Post by howlingskinwalker on Oct 29, 2017 16:30:39 GMT
"What are they like?"
"Who?"
"You know" urged the private, his feline ears twitching above his pale humanoid face. "The fascists. What are they like?"
The corporal sighed and took out a cigarette from within his fatigues and held it upright, upon which the tobacco promptly fell out. He tried again, successful this time, placing it between his lips and taking a long drag.
"Don't they teach you that in basic?" He asked, scratching between his horns.
"Yeah" nodded the feline "but I wanna know what they really are like. Not paper cut outs. Do they really eat children"
There was a grim chuckle from those who sat under the tree's shade. The corporal blew a cloud of smoke before replying.
"Sometimes Bramwell, yeah, they do"
"Have you seen them do it"
"Nope" the same corporal smiled grimly.
The feline recruit shrugged, scratching at his ill-fitting combat trousers and glancing around the rest of the group that was clustered under the grove. To the south and west, huge pillars of ash and smoke rose up into the sky, testament to the raging bombardments and running battles that ran the length of the demilitarised zone.
"What about non predators?" The private presses further, his uniform pressed and intact, unlike the worn and patched clothing of his peers.
"Someone's into quizzing" grunted a human PFC, scratching his mess of stubble.
"You were too Ramirez" reminded the corporal, resulting in a large proportion of the group breaking into sniggers and laughs at the human's expense. The goat who made the remark took another drag on his cigarette. "But yeah, it's not nice. You seen the videos?"
"The ones they play at nine?" The rookie nodded "yeah, all of them crowded into huts and wire fences"
"It's exactly like that" the goat replied "but everything looks and smells twice as worse. It's rotten food, sweat, shit, mud and piss all rolled into one. They pretty much live off cabbage and turnips. Once you've been in an "Inferior-Camp" you'll loose your taste for either of them. It's a rank as you get"
The sounds of disgust and anger that followed seemed to confirm this sentiment. A sea eagle spat angrily, his eyes narrowed in hate. "It makes it all worthwhile" he told the feline and the other new recruits. "Makes it even easier to watch the monsters burn and fry"
Beside him, a scrawny looking donkey bearing the stripes of a corporal, brayed in agreement, before tapping a recruits chemical rifle with his muddy hoof.
"Learn to point it" he grinned, showing off protruding teeth that were metal capped and chipped. "The Keppies won't hesitate and neither should you. If they get too close, they'll rip you apart and eat you as you watch" he pointed at another human who pulled up his sleeve to display a missing crater of flesh, the teeth marks still visible in the healed skin.
"Fuck" shuddered the recruit in horror, looking at his fellows with an expression of disbelief. "They don't take any shit out here"
"You're a long way from YouthCadets now" the goat laughed "They're not paper targets or pinyatas at your parades. The Keppies are real son. And they want your blood" he sucked on his cigarette before looking around the huddled infantry. "Where is the Loot anyway? This advance isn't going to happen if we just sit our asses here"
"He's up with the captain" the human veteran reminded him. "Derek told me we got ourselves from MTB support"
"Yeah" snorted the goat, "I mean, why have ZAC support we you have antique MTBs to back us up" he threw his cigarette butt away angrily then turned back to the eagle "Lomax, see if you can rustle me up some more smokes"
There was some commotion before a young human wearing a tattered overcoat and a lieutenant's pips walked over, rifle slung over his back. He nodded respectfully at the goat before coughing and addressing the assembled men of his platoon.
"On your feet boys" he said, gruffly, motioning for then all to comply. With s chorus of pAined moans and muttered curses, the infantrymen did hust that, wrapping overcoats or sacking more tightly around them, before picking up bandoliers or weapons.
"We're moving out" the human explained, pulling out a cracked and battered disc, which he pressed down up, activating the neon green projector. It hummed as it displayed a poor quality image of a typical German town, complete with a tall gothic looking church and low, traditional houses.
"This town is over the hill in the next valley. Command says it's garrison was relocated and wiped out by our advance. Our push forward has been too rapid for them to reinforce so they want us to take it quickly"
"So what are we talking about then?" Asked the sergeant, squinting at the display. "If the main garrison has run away?"
