o
h
k
a
y
O is for:
omg, oh-lol, oh-man, okay, over-my-head and oh-crap
adam, 14
12 may 1995
raffles institution
he eats kasabian for breakfast and has seconds of green day
omg, oh-lol, oh-man, okay, over-my-head and oh-crap
profile
haha
adam, 14
12 may 1995
raffles institution
he eats kasabian for breakfast and has seconds of green day
H is for: is for
hey, hot, happy, hacksaw, hairy and hip
here is a story
i've wanted to write one for a long time
and this is also for a competition
CONSTRUCTIVE comments are welcome
so...
MAXIMUM
“The thing I don’t get about this godforsaken war is that North Korea, that puny country, has managed to invade Japan, and half of China – the so called ‘Superpower of the East’!” Keane had been nagging this into my subdural ever since we flew over the China-Mongolia border, resigning me to fiddling with my assault rifle, switching it from auto to safety and back again.
“Johnson! The Canadian Army doesn’t pay for broken equipment!” Commander Reynolds suddenly shouted. I smiled sheepishly and let my SR-58 rest between my legs.
“So this is the ‘Superpower of the East’,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, as we got off the Armoured Personnel Airlift. With dust swirling under the wing rotors, we trudged out and found shelter under a pagoda of our Aixan western outpost. The pain-staking decoration of the steep temple roofs looked like something right out of a Visit China postcard, except for the marring holes courtesy of bunk-buster missiles. Having a base inside a temple was ingenious, for as heartless as the Peoples’ Liberation Force of Korea was, their air force pulse fighters would not decimate a temple. At least not yet.
Then, footfalls and the rumble of machinery were heard but they did not sound as if they were coming from within the compound. The sound came from the coarse gravel path that surrounded the temple. We stood, rifles at the ready, when twelve Sonix grenades rose over the walls concurrently.
Luckily, the grenades were thrown in a relativity steep trajectory, which had them land near the compound’s outer wall. All the soldiers survived, but now there was a gaping hole. Even before the dust had settled, superheated Mascher rounds erupted from the clouds of fine dust. We crawled quickly, spreading out. No one wanted a bullet with a temperature of two hundred degrees Celsius piercing through their Kevlar-Perspex armour and melting through their skin.
The sentry guns whirred into action, driving five hundred rounds a minute towards the enemy. That should have done the trick, but the five centimetres long iron-copper alloy bullets were only shredding through some of the soldiers, and the sentry guns were soon destroyed by waves of electromagnetic blasts from an Armoured Suit. Seeing that we were up against a whole army, we turned and broke into a run.
-
The Auto-Armour Biped was a technological wonder of the North Korean army. While the Americans, Europeans and Canadians were still tweaking their tanks and armoured vehicles, the PLFK had leapt into a whole new dimension of bipeds. Being much more manoeuvrable, the bipeds played an essential role in their guerrilla tactics. These humanoid robots, which a soldier would literally “wear” as a suit, were controlled by its driver’s movements. For example, bending your left index finger could mean that you were activating the shoulder-mounted spotlights and twisting your right wrist could mean that you were unleashing a torrent of bullets from the chainguns. Needless to say, it was deadly.
“Commander, they’re fleeing! Do we destroy the structures first or go after them?” shouted Lieutenant Kyoeng-San into the dashboard mike. He quickly motioned his legs into a running motion, and the Auto-Armour Biped ran forward. The air-conditioning had failed ten minutes ago when a bullet punctured the ventilation valve and the heat would have been intolerable if Kyoeng-San had taken the time to notice it, but he was too busy shooting up everything American that he could see. He clenched his fist, sending a Hellfire M3 missile spiralling towards the receding shapes of the enemy.
“Don’t waste your ammo! The attack chopper will take care of them. All you need to do is flatten this area. Clear?” crackled Commander Hyung’s voice. Kyoeng-San sighed in relief. Even though he was shielded by five centimetres thick titanium, and commandeering the most advanced armour in the North Korean arsenal, he did fear the Jackhammer rocket launcher one of the American soldiers was shouldering.
“Yes, sir!” he replied.
