So gentlemen, I've decided to write a few stories. Here comes the first one. I haven't done this in ages so I know I'm very rusty and my Engrish will take a while to get back up to scratch. Bear with me
Part I:
The production line of EA turns, and Battlefields come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Battlefield that gave it birth comes again. In one Battlefield, called the shittiest iteration by some - Skouperd and Tyger - a squad rose in the alcohol laden lands of Grrr. The squad was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Battlefields. But it was a beginning. (10000 points to whoever gets the reference)
"Medic!" Screams of agony mixed with the heavy boom of artillery and gunfire exploded in the newly recruited Pvt. Firesyde's head. Through the haze of smoke and dust he spotted his squadmate lying on the floor, clutching at his shoulder. Another lying against the wall, trying to keep his innards from spilling out. It was a grim picture.
His captain was crouched next to him, groaning. "We're fucked, that's it, fucked!"
Firesyde was slightly intimidated by his large leader, the man was eerily quiet most of the times before having outbursts that would make a schizophrenic sailor with tourette's blush.
"We could still escape through that passageway sir, they don't seem to be covering it, maybe if we could just lob a few gre-" Firesyde started nervously, feeling proud. He was Making A Contribution.
"If I wanted your opinion Private, I would have sucked it out of your mothers tits! Now fire at the damned enemy before I shove my hand down your throat and rip your cock out!"
"Yessir, noproblemsir, gettingrightonit!" Firesyde peeked over the cover, trying to find a target amidst all the smoke and dust.
It seemed as if all hope was lost: then something wonderful happened, or something terrible, depending on your point of view.
From the smoke burst a figure, wreathed all in fire, from his mouth came a screech like a Nazgul trying to molest a dead chicken. "Eat this you bastards, take it in your mouth!" His gun blazed as he mowed the enemy down, mayonnaise and mustard dripping from the barrel. Like a shadow he danced among them, stopping only to fart in the face of the enemy's corpse.
"YEAH! THATS HOW WE DO IT! EAT MY WALRUS ASS!" Corporal 'Madman' Atomicduzt roared as he finally came to a standstill, covered in the enemies' blood and for some reason, condiments.
"Leaving it a bit late there corporal." The captain remarked dryly, getting up and lighting a cigar.
"Yeah, I didn't know we were busy, I was still at hooters." The corporal replied, wiping the mustard-mayonnaise mixture from his barrel and licking it off his finger.
The captain jammed the remainder of his cigarette against an enemy corpse and surveyed the surroundings, shaking his head at the new private trying to patch up Sergeant Kalgat's intestines with a defibilator.
"Private, you're a bloody idiot." The sergeant snapped at him, hitting him over the head and pushing him away. "We seem to be missing a few men. Where the hell are the rest?"
Russian slipped from one shadow to another, softly humming under his breath while he cradled his AEK close to his chest. "I am a hunter in the night" he whispered. "I am he who takes away everything, and brings rightful justice, in the dark all secrets are revealed." He smoothly sways through an open doorway, pausing to check his reflection in a nearby window.
"I am silent and deadly, I will remove all obsta-" he stopped, noticing movement in the corner of his eye. With deft movements and flowery flair, much like one would find in a talented hair salon, he produced his knife and slunk forward to the doorway.
The very first thing Russian noticed was the extremely naked lady in the adjoining room, this proved to be a vital mistake, since the very second thing he noticed before he could draw his pistol, was that she was armed.
Irish leaned against a wall, taking a breather. Paying no mind to the gunfire he passed his glaucoma medicine to BadAssJack next to him. "Doyou... do you think they need our help?"
BadAss inhaled deeply and slowly blew a smoke ring. "Nah Cockpaulster told us to flank didn't he?"
"You think? I thought we were supposed to watch the perimeter" Irish replied, idly shooting a creeping enemy in the head.
He felt something splatter against his face, wiping it off he looked at his hand. "Mustard?"
