"This is Acolyte One! Open fire on those GLA Bastards!" Acolyte One rained hell on the GLA bastards using an M1A4 Paladin's CROWS, the 12.7mm machine gun tearing the GLA Rebels who dared to fight Acolyte Platoon into shreds, blood splattered into the wall.
"Rebels are down! Libra, move!" Acolyte One said, ordering the M1A4L Libra who came with them to move up, "Copy that!" the Libra responded, moving forward, "Acolyte Two, Acolyte Three, escort Acolyte Four." Acolyte One ordered, moving up into the desert faster. "Copy that, Libra, get behind us." Acolyte Two replied, firing up the engines and speeding across the desert.
"GLA Marauders!" Acolyte One exclaimed, "OPEN FIRE!" Acolyte Three shouted, opening fire on the Marauders, the ensuing battle ended when the Libras punctured the Marauder's armor enough for the Paladins to destroy them while only taking a small amount of damage that could be repaired quickly by the battle drones, the wreckages on the deserted battlefield left behind by other Paladins and Marauders who fought in this area could be seen for miles.
"Regroup with the rest of the tank blob! The Supreme Commander is going to have our heads if we don't blob up!" Acolyte One ordered, the Supreme Commander liked his heavy, hard-hitting, mass-wave attacks, and so did Acolyte Platoon, especially after their experiences in the GLA War, tank blobs were the most ideal form of fighting, especially if it's comprised of Paladins, in which case infantry is no problem, even more so with the battle drone.
"I see the tank blob!" Acolyte One exclaimed, "Good, regroup!" Acolyte Two said, driving as fast as he could, as the M1A4L Libra known as Acolyte Four lumbered behind them, the heavy artillery platform being...well, heavy. The Libra's heavy plasma-and-laser cannons were heavy as shit, and even with less armor than the Paladin, it was still a lumbering beast.
Fifteen minutes later, Acolyte One finally expressed his relief, "This is Acolyte Platoon, we have joined up with the blob!" he said, "Now, let's charge these bastards!" Acolyte Two said, "Acolyte Four here, ready to tilt the balance of this battle!" the M1A4L Libra with the platoon said, gleefully ready to tear a hole into the GLA's arse.
Suddenly, the platoon heard a siren, and for some reason, the communications jammed, Acolyte Platoon couldn't contact each other anymore. "What the hell?" was all Acolyte One's commander could say as communications died. Acolyte One's gunner stared at the commander, dumbfounded. "Sarge, I have no idea what happened." the gunner said, the driver also chimed in. "N-Nope, nothing was done on my end." The commander began shaking his head, irritated, then he decided to peek out of the hatch, "Jesus Christ..." he said, rising out of the hatch.
He was surprised when he saw, firsthand, the rest of the tank blob fleeing the area, oddly enough, the Commander tried to get their attention, but his radio died, so he couldn't even talk with the rest of his platoon, he was wondering what caused the rest of the tank blob to flee.
He had no answers yet.
Until he looked up at the sky and saw one of the most dreaded things encountered by the US Army.
"SCUD STORM!" He said, closing the hatch and sealing it, hoping the Scud wouldn't kill them, unfortunately, however, the Scud Storm is still a Scud Storm, and thus, it had quite the punch. The first Scud landed on the unlucky, fearful, Acolyte One, and the second fell on Acolytes Two and Three, and another one landed on Acolyte Four, the rest of the scuds hit nothing but the barren desert.
The impact from each Scud would've killed the tank and its crew, and it did...
...Were it not for something to pull out the tank crew into...wherever.
And unfortunately for them, it wasn't gonna be pleasant.
Private Alexander Grayson, gunner for Acolyte One, woke up to the oddly cold atmosphere of the M1A4 Paladin, he turned to face the commander, who was, presumably, unconscious too, "Hey, Sarge." Grayson said, nudging his shoulder, "Sarge." he nudged with a bit more force, "Sarge!" He nudged the sergeant rather violently, finally waking him up after a while.
"Uhregh, Grayson, mind telling me what you woke me up for-" the Sarge, specifically, Sergeant Aretz Michaelson, stopped himself, "Wait, didn't we get hit by a Scud Storm?" Aretz asked, "Yeah, Sarge, you screamed about one, before you dove back in and sealed the hatch." Grayson said, rather nonchalantly, "Comms, while alive this time, don't have a signal, and thus, are pretty much dead to us." he said.
"Fucks' sakes." Aretz said, "Oi, wake up Snow for us." Aretz ordered Grayson to wake up the driver, Corporal Yumi "Black Snow" Nagumo, well, that's her name in Western order, "Fiine." Grayson complied, kicking Nagumo's head with a moderate amount of force, and instantly, we've already got results.
"H-HUH!?" Nagumo said, confused, "Oi, Snow, get up." Grayson said, "Aretz wants us to get out of the tank, see what happened after we got Scud'd." Grayson said, "Best you open the hatch and go out, Aretz is gonna do so himself." Grayson said, "U-Uhhh..." and speak of the devil, Aretz opened the commander's hatch and climbed out, Grayson followed, and so did Nagumo, who opened the driver's hatch.
Nagumo soon saw desert, and more desert, "Huh, I thought we got Scud'd?" Grayson asked with the most confused look on his face, "Well, damn me, Grayson. We've survived the Scudding!" Aretz said, "Booyah!" He finished, raising his hand into the air, "Hey, Sarge, the tank's armor is...blue." Nagumo said, looking at the noticably-bluish M2 HMG and turret.
"Must be some GLA bastard's dirty trick, spraypainting the tank blue!" Aretz said, however unbeknownst to him, the 'spraypaint' got onto his uniform, thankfully, covered by a chemical suit, but if someone were to touch the uniform? Well, let's just say they'd be unlucky.
"I see the rest of the Acolytes." Grayson noticed the rest of the platoon "Let me go check up on 'em." Grayson said, getting off the M1A4's turret, and walking over to the Libra. Nagumo, meanwhile, grabbed her binoculars and scanned the horizon, curious to see where exactly they were, no two deserts are the same, at least that's what she thinks, this maybe isn't Iran.
Whaddya know? She was right. "Sarge! Look, this ain't Iran!" She handed him the binoculars, "This is Egypt!" she said, pointing at a specific direction with, surprisingly, a pyramid. "Well, I'll be damned, Egypt. Always wanted to invade it just to see how tanks would look like next to those Pyramids, maybe god doesn't hate me, I've admired the damn Pyramids for quite a while." Aretz said, stretching his arms.
"Well, what're we waiting for?" Nagumo said, "Let's go check it out!" Nagumo said, "Wait, Grayson's still reactivating the rest of Acolyte Platoon." Aretz said, grabbing Nagumo, "Awww....." Nagumo said, going back to the Paladin.
