|
>>
|
No. 2850
Installment 2
POV: Soldier. [previously a doctor]
D: short of druggie, lingo for people who when insane while on the RS serum.
+++
Oh hell. Not again. Stop shaking me boy, I need sleep.
What time is it?
1 fucking 20 in the morning.
"Get up Doc! We got an SS to do!"
Fuck.
SS is the creative...lingo...for Swamp Sweeps. Nothing like wandering around in thigh high water with crocodiles and snakes in the middle of the night while trying to find and kill a bunch of D's. Especially when said D might by lurking at the bottom of swamp, waiting to take a chunk out of your foot.
"Shut up pup, I'm up already." Annoying little brat.
"Come on Doc! Everyone else is up!"
"Shut up."
"Holy shit, you actually repeated yourself!"
"Brat, I'm tired. Now get out of my face so I can get dressed. And stop calling me Doc. I'm not a doctor anymore."
I haven't been a doctor for a long time. When the media found out I co-created the serum, the brass pulled my license. Offically I'm a Soldier, since the brass decided that we should keep the 9 man teams. It's sickening see the slot that is rightfully mine be filled by another.
_+_+_+_
In the transport I get to sit next to the 'real' Medic of this team. He's a nice guy, if a bit too neurotic. He was a dentist before he got drafted. Shows since he had a set of pearly whites that look like they came out of a pre-serum commercial. I only notice him since I sit next to the man, and since he is new.
We never really have a Medic who sticks around for more than a couple of weeks, they always get shuffled off. Something about my team makes them nervous, and they aren't fit for us. It's a wonder why the brass just keeps sending them in, since they die so quickly. Sniper, Heavy, and Pyro are all convicted criminals; murder, rape, necrophilia, arson. Whatever, it makes them great at killing D's. Scout and Demo are both women, I think. Scout is just plain nuts, damn pup talks to her necklace, which is a glass pendent with the preserved body of a fetus in it. Rumor has it that the fetus was her child. Demo...well...I pity her. Spy was a slave trader, I swear he only joined up to see who he could sell.
And there is me, the disgraced doctor.
Can you see why newbies don't stay too long?
_+_+_+_
Swamps. I hate swamps. Festering puddles of rotting plant life and bugs. Perfect place for a D to hide. So many animals to eat, so many places to lurk where humans cannot go. At least they come to us.
/"How can you see into my eyes like open doors?"/
We all get a song, that is the way it works. Nine songs and then a break, then another nine songs. This goes on and on and on and on till no more D's come. Or we run out of ammo. The brass doesn't like it, but we traded guns for a stereo with solar panels. They didn't complain, but we got some strange looks.
That is Scout's song by the way, she loves the band Evanescence. I think that is what it is called.
And they come, slouching, crawling, limping on limbs torn and battered. Some drop dead as they get close, the serum's effect running out. The brass has us set up markers, about 50 feet away from us in all directions. Rules are that you don't engage a D in melee combat before they cross the marker.
Instead of guns, Sniper made a couple of long bows [He got teased for being an Aussie, though he is really British]. I can't shoot for beans with it, but Scout can, same as Sniper. The rest of us are regulated to melee duty while the two of them pick off any D that is out of our range.
Medic is obviously a noob, he can't stop shaking and praying. Little pansy, he can't even hold a crowbar right. The way he is holding it is like he expects the D's to slouch up to him and sit down while he hits them three or four times.
"HELL YES! COME ON YA BLOODY WANKERS!" Sniper has quite a set of vocal cords. "LET'S DO THIS." Arrows sprout from many a D's eye, causing them to topple like bowling pins.
"Leave some for us ya stupid dingo!" Demo roars, literally. "We wanna crush some skulls too!"
Ah...yes...crushing skulls. It's such messy fun, blood and brains flying through the air, red and grey rain. Medic is wailing and swinging his crowbar around. He hasn't hit a thing.
"Hey Doc! The noob got himself nailed!" Scout's laugh echos through the gloom. She's right, Medic is bleeding heavily from a bite wound. Useless man. Pathetic, taking up a slot that is already filled.
"Help me...please someone!"
I don't have time to care for him, if he does survive, he won't be of use. What can a one armed dentist do?
Nothing.
"Sorry mate, better luck next time." Fresh brains and blood taste so much better than that of a D. But there is no time to admire the picture he makes, head smashed in, blood mixing with the fetid swamp. The last song has just played, and we have a break. Means no fighting, only clean up.
I'll leave him to the D's. Sniper and Scout can pick them off when he is gone, means less paper work for me.
They work quick, everyone just sits and watches, expressions amused as the D's fight among themselves. Soon nothing but a gory, stripped skeleton will remain, sinking slowly into the swamp, never to be seen again.
"Bloody 'ell Doc, next time save me a piece."
I forgot to save some for him, I'll remember next time. He is such a good teammate, he really deserves a treat.
The role of Medic is mine. The brass can deny that I am a doctor, but they will not give my slot to anyone else. I am the Medic of this team. I am the Medic. Only me.
|