"Estimates at local milita, Poletzi and less than a company of infantry" the lieutenant said confidently. "No Panzer or air support in the vicinity" he jabbed a gloved finger at the display, drawing a path through its winding streets for the watching men to follow. "We're going to move up the east flank, through the Prey quarters then clear the place out street by street. Command has been kind enough to grant us two Leopards. They'll go in up the Main Street. We keep to the sides and check the houses. Main targets are the Poletzei office, the Food ministry station and the Mayors office. These are the ones most likely to have a defensive presence" he shut off the display and rapped out "Moving in ten so grab your shit"
Those who hadn't already bundled on more sacking and cloth sheets, trying to ward off the worsening weather. The skies were grey and clouded, the previous days rains having turned the roads and fields into a slurry of mud, clinging to the men's legs and feet and clogging up the few transports they had.
It was at this mud, that Bramwell scraped, grunting with disaste, when he felt a hand clench his shoulder. He straightened up, to look into the bloodshot eyes of his corporal, the goat's eyes red from exertion and moonshine.
"You may fresh meat" he said in a low whisper "But I have every intention Of keeping you alive Branwell"
The human cat nodded, his ears pinning back.
"Good boy" his nodded, patting him roughly on the back "Now stay behind me, don't try and do any heroics, and always do what I say. Follow them and you'll have a much better chance of getting through this shit. Scared?"
"A little"
"Good. You should be" he slung a captured EKP assault rifle over his shoulder, before pulling up his hessian scarf around his mouth. "Fall in!" He ordered.
Their unit did so, a collection of grumbling, grunting infantrymen, all reeking of sweat, mud and smoke. Weapons jangled as the separate squads fell into attention within their respective platoons.
Once assembled their sergeants and lieutenants ordered them to march off, heading down the wooded lane. As Bramwell trudged along beside the corporal, he heard the deep rumble of treads and turned to see two filthy-looking Leopard tanks: laden with stowage and supplies move onto the road beside them. Out of the lead's turret stood a female panther, who was conversing with the lieutenant walking alongside.
The trek was short, heading up onto the brow of a wooded hill, gazing down on the patchwork of turnip and cabbage fields and the smoking craters of bombs. The village was nestled in the centre, surrounded by a small male of shanty houses enclosed in a wire fence.
"Push up through the Prey Camp!" Ordered the LT, unslinging his laser carbine. "Sergeant Diana will provide covering fire before she moves into the main road"
"Don't worry ground-pounders!" The female feline called from her cupola, giving the marching troops a toothy grin "The armoured have it all under control" to prove her point the massive turret rotated, the barrel lifting into the air as it sighted upon the church spire.
"Arrow-wings! Spread out!" Yelled out the section leaders, ordering their men forwards from the shade of the trees. Clutching their weapons tightly, the ragged companies surged forward, their boots traipsing through the muddy farmlands with sickening squelches.
"They just couldn't be decent enough to at least farm something else!" Snarled the sea eagle, kicking one of the offending turnips across the gentle slope.
"Do they really feed them just that?" Bramwell asked him nervously, his eyes fixed upon the slowly growing town ahead.
"Yeah" the avian nodded "The preds get all the wheat and grains they need to go with the meat, all kinds of veg for the higher ups. Proles are lucky to get seed cakes mixed with oil every week or so"
"Makes you wanna puke" agreed the Donkey, smashing his hoof down upon one.
The khaki and green figures spread out into a long dispersed line, crossing over the fields slowly, each infantryman bent over in a low crotch: ready to dive for cover should the enemy artillery start up.
"Steady boys, you can bet the Keppies are watching us, just keeping going until you reach the fence"
That they did, arriving at the chicken wire fence, encrusted with dirt and rust with a few curls of barbed wire wrapped around the top. Each infantryman took up positions, weapons pointed at the maze of houses and shacks while individuals withdrew wire cutters and swiftly cut a man-sized hole in the link.
"Spread out" the corporal ordered, waving then through before darting into the Prole camp himself. "Split into threes and start room clearance: Horton, Bramwell, you're with me!" He told the private and the donkey LC.
