Post by Advocate on Oct 30, 2009 1:21:32 GMT -5
I hated flying… If I wanted to fly I’d have gone to flight school with my buddy D. Who did the brass think they are? I’m a tank commander, not some fancy fly boy or something! While I Nervously awaited our current operation all I could do was pace around the hanger hold and watch my partner tinker with our tank. At least this one was crazy enough to follow my orders. If my last one actually listened he may have been luckier…
There was the smell of blood and smoke everywhere, my whole body ached. The Zeeks one upped us, they saw right through our trap! Those damned Zakus! My driver… I wonder… I looked up through the wreckage and… I stared right into a pair of red eyes?
“You alright Sir?”
“What…? WHAT?! Oh… You startled me. Do you need something?”
“You were just staring blankly into space.”
“I was day dreaming, now shouldn’t you put our tank back together before we deploy?”
“Sure, I guess.”
With a shrug she went right back to messing around with whatever it was she was messing around with. I must have really been out of it though; I didn’t even notice her usual smell…
The devastation was complete. The Strait of Dover became a graveyard for the once proud king. I walked from tank to tank looking for others and more often then not wished I hadn’t. Well this one looked promising the drivers compartment seemed to have to survived, I jumped up on it and began to pry open the hatch. A horrible smell assailed my nostrils as I got it open, sweat and motor oil? I looked down and saw a blonde something curled up into ball. “Hey!” I shouted down, it responded with “PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” Hmm a girl, “Don’t worry I’m on your side.” I said as I offered my hand to help her out. My first impression of her was… Well, she stunk. The smell of sweat and motor oil clung to her like a miasma. Her uniform was a disheveled mess and it looked a size or two too big, well to be honest she was a tiny thing so I suppose that could be forgiven. I cleared my throat and introduced myself Corporal Cray Vermillion, 301st Armored, Gunner. It seemed to take a moment for it to sink in and she quickly snapped a weak salute and introduced herself, “Pa- Pa- Private Ion Bossa-Nova! Um… 296th Armored, Driver, Sir!” Clearly, I thought. “Well the Zeeks aren’t going to wait for us before they shooting so we better get moving lest we run into one of their patrols.”
I was broken out of my reverie by the sound of a female voice.
“Sir!”
“Huh?”
“Sir! We’re ready to move out.”
“Alright… Let’s get this over with so we can get back on some solid ground.”
There was the smell of blood and smoke everywhere, my whole body ached. The Zeeks one upped us, they saw right through our trap! Those damned Zakus! My driver… I wonder… I looked up through the wreckage and… I stared right into a pair of red eyes?
“You alright Sir?”
“What…? WHAT?! Oh… You startled me. Do you need something?”
“You were just staring blankly into space.”
“I was day dreaming, now shouldn’t you put our tank back together before we deploy?”
“Sure, I guess.”
With a shrug she went right back to messing around with whatever it was she was messing around with. I must have really been out of it though; I didn’t even notice her usual smell…
The devastation was complete. The Strait of Dover became a graveyard for the once proud king. I walked from tank to tank looking for others and more often then not wished I hadn’t. Well this one looked promising the drivers compartment seemed to have to survived, I jumped up on it and began to pry open the hatch. A horrible smell assailed my nostrils as I got it open, sweat and motor oil? I looked down and saw a blonde something curled up into ball. “Hey!” I shouted down, it responded with “PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” Hmm a girl, “Don’t worry I’m on your side.” I said as I offered my hand to help her out. My first impression of her was… Well, she stunk. The smell of sweat and motor oil clung to her like a miasma. Her uniform was a disheveled mess and it looked a size or two too big, well to be honest she was a tiny thing so I suppose that could be forgiven. I cleared my throat and introduced myself Corporal Cray Vermillion, 301st Armored, Gunner. It seemed to take a moment for it to sink in and she quickly snapped a weak salute and introduced herself, “Pa- Pa- Private Ion Bossa-Nova! Um… 296th Armored, Driver, Sir!” Clearly, I thought. “Well the Zeeks aren’t going to wait for us before they shooting so we better get moving lest we run into one of their patrols.”
I was broken out of my reverie by the sound of a female voice.
“Sir!”
“Huh?”
“Sir! We’re ready to move out.”
“Alright… Let’s get this over with so we can get back on some solid ground.”