USCMRPG

Planet: Adullan
Location: Secessionist Space
Date: February 1, 2187
Mission Time: 1:44

Amidst the fire and smoke that poured over the trees, the Eights proceeded to attempt to fall back in their own way. A sustained and vigilant back pedal with an eye to the trees ahead, ready to open up on anything that was foolish enough to step into view.

But not everyone moved back quite so quickly, as Giosso and Boothe readily took to setting up their Sentry Guns, and placing them in advantageous positions to target the enemy. They were hidden within the foliage and brush that littered the ground of the forest. And as soon as this was accomplished, Giosso allowed for the turrets to paint targets and they moved away quickly to catch up with the others.

As the squads made there way then to their rally point, the Marines were finally able to see the damage that had been done to the unconscious Morse. Everything below his right knee was gone. The speedy medical treatment of Quinn had allowed it to be treated and wrapped up, but the image of blood coming through what would become a stump on Morse’s leg was an unsettling sight.

Matched with the completely demolished 242 Combat Buggy that was still turned over and burning, with two unfamiliar marines mangled bodies wrapped up in the wreckage, the state of the UNSC on that battlefield was very apparent.

DRAAAAAAAAA DRAAAAAA DRAAAAAAA

The silent reflection on the mess was immediately broken by very nearby weapons fire. But it was a welcome sound, as it was the unmistakable drumming of a pair of Sentry Guns unleashing their fury onto a mass of targets.

The fire sustained itself in swift bursts, and further off one could almost hear screaming over the loud weapons fire, that was quickly being returned.

Explosions were heard shortly after, but the weapons fire persisted. The violent battle was ongoing while the Eights assessed their situation.

Then over the all communication, there came another call, this time from an unfamiliar voice.

“This Armor 62, repeat This is Armor 62. We’re near the Northern line moving to assist all UNSC personnel in withdrawal. Is anyone receiving?” The message repeated itself in different variations but the APC personnel seemed to be in as much of a determined panic as everyone else.

< Actions

Colson was one of the marines carrying Morse as they fell back.

As they stopped for a moment, blood pounding in his ears, he heard another sound. The sound of their sentry guns going to work on the insurgents.

"Makes me glad I dragged that box along now." he said to no one in particular. "Now remind me again why I'm dragging your ass along." He directed at the unconscious marine. He wasn't expecting an answer, he didn't need one. Morse was a squad mate and a marine. That was reason enough.

As he caught his breath he checked over Morse another time while they waited for orders.

Boothe and Giosso were bringing up the rear of the Eights, and Boothe had been turning on his heel every other time he saw a tree that made good cover. The enemy WOULD outflank the turrets, or hit them with heavy explosives.

Still, fuck it. He decided to close the gap with the rest of the group and suppressed any wild ideas. He was actually glad he hadn't been cleared on a flame thrower, at this point, it arguably wouldn't be the job for the situation.

Although the thought of this forest burning and leaving all the rebel scum to roast did appeal to him at the moment.

"Fuckin' hope our ride's still up there." He swore. "The last thing we need is a starship falling like a meter on our heads... eh?" He said to the marine beside him.

<Tag Giosso>

Samantha was breathing heavy.....running backwards with frequent stops to cover her squad's retreat was more than a little exhausting.

Hearing Boothe's comment; she forced a bit of humor and said; "Boothe...if you don't start thinking positively I'm going to force you to be Morse's shadow for the next decade"; she said with a slight grin at her squad mate.

Hearing the Sentry guns open up; she had to nod in a bit of grim satisfaction; "Nice work getting those guns set up people". Hearing the call come in from an Armor unit; she turned towards Quinn and Dirk; waiting to hear what the move from here would be....

<Tag 1st Squad>

At the threat of being stuck with Morse, Sal had to crack a smile. "Oo-rah, Sam. I fucking LOVE this job. Yep. Nothing like getting shot by chuck-fucks with stolen hardware and plagiarized manifestos. Only the best enemies for the best of the USMC."

He did cock his head at a noise, just a random round that hit a tree, or maybe something off in the distance.

"At least it's not bugs. Of course, we'd have been fucking crazy to try a stand-up fight with them when we could just NIFO the bastards." He looked back to where the turrets were chewing into the rebels. "Oh wait. That IS what happened."