Story [Issue 32] The Story Behind the Colors: Storm

[Kevred 1,586]

 

 

Year 2042, Paris, France, Seventh Year of the War

 

The sun set down as the carnage disappeared behind a golden cloud of dust. The last attack swept back like a wave, leaving it’s corpses to rot under the evening sun. Four years now that the Eurasian armies have been at the city’s doors, sacrificing thousands of lives in their desperate attempts at breaching them.

 

After a coup de force, the Tal Ourouk took control of Paris and replaced the government. France had fallen, cutting off Spain and Portugal from the bulk of the Eurasian forces. Strategists and generals have sweated and cried, but still there has been no progress. Soldiers were tired, and the supply routes were no longer safe. Berlin and London have already fallen, hope was leaking out from an irreparable hole.

 

Suddenly, a slim figure rose out of the gravel, so well camouflaged that the Tal’s sentinels were fooled like childs. With a sharp sign of his hand, a dozen more silhouettes arose, shadows in a sea of blood. All started sprinting towards the city walls, gigantic steel fortifications glowering mockingly at the comparatively tiny Eurasian camps.

 

It was affirmed that the only access into the city was through the North, East, West, and South gates, but rumours have it that there are multiple tunnels leading into the heart of the city. It is precisely one of these tunnels that is at the base of Operation Storm, one of the most suicidal missions ever devised. The plan was to sneak in, destroy the main nuclear reactor of the city, then leave before any Tals realize what’s happening. If everything went as planned, it would be two birds one stone; the city would be deprived of any electricity, and an inestimable quantity of nuclear waste would be released into the atmosphere. The Tals would either die contaminated inside Paris or run out and fall under the Eurasian bullets.

 

Silently, the leader of the group uncovered an ancient-looking trapdoor, and dived into the canal under it, soon followed by his men.

 

After a while that felt like hours of swimming in a filthy, brown water, they arrived at the exit, a small hatch in the basement of an antique store. With a sign of his hand, the Commandant ordered his squadron to secure the shop. Meanwhile, he unfolded the map of the city.

 

The second-in-command sat down next to him.

 

“Sir, Connor and Bea are missing!”

 

The Commandant didn’t reply. The speaker tried to distinguish the expression on his leader’s face, but the latter was veiled in darkness.

 

“Tyler, give me the flashlight,” asked the leader.

 

The second-in-command obeyed, and a bright illumination light up the room.

 

“What’s the plan, sir?” he asked.

 

“Look,” the Commandant said, pointing a location on the map, “There’s a train station three kilometers north of here. It’ll take us to the nuclear central. We steal some tanks from the nearby armory and we head over there. Get the men ready.”

 

Tyler nodded, and went off to the adjacent room.

 

After making sure he was alone, the Commandant took a small, rusty, oval-shaped object out of his breast pocket. On it was a picture of a woman.

 

“I’ll be back. I promise,” he murmured.

 

 

-

 

 

“Tyler, go with Adam and Spieltzer and take the upper floor. Levin, Anh Quahn, Ishha, you’re all with me. The rest of you, stay outside and watch out for any Tals. Move out!”

 

The Commandant readied his gun as he and his team moved towards the armory. It was a low, rectangular building that must have seen better days. The main entrance was a huge gaping hole, the walls were cracked and covered with moss, and wooden planks made office of windows.

 

Without hesitation, the Commandant advanced into the entrance hallway, years of training ensuring he was quieter than a cat. He was about to order Levin to secure the cafeteria when suddenly a blinding light came from upstairs.

 

“Tyler, report! What’s going on?”

 

“Sir! It’s a trap!”

 

Gunfire erupted from everywhere, and the Commandant watched, powerless, as a bullet lodged itself into Levin’s skull. The Commandant ran for the exit, followed closely by Tyler and Ishha.

 

“Adam and Spieltzer are still up there!” Tyler shouted, trying to cover the ruckus.

 

“Too late for them! Get into that cafe, over there!” He said, pointing a small building three-hundred meters in front of them. Surprisingly, lights were still on inside it. It wasn't going to be easy getting there, though. Tals were literally everywhere, but that could be interpreted as luck as they couldn't use their guns, or they would hit each other. Seizing the occasion, the two comrades whizzed between the Tals with the agility of leopards.

 

A huge shattering sound caused the two friends to stop and turn around. Out of a breach in the wall of the armory leaped out two Hornets, like tigers jumping on their prey. Vulcans blazing, they cut themselves a path of blood and flesh towards the Commandant and Tyler, who were standing still, awestruck at the spectacle that just happened before their eyes.

