Ch. 1: Atlas. Please leave constructive criticism?
27th of July, 1935. Location: Bruhl, Gallia
It was storming. Rain was falling in buckets, and it was hard to not close your eyes due to the constant splashing of the rain in your face.
Its one of the most terrible natural occurrences ever. That water falls from the sky and thoroughly soaks everything that desires to remain on the dry and clear. Even though Iām used to it, I still hate the shit out of rain.
However, today was a different story. The rain, despite my livid hatred for it, still helps me out. Today its helping me in a way that helps me most; it keeps people inside, lets me walk around freely here in the small frontier town. People arenāt going to look up at me and think that Iām suspicious; more like theyāll think that Iām messed up in the head. As long as they donāt suspect me for what Iām actually here to do, Iām in the clear. The local guards arenāt about to raise trouble about a single man in this kind of rain; too much of a hassle.
Not that theyād want to try me.
I hear a crackling over the headset. Must be Chronos trying to pass intel on, or to warn us for something.
āRight here, bud. Talk to meā I reply into the headset. Chronosās trying to contact me specifically. Must be something that I personally have to deal with, or maybe I have to give some backup to someone. Happens a lot.
āAtlas, Iāll need you to take the first left you can, into an alleyway. Artemis says sheās being tailed, and we donāt leave survivorsā I got the message, and could see what wouldāve happened. I constantly tell Artemis to try to not look suspicious, but she just isnāt used to urban environments.
āTell her to try and guide them to the entrance to the alleyway near the bakery, and get the 2ās ready to move some bodiesā I respond to Chronos. This is the exact reason why he isnāt leading this op. The bodies are still there, arenāt they? Some one had toā¦ dispose of them. Besides, a shootout in the alleyways could lead to a getaway; weāre unfamiliar to the terrain, and they could get reinforcements while the rest of the pursuers held us up.
āRogerā While Chronos was distributing orders over the radio, I go find myself a nice perch; one with a good view on the entrance to the alley near the bakery. When I found one, I notice that there are already some snipers there. Silently and quickly I walk up to the first one.
The other guard never heard a thing. I stifled the sniperās yell by covering his mouth and shot him through the back of the head, right where the spine meets the skull. Instakill. I dropped his body silently, and snuck up behind the other one, while pulling out my knife with my other hand. I grapple him, shove my knife right between his ribs, straight through the heart. After that, while he was still bleeding, I shot him between the eyes.
There. Two pests dealt with.
āAtlas, you have half a minute before Artemis leaves the alleysā
I grabbed the rifle that was on my back, and attached the silencer which was attached to the bottom of the barrel. ātwas a nifty system I had made. I pulled the silencer out of the lock and rotated it until it just about covered the barrel entrance. I locked it again by pulling it over the barrel. Didnāt even cost me ten seconds. I used the remaining time to get set up. I extracted my bipod and got ready to shoot.
I knew that, were I to shoot the pursuers directly after they got out the alleyway, they could easily turn around and run back the way they came. We would then be compromised, something that was to be avoided at all costs.
There she was! She saw me, and held up her hand, performing various hand signals. āTheyāll be here in about 10ā. She disappeared into a doorway.
Just as she said, 5 Imperial Shocktroopers showed up, looking for Artemis. I didnāt open fire just yet. They could get away if I started shooting directly, and they were still wary. I had to play the waiting game; wait for the moment that they let their guard down.
I had my scope trained on the one that was the closest to the alleyway; take out those that could get away first. After that, it would be easy pickings.
I saw the first Imp go easy, but I knew that I shouldnāt shoot just yet. The rest of the pursuers were still on edge. Thereās no way that that person would just disappear.
There it was! I pulled the trigger, and the Imp that was closest to the alleyway (it happened to be the rear) fell to the ground. No-one noticed as I pulled the bolt, which would eject the previous shell and get another one in place to fire. When I was done, I pulled the trigger again, this time at the one that was up front. By the time that the Imps had noticed their fallen comrades, I had already taken out another 2. The last Imp stood there, baffled as to where the shots had actually come from. I should put him out of his misery.
