M
Maddeline
Guest
Original poster
The MIG dipped, swerved and then collided with the massive trees and stripped themselves of their blades, a massive explosion going off in the distance.
"GRENADE OUT!!!" Ford roared into his throat microphone, stripping a frag from his MOLLE rig and waiting two entire seconds before throwing the fragmentation grenade directly at the remaining Russians. "граната!!!!!!!" (GRENADE!!!!!!!) yelled a Russian, who attempted to jump on the grenade to save his friends. However, ford had cooked the grenade- the fragmentations shot out faster than the speed of sound before the Russian even got close to the grenade. Meat chunks and chest rigs explouded out, caking the area in black, metal shards and blood. One Russian was crawling across the dirt, seriously injured. He drew his pistol, but dropped it behind him as he crawled away. His limbs were all attached, but the Russian obviously had broken a leg or something from the explosion or force of the fragmentation rounds.
Ford waked to the Russian, gun raised. The seasoned veteran kicked the man over, stripping off his ammo, communications and grenades. All the while, the young Russian stayed still and compliant, begining to cry.
"Get out of here you little fuck"
The Russian attempted to wipe away his tears, but obviously wasn't eager about rapidly moving his hands.
"мои ноги....они больно! прошу, не убить меня американский! Я был призван из школы, у меня не было никакого контроля!" (my legs...they hurt! please, dont kill me american! I was conscripted out of schooling, I had no control! )
"we really need a translator. I have no idea what the fuck he is saying" he then kicked the teenager in the ass, prompting him to crawl into the forest.
Ford looked at the ammo, radio communication ear piece, grenades and pistol. Without hesitation, he shot the pistol and the magazines. He took the grenades and placed them in his dump pouch on his hip...might come in handy.
He considered shooting the radio set- but then instead broke it with his hands and threw the pieces at the Russian.
"It's yours if you can fix it. I trust that you don't know what the hell I'm saying, so I guess it's best off to be nice to you...you're lucky kid."
"GRENADE OUT!!!" Ford roared into his throat microphone, stripping a frag from his MOLLE rig and waiting two entire seconds before throwing the fragmentation grenade directly at the remaining Russians. "граната!!!!!!!" (GRENADE!!!!!!!) yelled a Russian, who attempted to jump on the grenade to save his friends. However, ford had cooked the grenade- the fragmentations shot out faster than the speed of sound before the Russian even got close to the grenade. Meat chunks and chest rigs explouded out, caking the area in black, metal shards and blood. One Russian was crawling across the dirt, seriously injured. He drew his pistol, but dropped it behind him as he crawled away. His limbs were all attached, but the Russian obviously had broken a leg or something from the explosion or force of the fragmentation rounds.
Ford waked to the Russian, gun raised. The seasoned veteran kicked the man over, stripping off his ammo, communications and grenades. All the while, the young Russian stayed still and compliant, begining to cry.
"Get out of here you little fuck"
The Russian attempted to wipe away his tears, but obviously wasn't eager about rapidly moving his hands.
"мои ноги....они больно! прошу, не убить меня американский! Я был призван из школы, у меня не было никакого контроля!" (my legs...they hurt! please, dont kill me american! I was conscripted out of schooling, I had no control! )
"we really need a translator. I have no idea what the fuck he is saying" he then kicked the teenager in the ass, prompting him to crawl into the forest.
Ford looked at the ammo, radio communication ear piece, grenades and pistol. Without hesitation, he shot the pistol and the magazines. He took the grenades and placed them in his dump pouch on his hip...might come in handy.
He considered shooting the radio set- but then instead broke it with his hands and threw the pieces at the Russian.
"It's yours if you can fix it. I trust that you don't know what the hell I'm saying, so I guess it's best off to be nice to you...you're lucky kid."