ready to fire at a moments notice. Fratelli was alone for now... just him and death all around. The destruction and desolation that consumed him because of this war had turned him into a dark human being... he was hardened and that was the only way to survive such an atrocity. He knew to fight he knew to kill he knew to survive but most importantly he knew to trust no one but himself... and sometimes he couldn't do that.



IMG]http://i302.photobucket.com/albums/nn98/adbengriff/FratellisDebut-1.jpg[/IMG

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Mitchell slowly walked along the overgrown path. The faint stench of smoke stained the air, indicating the close proximity of the battle. Stopping for a second a laying low to the ground, the man checked the load in his Thompson was secure and the weapon was cocked. He slowly lifted himself upwards and darted low over the ground, towards the thick trunk of a native tree.

He peered over the river. Walking through the smoke and passing the charred corpses of the tank crew, was a single Nazi soldier. It seemed almost an unfair match, a well armed British Lieutenant against a single enemy. Still, that wasn’t to say that Aaron Mitchell was going to complain too much. War certainly wasn’t fair, and this was a chance to get back at the men that had been killed by the scum whilst under his command.

He weaved through the trees in front of him, raising the Tommy gun and pressing the wooden butt into his shoulder. He peered along the top of the metal barrel, lining the sights up with his target. Too far away. He’d have to get closer; he wanted to get this over and done with in one quick, sharp burst of fire. A painful one, though, no need to let the enemy have a quick death. That might be considered compassion.

Turning back behind the tree, the gun went down to the man’s hip as he tuned out of his breathing, his bodily sounds. His mouth was open to eliminate the sounds of his swallowing as he just stood their, waiting and listening for his enemy to make a move.

[ag]

Fratelli stood in the still quiet air surveying the carnage that had just recently passed. To the left there was body after mangled body burning and rotting. To the right was a cluster of rocks across the river. Fratelli paused a moment and called out for any fellow axis soldiers... There was no reply from any of his fallen comrades... All bodies were still and lifeless without breath... Fratelli exhaled and started walking back the way he had came. The smoke grew thicker and the heat from the burning tank was growing ever strong... He passed through the wall of heat and the veil of smoke. He turned back and noticed that nothing was seen through the thick smoke of the smoldering tank. Fratelli picked up a nearby stone and hurled it through the smoke with a cry of frustration. AHHH!!



IMG]http://i302.photobucket.com/albums/nn98/adbengriff/FratellisDebut-2.jpg[/IMG

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Mitchell looked around the tree. The enemy soldier was walking away, through the fire and the smoke. The Brit realised that if he wanted to sort out the enemy at all, he would have to act now, and act fast.

His Thompson came up to his shoulder as he started running, his boots smacking against the hard ground. He took a few steps onto the bridge before stopping, standing straight and aiming at the retreating form of the enemy. The Axis soldier turned, picking up a rock and throwing. "Hände hoch!, Hände hoch!". Hands up. It was one of the few phrases he knew, but a useful one nonetheless. His gun was held steady, three firm points of contact. He walked forward, slowly, one firm footfell after the over. "Don't move a fucking muscle without my say-so. Drop your weapons, then take five steps forward and lie on your face, hands on your head. Now!"

He breathed deeply as he stepped forwards. If the enemy so much as sneezed, half a magazine would be making it's way through his head. Aaron just needed a reason.

[ag]

Fratelli heard shouts of warning and threats from an English voice through the veil of smoke. He immediately ran to the end of the tank that wasn't being incinerated to avoid being morphed into a smoldering form resembling a man. Fratelli sat there scared praying that the British soldier wouldn't walk around his side of the burning vessel... perhaps I just heard a faint yell in the distance and I'm just going crazy because of this wretched war.

Fratelli gripped his rifle with one hand in the middle of the barrel and the other gripping just behind the trigger... Fratelli slowly stood with his head lowered in defeat... This war had finally ravaged his spirit and he was preparing to surrender to his adversary. Fratelli looked up and held his weapon in front of his body ready to hand it over to his foe... and soon his captor.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Aaron took a few more steps forward, before dropping to one knee behind the low wall on the side of the bridge. He rested the barrel of his gun on the wood before looking back up. He saw the silhouette dissapear from behind the smoke, and the British Soldier readjusted the grip on his weapon slightly, ready to fire.

The rifle of his soldier poked out from behind the tank, and Aaron went automatically. Firing a small burst of three or four rounds towards the tank, aiming create a noise and try and give the enemy the idea. "Rifle! Floor! Now!"

He stood up, slowly walking forward towards the enemy. The gun was pressed hard into his shoulder, and he carried on shouting. "Hande hoch! Drop your weapon!" and the sort. Hopefully his foe would realise his intentions and surrender. He stopped a few meters away from the tank and dropped to one knee, aiming at the corner of the smouldering vehicle. He just needed a reason.

[Daniel Brennan]

Moderation Post

Moo!
Thought this might need a quick Mod.


The following actions have been made;

Second Lieutenant Mitchell:

• His short burst didn't succeed in doing anything other than make sure Fratelli knew he hadn't suddenly dropped dead.
  

~Dan

[ag]

Fratelli watched in amazement as he watched the opposing soldier run into the open yelling hands up. I can't surrender to somebody who stands in the open in a gun fight. Fratelli leaned against the side of the tank covering his entire body leaving only his head and left arm exposed. He raised his rifle and steadied it against the tank. Fratelli lined up his sights on his opponents center mass... This seemed almost too easy he steadied his back sights with his fronts lining them directly with his opponent's jacket button... Aim small miss small. He exhaled and was completely still as if made by stone... He squeezed the trigger and let out a what was sure to be a devastating blow. He waited to see the result of his shot, reloaded and ducked back behind the tank for total cover.

