- Joined
- Aug 9, 2010
- Messages
- 4,536
- Reaction score
- 48
SSGT. James Perez. LAX
Sweat dripped from his brow, dirt covered his face. Oil splatters joined the blood splatters on his MARPAT uniform. His M4A1 clutched in his hands, James motioned for a soldier (Soldier=Army, Marine=Well, you know) to move forward. They had escaped the massacre that the army outpost set up at LAX had been. The soldier moved forward, taking the door. Four other men (Three Soldiers, one Marine) took breaching positions. He motioned for them to breach the door. They did. The explosion tore the door off it's hinges and the men rushed in. Perez turned on his TAC-LITE and did a sweep of the room.
Location: Radio station.
"Clear left!" the unit leader called out.
"Clear right!" the Marine called.
"Ok, men! Stack up on the stairs. Watch out for zombies!" Perez ordered, taking position next to the stair well. It was quiet. James' heart pounded as they began to slowly move up the stairs. A quiet thump somewhere, and James went on high alert. Oh shit. He tightened his grip and looked to the top of the stairs. A figure stood there.
"US Marines! Identify yourself!" James hollared. He was met with a scream, and the zombie attacked. "Open fire!!!" James cried, firing his rifle.
Gunfire erupted.
Clear left! Move in Marines! Clear that building!
James shook off the memory as the zombie fell dead, blood covered his pointman. "I'm ok sir!" the Army Specialist reported.
"Continue on!" James ordered, and they continued up the stairs. They reached a doorway. "Breach it." he said.
"Breaching, breaching!" the pointman called out, kicking the door in. They rushed in. "US Army! If anybody is in here, come out slowly with your hands behind your head!"
James sweeped the room. It was twilight, the worst time for ground manouvers. He moved forward, eyes darting.
"US Marines! Anybody in here?!" the Marine Corporal with them called out.
"Clear left!"
"Clear right!"
"Stairway secure!"
"Building secure!" the reports flooded in. James located what he was looking for. The broadcast room.
"Torres!" James called out. "You're communications, right?"
"Yes sir!" Army Private Torres reported.
"Set up this equipment." James ordered, entering the room. The on air sign flashed as James lifted the mike. "This is Staff Sergeant James Perez to anybody in LA. If you're out there, my squad is heading to the Chinese Theatre. If you want to survive, meet us there. Out."
((Let the [ST]massacre[/ST] posting begin. :CScool))
Sweat dripped from his brow, dirt covered his face. Oil splatters joined the blood splatters on his MARPAT uniform. His M4A1 clutched in his hands, James motioned for a soldier (Soldier=Army, Marine=Well, you know) to move forward. They had escaped the massacre that the army outpost set up at LAX had been. The soldier moved forward, taking the door. Four other men (Three Soldiers, one Marine) took breaching positions. He motioned for them to breach the door. They did. The explosion tore the door off it's hinges and the men rushed in. Perez turned on his TAC-LITE and did a sweep of the room.
Location: Radio station.
"Clear left!" the unit leader called out.
"Clear right!" the Marine called.
"Ok, men! Stack up on the stairs. Watch out for zombies!" Perez ordered, taking position next to the stair well. It was quiet. James' heart pounded as they began to slowly move up the stairs. A quiet thump somewhere, and James went on high alert. Oh shit. He tightened his grip and looked to the top of the stairs. A figure stood there.
"US Marines! Identify yourself!" James hollared. He was met with a scream, and the zombie attacked. "Open fire!!!" James cried, firing his rifle.
Gunfire erupted.
Clear left! Move in Marines! Clear that building!
James shook off the memory as the zombie fell dead, blood covered his pointman. "I'm ok sir!" the Army Specialist reported.
"Continue on!" James ordered, and they continued up the stairs. They reached a doorway. "Breach it." he said.
"Breaching, breaching!" the pointman called out, kicking the door in. They rushed in. "US Army! If anybody is in here, come out slowly with your hands behind your head!"
James sweeped the room. It was twilight, the worst time for ground manouvers. He moved forward, eyes darting.
"US Marines! Anybody in here?!" the Marine Corporal with them called out.
"Clear left!"
"Clear right!"
"Stairway secure!"
"Building secure!" the reports flooded in. James located what he was looking for. The broadcast room.
"Torres!" James called out. "You're communications, right?"
"Yes sir!" Army Private Torres reported.
"Set up this equipment." James ordered, entering the room. The on air sign flashed as James lifted the mike. "This is Staff Sergeant James Perez to anybody in LA. If you're out there, my squad is heading to the Chinese Theatre. If you want to survive, meet us there. Out."
((Let the [ST]massacre[/ST] posting begin. :CScool))