A few minutes, Grayson had finally reactivated the rest of Acolyte Platoon after some vigorous shaking and a lot of screaming, the two other M1A4 Paladins and the M1A4L Libra that came with them had their engines fired up, and were ready to move, "Right, we all ready?" Aretz said, "Acolyte Two copies." A-2 replied, "Acolyte Three copies." A-3 said, "Acolyte Four, ready to tilt the balance!" A-4 responded, enthused.
"Right, let's go." Acolyte One said, leading the tank platoon further into Egypt, with the commanders of each tank, Libra included, stopping by to take photographs of the landscape on their phone, seeing as it was...quite beautiful compared to the craphole that was Iran, where they fought and died in.
Acolyte Platoon drove around for sixteen hours without rest, fearing a GLA attack when not close to civilization, and lo, they were about to give up and sleep when they saw a village nearby, taking the opportunity, Acolyte Platoon halted their tanks in front of the village.
"So, should we introduce ourselves or...?"
"Introduce, then ask if we can stay for two or three days." Aretz said, opening up the commander's hatch, hopping out, he had his M16A2 accompanying him, while it was cumbersome and long, it saved his life many times, and thus, he pretty much can trust it regardless of time or atmosphere.
Following him where several crewmen from Acolytes Two and Four, each of them armed with their assault rifles as well, "Yo, Aretz, ready?" they asked, loading their rifles in case push comes to shove, "Yeah, I guess." they said, walking over to the village, dressed in Gulf War-era uniforms, the villagers strangely paid no attention to them at first until later, where one of them pointed out their presence, and soon a few people stopped by.
"Foroned States Heere?" A villager, presumably the Village Chief, said. "Uhhh...." Aretz said, confused, before deciding to respond, "...Yeah, Heere." Aretz said, "Are those your Pancers over there?" the Chief said, pointing at the M1A4 Paladins and the M1A4L Libra, "Yep, we're technically on patrol, but we're tired as hell." Aretz said, "Can we...rest, near here? In our Pancers, of course, we don't want any trouble." Aretz extended his hand, the Chief took a few minutes to ponder, before saying, "Yes."
The Chief shook Aretz's hand, "But why sleep in Pancers? You know what, nevermind, go ahead, just don't cause any chaos and you should be fine." the Chief said.
Aretz bowed in respect, surprisingly, he could understand some parts of it, but not all, he was genuinely, quote, undergoing a monkey phase, where he couldn't understand shit.
"Acolyte Platoon, we've been granted permission to crash here, sleep in the tanks, and goodnight." Aretz said to everyone on the radio.
Aretz went back into the tank, and instantly slept, not caring about what his fellow crewmen had to say.
However, while sleeping, several local village kids wandered outside, and saw several Allied Abrahamsens lying around, wasting no time as revenge for the FSA's occupation, the kids vandalized it by scrubbing its 'paintjob' off, and doing various other forms of vandalization, such as writing, painting symbols on it, and went back home smug.
However, one of the village kids would soon have his skin start peeling off, but he didn't notice, he was just smug and feeling good after annoying the FSA, especially after they seized the oil fields.
Unfortunately, he also unknowingly spread a very dangerous threat to everyone in the village, alongisde his friends too.
The US Army crewmen knew what it was, it was Anthrax Beta.
A legacy of Dr. Thrax.
Some days later, a fireteam from the FSA was nearing a thorpe after one of the thorpers talked of an unknown sickness, and before being barked at twice by Generalmajor Payne the Madman, they chose to go, "Anyone know what's going on the thorpe anyways?" one of the soldiers, Westbury, said.
"Beats me." another soldier, Thane Cooper, answered, "I can't think of what the hell goes on down here, so..." yet another soldier, Dickins, chimed in, Dickins kept flinging the stonestore of his M16 into the loft and catching it, seeing as the Shitstick would often jam every 10 minutes even if he did everything he was told to make sicker it doesn't do that.
"Anyone heard the Wondertale of the Ay-Two?" Dickins said out of nowhere, "Yea, what about the Ay-Two?" Westbury said, overproving his gewear for any jams, the damned thing jammed on him like 20 times already, goddamnit, "Well, I heard it all started when a shmuck from Yellowhammer picked up what looked to be your old Shitstick, that is, until he indeed shot it, where bewilderingly, the gewear worked fine. It fired three whole stores, no jams." Dickins took a minute to breathe, "No jams?" Westbury said, looking at his gewear with nithe.
"Yep, no jams, and when the thane came to look at his gewear, he befealened to know where he found the damned thing, saying 'this here tuge needs that', and when the earm soldier told him where he found it—near the Buildyard—the whole tuge swarmed the Buildyard, seeking the gewear of their dreams, and when they didn't find anything, they came to an answer; the soldier was blessed by God." Dickins took two minutes to breathe, "The feller looked at the gewear, and found something odd, it was marked as an "M16A2", we've never made an A2, and he showed it to the thane, and the thane thought that this gewear was a gift from God himself." Dickins finished.
The fireteam kept walking until Dickins noticed something. "Fellers, look." Dickins said, straying from the path they'd set, and the rest caught up with him, and what they found was...eugh.
"What the hell is this?" Dickins said, looking at...something gruesome.
It was what was left of a kin and their easol, rotting in the wastes.
Dickins almost felt like puking his food out, what the hell happened to these earm souls? He inspected their...liches, for any clues to their death.
He took a look at the ground below him, and oddly, it had a sort of blue shade, what the hell was it doing there? Dickins called for the other soldiers to look at the ground, it was...bluish.
"Anyone know anything about dead folks being dyed blue?" Dickins said, "No, not here in Egypt, at least." Westbury said, looking at the blue-tinted sand.
"Christ, I think we should leave 'em alone, the liches smell bad, truly bad." Cooper said, covering his nose and dropping his M16 on the ground, before picking it back up, "Argh, I hope it doesn't jam." Cooper muttered, striking his M16 rifle, hopefully getting it back to work, as the damned thing sometimes doesn't want to work at all.
"I see the thorpe the feller told us about, let's go in and have a look." Cooper said, leading the team into the thorpe, they just strolled by, foreseeing nothing of note, but what they saw shocked them.
They saw a lot of thorpers piled up outside their homes, some with their flesh peeled off the bone, and some...almost melting in front of them, Cooper nearly puked his heart out while Dickins threw up, and the rest of the team just stared with fearful eyes, almost like they just saw their whole kin die in front of them.
Cooper bore witness to a most gruesome thing with his own eyes.
One of the thorpers, whom earlier had his skin peeling off, began melting, melting right in front of Cooper, and he could do nothing as the earm man felt what was going on and started shrieking. Cooper turned away, sparing himself the sight, but the screams reached him. And they would not stop.
Cooper heard the screams stop, and so took a look, the man had gone. Where'd he-
Cooper saw the puddle that was once the man.