 

A familiar figure popped out of one of the tanks.

 

“Missed us?” Adam grinned.

 

The smile on the Commandant’s face made the answer evident.

 

“Nice to see you without a bullet in the head. What happened?”

 

“We don’t know! Those lil’ scumbags were hidden everywhere! One of us must be a dirty Tal lapdog. Right, Spieltzer?” Adam accused.

 

“What? Me? I was shot at just as much as you! Why not Levin? He was always the scared one!”

 

“He’s dead, you imbecile! Shut up! We all know it was you!” Adam shouted as he pulled out his gun.

 

At that point the Commandant judged it was necessary to intervene.

 

“Stop it, no one’s shooting anyone here, except some Tals. Let’s head into that cafe. Askur, stay outside and guard the tanks. The Tals should stay away, but you never know. Move out!” He repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

 

Feeling the tense atmosphere between his men, he approached the cafe’s dilapidated doors. As the veteran soldier kicked it open, a gust of wind carried a scent of death into his nose. His vision adapted to the darkness, and nothing could've prepared him for the carnage that lay before his eyes.

 

The floor was littered with porcelain debris, some children drawings visible on a few larger shards. A defective lamp post was flashing its glow on and off through a muddy window, and the soldiers caught glimpses of blood traces on the walls. But the real show-stopper was the bodies. Eyes bulging, mouths wide open, they were frozen in a position of true terror. Gulping, the Commandant slowly advanced into the room, trying in vain to exhale the odour of blood that clogged his nose as soon as he stepped in this hellish nightmare.

 

Without warning, a splitting headache assaulted him. Memories of his two kids, killed in Düsseldorf, flashed before his eyes as he started drowning in the overwhelming smell of blood. He could see pictures of Jessie and Tom everywhere. His head spun, he could hear his kids running around outside, ghosts of a forgotten past. Tiny droplets of red fell from the ceiling as shrieks of terror seemed to emanate from the floor. He desperately grasped for air, only to find the impending smell of death. A loud detonation made itself heard as everything turned black.

 

 

-

 

 

“Monsieur? Monsieur! Are you awake?”

 

A blinding light made him squeeze his eyes shut. Realizing that, the light holder quickly shut if off.

 

“Monsieur?” he asked again.

 

Painfully, the Commandant sat up, and opened his eyes. A stabbing headache made his vision blurry, but he could distinguish Spieltzer squatting nearby, looking intensely at him, and a silhouette laying in darkness. They were in a small, dimly-lit room, with a broken-down door.

 

“What...what happened?”

 

“You randomly fell to the ground, for no apparent reason. So, yeah, we tried to bring you out, but as soon as we did, the Tals attacked and blew up the Hornets.”

 

“What? How did they do that?”

 

“They were apparently booby-trapped. Some snitch in our team must’ve been a spy. But whatever, he’s dead now.”

 

A chilly feeling crept up the Commandant’s spine.

 

“How do you know that?” he asked.

 

“They’re all dead. All of them. Adam, Levin, Ishha, dead! All because of you! They’re all gone and now we’re left alone, because of you! This stupid mission and its stupid leader! For all I know, you’re the spy!”

 

Spieltzer, trembling with uncontrollable rage, wrapped his hands around the Commandant’s neck. The latter didn’t move a muscle, staring calmly into a pair of fiery embers. Suddenly the distraught man collapsed into his leader’s arms. He started sobbing.

 

“We’re...we’re...alone...I’m sorry...Ishha...killed...what are going to do?”

 

“I’m sorry for your wife. We’ll find a way, don’t worry. Where are we?”

 

“In...in a small cabin, next to the train station.” Spieltzer answered.

 

“Good. How much distance exactly?”

 

“What? You want to continue the mission?” The anger seemed to return to Spieltzer’s eyes.

 

“Listen. It’s our only option. You know we can’t escape anymore. Hundreds of Tals are probably ambushed all around us. So answer my question: How much distance from here to the train?”

 

Spieltzer hesitated.

 

“Around...around a hundred meters.”

 

“Good, good.” The Commandant replied in a soothing tone, as if speaking to a five year old child.

 

“Listen, we’ll have to make a run for it. Sprint to the train, get in, activate it and we’ll drive it to the nuclear central. Do you have the bombs?”

 

The distraught soldier nodded.

 

“Good, good. Charge your gun. On my mark,” The Commandant rose up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his head, and positioned himself next to the door.

 

“One.”

 

“Two.”

 

“THREE!”