A clean headshot, for all of them. Yelling would be unbeneficial for the op. Getting on the radio, I told Chronos to pass on the order to clean the bodies, as I waved at Artemis, who had come out of hiding. She waved back, with a smile on her face. She beckoned me down, but I signed back to come up here. Itās safer; less prying eyes
Itās the year 1935, and Europa has been torn into yet another war. The Empire, an autocratic state to the East of Europa, has once again entered a war against the Federation, a coalition of smaller states. Their armies have met a deadlock to the southeast of our Principality, but the Empire has decided to attack our Principality of Gallia for our rich deposit of Ragnite, the reason weāre fighting this ridiculous war. After initial successes, they were eventually held up at the Vasel bridge, just to the north of the capital, Randgriz. My town of birth. I wouldāve gone back to defend the place personally was it not for the now famous Squad 7, who had, on their own, managed to recapture the bridge. Since then, Squad 7 has become a symbol for Gallian successes on the front, and now weāve pushed the line back considerably. Weāve even captured Fouzen, our largest Ragnite mine, and the beachheads to the north of the place; all of these operations were led by Squad 7. And now Squad 7 is in a deadlock with the higher-ups; particularly the incompetent General Georg von Damon.
Damn, that guy really pisses me off. Squad 7 has achieved more in a simple few months than the damn Regulars have pulled off since the start of the war. Iām glad my allegiance lies with the Militia and not him.
Thatās right, Squad 9 is militia. I might not be, but the Squad itself consists of people that want to serve their country, but donāt get paid for it. Weāre responsible for the obtaining of information and intelligence for various militia-led operations, and this operation was one that weāre doing for Squad 7. The lineās been pushed up far enough to let us obtain a position like Bruhl, which is the hometown of Squad 7 its leader, Welkin Gunther. Weāre obtaining information on the numbers of soldiers here, as well as Points Of Interest.
Turns out their acting HQ is an estate out of town. Speak of the devil, soās ours. We could go do something about it, but then WEāD be the ones liberating Bruhl. Not exactly the mission, is it?
āSo weāre going back to the headquarters. No more reason to stay here, is it?ā I heard over the radio. That was Rebecca Clarksson (A.K.A. Hekate) over the radio, our medic. She isnāt being thorough, but she has a point.
āRebecca, weāre responsible for the obtaining of accurate intel and to locate the POIās on a map, not just note where their HQ is.ā I replied. I was waiting for Artemis to come up and give me a report.
āI think that weāre found all there is to find here. We really should be getting out of here, before the Imps find usā
āI agree to thatā Artemis turned the corner to where I am. āWeāve been noticed, but we arenāt really deemed enough of a threat to do anything about just yet. We need to get out of here, before the mark catched wind of usā
āHello to you to, Lunaā I sighed. āOkay, but I first have some things to do at HQ, we arenāt going anywhere until Iām done.ā
āDo they have anything to do with the op?ā Chronos asked.
āActually, they donāt. Iām paying respect to my familyā I replied. My younger sister once lived here, and called this place her home. I had never really gotten the chance to talk much to her, but I still cared a lot about her. āSquad 9, fall back to HQ and prepare for exfil.ā
āHey Isara. Itās me, Arco. Remember me? I gave you those altered blueprints for the Edelweissās main turret. I dunno if you used them, but they were all I had for you from dad. Iām just here to say that Iām sorry for not having been there. Must have been hard for you. Iām actually pretty sure I never told you, but you and I, we have the same dad. I knew him better than you, so I know that he loved you more than anything in the world. You really looked like your mother, he said once, and I can see why. Inherited the looks from your mother, and the skills from your father, I guess. Itās the same here. So, howāre you and dad doing? I hope youāre togetherā
Here I was going again, talking to the dead. At times I really had no idea why I did that. Thereād be times when Iād talk to my dad, Professor Theimer, when I was working on my design blueprints for my own sniper rifle, the ESR mk.1 mod.37. Iād ask him for ideas, and at times, heād answer with a brilliant idea, although it was kinda what I already had in mind. Iād also have entire conversations with Belgen Gunther, the hero of EW1 about strategies, however all his opinions were all things I saw as alternate strategies. And now I was asking my dead half-sister how she was doing.
Ā I guess the dead donāt talk.
A single tear ran down my left cheek, over the scar I had from the time I was working in dadās smithy. I was busy on the initial prototype of the ESR, and the mechanism that I was using to hold up the barrel for the firing mechanism to be attached broke. The barrel was still hot, and it burned my cheek. No-one really noticed under my stubble, but itās perfectly visible when I shave.
I pulled out my knife, and carved the words āR.I.P. Isara Gunther, sister I never knewā into the frame of the door near her room. Then I left. I had no time to wallow in despair. When I stepped out the door, I felt the rain splash onto my face. I was called by the people that were standing on our tank, the Hephaestos. I had been taking a while, apparently.
When I replied, I felt the water drip into my mouth.
Thatās weird. Its salty. Weird weather Bruhl has.
I find myself writing this on a nice (not) autumn day as the first chapter of many. Any constructive criticism would be much appreciated :)
What would you suggest I do?
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