Toy Soldiers
In officio, felicitatem
All the way to school, I was sweating bullets. Who wouldn't be, when they were going to do some... ill advised modifications, to a place that was the home of most of my hatred and fear.
A particularly deep pothole caused me to jerk against the wall I was leaning on, dropping me down a few inches, then popping back up and smacking into the small lip of metal next to the window. Stupid piece of... The bus was a very old model, and the shock absorbers in both the seats and axles were particularly worn. I just knew I would have a bruise under my hair in the morning...
A few more minutes of travel, and our bus gained several more passengers. A small girl near the front scribbled over a piece of paper, acting a bit secretive, or insecure, I couldn't tell. A young couple trying to stay upright in their seats while still cross eyed from whatever they had taken last night. A balding old man, vacantly peering out the window with a pile of groceries on the seat beside him.
All victims, in our own way. Refugees from the endless war outside of our homes.
We finally reached the school, where I took my leave along with a couple other people. Standing on the sidewalk, watching the old, rickety contraption recede into the distance, I finally felt a sense of satisfaction. All of the occupiers?
They were going to
pay.
I closed my eyes and smiled. Yes, this was a good day, I thought, as I strode down the sidewalk. Some would find it strange, that a 17 year old was walking away from a school when everyone else was arriving, but that had never been my intention to enter today. Okay, it wasn't too strange, after all, the group I was following was doing it too.
Gang wannabees. The thought disgusted me. Oh, sure, in the circumstances it made a little sense: take the risk of getting injured, against the certainty of destitution and possible press ganging anyway.
After a few blocks, I turned into a small outlet store, wanting a bit of an alibi, for some reason.
Looking over the various foods in the refrigerated section (cheeses, mostly), I took a moment to calm myself.
This. Is a stupid idea.
Frak you too, conscience.
I 've been saving, waiting, for this day.
------------
Two blocks away, a pair covered trucks pulled onto the road, from a block surrounded by a wire fence with plastic bars woven in to eliminate visibility. At first look, they were... actually quite plain. A drab olive paint job marked them out from most
However, if one looked closer than they really could in the evening and into a moving vehicle, they'd see that the drivers were a little too... similar.
The two trucks quickly made their way to their destination, an upscale restaurant just off of the Boardwalk, and parked, idling.
Soon enough, a trio of thugs, wearing red and green bandannas, swaggered out to check on what these loud vehicles were doing, upsetting the guests.
"Hey, turn those things off!" One calls out. "You're parked next to a business!"
There was a moments pause, then the engines shut off.
The ganger nodded sharply, pleased with himself. "All right, now exit the vehicle, and state your..."
He trailed off, as the covers on the trucks whipped back to reveal... Quite a lot of men in military fatigues. However, the ganger couldn't quite tell what flag they were wearing, as he was more inclined to look at the large number of weapons pointed at him and his pals.
"Wha-?" As they hadn't just been cut down immediately, the man tried to bluster, before, as if by signal, all the soldiers opened fire. The chatter of automatic firearms filled the street for several moments, before the bodies of the gangers hit the ground. The newcomers disembarked, checked the trio of thugs for pulses, and roughly bundled them off the street.
One squad started quickly tying up the unconscious gangers, while the other immediately ran for the building, weapons up and downing the next two people out of the doors, responding to the concealed weapons they were drawing.
A shotgun blast from a window hit one of the soldiers, knocking him off his feet.
----------
I couldn't keep myself from smiling, although I quickly schooled myself. Surprise or no, my Niebiesky would have a difficult time leaving the area, as additional forces all arrived from the surrounding area.
Good thing I had secured that lot for my purposes. You could hide quite a few things with just canvas and fencing, and no one would ever ask any questions. Like, for instance, several vehicles that really had no purpose in a "peaceful" city...
---------
The squad of soldiers quickly secured the bottom floor, ruthlessly gunning down anyone who fought back before securing them next to one wall.
However, the second floor... It would prove to be a much more difficult fight, as the two men climbing the stairs were ambushed by four thugs with melee implements, and two more stood at the top floor with firearms. This was a bit of a problem for the invaders...