He gave in and spat out the inside of his gut onto the hot sand, "ERRGH!" Cooper shouted as he threw up, the rest of the team couldn't besculd the earm bloke, while these thorpers were, on paper, notmilitarish fighters as gemeet in the FSA's doctrine, they couldn't stand someone suffering like that.
Cooper slowly stood back up, shook his head, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and looked at whoever was still alive here.
He found an elderly and sickly man, who he guessed was the thorpe's leader or something, and grabbed his aughting. The man turned to him, taken aback, and then Cooper asked him a fraign.
"Hey you! What happened here?" he asked, and the old man could only shake his head in sadness, "They are dying...from this sickness from hell, they are dying. I cannot do anything, nobody could. None of us foresaw this...none of us know who cursed us." the old man said, talking like he's about to break down and sob.
Cooper put his hand on the man's shoulder to hopefully lift some of his fears. "It's okay, my friend." Cooper said, "We'll send help. I'll call for a medic team and a liftscrewtug to take the wounded to a sickhouse." he told him. The man smiled, hopefully they could get help in time. "I beg of you." the chief said, "Those...things." he grabbed Cooper's aughting once more, "Your crigsmachines...pancers are outside, may you send them back?" Cooper was astounded. Pancers? What were they doing here?
"I'll go check them out." Cooper said. But he was befuddled. Generalmajor Payne didn't send any pancers toward here, hell, he never bothers to send his pancers outside the base at all. "Could the rest of you boys go take a look at the sick? I'll go to these "pancers" the old man talked about."
Cooper walked to the thorpe's "gates", where he saw the aforesaid Pancers, which looked to be oddly-shaped M80 Abrahamsens, but with...bigger guns? What were they doing here? But they were friendly, at least, he proved the tank with his eyes, and then with his hands, rubbing them on the sideskirts, the pancer was in good standing, bewilderingly, some of the farb gave way when he touched the rysting. Shoddy farbwork, he thought.
Cooper saw the guntower was...rather odd, as it bore a bigger gun than the 105mm on the gemean M80 Abrahamsen, and instead of the two LITOS cannons on the sides of the guntower, it had racks for things such as gunstones, ropes, and even drivestuffcans.
"Wait, what does this say?" Cooper inspected the markings on the M80, and found that it...had rather odd markings, instead of "FS Heere", it was "US Army" that was written, alongside other tales and bookstaves he could not make heads or tails of, however, he did catch some odd-looking words, "102nd Platoon, Acolyte".
"One-hundred-and-twithe...n-d? What's a "platoon"? What is this...Ackoolite?" Cooper said, shrugging, closely eyeing the Pancer a bit more, putting his hand on the rysting, which weirdly took the farbwork with it too, he was about to shrug it off as a "French" M80 or something when he saw the bit that would gewonely have the FSA's flag. It looked like the FSA's flag at first, but as he looked closer, it had...darker hues, as well as fifteen small stars and one big star instead of the 48 same-grete stars he's used to.
"That's not our flag." Cooper said, even more bewildered. He got away from the pancer, hopefully to tell his team about it.
Then he heard screaming.
Cooper, frightened, rushed into the thorpe, and the sight that greeted him was not good, it was frightful. Utterly frightful.
He saw Dickins's skin peeling off from his flesh, right in front of his eyes, whilst Westbury was melting into a puddle.
"What the fuck?!" Cooper said, scared at what he saw. However, he soon felt a pesky itch on the side of his gesight, 'Damn it, not the time...' Cooper murmured to himself, however, and he rushed to help his shrieking soldiers, whose looks were in angst, their stevens almost fizzling out from shouting their lungs out.
"What happened here?!" Cooper asked, shaking Dickins, "...Thane, I don't feel good..." Dickins said, as more of his arm started dying, "Thane...i-is there a God?" Dickins asked, clearly nearing death, "No, no! Stay with me, Dickins!" Cooper said, shaking him. "Goddamnit, stay alive!"
The itch on his face grew more by the second, soon feeling like a thousand bugs stinging him at once, damn you Egyptish weather! Cooper kept on fanding to keep Dickins alive for longer, and he was wordless most of the time, his eyes opening and closing quickly.
"...T-Thane...." Dickins said, "What?" Cooper asked, "...Y-Your e-eye....i-it's g-g-gone...." Dickins said, before losing awakeness. Shocked, Cooper brought up his own dogtags, which were almost shewerlike, to see what Dickins meant.
What stared back at him wasn't the shewering of Thane Cooper Thornson, no.
What stared back at him was a man split in twain, one clean, the other burnt and without an eye.
Cooper dropped his dogtags and screamed, getting up on his feet and running away.
However, his legs itched too, and he tripped...on nothing.
Cooper stared at his legs with his one eye, what happened-
His legs were stripped down to the bone
Cooper shrieked as he fanded to limp away, however his other eye closed, with an itchy feeling taking over where it once was. Cooper could only think that he'd gone blind. He forlornly crawled, but then his arms gave away and stopped, with the same itchy feeling as the rest of his body.
Cooper died before the rest of the Anthrax could fully eat his body.
Here lies Thane Cooper Thornson.
Born nineteen-hundred-and-fifty-six, died nineteen-hundred-and-eighty-one.
Acolyte Platoon had gone away to go sightseeing, and had unknowingly racked up quite a lot of kills with their anthrax contamination while they were away, when they came back, they saw that the entire village was contaminated with Anthrax Beta, the first thing Grayson was greeted by was a dead Vietnam War-era soldier, melted into a puddle. The only thing remaining of him was a pile of bones, helmet, and rifle.
Private Grayson saw villagers collapsing onto the ground and some melting into a puddle, and stopped, what the fuck was going on?! Did the GLA follow them here?! Grayson grabbed his M16A2 and started rushing into the village in an attempt to help the Anthrax Beta victims, but he was shoved off by one of them.
"The hell?" Grayson said, "We're trying to help!" Grayson exclaimed, forgetting that they can't understand them, Grayson tried his best to help, but was rejected by all of them, the villagers would often shout at him, angrily, as if he were to blame for all of this, Grayson only stared at them, bewildered, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Grayson screamed.
Grayson soon encountered the village chief from earlier, limping, and his leg was seared off nearly to the bone, he looked like he had just seen an entire family die in front of him, then his facial expression, upon seeing the Platoon, changed briefly from a look of terror into one of anger.
"Leave. You are not welcome." He said, coughing as his internal organs and skin began to melt under the effects of Anthrax Beta, "You have been banished from here." He continued, coughing up again, "Just go." he finished before suddenly collapsing on the ground, and melting into a mere puddle.
Grayson could only stare at what remained of the chief in complete silence, before collapsing on his kn ees, "WHY?!" Grayson shouted at nobody, but he wanted something to direct his rage at, he felt responsible for mass murder, and he hated this feeling, "WHAT HAPPENED HERE?!" Aretz shouted at the top of his lungs, before Grayson turned to him.