-
We stopped running when we reached the technician’s workshops, which were a good distance from the courtyard. It was good to see that no one or nothing was following us, especially those deadly Armoured Suits. A much welcomed breeze had suddenly kicked up, cooling our perspiring bodies. However, this breeze felt too strong to be natural, almost too good to be true. It was.
Hovering above us was a slim, matte black attack helicopter. Almost immediately, it fired a plasma bolt, travelling at about one thousand eight hundred metres a second towards us. “We need air support!” Reynolds screamed into his Helmet mike. We were much too slow, and so the glowing green-orange ball of superheated silicone and a deuterium core slammed into our midst. Fortunately, I blacked out even before it melted through me.
-
“Sir, I think the attack chopper’s destroyed!” Kyoeng-San said into the dashboard mike. The deadly plasma bolts could have hardly done any damage because only three were fired. Watching the drama unfold in the sky above the workshops, Kyoeng-San was in awe. A single Jackhammer missile had risen above the half-destroyed temple roofs and impacted the helicopter. This was strange; for usually the anti-missile cannons on the undercarriage of the helicopter should have taken care of such threats, but maybe this time it did not have time to react.
The explosion ripped apart the whole left side of the chopper, throwing the gunners out of the open doors. For a moment, it hung there, as if trying to stay airborne as long a possible. Then the rotors were torn off and the helicopter pitched sideways and plummeted to the ground, out of view.
Suddenly, Kyoeng-San heard a steadily increasing roar. Kyoeng-San twisted backwards and saw fifteen Pulse Bombers heading in his directions. Flying low enough for him to see the European Union’s insignia on their wings, they released their devastating payload. Kyoeng-San started to run.
When the Pulsars hit the compound, no boom was heard. The first shockwave rushed outwards, and still there was silence. But if anyone was close enough, which was impossible, they would have seen an ever-increasing sphere of pure sound energy, just waiting for an excuse to explode. The spheres reached critical mass and broke apart. Now came the deafening roar. The spheres just kept expanding, swatting away tanks and soldiers like so many flies.
With not a single effective anti-aircraft weapon in their troop, the 15th PLFK Company was decimated. Even Kyoeng-San, who had hidden under the reinforced concrete shell of a building, was not safe from the ultra-sensitive heat sensors of the air-to-ground missiles that accompanied the Pulsars.
-
-
Bright light shone into my eyes. I quickly shut them, but it did not seem to make much difference. I tried raising my head, but none of my body parts responded. I seemed to be wearing some sort of hospital gown, because I could feel the paper-thin fabric on my skin. I twisted my head sideways, which seemed to be the only part of my body that I could move. There were rows of surgical equipment, glinting aluminium trays with scalpels, drills and such. I looked into the hospital corridor, trying to recognise someone from the steady stream of people.
After a few moments, a short and fat man entered the ward. “Well, Johnson, you’re finally awake! Don’t worry if you can’t move your body – it’s only a temporary paralysis,” he said. I wondered if he was trying to comfort me or scare me. Paralysis was definitely not a good thing.
“We’ll give you a briefing in one hour,” he said before leaving me. I stayed there, unable to do anything. Looking around the room was a strange experience. Something was definitely different. Then it hit me. My vision had improved. I could even see the serial numbers of the scalpels, which must have been only half a centimetre wide and a few millimetres high. When I looked directly into the bright ceiling lights, they darkened to a comfortable brightness after a few seconds.
What had they done to me?
They wheeled me into the small briefing room in a wheelchair that had five different packets of IV drips hanging off it. The tubes entered my body through every possible orifice, and the uncomfortable thing was that I could not feel any of them.
“After you got shot, your platoon members managed to get you under cover to protect you from the helicopter. The helicopter was finally destroyed after it managed to kill two of your platoon mates. Straight after that, air support arrived to get rid of those Koreans.”
“Of course, everyone thought you were a goner, but they still filled you up with Biofoam, which probably saved your life. Your platoon was airlifted double time to our main base here in Mongolia. By the time you got here you had lost a quarter of your blood and plasma count, and you had gone into shock. Lucky for you, we’ve been waiting a long time for someone with serious injuries to test out Project MAXIMUM on, so we operated on you almost immediately. The plasma burnt straight through your left hip, so that’s now artificial. We’ve had to paralyse you so that the nano-particles have time to adjust to your body. Any slight movement could make them exit through your pores, which isn’t very pleasant.”