 

With as much force as he could, he slammed his elbow on the door. It blew into a thousand shards that flew across the room, implanting themselves into wood and human flesh. Ignoring them, he ran towards the train station, of which only the contour was visible in the foggy Parisian night.

 

The veteran was not mistaken about the Tals; soon bullets started whizzing from everywhere. Surprisingly, none of it hit him. Was it magic or luck? He didn't care. His mind was only occupied by one though, to get there alive. He could hear Spieltzer’s boot’s rhythmic beating on the ground behind him, a deadly melody of life.

 

As he thought they actually made it, he heard a scream from behind. Whirling around, he saw Spieltzer collapse to the ground, transpierced by multiple bullets all over his body. The Commandant knew nothing could be done, so he continued running, holding back tears.

 

All of a sudden his brain registered a stabbing pain in the back. His respiration became irregular, a damp, wet liquid rolled down his back. Unable to keep his legs steady, he fell down face first into the dirt. A second sting emanated from his leg, soon followed by a third, then a fourth. The pendant fell out from his pocket, and his last vision was the smiling face of his wife, believing her husband would come back.

 

 

-

 

 

“General! Why’ve you got such a stern look on your face? We’ve won back Paris! Today is a day or joy and parties! Not to mention some drunk women…”

 

The vainqueur of Paris turned around and punched the soldier in the face.

 

“Shut up, and look. You see that train, over there? That’s where my best soldier, my best friend’s body laid. He died without accomplishing his mission. His death was a useless one. He would’ve lived, if Sergeant Tyler had not betrayed them. He ran away, but I will find him, even if I have to chase him to Jupiter. Burn the two Hornet carcasses we found earlier, near that cafe. Mix it up with the ashes of my friend and his squadron. They deserve one last memorial.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Sir, we did what you told us to do. The mix has been melted and slightly cooled. What now?”

 

“Cover my personal tank with it. Then make reproductions of the texture and cover all the tanks of my division.”

 

As he watched the workers pour the steaming liquid onto his Hunter, he sighed and said to himself,

 

“Storm. It’ll remind me of operation that cost you your life, brother. And like that I’ll never forget the man that made it fail.”

 

 

Storm helps the wearer to keep cool when under the harshest of occasions, but it also animates the wearer with the fury of battle when in desperate situations.

 

[TriNitroToIuene 4,765]

BIG

 

UPVOTE

 

KUDOS

[deadtoyou 2,502]

:O

 

So good.......and sad......and awesome.......GREAT STORY.

[greyat 2,972]

Storm has set the heavens scowling.

[Invictus 201]

.... Brilliant, keep up the good work kevred.

[jazz20 1,181]

Suggestions: Guerrilla, Corrosion, Sakura, Zues. You could probably make a heart-wrenching story with one of these paints. Nice work keep it up ^_^  

[TriNitroToIuene 4,765]

Suggestions: Guerrilla, Corrosion, Sakura, Zues. You could probably make a heart-wrenching story with one of these paints. Nice work keep it up ^_^  

Also, keeping in mind Kev's sci-fi theme, he can use Invader and Vortex, along with Inferno, Lumberjack, Gladiatior, Helios and Magma... the possibilities are endless.

 

Also, Kev, you forgot to put this logo in  the story :P -

 

[fahim_the_boss 1,519]

Biggest ....

[Kevred 1,586]

Also, Kev, you forgot to put this logo in  the story :P -

 

snap!

 

I mean I meant to forget.

[bravo30 136]

"some drunk women"

I think you should know that many  players not liking this. Pls took it out.

[Ninja-T 311]

Nice story :)

[carefulmatthewtomas 39]

Very good, loving your storys kev

[aquafurgle1 95]

:)

[My_Tiger_Psy 4]

This was AMAZING!  I loved the description of Storm at the end. :)

[liverpoolaum 811]

amazing story

[Kevred 1,586]

KUDOS

*skype addict detected*

 

Suggestions: Guerrilla, Corrosion, Sakura, Zues. You could probably make a heart-wrenching story with one of these paints. Nice work keep it up ^_^  

I'm considering whether I should make the next one follow the story-line of this one, or just be a completely new plot.

 

Biggest ....

...?

 

Storm has set the heavens scowling.

I'll take that as a compliment :D

 

And thanks to everyone else.

Edited March 3, 2015 by Kevred

[greyat 2,972]

I'll take that as a compliment :D

 

And thanks to everyone else.

That was what Storm was named after, apparently.

[Vikingsrallentando 3,058]

Hmmmmmmmm... Not bad.

[Firenze_PRO 80]

Great story! a bit sad, and moving.....

 

I like it :D