"This village, Sarge? It's dead." Grayson said, clenching his fist, "AND IT'S BECAUSE SOMEONE UNLEASHED ANTHRAX BETA!" Grayson said, throwing his fist into the ground, clearly hurting his hand, "AAAAAAARGH!" Grayson screamed, clearly in pain, both physically and mentally.
"Wait...the tanks..." Yumi said, running towards the M1A4L Libra, and immediately swiped her hand across the blue-tinted armor of the tank, and the blue tint came off easily, Yumi only realized what it actually was, and screamed. "SHIT!" the Japanese-American crewman said, "IT'S NOT PAINT! IT'S ANTHRAX B!"
"WHAT?!" Aretz said, "ANTHRAX B?!" Aretz said, only coming to realize that the blue "paint" was not in fact paint, but Anthrax B, Yumi and Aretz only met each other's horrified stares, how were they this damn stupid?! "Sarge, we spread Anthrax B!" Yumi could only scream inside as she saw the ghost town that was the village.
"Everyone....everyone's dead." Grayson said, tone clearly indicating that he was broken at this point, nothing could save the poor bastard, everyone's dead, yes, while he had to repeat himself, it still got the point clear, everyone is dead. Nothing can bring them back.
"Okay, okay, stay calm, stay calm..." Yumi said, clearly panicking like a chicken with its head cut off, "Calm? Corporal, CALM does not describe what we're feeling right now!" Aretz said, grabbing his M16A2 and bashing Yumi's arm with it, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US IT WAS ANTHRAX B?!" the sergeant, clearly traumatized, asked the corporal, who merely regressed into a state of crying.
"TELL ME, CORPORAL YUMI NAGUMO! WHY DID YOU NOT INFORM US IT WAS ANTHRAX BETA, A CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER TO EVERYONE CONTAMINATED BY IT, AND THOSE AROUND THE CONTAMINANT AS WELL?!" at this point, Aretz had just gone off the rails, Yumi didn't know why it took only a short period of time for Aretz to snap, but he did.
Grayson grabbed the Sergeant and pulled him to face the Private, "SARGE, YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND!" the Private said, audaciously slapping the Sergeant, "THE CORPORAL IS NOT TO BLAME HERE, IT'S YOU! YOU DIDN'T CHECK IF THE BLUE PAINTJOB WAS SUSPICIOUS, YOU JUST WAVED IT OFF AS 'GLA SPRAYPAINTING' AND YET YOU FORGOT THAT ANTHRAX B STICKS TO SURFACES! WHAT ARE YOU, A SERGEANT, OR A DEMENTIA-RIDDEN PIECE OF SHIT?!" Grayson said, slapping the Sergeant a few more times.
Yumi just took this time to hide behind one of the M1A4 Paladin tanks, and wait it off, eventually, Yumi could hear the other crewmen of Acolyte Platoon join in on the arguement too, some threatening to shoot the Sergeant, while some threatened to shank the Corporal for her "negligence", Yumi just wanted it all to end.
Yumi huddled near the engine, and curled up, embracing her M16A2 assault rifle, the cold, gray metal was much, muuuch more comforting than the angry screams of her "comrades" in the background, the Corporal could only wonder what it would've been like had they not carried A-B into the village.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of helicopter whirring, and she turned to look at the source of the noise, what she saw genuinely surprised her, it was a CH-53 Stallion, retired alongside other 'useless' helicopters during the 2011 Helicopter Standardization Program, flying over the village.
"A...Stallion?" one of the crewmen, a Missile Defender, questioned the appearance of a CH-53 Stallion in Egypt, "I don't think that's one of ours, we retired all the Stallions during 2011." another crewman, this time a Ranger, said, "Well...if that ain't ours, then who owns it?" Grayson said, immediately holding onto his assault rifle.
"Heads up, we've got contact." A Ranger crewman looking at the village informed the rest, loading a 40mm Incen-Flash grenade into his rifle, "Looks like...several CIA agents, armed with MP5s, and several Vietnam War-era looking troops, most of them carrying...M16A1s?" the Ranger reported, confused to all hell, "M16A1s? I thought those weren't used post-2001." a Missile Defender said, loading his M92 Spider.
"Looks like they're scanning the village, spread out! We have time to catch them off-guard!" a Ranger crewman ordered, "You heard the man, spread out!" Aretz said, switching the safety off on his M16A2, Grayson, Yumi, and the rest of Acolyte Platoon spread out, "A-4, get back on the Libra!" Aretz said, wanting artillery support in case things go pear-shaped.
A-4 obeyed almost immediately, and went back to the Libra, and re-activated it, the M1A4L advanced towards where the Platoon took shelter, "A-4, back in action, tell us when to fire." Acolyte Four said, loading the Plasma Cannons on the Libra, the Libra was the pride of the DEWF, and they'd make sure it stays that way.
"Should we actually do this?" Yumi said, looking at her M16, conflicted between flipping the safety off or talking with them.
"They're probably here to find and kill anyone, so yes, we should." a Missile Defender said, preparing the laser lock-on module of the M92, alongside the FIM92, "...But why?" Yumi was young, the MD understood, but a Kill on Sight order is still a Kill on Sight order.
Actually, the MD pondered, would it be benifical? No.
"Scratch that." the Missile Defender said, "Let's try talking with them." this suggestion surprised everyone, but was not met with opposition, bewildering the MD.
"Sure, let's go talk with them." Aretz said, "But keep your weapons ready." he said, ordering the platoon, "A-4, conceal yourself, we're not gonna blast them yet." Aretz soon had a realization, and facepalmed. "A-2, A-3, get back in the Paladins. A-1 will handle talking." Aretz issued the order for Acolytes Two and Three to re-enter the Paladins.
"Right, Corporal, Private, on me." the Sergeant said, moving forward with his M16A2 at the ready, unfortunately, he went in at the wrong time.
He saw the CIA people being forced to treat several VW-era soldiers apparently dying, Aretz realized that A-B was still lingering in the village, and had unfortunately killed these VW-era soldiers.
The CIA men turned their faces to meet him after hearing Yumi's scream, and grabbed their MP5s.
Without saying any word at all, the CIA men opened fire on Acolyte One, most of the rounds missing, however one round hit the Sergeant's rifle, denting it.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! OPEN FIRE!" Aretz said, pulling the trigger on his M16A2 and opening fire as well, "ACOLYTES, ENGAGE!" Aretz ordered, loading a high-explosive grenade onto his M203, and firing it upon the CIA men.
Grayson was shooting precisely and accurately at the CIA, killing one of them, and wounding another, "RELOADING!" Grayson shouted at nobody at all, switching an empty magazine for a loaded one, and continued firing, claiming the lives of several CIA agents.
Yumi just opened fire as fast as she could, not hitting a CIA agent, however she managed to disorient their accuracy with her blind rifle fire, "DIE DIE DIE DIE!" the young Jap-Am soldier screamed as she let loose a flurry of 5.56 against the CIA agents.