“If you could talk, I would be expecting you to ask – ‘What nano-particles?’ Well, Project MAXIMUM has us adding an extra chamber to your heart, filled with self-replicating smart ‘cells’. These cells can be pumped out at will, to enhance your capabilities. For example, if you’re running, the nano-particles will help carry more oxygen at a faster rate to your cells. This will enhance your running speed to up to thrice a normal human’s. If you’re punching someone, the nano-particles will receive signals from an implant in your brain and translate them straight into motion. This makes your reaction time four times faster than the average human’s. Also, if you’re punching something hard, the nano-particles will enter your fist’s bones and blood vessels, strengthening them so they don’t break.”
The fat man sighed loudly and took a sip of water from a stainless steel mug beside him on the podium. I understood only half of what he had explained, so I still had countless questions bouncing around in my head. I made to stand, but the paralysis stopped me. I was getting very irritated. Luckily, my handler realised this and asked whether he could switch off the supply of paralysing agent. To my surprise, the stiff scientists who seemed to follow me wherever I went agreed. I waited an hour before I dared to move my limbs, for I had started to get used to the paralysis.
When I did, nothing strange happened. I did not feel as though I could lift five times my bodyweight, or punch through solid concrete. “You have to think of releasing the nano-particles for them to start working,” said my handler. I did as he told, not really expecting it to work. No difference was felt. I stood up and punched the door of my ward. As quick as lightning, my hand darted forward. I did not even feel anything as it tore a fist-sized hole in the door. I withdrew my hand, the door accompanying it. It felt light. For the first time since I regained consciousness, I smiled.
-
There was a tough training regime to go through before I could test out my new enhancements in real combat. Everyday I ran a hundred kilometres in the gym, and spent the rest of my day lifting weights and going through obstacle courses. The nano-particles could help me do so many things. I could aim better by aligning my line of vision with my gun’s sights. The little microprocessor in my cerebrum could interact with the microprocessors in the more advanced guns and even with computers to some extent. I could survive up to five direct shots to the chest, because the nano-particles would clot the wounds and assist in expelling the bullet and healing the wound. Of course – no training exercise would match a real, live battle, and I waited impatiently for six months for that to happen.
-
-
The other soldiers had been staring at me ever since we had lifted off, and the attention was uncomforting. “What is wrong with all of you? Where’s all the nervous chatter right before a mission? Why are you all staring at me?” I suddenly said in a joking voice. Surprisingly, a few of them jumped, startled at this sudden outburst.
“You intimidate them, sir,” said a young man called Ferdinand beside me. He seemed to be the only one brave enough to have sat right next to me. “We’ve all heard rumours about you – they say you’re actually a robot,” he said matter-of-factly. I grinned, trying not to laugh. People were actually scared of me!
I woke up at the sound of the APC landing. The rotors shut down and the loading door opened. We all stood up and filed out. I instructed my men to check their weapons before we raided the ammunition factory. In the dead of the night, they had to rely on their helmets’ torchlights but the nano-particles in my retina helped me to pick up five times more light than normal, and the rocky seaside cliff we had landed on was as bright as day to me.
We were a kilometre from the factory, just far enough for the Korean radar not to pick us up and the security patrols not to find us. My platoon relied heavily on stealth to sneak past the defences, so we were all in all-black overalls and all our weapons were silenced. Just then, a modified Humvee drove past. We hid behind some thick bushes. That was when we saw the sewage pipe. It was just big enough for a large man to run through, and it must have come from the factory. I signalled for my platoon to follow me and soon we were knee deep in foul-smelling sludge, racing against time to reach the factory.
We ran into a snag at the end of the sewage pipe. There was a rapidly rotating fan that pumped the waste in the direction of the sea. We had to go through it, and this was the opportunity for me to prove my mettle. I quickly calculated the speed of the fan with the help of the tiny computer in my brain and stuck my hand out and grabbed an unforgiving blade. I forced it to stop, bending it in the process. There was a deep gash running across my palm, crimson blood already starting to flow. I watched it as the tear closed up in a matter of seconds. I noted amusedly that my platoon mates were peering over my shoulder in awe.