[Daniel Brennan]

Moderation Post

Sorry it hasn't been modded for a while.


The following actions have been made;

Private Fratelli:

• Unfortunately, he had to lean out to take his shot and that put him in plain view of the enemy soldier. Mitchell fired a short burst from his Thompson and Fratelli only had time to sqeeze off one badly aimed shot.
  
  
• By some strange look the bullet actually managed to hit Second Lieutenant Mitchell. Sort of. The bullet scraped of the top of Aaron's left shoulder, ripping the fabric and brushing by the skin, causing a small scrape, but nothing else.
  

~Dan

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Mitchell dived to the side, the barrel of his gun still letting out a gentle trail of smoke. He let out a grim smile; prisoners were a pain in the arse anyway, all the feeding and ‘human rights’ crap. Time to get down to the dirty. He still had about 25 bullets in his magazine, which was more than enough. His hand slipped down to a small pouch on his belt. A grenade.

He ran over to the tank, the scrape on his upper arm a slight nuisance, but to be honest, he’d hurt himself worse when he sliced himself working in his father’s butchery. A small white scar was still on his right thumb, a memento to the innocent times. He slipped his thumb into the ring of the safety pin on the grenade, and flicked it out, removing it. He twisted the metal capsule round in his hand, so the handle was released and the fuse began counting down. All this time, the Thompson, balanced on his right arm swung with the man’s head, watching either side of the tank in case his friend decided to return.

The five-second fuse of the grenade reached three-and-a-half, and Mitchell did a light under arm toss over the tank, so it would land just behind the tank, and hopefully right up his enemies arse. He carried on counting in his head, as he pulled himself up onto the side of the tank so any shrapnel going underneath the treads didn’t strike him. Four….Five


OOC: Red line is t'nade

[ag]

OOC: not to be a pest my good man but you may need to research the facts of your weapons before you post next time... just saying.

A grenade's pin cannot simply be flicked out of a grenade. This only works in movies. I put a video link below to show you that it must be pulled out... sorry dude I do my homework.

A thompson submachine gun's magazine held a max of 30 rounds and some mags only held 20... unless you have a drum then it can hold up to 100 rounds... but you said magazine.


en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thompson_submachine_gun

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZ6RXZb7MhE&feature=related

Coolhand,

With the Thompson, I've fired two bursts so far, which, out of a 30-round magazine, would leave me roughly 25.

Also, do you have to be so frikkin picky over the grenade? I could pull it out with my teeth, if you really want?

- Nathan

[Daniel Brennan]

Moderation Post

The bit about the Thompson doesn't really matter because either way, he'd still have rounds left and he didn't even fire it.

The grenade thing I'm going to let go. The "flicking" the pin off the grenade has been used in many, many posts with grenades on the website and I'm not going to start persecuting people for it now. But, I will keep it in mind if I see this again.


The following actions have been made;

2nd Lieutenant Mitchell:

• He cooked the grenade successfully (Successfully as in, it didn't blow up in his face), but the angle that he was to the tank made throwing the grenade accurately very difficult and he threw the grenade slightly too far.
  
  
• However, the grenade still went off close enough to do serious damage to Private Fratelli. Shrapnel punctered much of Fratelli's left side, making his left arm useless and damaging his leg badly as well, he will not be able to put any weight on his left leg.
  
  
• Luckily, no serious damage was done to internal organs, but Fratelli is still seriously injured and if he attempts to flee now he will most likely collapse on the way, or get shot by Mitchell.
  

~Dan

[ag]

Fratelli was shaken by the eruption of his foes grenade and tried standing... no use his left leg was torn up pretty bad, and so was his left arm... Well this isn't good. There really is only one thing left to do. Fratelli discharged his ammunition and threw it out in front of his enemy... Next his rifle... he threw it in view of his enemy... Fratelli pulled himself to his feet his left arm falling near lifeless to his side and left leg dragging the ground. Making his way around the tank and letting out spits of blood and grunts of pain... He had to hold himself against the tank. With his hand over his head signaling his surrender. I can't use my left arm or leg. I can't fight anymore. You win, but you'll need to help me off the battlefield if you're going to take me prisoner.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Aaron raised his Thompson up and slowly walked around to the enemy soldier. From a distance of less than two meters, he had the gun aimed at his foes head. Carefully, he removed his left hand from the front of the gun to his opponent’s belt and pulled out the man’s bayonet. He slid it inside the other man’s belt before pulling sharply to slice the leather. He let it fall to the ground, with all the man’s ammunition before stepping backwards and picking up the rifle. Double checking that it was empty and safe, he gave it to his know almost harmless foe with a toss from three meters.

”Lean on it. Walk in front of me. Try anything, I’ll shoot you, OK? If you can’t walk, you crawl. If you don’t keep up with me, you’re dead. Understand?”

Keeping out of striking range, the Lieutenant walked behind his opponent, the bloody mess he was, and, keeping his weapon trained on him, gave the order to start moving. How much ransom would he get from this sorry little sod?

[ag]

Fratelli watched as his foe stripped him of all his munitions and weapons... It didn't matter he had no intention of fighting... That would be as stupid as it would be fatal. If Fratelli tried hand to hand he'd be beaten easily as he would be if he tried a fire fight. Fratelli went for his gun trying to use it as a crutch. He fell face first into the ground. He made feeble attempts to pull himself up with the gun but it didn't work his left leg and arm were too badly bruised. He tried crawling but that wasn't going well either... His single arm and leg weren't enough to pull his body weight.

I can't move by myself Fratelli was losing blood and energy... He started to fade in and out of conciousness... He barely had enough energy to lift a finger... There was no fight left he needed to be carried off as he was passing out on his captor's shoulders.