RM Vol 3: For a World without Boundary – Chapter 45-8: Osprey down! (Part 8)
There are only two reasons why a soldier would march to their death. One is that they voluntarily venture out to die, while the second is that they have no other choice but to do so. The line is blurred between the former and thetter more often than not, however. When the stake is high, one doesn''t have the time to wonder about the reasoning for their sacrifice. The best they can do is to bury the fear and hesitation six feet underground while trying their very best to make their death at least worth a damn in the grand scheme of things. To some, that''s easier said than done, and they wouldn''t be wrong thinking like that. A soldier can hardly pick the ce for him to die and how he would be sent off. Such is the meaning of a soldier''s life, swimming the river of fate, and struggling against it when the needs arise. But in some cases, when the odds are stacked tall enough in their favor, a soldier may as well be the scriptwriter of their own demise.
Randall has always fantasized about going out in a ze of glory on the battlefield. Don''t get him wrong, while he may fancy an exhrating battle or an interesting hunt, it doesn''t mean that Randall seeks death, he still pretty much prefers to be among the living. Randall only thoughts that if he''s ever to be KIA, it better damn be on his own terms. And from what''s happened so far, Randall''s thought may as well be reality in his opinion. A desperatest stand, the loss of a dearrade, being encircled with no way to run, no munition worth a damn, a trap that they can''t use due to enemy interference... It sounds like a good ce to end the tale of Randall Shughart.
Randall gives a toothy grin as his forms break through the smoke cloud of his own creation. The cloud did its magic, preventing Randall from being sniped prematurely by the Archers outside. That said, it was a gamble and a half. Just because the enemy couldn''t see him, didn''t mean that a lucky bolt wouldn''t turn him into a shish kebab. Randall takesfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe, the Mother Goddess is giving him her blessing and protection as hisst rite. With smoke still coating his form, and every muscle of his lower half strained to propel himself like a cannonball, Randall aims his rifle and fire. The one bullet he sends out manages to hit squarely on the chest of an Archer zombie, sending it tumbling backward with its bow dropped haphazardly. It''s a clean shot while running, but it won''t be a thing Randall can pull off a second time on such notice. Rather than running out in the open, Randall heads for the crashed Osprey while being mindful of any threat that may be near him. Hell, he already spots three behind him.
Though the three melee zombies have been approaching the garage that Randall was in, they swiftly pivot on their feet and chase Randall instead. Knowing that it''s better to cut off his tails (get it, tails?) before dealing with the rest of the Archers, Randall jumps forth to the Osprey for cover all the while turning 180 degrees midair. Randall ms into the ting of Osprey''s fusge, not that painful in his honest opinion, and it also gives him the angle to engage the three targets chasing him. As they''re making a beeline towards Randall, the wolfkin Pathfinder can get easy kills on them all by expending the rest of his magazine on semi-auto. Immediately after taking care of his pursuers, Randall pulls the charging handle of his rifle back, operates the magazine lever to discard the spent magazine, grabs his second tost G1 mag to feed it to the gun, and then ps the charging handle to let it slide home. The reload takes three seconds in total, but during that time, the Archer zombies have already taken note of Randall and are pulling on their bows, aiming toward the wolfkin.
Unwilling to be pincushioned, Randall pops out with his G1 flicks to full-auto and just holds down the trigger. Like a coughing woodpecker, the G1 unleashes a slew of 8mm Mausers at a rhythmic pace. It''s a medium, controlled burst, but thanks to Randall''s marksmanship and the fact that he swings the muzzle to cut down the line of Archers at once, those that pose long-range threats to the guys at the garage are downed. Of course, it doesn''t mean that the Archers are deader than dead, they may just be incapacitated for the moment. But it''s a chance nheless, to let Albrecht and Carl reposition themselves. And an opportunity for Randall to grab all the attention onto himself. Running out of cover may be a bad idea when he''s surrounded, but hiding is not the point here, isn''t it?
"You want a piece of me you white ass cunts?! Thene and get it!" Randall snarled while raising his rifle to shoot at multiple targets in front of him. Whether it''s a Praetorian raising a scythe, a Razor w trying to turn him into minced meat, or an Archer trying to retaliate despite her injury... All of them receive 8mm leads for their trouble. "Die! Die! Die! You pieces of shit!" Randall taunted, partly because it''s required for him to do so, partly because of his feelings about Gordy''s sacrifice.