The Libra made its grand entrance by breaking through a wall after hearing the gunfire, and melting two CIA agents with Plasma, after witnessing this stunt, the remaining agents fled as fast as they could.
"Jesus Christ, Acolyte Platoon, you guys up?" Aretz said, replacing the last empty magazine with a new loaded one, and got a responese, "This is the rest of Acolyte one, Aretz." A-1, check, "Acolyte Two, making sure we don't get shanked." A-2, check, "Acolyte Three, still bewildered over what the fuck I just saw." A-3, check, and finally, "Acolyte Four, ready to tilt the balance." A-4, check.
"How many 'Nam-era soldiers KIA?" Aretz said, Grayson came to check on them, "Most likely, 50." Grayson gave his professional analysis to Aretz, "Damnit, 50 KIA." the sergeant commented, inspecting the bodies, mostly comprised of men equipped with M16s, M60s, and, weirdly, modern-looking rocket launchers, alongside some sort of deployable armor plate and sandbags, lots of sandbags.
"What kinda shit were they here for, actually? They might've shot us first because they thought we're the ones who started it." Acolyte Three's Commander said, popping out of the turret hatch with an FIM92 Stinger, "But I do damn hope that they know how to talk." the man finished the sentence by reloading the Stinger.
"Expecting Hueys to come after us?" Acolyte Four's Commander, popping out of the hatch with an M92 Spider, sarcastically asked, "I expect M60 Pattons." he turned on the laser lock-on module for the Spider, "Especially since we just killed CIA Agents."
"You guys, you're getting a bit of your history incorrect." Grayson said nonchalantly, "Those CIA agents had MP5s. CIA didn't get MP5s during 'Nam, and we certainly didn't invade Egypt." Grayson pointed out, causing all of Acolyte Platoon to think and realize that they were complete and utter idiots, "Plus, look at the rocket launchers, they have laser lock-on modules too, back in 'Nam, lasers weren't a thing." the Private helpfully said.
"So...alternate history?" Acolyte Two's Driver said, popping out of the hatch, "Something like that, the Chief spoke in what I can only call 'Deutschglisch', or, well, German-English." Grayson was looking through the list of descrepancies he had formed in his mind, "Not only that, but those CIA agents have suits, suits that weren't available until the GWOT." Grayson finished.
"So, we're stuck in some sick, twisted, alternate history, basically." Aretz said, crossing his arms, "To be honest, how did we not notice this when we clearly saw the FIRST VW-era puddle on the ground?"
Aretz then noticed something, "Where's Corporal Yumi?" that got the rest of Acolyte to look for her, "Shit." Grayson scrambled for his radio, looking to turn it on, "Sarge! Contact her!" Grayson said, turning on his radio and barking at it.
Aretz turned on the radio, "CORPORAL YUMI NAGUMO, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" the Sergeant screamed, as the rest of the platoon scrambled to look for the missing Corporal, one dead member means less chances of operating a tank correctly, and the whole platoon was forced into panic mode.
"YUMI! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Sergeant Aretz barked into the radio, hoping to get an answer.
He got one.
"Sarge...we have a problem." She said in the most frightened voice she could muster, "Those CIA agents are back, there's more of them, and they have more soldiers...I think I hear tanks..." the young soldier informed the Sergeant, "Ergh, just tell me where you are!" Aretz said, "I'll be heading back!" was the response given, good.
"We got incoming! Those CIA men are back! And they've got reinforcements! Tanks included, everyone, get back in the Paladins!" Aretz said, rushing back to the M1A4 Paladin, and immediately entering through the commander's hatch, and Grayson followed, a few minutes later, a panicking Yumi entered.
The tank platoon immediately moved, proceeding to get Battle Drones up and running to repair any damage, they could've gotten a Scout Drone, but BDs were far more important due to their repair ability.
Acolyte Platoon unanimously and silently split up, hopefully to tackle with the reinforcements before they got out of hand real fast, if this whole thing went south, they might as well be dead.
After splitting from the group and heading to the East, Acolyte One advanced first, hoping to catch someone or something off-guard, and surprisingly, it did.
Acolyte One stumbled across several VW-era soldiers hastily setting up defenses while apparently treating their Anthrax B infections, with bandages strewn everywhere, medics running around, and soldiers coughing.
Unfortunately, Aretz was not willing to talk anymore by that point, and ordered the tank to open fire upon the soldiers.
And, so, Acolyte One was on its way to being sentenced to death row because of this singular action alone.
Acolyte One's CROWS machine gun opened fire on the poor bastards, with its co-axial 12.7mm machine gun also joining on the fun, and rather horrifically, the PDL joined in uninvited, but not unhelpfully.
The PDL had burnt one of the medics alive, causing him to, somehow, audibly scream a cry of "NOOOOOOOOOO!" that reached the ears of the tank crew, who ignored it and proceeded to continue gunning down the poor men.
Soldiers and Medics fell to the ground, lifeless, and some, gravely wounded, those that were still alive were run over when Acolyte One decided that running over the survivors was a valid strategy.
Acolyte One tore through men like hot knife through wet paper, even men visibly armed with rocket launchers could not stand against the might of A-1, with most being gunned down by either the CROWS and coax, or burnt alive by the PDL, in fact, Yumi even managed to hear the last words-well, no, not words, but last speeches of the soldiers, who just screamed in an...almost comical fashion. Yumi didn't even know if she was supposed to laugh or cry at the sound of these poor men screaming as they get squished by a 44-ton M1A4 Paladin.
In the West, Acolyte Two had encountered the first tank reinforcements, and took the initiative, opening fire upon the first tank that it saw, which was an...M4 Sherman Firefly mixed with an M41 Walker Bulldog, and several of them didn't have turrets, instead using a weird thing with a red tint over it, the Paladin's 130mm Ramjet cannon proved superior at penetrating the armor with its cannon than the hybrid tanks, who merely penetrated half of the Paladin's armor, not even getting a sufficient hit.
There were some attempts by men armed with rocket launchers nearby to destroy the Paladin, but the Point-Defense Laser rendered that null and void, giving A-2 an opportunity to gun them down with the CROWS, and melt some with the aforementioned PDL, the autoloader on the Paladin also gave the tank a noticeable advantage over the opposing tanks.
Acolyte Two had managed to decimate multiple tanks and several hundred infantrymen by its lonesome using only a mere coaxial machine gun and a CROWS to defend itself from the latter, and a 130mm cannon for the former, the crew could be audibly heard celebrating as they earned themselves some more kill marks, though, American.
Guarding the North, Acolytes Three and Four had set up a basic defense line using only the Libra and the Paladin, and managed to eliminate several tanks and a few infantryment sent to assault them, the plasma cannons from the Libra made very, veeerrryyy quick work of enemy tanks, while the machine guns from both vehicles took advantage of the complete havoc caused by their mix-and-match targeting and wreaked havoc on the infantrymen.