Bramwell gulped nervously but followed through, clutching his rifle with trembling hands, the foresight shaking as he aimed down it. The smell was starting to hit him: unwashed clothes, rotten food, piss and shit mingled with the omnipresent odours of Cabbage and turnip. It crawled down his theist and seized his stomach, making him retch horrifically before vomiting his rations onto a burst sewage pipe.
"Better out than in, boy" snickered the donkey, having long since grown accustomed to such.
"Cut the shit Horton" the corporal snapped at him, peering in through a window at the absolute mess inside. "You puked like a burst pipe when you first smelt it"
The donkey gave a grumble, rooting about in some shoes made out of old tires. "Whatever" he grunted, shooting the corporal a dark look before opening a door, looking inside and closing it when nothing was revealed
"We got some live ones in here!" Yelled a voice from up front. The group immediately raced forwards, hurrying through the mud and grit to a house built from sheets of corrugated iron and tin. A human beckoned the corporal, and the lieutenant who came over, puffing and gasping, inside. Branwell made sure his weapon was ready before following them in to the cramped, smelly space.
It was very dark, with no light source other than a single open window. Branwell looked about nervously, scanning his weapon over old tins, filthy vestments hung out to dry and bundles of rags and cloth pieces. The overwhelming smell of piss made his eyes sting and nostrils recoil.
"Is anyone here?" Asked the corporal in a gruff but level tone.
There was the shifting of blankets and a few low moans before a young, strained voice said "here" weakly.
Horton switched on the torch he had duct-taped to his barrel, the red beam lighting up a large, rag covered bed. A horse, around thirteen years old, stood with his frail hands up. Behind him lay the prone form of a mare, wrapped with blankets and patched sheets, a struggling foal in her arms, barely a month old.
"We have civilians" the corporal spoke into the radio before yelling "MEDIC" out the doorway. All three lowered their weapons and slowly moved closer.
"It's alright" he said calmly as the boy shrank away "We're with the WFFA. You're safe now kid"
"It's okay" the boy's mother reassured him "They're the good guys"
The donkey stepped over and gently peeled the sheets back, grunting in disgust at the lice that crawled all over them. "Where is everyone?" He asked as a medic came rushing in.
"They rounded everyone up" she said weakly, her back resting atop sacks of stuffed straw "Loaded them into t-trucks and took them North. Some where ...s-shot here. They were....dragged off..to the b-butcher shops and Poletzei station"
Horton moved aside to let the medic start to uncover the mare's whole body and assess her properly "And how come you're still here?"
"My...husband didn't trust them" she said, her dark eyes brimming with tears "He hid me and my s-son in the d-d-drainage pipe, but there wasn't r-room for him. He got t-taken away w-w-with the others"
The medic looked up at the corporal "She's got all kinds of worms, malnutrition and some kind of afterbirth infection. We're going to need to pull her out quickly" Branwell watched him remove a small package from his back, which immediately sprang open with a mechanical click and unfurled into a stretcher.
The mare was lifted out of her bed, the foal in her arms erupting into mewling and crying as it was jarred from sleep.
"Move them out!" The corporal snapped, pointing at the Medic who called in a colleague to help him with the stretcher "And take the boy with you"
They did just that, the corporal turned back to Branwell who was steadying himself on the wall, his stomach turning somersaults. He retched again, his threat burning, eyes watering. Something clapped on his shoulder, the goat shaking him out his heaving and gasping.
"Ignore it" the goat said firmly "Focus too much on how shit this all is, and it'll distract you. You need to be alert or they'll tear you to shreds"
From outside came two small booms, in quick succession, followed by the cry of "Mines!" and screaming. The corporal seized Branwell by the shoulder and pulled him out into the bleak air. Gunpowder hung on the breeze, as medics raced towards the blast.
"Keep out of the huts!" Yelled a cervine lieutenant, running along and moving men forwards "Anti-infantry mines have been rigged inside them!"
"Come on Branwell!" The hybrid was grabbed by the arm and hauled along as the infantry ran between the hots, jumping over fences and piles of belongings. "Reform on the road!" Ordered another of their sergeants as the majority of the infantry force wheeled about, leaving a pair of platoons to hold the boundary between the Prole camp and main town, the rest all running towards the road into the settlement.
