No Gods, Nor Masters

Generation Kill

The Convoy rolled ever-forward, Marines and SDF troops keeping their eyes open as they pushed through a small village. Children waved at the passing motorcade of armored vehicles, while the parents kept them close, seemingly afraid of the rolling armor. With Richard looking over the SAT map they had received from UNSC stores, Torres and Itami looked left and right while Kurata drove. He hummed, then said, "We're rolling past Village Number Five. Zero hostiles are located in this village, as per images visible from the Wombat of retreating Imperial units. First larger city should be coming into view within thirty minutes."

"This is HITMAN-3-1 to all HITMAN-3 victors," Itami spoke into the Radio, "First city is thirty mikes out. Be ready for possible engagement with enemy sentries defending the place," and he grabbed his Howa rifle. He racked the bolt, feeding a fresh round into the chamber, then fiddled with the safety, keeping the barrel pointed at the floor of the transport to not pop one off into someone by mistake.

Various noises of preparation echoed, weapons being loaded and the three less-armed local women seemingly preparing themselves mentally in case there would be enemy contact in the city. As they exited the village, Torres commented, "Strange. You'd think they'd be going Scorched Earth and torching any village within a few miles of the nearest cities..."

Richard supposed, "Maybe they didn't get to announce withdrawals..."

"Dunno, boss, the air force would've rung their bells pretty hard near the Front Line," Rosie replied as she crawled up to the front, shotgun slung on her back and on safe. She looked at the ass of the Abrams, then added, "Y'know, part of me's glad we got Abrams tanks with us. Somehow, they have an aesthetic that beats even our Scorpions as far as looks go."

"Each to their own opinion, Sergeant," Tyuule replied with a smile as she checked her rifle and blades, "I am quite fond of the UNSC's battle tank designs," words which seemed to surprise the girls ahead. Tuka and Lelei were still learning English and Japanese when they boarded the transport. Rory realized that it would have probably been a good idea to provide them the ability to understand and speak the language, and she did.

Rosie chuckled, then explained herself, "I know, I know, ma'am. Not sayin' the Scorpion or the Grizzly are ugly, don't get me wrong, but I just like the multi-crew stuff more. Has to do with my gramps working in a museum which had a bunch of old tank models before the Covvies glassed our home. Must be a helluvan experience, living, eating and bleeding in the same bloody machine as three others, manning the damn thing, keeping it running and just shooting the shit when not in combat. And then shooting the holy shit out of people with a big fucking gun."

"I like not having swamp-ass myself, but the big gun is a positive, agreed..." Torres quipped, then he chuckled, "Though they did add AC with the latest redesign of the Abrams."

"Swamp-ass remains a problem in any enclosed space, honestly," Richard laughed, leaning back into his seat, "Especially when it's over thirty degrees out there," and that got a raised brow from Torres. Richard sighed, then said, "We use non-Freedom units in Space, man. That's Thirty Celsius, so basically very hot if you take into account things like high humidity and all."

"That's not what I'm looking at. You fucking think Thirty's bad?" Torres smirked, "Try forty-five plus Celsius. Texas weather during the Summer's a bitch."

"Christ," Richard winced, then waved it off, stating rather clearly, "No fucking thank you. I'd rather freeze my ass off on an Arctic assignment than burn alive in the middle of Texas at high noon."

"You enjoy the cold more, lieutenant Samuels?" Rory smiled.

"I'm just saying, Rory, I grew up in the hotter regions of my home planet. I like it when it's cold out. Hell, give me a winter snowstorm, a cup of hot cocoa and a fireplace that's got a fire in it and I'll find it better than the freaking mid-day summer heat when you gotta gather crops," He chuckled, "Swear, I had sunburn on my back every single day when I was fourteen..."