"Shit, helicopters!" Acolyte Three's commander exclaimed, grabbing his FIM92 Stinger, and popping out of the commander's hatch, spotting what appeared to be five older variations of the AH-64 Apache he knew and loved, and ten AH-99 Comanches that appeared to be lacking the autocannon, A-3's commander turned on the laser lock-on module for the FIM, and waited a few seconds for the beep, before finally getting the beep.
The four-rocket tubes in the FIM allowed it to fire off rockets at a rapid succession, when used in conjunction with the laser lock-on, any aircraft caught by it would be dead, as seen by one of the Comanche knockoffs, who was unfortunate enough to be targeted by him. He fired the first rocket, surprisingly, the Comanche didn't even try dropping flares, to which the commander used this information to put three more rockets into the Comanche.
The poor helicopter was sent spinning, and managed to somehow take two Apaches with it, but the tank commander was forced to put another four-rocket tube into the weapon, grabbing one from his rucksack and quickly cramming it into the Stinger, which unfortunately exposed him to the sights of the other Apaches, who opened fire upon the Paladin with its rockets, two of which were intercepted, but the rest hit the tank dead-on.
Fortunately, Acolyte Four's commander decided to help, with his own Stinger, he downed one of the Apaches, and opened fire upon the remaining two Apaches, and Acolyte Three did the same. Those two helicopters soon met a sandy grave when the lock-on modules of the FIM essentially sent four missiles at them in a rapid succession. The Comanches were all that left, and were engaged by rapidly-approaching missiles fired from the Stingers.
One Comanche had the unfortunate chance of having its propellor crash into another Comanche's propellor, causing both aircraft to meet an early grave in the sand.
They opened fire with some sort of Laser Cannon that Townes would be disappointing at, merely heating the hull of the Paladins instead of melting its armor, though it did almost take the commanders' heads off, though they managed to miraculously avoid getting their face burnt off by the laser fire.
The commander of Acolyte Three hastily reloaded the Stinger and continued firing upon the Comanches, with one having its pilot be unfortunate enough to get hit by two rockets consecutively, meanwhile Acolyte Four's commander stopped using his Stinger and used the machine gun instead.
The 12.7mm CROWS machine gun was surprisingly effective against Comanches, though, then again, GLA Shilka cannons were effective against Comanches during 2013, so why wouldn't M2 HMGs be? The Comanches couldn't withstand the fire put out by the HMG and one by one, all of them met a sandy grave, with some unlucky pilots managing to survive the crash only to get gunned down by the machine gun.
The Comanches all fell to the combined Stinger and HMG fire, with at least two Comanches being unlucky enough to be hit by both machine gun and rocket launcher at the same time, the Comanches all met a sandy grave, somehow. Acolytes Three and Four had no idea how they managed to weather that assault, however they did, and brought down fifteen helicopters to boot.
Acolytes Three and Four were celebrating their hard-earned victory after shooting down fifteen helicopters without dying, which was a miracle in and of itself.
One could only imagine the screaming that'd happen if the enemy's high command found out about this loss.
In the skies, however, there was another point of sight, this time, coming from a liftscrewtugflyer. His name was Andreas Anderson, or as he's called, "Double A". He was a flyer for the FS's Heere's Chemish Corps, as of now on a FL-53 Studhorse. Their updraw was to ungiveten four forrederish M80 Abrahamsen pancers that had giveted a thorpe and many soldiers with a yet unknown form of Miltbrand.
"Double A, you okay?" his midflyer asked, "Yea, yea, I'm fine." Andreas answered, taking a deep breath, as if he was leesing a burden, "It's just that I have no clue how threatful this strain of Miltbrand is. If it killed our boys on the ground, then who's not to say it can also kill us?" Andreas said, flying the machine to where it needs to be: over the thorpe. "AST's in a firefight with the deeders of this biologish ongripe, and Payne's given them backup, pancers inheld."
The midflyer nodded his head, and onefoldly looked at him with infeeling. "Look, man, I feel the same too, but we'll make it out alive." He put his hand on Andreas's shoulders, "We'll make it." he pulled back his hand, but still smiled at Andreas, "Though, I just hope Payne's backup makes it through."
"Alright, bud, I believe you." Andreas pushed the steerstick forward, making the machine go forward. "We'll make it." he said to himself again and again as the Studhorse pushed forward into the thorpe, "Payne's backup should be meeting with us just outside the thorpe." Andreas told his midflyer.
When they got to the skies above the thorpe, Andreas could see the Crighawks and Longbows sent by Generalmajor Payne from afar. They were about to fly alongside them, but to his shock, one of the Longbows was shot down by four rockets fired at it, the rest were just wiped out in a few minutes.
"...What the fuck?!" the midflyer said, "HOW DID THOSE CRIGHAWKS AND LONGBOWS GET SHOT DOWN?!" Andreas asked, clearly frightened. Those were the best liftscrewtugs the FS's Heere had, how the hell did they get shot down?! "Andreas, we've got to ungiveten them pancers and get the fuck out of here!" the midflyer said, "Markles sighted! They look like the odd Abrahamsens we were told of, alright!" He yelled.
Andreas took it upon himself to do what he was there to do before he gets themselves get shot down, almost diving his machine onto the dunes, at the last second warding off a sandy grave as he fyckmanly swerved the helicopter.
"I see one of the pancers! Spraying!" the midflyer said, marking out the pancer that needed to be to wiped clean, before dropping ungiveteningsflowhood onto the thing. Andreas quickly banked a hard right, away from the pancer, and then sped away.
The midflyer marked the three pancers that were left dirty, to which Andreas flew over them and sprayed them, hopefully wiping away the Anthrax from the tanks. At last, their work here was done. "Let's go! Get us the hell out of here!" the midflyer said. Andreas did so and thrusted the liftscrewtug as fast as it could go, lest they see the wrath of the pancers out for their blood. For a minute, it seemed that they would get out alive.
That was until, however, the machine took deadly blows from rockets shot by the manship of the pancers. Eight rockets tore through the liftscrewtug's hull. "Mayday, mayday! This is Duster Two! We're going down! I say again, we're going do-- FUCK! AAAAAAAAAA--" was the last thing Andreas heard as the sheer speed of the spinning machine made him black out.
Andreas woke up with a splitting headache, "W-What the hell happened?" he said, putting his hand to his forehead. He felt some sort of flowhood trickling down his skull. He took his hand off his head, and guess what met him? Blood. A lot of it. He just sat there, still strapped to the cockpit's seat, bewildered and frightened.
He looked to his right, and saw the lifeless lich who used to be his midflyer. The man who'd told him that both of them would make it was dead. He had a bloodstained shirt and a blank stare, looking at the rightmost window of the cockpit. Words could not tell what was going on in Andreas's mind, as the man who he'd flown with for what felt like a rather long while lay dead.