"Form up behind the tanks and get ready to move! As soon as we reach a side street, take it!"
"Who?"
"You know" urged the private, his feline ears twitching above his pale humanoid face. "The fascists. What are they like?"
The corporal sighed and took out a cigarette from within his fatigues and held it upright, upon which the tobacco promptly fell out. He tried again, successful this time, placing it between his lips and taking a long drag.
"Don't they teach you that in basic?" He asked, scratching between his horns.
"Yeah" nodded the feline "but I wanna know what they really are like. Not paper cut outs. Do they really eat children"
There was a grim chuckle from those who sat under the tree's shade. The corporal blew a cloud of smoke before replying.
"Sometimes Bramwell, yeah, they do"
"Have you seen them do it"
"Nope" the same corporal smiled grimly.
The feline recruit shrugged, scratching at his ill-fitting combat trousers and glancing around the rest of the group that was clustered under the grove. To the south and west, huge pillars of ash and smoke rose up into the sky, testament to the raging bombardments and running battles that ran the length of the demilitarised zone.
"What about non predators?" The private presses further, his uniform pressed and intact, unlike the worn and patched clothing of his peers.
"Someone's into quizzing" grunted a human PFC, scratching his mess of stubble.
"You were too Ramirez" reminded the corporal, resulting in a large proportion of the group breaking into sniggers and laughs at the human's expense. The goat who made the remark took another drag on his cigarette. "But yeah, it's not nice. You seen the videos?"
"The ones they play at nine?" The rookie nodded "yeah, all of them crowded into huts and wire fences"
"It's exactly like that" the goat replied "but everything looks and smells twice as worse. It's rotten food, sweat, shit, mud and piss all rolled into one. They pretty much live off cabbage and turnips. Once you've been in an "Inferior-Camp" you'll loose your taste for either of them. It's a rank as you get"
The sounds of disgust and anger that followed seemed to confirm this sentiment. A sea eagle spat angrily, his eyes narrowed in hate. "It makes it all worthwhile" he told the feline and the other new recruits. "Makes it even easier to watch the monsters burn and fry"
Beside him, a scrawny looking donkey bearing the stripes of a corporal, brayed in agreement, before tapping a recruits chemical rifle with his muddy hoof.
"Learn to point it" he grinned, showing off protruding teeth that were metal capped and chipped. "The Keppies won't hesitate and neither should you. If they get too close, they'll rip you apart and eat you as you watch" he pointed at another human who pulled up his sleeve to display a missing crater of flesh, the teeth marks still visible in the healed skin.
"Fuck" shuddered the recruit in horror, looking at his fellows with an expression of disbelief. "They don't take any shit out here"
"You're a long way from YouthCadets now" the goat laughed "They're not paper targets or pinyatas at your parades. The Keppies are real son. And they want your blood" he sucked on his cigarette before looking around the huddled infantry. "Where is the Loot anyway? This advance isn't going to happen if we just sit our asses here"
"He's up with the captain" the human veteran reminded him. "Derek told me we got ourselves from MTB support"
"Yeah" snorted the goat, "I mean, why have ZAC support we you have antique MTBs to back us up" he threw his cigarette butt away angrily then turned back to the eagle "Lomax, see if you can rustle me up some more smokes"
There was some commotion before a young human wearing a tattered overcoat and a lieutenant's pips walked over, rifle slung over his back. He nodded respectfully at the goat before coughing and addressing the assembled men of his platoon.
"On your feet boys" he said, gruffly, motioning for then all to comply. With s chorus of pAined moans and muttered curses, the infantrymen did hust that, wrapping overcoats or sacking more tightly around them, before picking up bandoliers or weapons.
"We're moving out" the human explained, pulling out a cracked and battered disc, which he pressed down up, activating the neon green projector. It hummed as it displayed a poor quality image of a typical German town, complete with a tall gothic looking church and low, traditional houses.
"This town is over the hill in the next valley. Command says it's garrison was relocated and wiped out by our advance. Our push forward has been too rapid for them to reinforce so they want us to take it quickly"
"So what are we talking about then?" Asked the sergeant, squinting at the display. "If the main garrison has run away?"
