The Last Hope (Part One)

Bullets hazed over about four miles outside of the city next to a small general hospital. The soft overtune of Bad Company by Five Finger Death Punch played thanks to one of the soldier's neglecting to turn it off. Private First Class Armand Ostreich was pinned away from the rest of his squad, hiding behind a military cement blockade, wincing as a 12-gauge round from a SPAS shotgun tore apart the walling of it. Fucking Raiders were getting better gear. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, his asthma acting up. Fuck why'd he join the army? He knew he couldn't deal with pressure situations and that his lungs started constricting when he was put in places like this. He hit his chest hard before yanking back the bolt to his L86A2 and aimed it over the walling of the barracade, firing off in hopes of laying suppressive fire for his allies to get to him. SSG Osmand Ostreich looked towards where his brother was, the idiot laying down fire and actually tagging one of the raiders in the stomach, sending him down to the ground. Another chunk of the walling went off and Osmand cursed, shifting a bit before wincing, finding the 5.56 round that hit his armor had found a spot through the kevlar and into his side. No organs, straight through muscle, though. Another round went off and a yelp from Armand came. His eyes widdened and he looked over, seeing his brother down on the ground, holding a bleeding wound on his chest. Osmand shoved off the Beth as she tore the bullet from his body, not caring about leaving the wound open, instead grabbing the MG4 from the ground and rose it up, popping from the barracade to let the trigger fly, bullets ripping from the barrel and into the raiders. His teeth were clenching, eyes widdening as he let the adreniline take over, letting out a growl as he hopped the barricade, rushing into the bandits, releasing the trigger only to bash one over the skull, killing him instantly before wrapping an arm around the man's throat, twisting him around and turning towards another raider, letting the bullets tear into his partner, sending the corpse convulsing around. He kicked the body into the man, raising up the MG4 quickly to let bullets spray into his skull before throwing the gun to the side, it going empty after the first eight shots thanks to his spraying before. He lunged out at one of the men, taking him quickly to the ground before grasping the sides of his skull, thumbs ramming into his eyes and causing him to scream out before going still. Osmand tore his 1911A1 out and fired off the .45 ACP rounds into approaching enemies, jumping out at one as he fell dead the ground, taking the corpse to use it as a meatshield for the SPAS round, pulling the handgun up and firing a single round into the bastard's skull, watching him fall to the ground. He thrust the body off his chest, panting softly as he noticed all were dead or fading away at that moment. The pain was starting to come back from his wound, blood staining his body armor. His vision was getting blurry and he looked down to see he'd gained two more wounds now, one being a large gash across his arm and the other being a bullet that grazed through his pants, hitting above the knee. He let out grunt, stumbling back to his troops and fell down against the walling, Beth, their medic quickly attending to him while Omar went over to tend to Armand and make sure he was alright. Marko sighed, resting his M4A1 between his legs, tracing along the grenade launcher as he watched the tracker beside him. Quick skirmishes... That's all they did these days because Raiders wanted control of their supply routes to take more gear from them... They weren't going to be able to finish the operation with two wounded men. Not without making a trip back to base so they could get medical care. He pulled a cigarette out and pressed it between his lips, one hand fishing the lighter out from his pants pocket before he flicked the top off, tugging on the sparker before watching the flame rise, bringing the ignited fire to the tip of the cigarette, watching the tip light as he inhaled the sweet smooth smoke, it caressing down his throat to fill his lungs with the intoxicating poison before he blew it into the air, grasping his com and signalled out to HQ, "This is Bravo 2-5 actual to Base. Can you read me?" The radio took a moment before starting up, a small bit of static rising from the other side before calming down, "Krrshk... This is Base to Bravo 2-5, base reads you, over. What's the status on your mission to the town?" He sighed a bit and looked to the troops, seeing Omar give the signal for a pierced hand, clean through shot with a 9mm, it hitting the PFC in the shoulder, "Ah... We've got some issues. One troop, SSG Osmand Ostreich took three rounds, one through the side, another grazing the leg and one more to his... arm, looks like the shots to the leg and arm were thick grazes. Tore some meat. His brother, Armand Ostreich took a shell through the hand and into his shoulder, if Im not mistaken. Requesting immediate medical extraction so the mission can be completed, over." He looked over his troops before sighing, hearing the radio come back on after a long moment, "Ackowledged, Bravo 2-5, a helicopter will be arriving to pick them up shortly. Remember, you are heading into heavily infested territory. Be advised that you are to carry your mission without another fault. We are already taking a risk by bringing this helicopter into your territory. You will not recieve any more support. I repeat, no more support. Good luck." He stopped caring after she said that they were getting the helicopter, glad their fucking military would at least do that much for him. Still, not getting support in infected territories was a part of their job description these days. The moment Osmand and Armand were removed he would take the remaining two into a city full of infected to go find tactical data from a squad that they were going to have to extract, though the last communication to base from them was three days ago, which meant they were not only MIA but presumed dead in undead territory. Thankfully, the tracker still worked, so this could end up as an in and out mission. Or... At least he hoped. But in this world no one ever got what they hoped for...