OOC- What? No takers? :p Guess I'll just have to work on it a bit more, then.
IC- What was left of Amaru's squad had managed to regroup several blocks away from where they had been stonewalled, and were moving away from it in a rag-tag group; no real formation, just staying together and watching their own backs. They were all scared quiet from the brief skirmish. No one wanted to raise their voice, for the chance of attracting a sniper's attention. Instead, the only noise they made was the ambling scuffles of their boots and the idle jingle and chime of their loose gear.
Amaru was busy scanning several dark windows of what was left of a building when voices echoed down the street. No, not voices; shouts! Panic. Without an order, the squad scattered apart by reflex, ducking behind any cover they might find. After a moment, the shouts started to become marginally coherant.
"C'mon! They're headed this way. Byron! Get that repeater set and ready!" There was a garbled reply, echoed off so many walls it was unintelligable. "Kyrn, get to high ground and cover our position." Another shout echoed back.
Amaru was so concentrated on finding the source of the shouting, he nearly didn't notice the quiet scuffle of feet behind him. He rolled over onto his back in the blink of an eye, but what ever was there, had left.
Behind him, there was more shouting. The trooper quickly rolled back onto his stomach to face the shouting, just as several figures amerged from the smoke around a corner. Even from such a short distance, their loyalties were hard to discern. Hell, Amaru and his mates had been in it for so long,
they were hard to discern. Kline was clad in a rag-tag mis-match of battered stormtrooper gear and the standard trooper's, as well as some extras he picked up along the way.
Amaru's heart began to beat fiercely in his chest as the unknown soldiers aproached rapidly. Adrenaline marred his concentration, and it seemed impossible to get his weapon into a ready position. He fidgetted manicly with it as they drew nearer.
"Frell," he whispered in a single breath. One was headed straight for him; no. For his cover. Amaru's breathing became rapid and rampant, sporadic with panic.
10 meters...
5 meters... Amaru brought his blaster closer to his soldier and a position where he could fire a shot that wouldn't allow his target to return...
2 meters... Amaru's breath turned to a gasp as his target trotted so close he could hear the man's earbud chirping private comms.
The unnamed trooper seemed to do a contralled trip into the debris, dropping to his knees and using his elbows to brace against his own momentum. Amaru soon found himself staring into the man's eyes, who tried peeking through the same peephole he was using. They narrowed in brief curiosity, only long enough for the man's brain to process why he couldn't see the street. They nearly popped out when he realized he was starring into the eyes of another man; a man who had quickly trained a weapon on his head.
He gave a startled cry and leaped away from the debris, falling flat on his back in the middle of the street. "Imperials! Imperials!" he shouted frantically, and Amaru was unsure if he was sounding an alarm or declaring a title. "Hold your fire! We're on the same side!"
It was then that Amaru realised that he wasn't breathing, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his head against the rubble he was lying on. Brief shouts of similar alarms and declarations rang through the rest of his squad and their's as they realized who they were watching.
The man Amaru had nearly blown away was panting for breath as he pushed himself off the ground, and began to chuckle. "Sithspawn! You near--" He wasn't allowed to finish. He wasn't even standing up straight before a slug picked him up by the shoulder and dropped him several feet past where he was standing.
It seemed chaos only brewed chaos on Altaris, Amaru thought spitefully as he dove for cover, he, as well as others, shouting the singular words of "Sniper" or "scout." Both were synominous for Rebel death. Shortly after the war began, Imperial forces had been haunted by these ghostly warriors. They moved in small groups, independant of any main rebel force. The moved like a breeze through the trees, and could pass by feet from you without your knowledge. Minutes later and a few men of your squad would by lying on the ground, a hole torn through them by a singularly well aimed shot.
Suddenly, the wheels and cogs of Amaru's mind never seemed so well oiled and smooth. Now he knew what had scuffled behind him while he was watching for the shouts. One had passed not ten feet from him, and he didn't even catch a glimpse.
He struggled to control his breathing, which would in turn steady his quacking limbs. War was hell, until you were released through death.
The nameless man Amaru had nearly shot himself wasn't quite so lucky, though. It never seemed to be as easy as a wound fallowed by death. It was always a gruesome wound, fallowed by agony and suffering. Death was never as subtle and abrupt as you'd think. The sounds of agony and grief simply faded, the look of suffering and pain frozen as stone on the victims face.
The man lying in the street in a puddle of his own blood was one of those unlucky souls. He choked, wheezed and gagged on blood as he fought for air, the wound most likely tearing a hole in one of his lungs. His back arched sporadically, his nerves misfiring as his brain began to shut down.
Amaru glanced up to see Chio, one of his squad mates staring at the man with an agonized look. Chio looked up and locked eyes with Amaru. Amaru knew what the rifleman was thinking. All he could do was shake his head.
No, don't do it. It's not worth it, man, Amaru thought as he stared down his squad mate. He could see the man's throat bob as he swallowed heavily; swallowing his fear. Chio gave a glance at the surrounding buildings, looking for the face of the sniper.
"Chio,
no!" Amaru shouted abruptly as Chio leaped from cover, running towards his fallen comrad. Amaru nearly jumped up, himself, ready to physically restrain the man from his suicide sprint. "Sithspit!" Amaru cursed, turning away from Chio and training his weapon on the buildings overhead. Chio was a dead man; Amaru knew it. All he could do is watch for the muzzle flare of the sniper's slug-thrower.
"Cover me!" Chio shouted. From what Amaru could tell, Chio was over the man. He could hear him saying soothing words to the fallen man, comforting him as he choked through another pint of his own blood. Amaru could hear the scrape and scuffle as Chio dragged the man to safety, towards the other squad's medic.
And there; there it was. A brief glint up in one of the windows. Amaru wasn't even sure he saw it. He didn't have to be. "There!" he cried out, squeezing his trigger tight, sending a volley at the rebel sniper. It seemed all too late, however. There was the tell-tale muzzle flare, and he heard Chio grunt and hit the ground. Others had cought Amaru's drift and began firing at the same building. And then again, on a completely different floor, another bright flash, and a man from the other squad was sent rolling down his pile of rubble. Amaru ducked down; the cinder block he was resting against disintigrating over his head as a slug tore through it.
They missed!
They missed twice?
Amaru blinked against his mind's eye as he watched Chio scramble into cover. But he had been hit! He heard him take the slug. Amaru glanced down at the fallen man. He was still, the pool around him still steadily growing. But, above his shoulders, where his head might have been, gore was smeared across the sidewalk. All that was left was a gnarled mass of scalp, skull and gray matter.
Amaru took a deep swallow before he gagged. War was hell.
I bet I have less than half as many posts as some of the people who've been here less than half as long as I have...