"Estimates at local milita, Poletzi and less than a company of infantry" the lieutenant said confidently. "No Panzer or air support in the vicinity" he jabbed a gloved finger at the display, drawing a path through its winding streets for the watching men to follow. "We're going to move up the east flank, through the Prey quarters then clear the place out street by street. Command has been kind enough to grant us two Leopards. They'll go in up the Main Street. We keep to the sides and check the houses. Main targets are the Poletzei office, the Food ministry station and the Mayors office. These are the ones most likely to have a defensive presence" he shut off the display and rapped out "Moving in ten so grab your shit"
Those who hadn't already bundled on more sacking and cloth sheets, trying to ward off the worsening weather. The skies were grey and clouded, the previous days rains having turned the roads and fields into a slurry of mud, clinging to the men's legs and feet and clogging up the few transports they had.
It was at this mud, that Bramwell scraped, grunting with disaste, when he felt a hand clench his shoulder. He straightened up, to look into the bloodshot eyes of his corporal, the goat's eyes red from exertion and moonshine.
"You may fresh meat" he said in a low whisper "But I have every intention Of keeping you alive Branwell"
The human cat nodded, his ears pinning back.
"Good boy" his nodded, patting him roughly on the back "Now stay behind me, don't try and do any heroics, and always do what I say. Follow them and you'll have a much better chance of getting through this shit. Scared?"
"A little"
"Good. You should be" he slung a captured EKP assault rifle over his shoulder, before pulling up his hessian scarf around his mouth. "Fall in!" He ordered.
Their unit did so, a collection of grumbling, grunting infantrymen, all reeking of sweat, mud and smoke. Weapons jangled as the separate squads fell into attention within their respective platoons.
Once assembled their sergeants and lieutenants ordered them to march off, heading down the wooded lane. As Bramwell trudged along beside the corporal, he heard the deep rumble of treads and turned to see two filthy-looking Leopard tanks: laden with stowage and supplies move onto the road beside them. Out of the lead's turret stood a female panther, who was conversing with the lieutenant walking alongside.
The trek was short, heading up onto the brow of a wooded hill, gazing down on the patchwork of turnip and cabbage fields and the smoking craters of bombs. The village was nestled in the centre, surrounded by a small male of shanty houses enclosed in a wire fence.
"Push up through the Prey Camp!" Ordered the LT, unslinging his laser carbine. "Sergeant Diana will provide covering fire before she moves into the main road"
"Don't worry ground-pounders!" The female feline called from her cupola, giving the marching troops a toothy grin "The armoured have it all under control" to prove her point the massive turret rotated, the barrel lifting into the air as it sighted upon the church spire.
"Arrow-wings! Spread out!" Yelled out the section leaders, ordering their men forwards from the shade of the trees. Clutching their weapons tightly, the ragged companies surged forward, their boots traipsing through the muddy farmlands with sickening squelches.
"They just couldn't be decent enough to at least farm something else!" Snarled the sea eagle, kicking one of the offending turnips across the gentle slope.
"Do they really feed them just that?" Bramwell asked him nervously, his eyes fixed upon the slowly growing town ahead.
"Yeah" the avian nodded "The preds get all the wheat and grains they need to go with the meat, all kinds of veg for the higher ups. Proles are lucky to get seed cakes mixed with oil every week or so"
"Makes you wanna puke" agreed the Donkey, smashing his hoof down upon one.
The khaki and green figures spread out into a long dispersed line, crossing over the fields slowly, each infantryman bent over in a low crotch: ready to dive for cover should the enemy artillery start up.
"Steady boys, you can bet the Keppies are watching us, just keeping going until you reach the fence"
That they did, arriving at the chicken wire fence, encrusted with dirt and rust with a few curls of barbed wire wrapped around the top. Each infantryman took up positions, weapons pointed at the maze of houses and shacks while individuals withdrew wire cutters and swiftly cut a man-sized hole in the link.
"Spread out" the corporal ordered, waving then through before darting into the Prole camp himself. "Split into threes and start room clearance: Horton, Bramwell, you're with me!" He told the private and the donkey LC.
