The sound of bullets hitting the old, rusted metal of the train cars boomed through the night. "The targets are as big as myself and you are still missing! What if the flashlights go out on a night patrol?" he yelled at his squad, standing a few paces behind them, his hands on his own submachine gun - ready in case any infected got too close.
"Aim. Ready... Fire!" he gave the order again and again, walking to the younger members and correcting their stance if necessary, or supplying them with a fresh clip from the box nearby. Not that he had carried it, of course, that was their job.
There was barely any lightning - what they had from their flashlights and what the night sky and the city provided. It was the point of the exercise - to make sure they could hit infected without killing anything else in the process.
Again and again the process repeated - it would be a while before they moved to explosive throwing. There was a bunch of old, dilapidated clothes, bedsheets, sacks and all kind of cloths in different little groups scattered around. All to reduce the risk of shrapnel, of course.
Posted 04-11-2021, 08:18 PMThis post was last modified: 04-11-2021, 08:22 PM by Elliot Vaughn
TAGElliot Vaughn NOTES N/A
He'd heard through the Military's grapevine that a night training session had been planned for the the Task Force Branch, and of course he had decided then and there that he planned to attend the training, all with the intention of seeing what the lower grunts of the Military were capable of. He made it his business to keep up to date on the latest recruits brought into their numbers; it was his job, really, to oversee what went on in the organization. Besides, what was a more perfect time than night for him to do so? For once he wouldn't have to suffer the hellish light of the sun, and instead could relax in what was his element. He didn't even need the lights of his vehicle's headlights to see where he was going, but for the sake of appearing human, he kept them lit as he drove out to the old rail yard where the training was taking place.
North often preferred not to rely on metal and bolts for transportation, but there would be too many questions if he simply... Walked there. The sounds of gunfire could be heard as North drew close, and he finally slowed his truck down to a crawl until it stopped completely, engine and lights shutting off at the same time. He was still far enough away that he wouldn't spook his men into thinking he was an intruder, but the roar of his vehicle was still surely noticeable over the gunfire. If not, then at least the slam of the door as the man exited the vehicle and closed to door behind him, not even bothering to lock the damn thing.
Gravel crunched under foot as North headed in the direction of the Military group, navigating his way through broken down train cars by scent alone — they positively reeked of life and blood.
Another round of fire ricocheted through the air as the Major drew close, his blue eyes flashing in the darkness as smoke and gunfire momentarily lit up the night. Then it went dark again, only a faint illumination present so the humans and their poor eyesight could still see. North observed from a afar for a while before he finally decided to make his presence known, zooming in on the only person that truly mattered there — the Lieutenant of the Task Force Branch, Elliot Vaughn.
“Lieutenant Vaughn,” North greets as he approaches the other man, a smile curled across his lips in greeting. Almost a little too friendly for a fiend of the night. “I'd heard about your little request for a nighttime training session and I decided to come down myself and see how things were going,” he continues, a voice silky sweet, void of the danger that lay beneath. His eyes remain trained on the shorter man for a second too long before he finally turns his gaze to the Military dogs in front of them, all busy reloading their guns.
Posted 04-11-2021, 11:34 PMThis post was last modified: 04-15-2021, 06:37 PM by North Sigurd
Even through the grunts, the thunder of gunfire and the sharp sounds of the bullets ricocheting, Elliot was trained to detect any other sounds that could indicate a change in the situation. Infected approaching, really, but nowadays the sound of footsteps could also mean it was one of those two idiot factions that were trying to build their own little empire. Ugh, idiots who didn't recognize a good thing - all shortcomings aside - when it bit them in the ass.
Occasionally he would divert his eyes from his squad, scanning the area behind him. Of course they were kind of boxed in by the old train cars, but it wouldn't do if they were ambushed because he had not been paying enough attention. There was once or twice a flash of light rather close, but he figured it was one of the habitual patrols - he was sure there was a route nearby. But... wait, was that the sound of an engine? It was approaching until it was no more. Incoming.
He widened his stance, pointing his machine gun in the direction of the sound, ready to fire. He wouldn't let his squad get massacred - though he would reprimand them later about being observant of their surroundings. But shouting at them now to take defensive positions, Elliot thought, would only give them away.