"Cack..." was all Andreas could blurt out. He stared at the man for another few minutes before thinking maybe he should get out of here if he wanted to live. "I'm sorry..." Andreas whispered, either to himself or to his dead mate, before looking for a way to get out of the wrecked Studhorse. The dashboard had electrish sparks, bits and shards were scattered everywhere, and the cockpit itself was torn from the main hull.
Andreas cut loose his seatbelt with a knife and pushed the cockpit's door with all his strength, stumbling outside on the sand. He turned to look at the sky. It was...dark. When they took off, it was morning. How long was Andreas knocked out? He got up, limping and looking around before sighting a pancerwagon's headlights. He swallowed the mix of spit and blood forming in his mouth and "ran" as fast as his aching legs would let him.
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Andreas yelled, raising his hands, as if to tell them that he was not a threat. The soldiers inside the wagon went to meet him. "Holy hell, you the flyer of that crashed Studhorse over there?" one of the soldiers asked. Andreas could only nod. Then the thought of what happened this morning came to mind. He lived to tell the tale. The updraw was a pyrrhussige.
"What...happened?" Andreas could only mumble, his throat feeling as dry as the wasteland he was in.
"We took out the pancers and fastnimmed their teams." A soldier said, offering Andreas his fieldflask filled with water. "Though we lost a rather great lot." The soldier looked around. "700 men, 15 liftscrewtugs, inholding yours, as well as 17 pancers, 15 of 'em were Bulldogs and the others were Abrahamsens. That, and a handful of AST's men." He listed. Holy Christ, they lost all of that men and gear to four pancers?! Andreas didn't know what to think of it. The FSA's Military was one of the world's mightiest, but, as he'd just seen, it loses to itself.
"Shit..." Andreas was at a loss for words. How could these menishen have beaten back the military?!
"Yea, we couldn't believe it too." Another soldier said. "Thankfully, we got a hold of all twelve of 'em turncoats before they could do more harm." Hold on, twelve?! How in the goddamned name of Christ did the FSA's military lose that much to only twelve?! "One of them's a woman, too. I'll say, though, she's pretty. Truuuuuuuly pretty." Uh oh, Andreas did not like what that hinted to.
"Riiight...where're they headed?" Andreas asked, wondering about the doom of the twelve.
"They're holding 'em in Payne's base right now, though, from what I've heard, they're being sent to the AST's HQ at Langley."
Not somewhere good to be in.
Aretz's vision flickered between complete darkness and some visibility, confused, the sergeant took a few minutes to look at his surroundings...and then it hit him with a force of a Bomb Truck in the middle of an explosive base.
"Shit." the man could only say as he remembered what exactly happened, he and his platoon had their tanks immobilized after running out of ammunition, then, they were forced to fight on the ground, with the Missile Defenders providing fire support against tanks, and the Rangers taking care of infantry, he was one of the Rangers who took part in the fight.
He and the rest were captured when they finally ran out of ammunition, though it took them a long time to do so, as they didn't stop fighting even when the evening came.
He presumed his captors were CIA, that's all he could say.
"I see you're awake." a voice said, he clearly knew what it was, and could literally see it just by looking at the man's outfit. CIA. "Damn CIA bastard." Aretz spat out, feeling nothing but anger, the CIA were always up to weird shit, but this? Just...why?
"...What's a 'CIA'?" the man said, clearly confused, "Whatever, you're still under gefangship." the CIA man said, "What the hell is your accent?" Aretz said, purely out of curiousity, the agent took it as spite, and spat on him, "Shut the fuck up." the man looked at him with a glare that, were it not for his experience with the GLA, would pierce into his soul. "Do you have something against the way I talk?", the CIA agent would look at him for a few moments, then start asking questions.
"So, who are you?" the CIA man said, Aretz was tempted to say a spiteful sentence such as "kiss my ass", but logic took over, and he decided to say his name. "Aretz, Aretz Michaelson." the sergeant said, "Hmmm...your rankmark tells me you're a Thane. Thoughtworthy, I never thought I'd see the day a Thane becomes a turncoat, besunderly one leading a troop of Abrahamsens." the man said, "...Thane?" at this point, Aretz was just confused to all hell.
"Where do you come from?" the man asked, "102nd Platoon, Acolyte, part of the 884th Army Group." Aretz said, the CIA man looked confused, "...Platoon? Never heard of it. Are you Louisianish or something?" he said, "Whatever, that's the least of my worries." he asked another question, "Why are you working with Doctor Thrax?" Aretz, upon hearing the word "Dr. Thrax", flew into...a very, very, violent rage.
Aretz fired off a rapid-fire speech that made him sound like he was firing a Crusader Tank machine gun instead of speaking to his captors.
The "CIA" man cringed upon hearing the man's loud screams, probably because he's never encountered such a foul-mouthed American soldier, if there's anything the 2013 GLA War told you, it's that etiquette is unecessary when fighting the GLA. "...My ears." the CIA guy said, clutching his right ear, which became completely deaf and he could not hear anything.
"If what you say is true, and you're indeed not working with Thrax, then why are you out and about, spreading his givet?" the CIA man asked, to which Aretz angrily replied, "I thought you damn CIA bastards already knew what the fuck Anthrax Beta does to humans, guess not, you CIA are damn stupid." Aretz said, completely puzzling the man with his extensive use of slang and lingo.
"Right. What kind of M80 pancer were you in while you were killing soldiers of the FS Heere?" the CIA man asked, before the man laughed, laughed. "M80? No, chief, the other three tanks you see are M1A4 Paladin Main Battle Tanks, they's the only reason why we haven't lost against the GLA in the ME when it came to tank battles." he says, conveniently explaining the M1A4 Paladin tank, armed with a 130mm ramjet cannon, this tank alone was what proved that America was still willing to update its weapons, unlike the M16.
The CIA man, who Aretz decided to refer to as the "interrogator", was...even more confused, "I-I'm sorry, M1A4 Paladin? I know you're a Louisianer, but are you dumb? Nowhere in the whole world does that betokening be." he said, Aretz, taking offense to this, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY?! I'VE SERVED TEN YEARS WITH THIS DAMN PALADIN! AND YOU DARE INSULT IT?! YOU LITTLE DAMN BASTARD!" he screamed as loud as he could, deafening the interrogator's right ear even further.
The interrogator refused to ask more questions about the peculiar Pancer, and instead decided to ask questions about his service time, he referred to himself as a "US Army Ranger", which was...peculiar, one, what the hell is a "US Army"? two, what's a "Ranger"? the interrogator continued asking more questions until he decided to ask more about the Anthrax outbreak that they apparently "caused".
The CIA interrogator decided to start asking more questions about Thrax, until Aretz just snapped, that is, and made what could be possibly described as the longest rant in United States Military History, the CIA man could not handle any more long rants and just shipped him off to his cell.
