Hells Bells

Run and Gun

October 26, 2025. Base Aquila. Innerworld. Wyte's Office.

The room is quiet with the occasional noise from outside the office. Wyte works on a plastic model laid out on his desk, gently brushing a paint brush over the model's engines. Glossing them in a metallic paint. A knock at the door interrupts the cozy atmosphere.

WYTE: It's unlocked.

The door opens with Rishu and an unknown junior officer walking in behind her. Instead of talking to the commander, Rishu turns her attention back to the officer.

RISHU: Say what you have to say.

OFFICER: I was wondering if you would want to accompany us sir?

The junior officer looks around sheepishly trying to avoid eye contact.

WYTE: On what?

OFFICER: On a mission sir.

WYTE: Kid, when talking to some sort of superior you come prepared with what you want to say. Now spit it out.

OFFICER: A...a strike mission on Russian positions across the Gulia province.

Wyte got caught off guard with the request.

WYTE: no can do, plus it sounds boring, we've been doing that mission for almost a month now.

The officer continues being weirdly persistent.

OFFICER: But those are ground campaigns, this is an aerial run and gun from Apaches and ospreys. Then a ground assault will mop up any left untouched.

Wyte sets down his brush and rubs his face.

WYTE: you don't just shout a mission statement to someone not involved with it, especially in high trafficked areas like outside my office. The Russians may be incompetent, but they still possess a few high class spies.

The room falls silent, Wyte leaning back in his chair. A thought causes him to talk.

WYTE: You're stupidly persistent, why is that?

OFFICER: The commanding officer requested me to convince you to partake in this strike mission, sir.

WYTE: Your COs name?

OFFICER: Aliver Buck, sir.

He grits his teeth upon hearing that name, turning to look at his second.

WYTE: That's why you escorted him here, just to see my reaction?

RISHU: Bingo.

Wyte stands up, grabbing a m240 bravo sitting in the corner wrapped in cloth. Giving it to the confused junior officer. Wyte brushes past him giving the officer a word of advice.

WYTE: If you wanted to convince me faster, you should've said I get to shoot a minigun. So you didn't have to say her name.

The trio make their way to the hangar bay, where preparations are underway. Wyte takes the gun from the junior, only to drop it when someone hugs him from the front, squeezing the life out of him.

BUCK: It's so good to see you after all this time Wyte!

Wyte pries her off him.

WYTE: Still have that death grip I see.

He picks up the M240 and throws it into the joyful girl's arms.

WYTE: The new LMG your father designed is too heavy and jams with the new 7.62 by 57.