We then squeezed through the gap I had made. We were now in an exposed drain in the middle of the ammunitions factory, and I could see a few workers smoking at the railings at the sides of the steep walls of the drain. Luckily, they did not see us splashing around in the murk. We sneaked up the ramp that ran along the walls from the bottom to the top. We stayed in the shadow and our non-reflective equipment helped us to stay hidden.
“Okay, men, on the count of three, get rid of all visible threats. Note that there are three sentry guns, two on the suspended platform above the heavy machinery and one near the docking bay.” I said. The occasional bangs of metal on metal of the factory turned into bursts of gunfire and explosions as we picked off targets one by one. We were met with little resistance, as the workers themselves did not possess any weapons, only the guards did. I primed a grenade and lobbed it towards an ammunition stockpile, hoping to cause a big enough distraction for Jones, our demolition expert to plant the C4 explosive.
Unwittingly, I had set off a series of explosions that rocked the factory. Walls started collapsing around us. The flying shrapnel was deadly, so we took cover behind a block of concrete. The air was filled with soot and smoke, making it hard to breathe. I knew that the nano-particles were filtering out the noxious gases from the air that I was breathing, but I did not know whether my platoon would be able to survive for much longer. So we quickly ran out of the factory, and rested while trying to find a vehicle to escape in. I turned around just in time to see a fifteen-tonne truck hurtling towards us.
The driver was wearing a half-crazed expression on his face, and I could see that he was determined to kill us no matter what the cost. With a few placed shots, however, I managed to kill the driver, which brought the truck careening to a stop right in front of us. I signalled my men to climb aboard and I threw the dead body out of the cabin. I then put the pedal to the metal and headed back to the cliff, where a Pelican was waiting for us.
some of you pro English guys would be laughing at the lameness of it all,
but im too lazy to care
(or write a proper post)
look out for continuations though
hey, hot, happy, hacksaw, hairy and hip
finally
Friday, May 9, 2008 ( 6:51 AM )
here is a story
i've wanted to write one for a long time
and this is also for a competition
CONSTRUCTIVE comments are welcome
so...
MAXIMUM
“The thing I don’t get about this godforsaken war is that North Korea, that puny country, has managed to invade Japan, and half of China – the so called ‘Superpower of the East’!” Keane had been nagging this into my subdural ever since we flew over the China-Mongolia border, resigning me to fiddling with my assault rifle, switching it from auto to safety and back again.
“Johnson! The Canadian Army doesn’t pay for broken equipment!” Commander Reynolds suddenly shouted. I smiled sheepishly and let my SR-58 rest between my legs.
“So this is the ‘Superpower of the East’,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, as we got off the Armoured Personnel Airlift. With dust swirling under the wing rotors, we trudged out and found shelter under a pagoda of our Aixan western outpost. The pain-staking decoration of the steep temple roofs looked like something right out of a Visit China postcard, except for the marring holes courtesy of bunk-buster missiles. Having a base inside a temple was ingenious, for as heartless as the Peoples’ Liberation Force of Korea was, their air force pulse fighters would not decimate a temple. At least not yet.
Then, footfalls and the rumble of machinery were heard but they did not sound as if they were coming from within the compound. The sound came from the coarse gravel path that surrounded the temple. We stood, rifles at the ready, when twelve Sonix grenades rose over the walls concurrently.
Luckily, the grenades were thrown in a relativity steep trajectory, which had them land near the compound’s outer wall. All the soldiers survived, but now there was a gaping hole. Even before the dust had settled, superheated Mascher rounds erupted from the clouds of fine dust. We crawled quickly, spreading out. No one wanted a bullet with a temperature of two hundred degrees Celsius piercing through their Kevlar-Perspex armour and melting through their skin.