"YOU HEAR ME?! I WILL KILL YOU!" Aretz screamed, flailing his arms around, "NEVER FORGET TWENTY-THIRTEEN!" he shouted one more time as he was tossed into the cell with no way of escaping.
The rest of the platoon also snapped like Aretz, though, Corporal Nagumo's was the worst, apparently, it beat even Aretz's title for "longest swear word ever", Aretz just sat there, in his cell, all alone, and being flashbanged EVERY DAMN 3:00 AM! Well, actually, not every 3:00 AM, just at random, he did have a few days where the flashbanging stopped.
He wondered how bad this world could be, I mean, hopefully, the charges would be dropped...right? RIGHT?!
"Smile, we're on tee-vee." Grayson said, being escorted into the trial by several guards, "Sarge, when you meant by 'we'll become world famous', is this what you mean?" Corporal Nagumo, almost in tears, asked with a whimper on her face, she suffered under the hands of the CIA, and...the madman, General Payne. Perhaps they had a good reason for calling him a madman.
"...No, Corporal, it's never been what I meant." the sergeant said depressively, it's like winning the lottery, except the prize was 12 USD, Aretz just felt nothing but pain and misery, at this point, he was more than ready to put a bullet through his head, before being ordered to move up by a guard, "Snow, let's go." Aretz said, hopeful that people will listen to him and drop the charges, after all, they did nothing wrong, they just acted in self-defense.
A few minutes later, the case was set up, with Acolyte Platoon showing up, their uniforms drew some eyes to them, who would wear sand-colored uniforms into court? The Judge was eyeing them, with suspicion, and mainly suspicion, the jurors too, though there were other people attending, such as what appeared to be normal civilians, lawyers, and TV crews, Aretz flipped his middle finger at the camera.
"Let us begin." was all the judge said, still eyeing the platoon, who, with their dialogue, apparently come from Louisiana.
"...Am I reading this right? Ak-o-lyte Play-toon?" one of the Jurors said, "Forgive his mayly wrong saying. However, we are here today to andshed the lot of those standing before us, the so-called "Acolyte Platoon", who have betaken many gruesome forbreakings against not only their fellow man, but the whole of the Foroned States of America." another Juror said. Aretz could only say one thing, "...Go to hell." he said, essentially, in law statements, perverted the course of justice with threats.
The trial began with the Platoon pleading not guilty, though, the prosecution cited their mass murder of "FS Heere" soldiers, especially attributed to the crew of Acolytes Three and Four, the latter of whom was called "a cruel bastard" by some people in the court for melting FS soldiers with LITOS, though, they'd insistently call it "Plasma" for whatever reason.
The trial went on for a good amount of time, as the crewmen continued battling for their innocence, unfortunately, some parts of their cases didn't help them, for instance, EVERY platoon member rapidly fired off a barrage of insults towards the rest of the court when asked a question that reminded them of Anthrax usage during the GLA War.
The US Army Crewmen eventually lost the trial, as they had too much evidence pressed against them, and no evidence to refute these claims, soon enough, the crewmen were be proclaimed guilty. The trial was viewed by millions worldwide, and some would joke about the Turncoats' dirty mouths, while others would call them the scum of the earth, and advocate for their immediate execution.
"After the careful weighing of the findings by the Gesworn, benitting the bewise given by the Forfollower, the gerighthove finds those under the so-called 'Acolyte Platoon'..." the Judge said, before pausing, "...Guilty beyond any grounded twean.", that sealed the deal for the crewmen, Christ on a stick, they just wanted to prove their innocence, why must god hate them?!
"Christ, can we at least see what we're charged with?" Aretz said, turning to look at the judge. When he did pull out the list of charges, everyone in the court was horrified at the length of the charges, one of them even fainted from the sheer length of the damn thing, how could one piece of paper be so long?!
The crewmen were sentenced to death, to their horror, especially Sergeant, or, "Thane" Aretz, who shrieked as he found out he was sentenced to pretty much an execution, Grayson just said nothing, though he did clench his fist so tightly that it bled, albeit slightly, and Corporal Nagumo just cried, she knew she was going to die when she joined the Army, but she'd rather die in the battlefield than by execution.
In a few days, the case would be known as the Foroned States v. Turncoat case, called by some a one-sided trial due to the extremely unhelpful dialogue of the Turncoats, later, the PF and EB would ridicule the FSA for its apparent incompetence, especially due to the loss of millions of dollars to twelve men.
Only time will tell what'll happen to the crewmen, maybe there'll be a ray of hope, maybe, an unexpected ally? If that's the case, Aretz just hoped it'd be the Russians. They're more reliable than his home nation, apparently.
"Hey, Aretz, you think the Russians might be helpful?"
Soon, the crewmen realized something, didn't the CIA interrogator mention Thrax a lot, how did they know of him...if he was dead? He's been dead for ten years now, and won't be coming back, why the hell did they know of a man that was supposed to be dead for a decade. "Wasn't he gunned down by...uh...who was that guy again..." Aretz said, trying to remember it.
"Alvin Payne?" one of Acolyte Two's crew said, "I read his book when it was first published, and needless to say, I was surprised, the kill wasn't achieved by the Supreme Commander, no, he was done in by some Ranger who broke into his Command Center and literally shot him in the face."
"Well then how the hell were the CIA supposed to know of him if he's been dead for that long?!" Aretz suddenly shouted, if this was alternate history, why the hell would they know of Thrax as a bioterrorist? He'd probably be a pharmacist or something! "No idea man, no idea..." the guy he was talking to replied.
Soon, something caught their attention, the TV that was installed in the prison, specifically. They watched it.
And it was their court trial being replayed yet again, four guards were watching it while eating food, and sometimes took a look at the "Turncoats", who would display their middle fingers or snarl at them, forcing the guards to pay more attention to the TV instead of the prisoners.
After watching the whole case, to which Acolyte Platoon made jokes about their rampant swearing, the channel was switched to the news, where something caught their attention. The Anthrax Outbreak they caused at the village near the base they were held in, there was footage of CBRN teams descending on the ghost town to clean it up, with some particularly gruesome sights.
It was soon attributed to Acolyte Platoon, who the news said were "Turncoats actively collaborating with the bioterrorist Dr. Thrax and the Soviet Union", while they didn't care about being attributed to the USSR as they were friends for two years after the Shitstick Wars, they DID have a problem with being attributed to Thrax.
And that problem resulted in a very loud rant simultaneously caused by all twelve crewmen, which resulted in a prison unrest as the other prisoners had their ears deafened and rendered useless by the twelve of them.
Each member has one count of:
Collaboration with a Hostile Government
Collaboration with a Hostile Non-state Actor
Multiple counts of:
1st Degree Murder
2nd Degree Murder
Unlawful Possession of Weapons
Unlawful Possession of Ammunition
Destruction of Property
Possession of Stolen Property
Perverting the Course of Justice