Soldiers And Beasts

8. Little Dark Age IV

(Gore Warning)

I think this could be the longest chapter in any fucking story I've ever written, and this story itself could also be quite the longest fucking story I have ever written. Never in a million years did I imagine that I would find myself writing such a chapter, or story, but I guess everything has its moment. This is also a note to people who (just in case) believed I had given up on Soldiers And Beasts: I just wanted to let you know that I've come too far to give up on this story. Anyway, enjoy this 40.1k-word monstrosity of a chapter.

John Pov.

I found solace behind the secure traffic barrier, and my eyes clenched tight in a hopeless attempt to escape the torrent of bullets that lambasted the makeshift concrete shield. The barrage of gunfire was continuous, a never-ending hail of bullets that rippled through the still air. I remained ready to open fire, a watchful eye, with the M107, huddled up to my chest.

A brief haven against the assault that surrounded me was provided by my closed eyes. Every shot from the Stormtroopers caused the traffic barrier to tremble as I braced myself against the barrier. Behind the traffic barrier, I was hemmed down by the audible crackle of gunshots.

The constant assault of bullets penetrated beyond the limitations of mere material found against the concrete. The road barrier was losing little bits of concrete with every shot that struck it, and it was only a matter of time before it gave way.

Even with my eyes closed and the surroundings completely dark, I could practically see the bullets ripping through the once-solid surface. As I remained concealed behind the road barrier, the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the distant echoes of the gunfight. With their barriers abraded by the torrent of bullets, Sable, Hogan, and Dario were hunkered down next to other soldiers. Both Anthro and human soldiers emerged from cover, returning fire, and their bullets even managed to strike some Stormtroopers, as evidenced by the agonizing grunts and screams coming from the opposite street

As I peered over the road barrier and set my M107 on it by its ridge, an opportunity presented itself as the Stormtroopers on the other street took cover from our retaliatory fire. My blood began to race as my senses heightened. There was only a little window of opportunity.

I knew that with the M107 firmly in my grip and my fingers on the trigger, I could take down a few Stormtroopers.

I steadily adjusted the zoom on my M107 scope, hearing in my ears the soft click of the turning mechanism. My focus shifted to Sable, Hogan, and Dario, whose thumbs-up serve as an unspoken affirmation. It was the subconscious "okay" to let loose a simmering firestorm of retaliation.

I found my eye forced to the scope after a nod and a mutual understanding. My surroundings vanished into darkness as the stunning clarity of my vision took its place. The rhythmic tenor of my breaths was measured, mirroring the thuds of my heartbeats. The Stormtroopers appeared as distinct figures as they emerged from cover to retaliate in my field of vision as I peered through the scope at the other street.

When I set my sights on the first target, my index finger became more firmly pressed against the trigger. The gun made a loud cracking noise before emitting a brief, silent muzzle flash, and the recoil was easily absorbed due to practice. As it burst from the muzzle, the bullet quickly and accurately marked its target.

The intense collision caused immediate and extensive destruction. The Stormtrooper's body trembled as the bullet ripped through his chest like a puppet caught in its threads. As the bullet passed through his body, blood dribbled from his chest and behind his back, leaving a sizable gaping blood-seeping hole in his chest. The blood gushed out in a hideous spray that discolored the whiteness of his uniform as it ran down from the hole in his chest. The impact of the bullet caused him to stumble backward before collapsing, his body twisting in bizarre denial of its dying moments.