...Until they fired a RPG up the stairs. Dust flew while the unit stormed the upper floors.
It took all of six minutes to clear out the gambling den that had been hidden above the restaurant of both hostiles and lootable items, which was too fast for any appreciable resistance to gather. Leaving unconscious gangers and shocked diners int heir wake, the (somewhat depleted) squads rushed back out to their vehicles, piled in, and drove off.
--------------
"Hello!" The checkout clerk perked up as I brought the stuff I had gathered from the shelves to her stand. "Oh, I haven't seen you for a few days, how your mother, Doczi?"
I smiled back at her. What? Her good cheer was infectious, and I could feel my... "agents" making a break for the extraction point. "Oh, she's doing better. Less coughing than before, and the bleeding has stopped. Can you believe what they charge for antibiotics these days? A hundred and fifty dollars! Out of pocket!"
'Really?" The clerk arched a brow at me. "For shame, for someone in your mothers condition, they should have some kind of discount. Have you tried to ask Panacea if she could give her a session?"
I shook my head. "No, I asked the person who is stationed at the hospital's front desk. She already has too many late nights there as it is, I don't want to push her since my mom's recovering on her own."
"Well, I hope she recovers fully, and soon." She says. "Are you going to be back tomorrow?"
"...No, work is scheduled late." I say with a scowl. "They've had a couple of break ins in the past week, and want to try to head off anymore. See you at school on Monday, Taylor."
The mention of
that place causes us both to scowl, before I nod, grab my bag, and head for the door.
---------------
Another squad of soldiers had sortied out from the fenced in area, but didn't follow the route of the first pair. Instead, it soon arrived at my true target: the Winslow school building.
Was it petty? Of course. Would I enjoy it anyway?
...
So very much.
----------
"Hey boss." The man with the chevrons said as the rest of his squad was exiting the truck, carrying the take from tonight's smash and grab."How did the other op go?"
"Fairly well." I say noncommittally. "Proli's squad repainted the front wall, covered some graffiti, and left some... choice words when they left."
The Sergeant smirked, accepting my high five gesture. "You think they'll get the point?"
I shook my head. "Nah, they're blind to what's happening in front of them, why would they get worked up over someone insulting a no name school? Especially since it's almost a gang recruitment station anyway. As for the school personnel... No, I don't think they'll get the true reason why someone painted 'All It Takes For Evil To Prosper' on their school. Even if they do, what are they going to do about it?"
"A fair point." Sergeant Deven said magnanimously. "How about we go tally our take, and then go and celebrate?"
"Sound good to me. Just let me go drop off these groceries to the hospital first and spend some time with my mom."
Deven's face immediately lost his previous good cheer, but had the tact to not say anything.
The truth was? My mom was barely stable, not recovering. But that's what I kept telling myself, if she wasn't getting worse, than she was getting better.
It was about my only choice.
They said she only had two months to live.
That had been this time last year.
All because of some idiots thinking it would be funny to have someone step on broken glass. I wasn't sure who it was, but it didn't matter.
They were all the same around here. A cancer to be excised.
And I was the only one with a scalpel.
--------
"So, what happened here?" Kid Win asked the PRT officer.
"Well, as far as we can tell, a large batch of unpowered individuals stormed this building with Tinkertech weapons, emptied an unknown casino of it's liquid assets along with a few larger items, and fled. In the process, they knocked out thirty some ABB grunts, three of which with an RPG according to eyewitnesses."
"Hey! Over here!" A PRT private waved a hand, so the officer walked over.
"What is it son?"
"Remember how the witnesses mentioned a man dieing as the newcomers sprinted across the street?"
"Yeah, shotgun to the face, why?"
"No blood."
"What?" The officer almost did a double take at the perceived nonsequitur.
"There isn't any blood on the street, but a look shows a spread of pellets in the road with a... Call it a shadow, if you will, of no pellets. They obviously hit something, but if the witnesses recorded a man falling in a spray of red, where's the blood?"
A few moments of thought.
"Master?"
"It's what I gather."
"F***"
"My thoughts exactly, sir."
------------
A/N: RTS based Master power, specifically Wargame: Airland Battle.