The sentry guns whirred into action, driving five hundred rounds a minute towards the enemy. That should have done the trick, but the five centimetres long iron-copper alloy bullets were only shredding through some of the soldiers, and the sentry guns were soon destroyed by waves of electromagnetic blasts from an Armoured Suit. Seeing that we were up against a whole army, we turned and broke into a run.
-
The Auto-Armour Biped was a technological wonder of the North Korean army. While the Americans, Europeans and Canadians were still tweaking their tanks and armoured vehicles, the PLFK had leapt into a whole new dimension of bipeds. Being much more manoeuvrable, the bipeds played an essential role in their guerrilla tactics. These humanoid robots, which a soldier would literally “wear” as a suit, were controlled by its driver’s movements. For example, bending your left index finger could mean that you were activating the shoulder-mounted spotlights and twisting your right wrist could mean that you were unleashing a torrent of bullets from the chainguns. Needless to say, it was deadly.
“Commander, they’re fleeing! Do we destroy the structures first or go after them?” shouted Lieutenant Kyoeng-San into the dashboard mike. He quickly motioned his legs into a running motion, and the Auto-Armour Biped ran forward. The air-conditioning had failed ten minutes ago when a bullet punctured the ventilation valve and the heat would have been intolerable if Kyoeng-San had taken the time to notice it, but he was too busy shooting up everything American that he could see. He clenched his fist, sending a Hellfire M3 missile spiralling towards the receding shapes of the enemy.
“Don’t waste your ammo! The attack chopper will take care of them. All you need to do is flatten this area. Clear?” crackled Commander Hyung’s voice. Kyoeng-San sighed in relief. Even though he was shielded by five centimetres thick titanium, and commandeering the most advanced armour in the North Korean arsenal, he did fear the Jackhammer rocket launcher one of the American soldiers was shouldering.
“Yes, sir!” he replied.
-
We stopped running when we reached the technician’s workshops, which were a good distance from the courtyard. It was good to see that no one or nothing was following us, especially those deadly Armoured Suits. A much welcomed breeze had suddenly kicked up, cooling our perspiring bodies. However, this breeze felt too strong to be natural, almost too good to be true. It was.
Hovering above us was a slim, matte black attack helicopter. Almost immediately, it fired a plasma bolt, travelling at about one thousand eight hundred metres a second towards us. “We need air support!” Reynolds screamed into his Helmet mike. We were much too slow, and so the glowing green-orange ball of superheated silicone and a deuterium core slammed into our midst. Fortunately, I blacked out even before it melted through me.
-
“Sir, I think the attack chopper’s destroyed!” Kyoeng-San said into the dashboard mike. The deadly plasma bolts could have hardly done any damage because only three were fired. Watching the drama unfold in the sky above the workshops, Kyoeng-San was in awe. A single Jackhammer missile had risen above the half-destroyed temple roofs and impacted the helicopter. This was strange; for usually the anti-missile cannons on the undercarriage of the helicopter should have taken care of such threats, but maybe this time it did not have time to react.
The explosion ripped apart the whole left side of the chopper, throwing the gunners out of the open doors. For a moment, it hung there, as if trying to stay airborne as long a possible. Then the rotors were torn off and the helicopter pitched sideways and plummeted to the ground, out of view.
Suddenly, Kyoeng-San heard a steadily increasing roar. Kyoeng-San twisted backwards and saw fifteen Pulse Bombers heading in his directions. Flying low enough for him to see the European Union’s insignia on their wings, they released their devastating payload. Kyoeng-San started to run.
When the Pulsars hit the compound, no boom was heard. The first shockwave rushed outwards, and still there was silence. But if anyone was close enough, which was impossible, they would have seen an ever-increasing sphere of pure sound energy, just waiting for an excuse to explode. The spheres reached critical mass and broke apart. Now came the deafening roar. The spheres just kept expanding, swatting away tanks and soldiers like so many flies.
With not a single effective anti-aircraft weapon in their troop, the 15th PLFK Company was decimated. Even Kyoeng-San, who had hidden under the reinforced concrete shell of a building, was not safe from the ultra-sensitive heat sensors of the air-to-ground missiles that accompanied the Pulsars.
