They couldn't hear themselves yelling Speakeasy's name over the sound of their own gunfire.
Shooter ran back to the others, she and Beach Head alternating three round bursts from her pistol and his rifle as they moved behind a rotting piece of freighter hull for cover, focusing on the area of the tree line they were sure Speakeasy's assailant had fired.
Firewall, on the other hand, had dropped her rifle, her nerves betraying her. She quickly snatched it back off the ground, getting the shoulder sling tangled under her foot as she did, causing her to drop the rifle again. By the time she had her rifle securely in her hands, butt against her shoulder, muzzle extended; the gunfire had stopped.
Beach Head yelled out "Reloading!" as he popped out his spent clip and slammed in another. Once he finished, Shooter took a moment to holster her pistol and level her sniper rifle.
"Cover me," Beach Head ordered as he ran toward Speakeasy, covering the distance as rapidly as possible. Firewall's rifle chimed in this time as she laid down covering fire while Shooter looked through her scope for something to put a bullet through.
Beach Head reached Speakeasy and grabbed his limp arm, pulling him back toward cover with the others.
Firewall checked Speakeasy's pulse as Shooter removed Speakeasy's pack of gear, including the combat radio, and tried to stop the bleeding. But five slugs accurately punched in the heart was more than any man could survive. Firewall began CPR, nonetheless and as she tried to save Speakeasy, Beach Head grabbed the radio. He pressed himself against the rotting metal skeleton of the inner freight wall and peered around to the treeline, where he expected the B.A.T. to be hiding... waiting... Beach Head barked into the radio, "Overwatch, this is Sandbox, do you copy?"
"This is Overwatch, Sandbox. Go ahead." It was Stalker again.
"Tango encountered, Overwatch. It's a Battle Android Trooper."
Stalker mumbled some curse words of frustration before replying, "You're not equipped to handle a B.A.T., Sandbox."
"We have a man down, as well, Overwatch. It's Speakeasy."
Stalker was silent for a long second. "Is it bad? Can you stabilize him?"
Beach Head looked back to Shooter and Firewall. They had pulled out their med kits. Blood was everywhere. They had lost Speakeasy. Firewall immediately spiraled into tears.
"Negative, Overwatch, he's gone." Beach Head updated Stalker.
"This is a complete Charlie Foxtrot," Stalker's frustration having turned to anger.
"Agreed, Overwatch."
"Scrub the mission. We're going straight to Exfil. Get your men to the airfield."
"Negative, Overwatch, the B.A.T. is somewhere close by. We can't risk moving."
"Understood. We're two mikes out, Sandbox. Cover fire imminent. Paint the target the best you can and get your men ready. Overwatch out."
Beach Head handed the radio to Firewall. "You heard Stalker. Get ready."
Firewall just sat there, almost comatose. Beach Head grabbed her by the shoulders. "You heard the orders, soldier. Now get up!"
Firewall snapped out of it, throwing the combat radio onto her back and sloppily slinging Speakeasy's smaller pack of computer gear under her right arm before helping slump Speakeasy's body over Shooter's shoulder.
Beach Head pulled the pin to a smoke grenade and lobbed it into the tree line where, to his best calculations, the B.A.T. must have been. Reddish-pink smoke began filling the trees.
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G.I. Joe: Doomsday Protocol
FanfictionIt has been years since Cobra went into hiding. As a response, G.I. Joe was mothballed, most of the members retiring or being scattered to the winds amongst the many branches of the government. But when life returned to Cobra Island, and rumors of C...
