"GET THE FUCK DOWN! GRENADE!" A female soldier named Silverman yelled as she sprinted for cover away from the explosive. Soldiers nearby looked for the person who tossed it, before the grenade exploded. A loud book was heard, and pieces of dirt, shrapnel, and bits of ice flew everywhere.
Silverman sat down on the ground, panting hard. Private First Class Trisha Baker was a 6'1 tall Native American woman with jet black hair, and a red ParaTrooper beret on her head. Her eyes were brown, and her face was dirty from crawling on the ground.
Nearby, she spotted two other soldiers; Sergeant Esteves and Corporal Keating. Keating was a 5'9 white man with brown, curly hair, green eyes, and a rounded face. He had a winter camo helmet with night vision goggles, and on the strap of the goggles was an Ace of Spades playing card. Esteves was a Hispanic man with black hair, hazel eyes and he had a rough complexion. He had a five o'clock shadow, and a scar going from his forehead to his bottom lip.
"Baker! Get over here and give me covering fire! I'm gonna get Hudson outta there!" Keating shouted, signalling with his Vepr SMG to the spot where he was. She nodded and ran to him, and he got up and sprinted to a house down the shoveler snow trail. Pulling up her AK 12, she peered down the sights and fire a few rounds into an enemy soldier, staining the snow with her crimson blood. More gunshots rang throughout the battlefield they were in.
Esteves pulled his Chain SAW up on the rock and fired a hailstorm of bullets, shredding who dared to get in the way. One soldier was caught in the fury of the LMG, and was ripped apart; his right forearm was blown off the the armour piercing round, blood sprayed from his chest and a bullet went through his eye and out the back of his skull, painting the wall with blood and brain matter. Baker shuttered at the gruesome sight before amber and gulped down her vomit.
"Jesus fuck!" A voice broke the silence as Baker an Esteves turned around to see Private Harvey. Private Hilary Harvey was a 5'11 slender white woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, a nicely toned face and wore a black beret on her head. "Was that necessary, Sarge?" She asked, her voice shaken. Unable to find another sound, she quickly ran behind a nearby tree to vomit.
As she returned, Corporal Keating and Staff Sergeant Hudson appeared out of the door way.
"What took you guys so long?" Esteves asked as they approached, keeping their heads down.
"Sniper. Suppressed, and a decent distance away. Got us pinned down." Hudson said quickly as she looked warily, either out of fear of caution.
"Alright, listen up!" A sixth and final voice yelled from behind the group. Standing there was Lieutenant Bradshaw, a 5'11 tall African-American man. He wore a facemask, a Spec Ops helmet and orange tinted snow goggles. "Extraction has been shot down. No way back home. Looks like we're goin' down with the ship, so to speak." He spoke. Baker knew what he meant; the K.E.M. Strike. "Only thirty ticks."
Thirty seconds? Baker though as she gripped her AK 12 tight, waiting for the end. "Uh sir? Why only thirty?" Baker asked, voice shaky.
"No extraction for miles away. Decided to take them to hell with all of us." He said, looking at his wristwatch.
10.
"Oh shit."
9.
"It was a good run."
8.
"Yep."
7.
"See you all in hell?"
6.
"Damn straight amigo."
5.
"Alright then. Here we go."
4.
Everybody tensed.
3.
Baker had tears flowing out of her eyes.
2.
Everybody embraced for instant death.
1.
The end.