-
-
Bright light shone into my eyes. I quickly shut them, but it did not seem to make much difference. I tried raising my head, but none of my body parts responded. I seemed to be wearing some sort of hospital gown, because I could feel the paper-thin fabric on my skin. I twisted my head sideways, which seemed to be the only part of my body that I could move. There were rows of surgical equipment, glinting aluminium trays with scalpels, drills and such. I looked into the hospital corridor, trying to recognise someone from the steady stream of people.
After a few moments, a short and fat man entered the ward. “Well, Johnson, you’re finally awake! Don’t worry if you can’t move your body – it’s only a temporary paralysis,” he said. I wondered if he was trying to comfort me or scare me. Paralysis was definitely not a good thing.
“We’ll give you a briefing in one hour,” he said before leaving me. I stayed there, unable to do anything. Looking around the room was a strange experience. Something was definitely different. Then it hit me. My vision had improved. I could even see the serial numbers of the scalpels, which must have been only half a centimetre wide and a few millimetres high. When I looked directly into the bright ceiling lights, they darkened to a comfortable brightness after a few seconds.
What had they done to me?
They wheeled me into the small briefing room in a wheelchair that had five different packets of IV drips hanging off it. The tubes entered my body through every possible orifice, and the uncomfortable thing was that I could not feel any of them.
“After you got shot, your platoon members managed to get you under cover to protect you from the helicopter. The helicopter was finally destroyed after it managed to kill two of your platoon mates. Straight after that, air support arrived to get rid of those Koreans.”
“Of course, everyone thought you were a goner, but they still filled you up with Biofoam, which probably saved your life. Your platoon was airlifted double time to our main base here in Mongolia. By the time you got here you had lost a quarter of your blood and plasma count, and you had gone into shock. Lucky for you, we’ve been waiting a long time for someone with serious injuries to test out Project MAXIMUM on, so we operated on you almost immediately. The plasma burnt straight through your left hip, so that’s now artificial. We’ve had to paralyse you so that the nano-particles have time to adjust to your body. Any slight movement could make them exit through your pores, which isn’t very pleasant.”
“If you could talk, I would be expecting you to ask – ‘What nano-particles?’ Well, Project MAXIMUM has us adding an extra chamber to your heart, filled with self-replicating smart ‘cells’. These cells can be pumped out at will, to enhance your capabilities. For example, if you’re running, the nano-particles will help carry more oxygen at a faster rate to your cells. This will enhance your running speed to up to thrice a normal human’s. If you’re punching someone, the nano-particles will receive signals from an implant in your brain and translate them straight into motion. This makes your reaction time four times faster than the average human’s. Also, if you’re punching something hard, the nano-particles will enter your fist’s bones and blood vessels, strengthening them so they don’t break.”
The fat man sighed loudly and took a sip of water from a stainless steel mug beside him on the podium. I understood only half of what he had explained, so I still had countless questions bouncing around in my head. I made to stand, but the paralysis stopped me. I was getting very irritated. Luckily, my handler realised this and asked whether he could switch off the supply of paralysing agent. To my surprise, the stiff scientists who seemed to follow me wherever I went agreed. I waited an hour before I dared to move my limbs, for I had started to get used to the paralysis.
When I did, nothing strange happened. I did not feel as though I could lift five times my bodyweight, or punch through solid concrete. “You have to think of releasing the nano-particles for them to start working,” said my handler. I did as he told, not really expecting it to work. No difference was felt. I stood up and punched the door of my ward. As quick as lightning, my hand darted forward. I did not even feel anything as it tore a fist-sized hole in the door. I withdrew my hand, the door accompanying it. It felt light. For the first time since I regained consciousness, I smiled.
-
There was a tough training regime to go through before I could test out my new enhancements in real combat. Everyday I ran a hundred kilometres in the gym, and spent the rest of my day lifting weights and going through obstacle courses. The nano-particles could help me do so many things. I could aim better by aligning my line of vision with my gun’s sights. The little microprocessor in my cerebrum could interact with the microprocessors in the more advanced guns and even with computers to some extent. I could survive up to five direct shots to the chest, because the nano-particles would clot the wounds and assist in expelling the bullet and healing the wound. Of course – no training exercise would match a real, live battle, and I waited impatiently for six months for that to happen.
