FA+
Shop
72 submissions
SSgt Therein's Last Stand
"Oh what a day, what a glorious day to die!"
Cried the Staff Sergeant, his belt having ran dry, knowing he was on his last reserves. Just beyond 50 meters away, he saw more movement in the treeline as another platoon of enemies closed in. In the distance he heard the faint but incoming rush of the A10 Warthog, the 'Fist Of God' as its admirers called it, locking in on the enemy's position and ready to prove its name oncemore. He had ordered a withdrawal of what was left of his platoon, knowing a fighting retreat required at least some sort of rear guard action.
'28 years in the godforsaken forest, killing soldiers wasn't so bad, I hardly remember it...'
He thought to himself the old quote he'd heard from one of the guys as he took cover to reload. He didn't know where exactly it came from, you just heard it being tossed around. One of the guys said it was from a videogame, but he hadn't played those since deployment. Pulling in a fresh belt of 7.62 before slapping down the cover assembly to then cock back and push forward the bolt. His muscles tensed, fire burning in his eyes as the end he always knew which befitted an animal such as himself was drawing closer. The A10 was closing in fast on the enemy's position, doctrine said he was to take cover, but he knew if they were given a chance to run they would, which would mean the A10 would miss some of them, making a fighting retreat all the more harder. With a snarl he prepared to charge forth, watching for positions he'd previously seen them in, knowing the only way out was through their lines to the evac site. In these moments, the movies always showed someone in his position making a cool line or quip before the fireworks started. But reality was different, your mind went blank at times like this, focused solely on survival at all costs, and his was no different. Letting out his fiercest warcry, he charged forth as his roar was drowned out by the A10 begining its strafing run less than 50 meters from his position. If he timed it right, he'd punch right through, taking out any suvivors and beelining straight for the evac site. If he didn't, or one of them was lucky and survived well enough to get a shot, then he'd die doing what he loved.
Commission by
BrightPhoenix
Cried the Staff Sergeant, his belt having ran dry, knowing he was on his last reserves. Just beyond 50 meters away, he saw more movement in the treeline as another platoon of enemies closed in. In the distance he heard the faint but incoming rush of the A10 Warthog, the 'Fist Of God' as its admirers called it, locking in on the enemy's position and ready to prove its name oncemore. He had ordered a withdrawal of what was left of his platoon, knowing a fighting retreat required at least some sort of rear guard action.
'28 years in the godforsaken forest, killing soldiers wasn't so bad, I hardly remember it...'
He thought to himself the old quote he'd heard from one of the guys as he took cover to reload. He didn't know where exactly it came from, you just heard it being tossed around. One of the guys said it was from a videogame, but he hadn't played those since deployment. Pulling in a fresh belt of 7.62 before slapping down the cover assembly to then cock back and push forward the bolt. His muscles tensed, fire burning in his eyes as the end he always knew which befitted an animal such as himself was drawing closer. The A10 was closing in fast on the enemy's position, doctrine said he was to take cover, but he knew if they were given a chance to run they would, which would mean the A10 would miss some of them, making a fighting retreat all the more harder. With a snarl he prepared to charge forth, watching for positions he'd previously seen them in, knowing the only way out was through their lines to the evac site. In these moments, the movies always showed someone in his position making a cool line or quip before the fireworks started. But reality was different, your mind went blank at times like this, focused solely on survival at all costs, and his was no different. Letting out his fiercest warcry, he charged forth as his roar was drowned out by the A10 begining its strafing run less than 50 meters from his position. If he timed it right, he'd punch right through, taking out any suvivors and beelining straight for the evac site. If he didn't, or one of them was lucky and survived well enough to get a shot, then he'd die doing what he loved.
Commission by
BrightPhoenix
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Tiger
Size 827 x 827px
File Size 1.06 MB
Comments