A bullet to the head, to bullet to the torso, dodging a sh by crouching before turning over the muzzle of his rifle to the upper left, another bullet that to the head... Rinse and repeat till the rifle clicks empty. Keeping a move around the crash site, Randall reloads, not knowing that thus far his fight has been recorded by Gordy''s discarded helmet. The explosion must have knocked the helmet far away but not enough to destroy the helmet cam.
Right when Randall ps the charging handle home to continue his marauding, an explosion rocks him from the back, nearly throwing him onto the floor. Without the sling, his rifle would have been dropped on the ground. Rather than checking out what exploded behind him, Randall scans the surroundings, only to see that the hatefulser-firing Lich has returned. Aiming at her squarely on the forehead, Randall fires one shot, but before that, the Lich has already covered herself with her four coffins. The bullet thus pings harmlessly on the makeshift barrier. The Lich then scurries backward, letting her minions charge at the wolfkin.
"Fuck!" Randall cursed, enraged. It would appear the Lich had both taunted him back and distracted him long enough for the melee zombies to regroup and surround.
The Pathfinder is undeterred, however. As his gray mane is flying in the air, Randall fires on full-auto at a rushing Razor w, the short distance means that the zombie is cut down after a few bullets. Hearing footfall behind him, very close at that, Randall turns around with a mighty swing of the G1''s buttstock. The butt of the rifle ms heavily onto the head of another Razor w, sending her flying backward and onto the floor. Pulling out his pistol with his right hand, Randall gives one shot in between the brows of the zombie, executing her promptly. With more approaching, Randall reequips his primary weapon, firing in a controlled burst, killing a Praetorian. Unfortunately for him, his attention span and footing have been bad enough for a Razor w toe into melee range.
The zombie swings at him with her wed hands like a wild, hungry beast, Randall barely dodges a couple before a third cut him deep on his right shoulder. With a grunt, Randall uses the momentum of the zombie against her, giving just enough of a kick to get him out of the danger zone. Finally, he shoots her in the back with the pistol, using his left arm this time. Now with a severe trauma, Randall can''t bring his rifle to eye-level.
"This is it then...!" This is thest stretch for Randall Shughart!
"COME AND GET IT, YOU BITCHES!" With both weapons in hand, one lower than the other, Randall fires at the two zombiesing up his right and left. Despite his injury, Randall scores another two kills until his rifle clicks empty and he has to drop it.
Now left with a nearly empty pistol, Randall aims with his left eye and uses thest of his bullets on a Praetorian that''s about to cut in cleanly in half. With three new holes in her torso, the Praetorian drops onto the floor, unable to control her body due to the snapped spinal column. Finally, the USP is dropped too, leaving Randall to chuckle grimly as he pulls out abat knife.
The Lich is back, hatefully floating in front of him with all four coffins glowing ominously, ready to spell his doom. With only a knife and an injured arm while the target is more than ten meters away from him, poised to obliterate him where he stands, how can a man fight?
Well, with his knife, of course. Though Randall mustin that if only he had been born a mana-attuned individual like those mages. Things could have been much simpler.
Rather than closing the distance which he knows he can''t, Randall chooses to do the stupid thing and throw the knife right at the Lich''s head. The knife soars, but with it being thrown by his non-dominant arm, the knife is dodged by the Lich, but not before leaving behind a nasty cut on her left cheek.
The Lich still herself at the audacity of this being in front of her. Randall has been an annoyance, alongside his group of survivors, but now? They''ve be something that the Lich must stamp out with absolute firepower. It would seem that Randall has somehow managed to piss off a zombie. The wolfkin knows that well, hence he has been sporting an infuriating smirk ever since the knife throw. Right now, the wolfkin is uncaring towards the charged-upser coffins. They has done everything they could, both Gordy and himself. Now, it''s time for Carl and Albrecht to finish the rest.
And they sure as Hell live up to expectation.
Randall''s short-range radioes to life for the brieftest of moments, with Carl saying. "We have the shot, Randall. Godspeed."
Randall smirks grow wider at that, flipping the bird toward the menacing Lich, he taunts. "Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker!" Right before a fireball impacts the Osprey, the airframe sparks for a second before right then and there, a localize Hell is born.
The sh of bright light and me soon engulf both Randall and the Lich.
Sergeant First ss Randall Shughart. Status - KIA