Bramwell gulped nervously but followed through, clutching his rifle with trembling hands, the foresight shaking as he aimed down it. The smell was starting to hit him: unwashed clothes, rotten food, piss and shit mingled with the omnipresent odours of Cabbage and turnip. It crawled down his theist and seized his stomach, making him retch horrifically before vomiting his rations onto a burst sewage pipe.
"Better out than in, boy" snickered the donkey, having long since grown accustomed to such.
"Cut the shit Horton" the corporal snapped at him, peering in through a window at the absolute mess inside. "You puked like a burst pipe when you first smelt it"
The donkey gave a grumble, rooting about in some shoes made out of old tires. "Whatever" he grunted, shooting the corporal a dark look before opening a door, looking inside and closing it when nothing was revealed
"We got some live ones in here!" Yelled a voice from up front. The group immediately raced forwards, hurrying through the mud and grit to a house built from sheets of corrugated iron and tin. A human beckoned the corporal, and the lieutenant who came over, puffing and gasping, inside. Branwell made sure his weapon was ready before following them in to the cramped, smelly space.
It was very dark, with no light source other than a single open window. Branwell looked about nervously, scanning his weapon over old tins, filthy vestments hung out to dry and bundles of rags and cloth pieces. The overwhelming smell of piss made his eyes sting and nostrils recoil.
"Is anyone here?" Asked the corporal in a gruff but level tone.
There was the shifting of blankets and a few low moans before a young, strained voice said "here" weakly.
Horton switched on the torch he had duct-taped to his barrel, the red beam lighting up a large, rag covered bed. A horse, around thirteen years old, stood with his frail hands up. Behind him lay the prone form of a mare, wrapped with blankets and patched sheets, a struggling foal in her arms, barely a month old.
"We have civilians" the corporal spoke into the radio before yelling "MEDIC" out the doorway. All three lowered their weapons and slowly moved closer.
"It's alright" he said calmly as the boy shrank away "We're with the WFFA. You're safe now kid"
"It's okay" the boy's mother reassured him "They're the good guys"
The donkey stepped over and gently peeled the sheets back, grunting in disgust at the lice that crawled all over them. "Where is everyone?" He asked as a medic came rushing in.
"They rounded everyone up" she said weakly, her back resting atop sacks of stuffed straw "Loaded them into t-trucks and took them North. Some where ...s-shot here. They were....dragged off..to the b-butcher shops and Poletzei station"
Horton moved aside to let the medic start to uncover the mare's whole body and assess her properly "And how come you're still here?"
"My...husband didn't trust them" she said, her dark eyes brimming with tears "He hid me and my s-son in the d-d-drainage pipe, but there wasn't r-room for him. He got t-taken away w-w-with the others"
The medic looked up at the corporal "She's got all kinds of worms, malnutrition and some kind of afterbirth infection. We're going to need to pull her out quickly" Branwell watched him remove a small package from his back, which immediately sprang open with a mechanical click and unfurled into a stretcher.
The mare was lifted out of her bed, the foal in her arms erupting into mewling and crying as it was jarred from sleep.
"Move them out!" The corporal snapped, pointing at the Medic who called in a colleague to help him with the stretcher "And take the boy with you"
They did just that, the corporal turned back to Branwell who was steadying himself on the wall, his stomach turning somersaults. He retched again, his threat burning, eyes watering. Something clapped on his shoulder, the goat shaking him out his heaving and gasping.
"Ignore it" the goat said firmly "Focus too much on how shit this all is, and it'll distract you. You need to be alert or they'll tear you to shreds"
From outside came two small booms, in quick succession, followed by the cry of "Mines!" and screaming. The corporal seized Branwell by the shoulder and pulled him out into the bleak air. Gunpowder hung on the breeze, as medics raced towards the blast.
"Keep out of the huts!" Yelled a cervine lieutenant, running along and moving men forwards "Anti-infantry mines have been rigged inside them!"
"Come on Branwell!" The hybrid was grabbed by the arm and hauled along as the infantry ran between the hots, jumping over fences and piles of belongings. "Reform on the road!" Ordered another of their sergeants as the majority of the infantry force wheeled about, leaving a pair of platoons to hold the boundary between the Prole camp and main town, the rest all running towards the road into the settlement.
"Form up behind the tanks and get ready to move! As soon as we reach a side street, take it!"