-
-
The other soldiers had been staring at me ever since we had lifted off, and the attention was uncomforting. “What is wrong with all of you? Where’s all the nervous chatter right before a mission? Why are you all staring at me?” I suddenly said in a joking voice. Surprisingly, a few of them jumped, startled at this sudden outburst.
“You intimidate them, sir,” said a young man called Ferdinand beside me. He seemed to be the only one brave enough to have sat right next to me. “We’ve all heard rumours about you – they say you’re actually a robot,” he said matter-of-factly. I grinned, trying not to laugh. People were actually scared of me!
I woke up at the sound of the APC landing. The rotors shut down and the loading door opened. We all stood up and filed out. I instructed my men to check their weapons before we raided the ammunition factory. In the dead of the night, they had to rely on their helmets’ torchlights but the nano-particles in my retina helped me to pick up five times more light than normal, and the rocky seaside cliff we had landed on was as bright as day to me.
We were a kilometre from the factory, just far enough for the Korean radar not to pick us up and the security patrols not to find us. My platoon relied heavily on stealth to sneak past the defences, so we were all in all-black overalls and all our weapons were silenced. Just then, a modified Humvee drove past. We hid behind some thick bushes. That was when we saw the sewage pipe. It was just big enough for a large man to run through, and it must have come from the factory. I signalled for my platoon to follow me and soon we were knee deep in foul-smelling sludge, racing against time to reach the factory.
We ran into a snag at the end of the sewage pipe. There was a rapidly rotating fan that pumped the waste in the direction of the sea. We had to go through it, and this was the opportunity for me to prove my mettle. I quickly calculated the speed of the fan with the help of the tiny computer in my brain and stuck my hand out and grabbed an unforgiving blade. I forced it to stop, bending it in the process. There was a deep gash running across my palm, crimson blood already starting to flow. I watched it as the tear closed up in a matter of seconds. I noted amusedly that my platoon mates were peering over my shoulder in awe.
We then squeezed through the gap I had made. We were now in an exposed drain in the middle of the ammunitions factory, and I could see a few workers smoking at the railings at the sides of the steep walls of the drain. Luckily, they did not see us splashing around in the murk. We sneaked up the ramp that ran along the walls from the bottom to the top. We stayed in the shadow and our non-reflective equipment helped us to stay hidden.
“Okay, men, on the count of three, get rid of all visible threats. Note that there are three sentry guns, two on the suspended platform above the heavy machinery and one near the docking bay.” I said. The occasional bangs of metal on metal of the factory turned into bursts of gunfire and explosions as we picked off targets one by one. We were met with little resistance, as the workers themselves did not possess any weapons, only the guards did. I primed a grenade and lobbed it towards an ammunition stockpile, hoping to cause a big enough distraction for Jones, our demolition expert to plant the C4 explosive.
Unwittingly, I had set off a series of explosions that rocked the factory. Walls started collapsing around us. The flying shrapnel was deadly, so we took cover behind a block of concrete. The air was filled with soot and smoke, making it hard to breathe. I knew that the nano-particles were filtering out the noxious gases from the air that I was breathing, but I did not know whether my platoon would be able to survive for much longer. So we quickly ran out of the factory, and rested while trying to find a vehicle to escape in. I turned around just in time to see a fifteen-tonne truck hurtling towards us.
The driver was wearing a half-crazed expression on his face, and I could see that he was determined to kill us no matter what the cost. With a few placed shots, however, I managed to kill the driver, which brought the truck careening to a stop right in front of us. I signalled my men to climb aboard and I threw the dead body out of the cabin. I then put the pedal to the metal and headed back to the cliff, where a Pelican was waiting for us.
some of you pro English guys would be laughing at the lameness of it all,
but im too lazy to care
(or write a proper post)
look out for continuations though
K is for:
kewl, kiss and kangaroo - very few things, actually/
kewl, kiss and kangaroo - very few things, actually/
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credits
designer DancingSheep
Y is for:
you-and-me, yuck, yell, yummy and yes
you-and-me, yuck, yell, yummy and yes
stuff
look!