And then, in the lull of deafening silence as all the grunts seemed to run out of ammo and begun to reload, a figure appeared in the darkness. It took him a moment to recognize the other man, but once he did, Elliot stood at attention. "Major Sigurd, sir!" he exclaimed, hoping the rest of his squad would follow suit. They didn't - he could hear them still reloading and one or two were even saying bawdy jokes. Situational awareness: zero.
"Of course sir. Practicing nighttime target acquisition - mostly without flashlights, but assuming natural illumination from the moon and stars. And the city, of course, though at this distance its negligible." he commented, turning around to look at his squad but taking a few steps backward so the Major was ahead of him, as was custom.
"Come on, you lazy asses! Major Sigurd wants to see what you can do! Begin with explosive delivery!" Perhaps mentioning the Major had been the wrong move, because it didn't take long for Elliot to realize his team had gotten nervous. As they were throwing the live ammunition into the piles of old cloths, with the intention that a good throw would catch the whole pile on fire, one of the youngest members miscalculated. Badly - and his grenade went straight into an old metal barrel they would sometimes use for fire.
It exploded, of course, which made Elliot run to stand before the Major and try to shield him - though they were too far away from the blast. The scream of anguish, however, told him that at least one of his men wasn't. "Report!" he barked out, rushing forward. In a small showing of karma, it was the same soldier who had been hit on his upper arm by shrapnel. It was bleeding rather badly, but he still seemed able to move his lower arm and hand.
"Damn it. You three! Take one of the cars and get him to the infirmary, now! One drives, one makes sure he doesn't pass out and applies pressure, the third guards." he shouted his orders, pointing at them. "The rest of you, pack the weapons and ammo... don't bother about cleaning up, I'll get a crew sent tomorrow..." he sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily as the squad moved to carry out his orders. Blue eye watched concernedly at the trail of blood the wounded member of his team left as he was half carried, half dragged towards the vehicle.
Posted 04-13-2021, 05:47 PM
TAGElliot Vaughn NOTES N/A “When your enemies hunt you in the dark, it's imperative to know how to fight back,” North muses in response to the other man's explanation, a subtle approval of the operation the Lieutenant had set up that night. He doesn't pay much attention to the grunts in the group that don't seem to fully realize what his presence should require them to do; although North loved lording his position above others — especially filthy little humans running around — he didn't care so much about Military protocol. It was too wearisome to tongue lash someone for not straightening their back and raising their hand in militant fashion. Not to say he didn't approve of such actions, of course, should the other party remember to do so.
Elliot takes a couple step backs to give authority to North and there's almost some regret from the action on the Major's part; this far ahead, he wouldn't be given the chance to stare at the other man's ass. Alas, what a pity.
He chooses to remain quiet as the other man begins to bark out orders to his men, allowing himself to almost fade into the background as cool, ice-cold eyes train themselves to the men. They smell of sweat, and dirt, and apprehension once they realize he's amongst them. He almost winces — almost — when his ears pick up the whistle of metal flying through the air, an ill-timed grenade crash landing where it wasn't meant to be thrown. He knows what's coming, but doesn't even flinch as the explosion lights up the night in flaming glory; there is no fear in his stance, knowing nothing could happen that he could not heal from.
But still a smirk quirks his lips as he notices the way Elliot throws himself in front, a living, breathing shield — ah, how adorable that loyalty was. The amusement remains as he watches Elliot to run forward towards his men, and North waits one second, two, before following suit. His long strides take him close to the action quickly, arms crossed casually at his back. He smells the metallic tang before he even gets close, fresh blood spilled upon the ground and running down the arm of a lowly grunt no one would really mourn. It catches the Infected's attention and his eyes hone in on the wound, nostrils flaring slightly to take in the stench of prey.
No. He wasn't a monster anymore, incapable of managing his reactions.
“What a pitiful end to a promising training session.” He's suddenly at Elliot's side without warning, hot breath on the other man's ear before he steps back and puts space between them. “Infected would tear your men apart like wolves descending upon lambs,” he continues, suppressing sadistic amusement to instead flash the other man an annoyed expression. If he really were loyal to the organization granting him power, he would have been sickened by the sight of pure incompetence.
“I hope for your sake that wasn't the cream of the crop.”
Posted 04-11-2021, 08:18 PM
This post was last modified: 04-11-2021, 08:22 PM by Elliot Vaughn
Reporting for Duty
