"This is stinger 1 actual, reporting no contact in this zone. No useful supplies reclaimed as of yet." A soldier dressed in full military camouflage, with a microphone wrapped around his throat scanned the buildings around him. Most wastelanders had enough good sense not to attack him and his company of 36 men. Of course, the Heavily armored Tank they had in the center of his group helped immensely. It was an M3A2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicle, it's undercarriage Up-armored for conflict against insurgents using roadside bombs.
There was several peculiar things about them. For one, they all wore masks, But from the shape of their muzzle, it was quite obvious that all of them were vulpine. But not a single scrap of fur was showing, not even their ears. They were wrapped in cloth.
Second, every single firearm that the group had had some sort of mesh bag hanging from it, even the immense 30mm automatic cannon on the top of the APC.
There was also not a single rip or tear on any of their gear. Though there was obvious signs of use, their gear was all in good condition, and it all matched; multicam pants, multicam combat shirt, multicam vest, multicam helmet, and multicam boots.
The squad stopped quite suddenly, seeing some sort of wolf off in the distance. The leader, his nametag was blank, aimed down the sight of his scoped rifle, examining the thing.
It was a wolf.
"You there!" A slightly distorted voice shouted over the loudspeaker on the APC
"Halt!"
The wolf complied, his feet rooted to the floor.
Two soldiers rushed forward, their rifles aimed at him.
"Who are you and what is you buisness!" One of them shouted gruffly, and the wolf, shaking with fear, spouted some nonsense about him just being a normal scavenger just like everyone else.
To which one of the soldiers delivered a heavy kick to the back if the man's knees "I said..." He pulled a .45 caliber combat pistol from a holster on his vest "What...is your buisness!"
"I swear! I'm...I'm just a scavenger! Oh god please don't kill me..."
The pistoleer simply shook
His head, and with the casual attitude of a man swatting a fly, pulled the trigger. For a split second, the thing's eyes bulged out of it's head, it's brain matter painting the pavement behind it a beautiful crimson color.
As soon as the thing slumped forward, it's backpack was quickly removed, rewarding the thirty men with three cans of food, a machete, and a small, .22 caliber pistol. A mediocre find.
They left him there for the vultures and cannibals, none of them giving it a second thought.
They were going to head to the police station of this town, take
It's weapons and armor. Of course, they had heard there was survivors there. But, they didn't care. They had the best gear in the wastes, and most importantly, a tank. More an infantry fighting vehicle, but a tank nonetheless.
Topic: Apocalypse - New start. (Read 18755 times)