Fog of War
They were waiting for us.
“Ambush, that’s original.”, thought Alberts.
It’s dark; feels industrial in here. I look at the team. These are kids, not soldiers. Got more teeth than pubic hair.
“Sir, I smell ambush.”
I give Dawson the sign to shut the hell up. I look at the door, heart is pounding. They told me to improvise. I look at the team; they’re waiting for an order. Crazy bastards. I wave my hands; breach and clear. They look at me like I’m crazy. I am.
“Sarge, I got heat tags all over that room. They know we’re here.”, whispers Knowles.
“Stuff it Knowles; move on my order.”, says Alberts.
Several small flashes beyond the door. Shit.
“Move!”, orders Alberts.
Dawson breaches. He’s dead before he hits the floor.
“Sarge. Sarge!”. The voice is muted under gunfire. “SARGE!” Great! What now.
“Dammit Alberts. Time’s up. Out of the chair.”, says Hartley.
The simulator lights come up.
“Just when I had them.”, mutters Alberts.
“Sure. Whatever you say. My turn anyways.”, says Hartley.