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Introduction:

Will Amy be able to fight off another enemy attack? Will Ming destroy the relief force? Will Cadet Chong survive her first battle?
Day 5
Like a fish out of water, Amy flops miserably on her bunk in the chill, predawn darkness. Although in a haze of fatigue, she finds it impossible to sleep. Still in her uniform, she rises from her bunk, and with leaden steps, makes her way to the door of the command post. Opening the door and peering out into the darkness, she knows that today will be a big day, perhaps the decisive day in the battle. The cold air slaps her in the face and helps her collect her thoughts. The relief force is on its way, she reflects. Yes, they’re mostly inexperienced girls, but they will be extra rifles in my firing line. And I’ll definitely need that extra firepower. But will they get here in time? She feels a mounting fear as the realization grips her that the enemy most likely will launch another attack today, and a bigger one than she had repelled two days earlier. They’re not going to make the same mistakes they made last time, Amy muses. If the relief force doesn’t get here before the attack is launched, all we can do is take as many of the enemy with us as we can. Exhausted, she shuts the door again and stumbles back to her bunk in a futile search for even a few moments of sleep.

Ming is fuming. Pacing the parade ground in front of the Cadet Barracks, she reflects on the orders given her the night before by the Colonel. Today will be the decisive day of the battle, and instead of leading the attack that will retake the captured Headquarters, she will be destroying an enemy relief force comprised of raw recruits. Nursing her fury, she surveys the Cadets lined up in formation on the parade ground. Cannon fodder! she snorts to herself contemptuously, giving a disgusted little shake of her head. The real work will be done by the two Shock Teams commanded by Lin and Yung, she reflects. But, I should be leading the attack! Or, at least it should be Chang! she rages silently, stamping her booted foot in frustration. Her gloomy reverie is suddenly broken by the voice of her faithful sergeant. “Lieutenant, the Colonel has sent us another Troop of Cadets,” Chang announces. “My Troop is at your disposal, Lieutenant,” the tall, pretty Cadet Leader announces, drawing herself to attention and saluting Ming smartly. “What orders do you have?” Ming addresses the eager teenager coldly. “To report to you and receive your orders, Lieutenant,” the Cadet Leader replies. “Shall we put them into the attack on the enemy Headquarters?” Chang interjects. For a moment, Ming does not respond, her fertile brain now working overtime. “No!” Ming suddenly responds sharply. “Have them accompany our Shock Team, Chang! I have something else in mind for them!” Turning her back on the Cadet Leader, she strides briskly towards her assembled Shock Team, with Chang following a pace behind. Catching a glimpse of the Quartermaster, she stops suddenly in her tracks. ”Quartermaster!” she shouts. “Yes, Lieutenant!” the Quartermaster responds, running up to Ming and saluting. “Why are these Cadets not ready for battle?” Ming asks angrily, indicating the two Cadets in high heels accompanying the Quartermaster. “They’re staff Cadets, Lieutenant,” the Quartermaster responds apologetically. “And how many staff Cadets do you have?” Ming queries her impatiently. “Ninety,” the Quartermaster replies. “That’s almost a whole Troop!” Ming exclaims incredulously. “Ninety women doing nothing! What’s the bare minimum you need to staff the barracks?” “I would have to review my roster, Lieutenant,” the Quartermaster replies, in the fumbling tone of the military bureaucrat. “You can have five,” Ming informs her abruptly. “Get the rest of them into boots and give them rifles.” “We don’t have any boots for them, Lieutenant. They’re only staff Cadets,” the Quartermaster replies in a flustered tone. ”I don’t care what they wear on their feet,” Ming responds. “Issue them rifles and have them join the attack on the enemy Headquarters!”

Cadet Chong is cold and hungry. Her 9 pound bolt action 7.62 mm rifle with its fixed bayonet is heavy. Standing in formation with her fellow cadets, she is wearing her familiar uniform, except for the patent leather boots that all the Cadets have pulled on this morning instead of their usual high heels. After quickly running through the cold showers before daybreak, she and her fellow cadets were given a lukewarm cup of weak green tea to fortify themselves with, before assembling on the parade ground. Chong can feel hunger stabbing her stomach. The girl standing to her right can’t stop yawning. Her friend from Bunk 21, standing to her left, is visibly shivering. “Are you OK?” Chong asks her in a whisper. “Yes, I guess so,” her friend responds unconvincingly, also in a whisper. “I’m just cold. And hungry.” “I’m hungry, too,” Chong agrees. “We’ve been standing here in formation for two hours. That would have given them more than enough time to feed us.” “Not only that, these boots are hurting my feet,” Chong’s friend persists. “Yes, they don’t fit very well,” Chong agrees. “But we can’t go into battle wearing our heels,” she shrugs resignedly. Presently, the Cadet Leader orders them to stand at ease, and the cadets begin to chat openly among themselves, but still receive no food. Chong and her friend are joking about their growling stomachs, when their first class cadet friend comes striding up to them. “Today is the big day!” she announces triumphantly. “It’s victory or death!” Chong and her friend glance at each other uneasily, somewhat embarrassed by the older girl’s impossibly gung ho attitude. “That’s pretty extreme,” Chong’s friend offers cautiously. The older girl stares at her in amazement. “Extreme! Don’t you realize what’s going to happen today? We’re going into battle!” the first class cadet almost shouts. “It is victory or death! Either they die or we die! Don’t you know that they don’t take prisoners?” “I’ve heard that, and I can’t believe its true,” Chong interjects hesitantly. “Well, they do take prisoners and then execute them,” the older girl concedes. “Just like we do.” “We execute prisoners?” Chong asks in a shocked voice. “Why?” “Because this is a war of annihilation, that’s why!” the first class cadet replies in a fervent tone, a fierce gleam in her eye. “I watched Lieutenant Ming personally execute ten of the blonde animals last week. And I’m glad she did it! I hate them! I hate them all!” the older girl cries out, working herself into a frenzy. Before a shocked Chong or her friend can reply, the voice of the Cadet Leader rings out again. “Fall in!” “Good luck today, my friends!” the first class cadet wishes her two younger comrades before scurrying back to her place in the front ranks. “What do you think of your hero now?” Chong’s friend asks her in a whisper. “Oh, she’s a first class cadet,” Chong offers apologetically, but still uneasily. “She’s gone through all the Political Socialization courses at the Academy. I’m sure she’s exaggerating.” “But Lieutenant Ming is one of our best officers. Why would she execute prisoners?” Chong’s friend asks in a puzzled tone. “I’m sure there must have been some reason for it,” Chong replies uneasily. “The prisoners who were executed probably committed some kind of battlefield atrocities, like killing the wounded or something horrible like that.” “Well, I’m more worried about the enemy killing us if we’re taken prisoner,” her friend replies. “No need to worry about that,” Chong responds confidently. “We’re definitely going to win this battle. And even if somehow we did get taken prisoner, the enemy would have no reason to execute us. We’re going to fight clean, like real women.” “Well, I hope you’re right,” her friend replies quietly. At a shouted command from the Cadet Leader, the massed ranks begin to move forward.

“Are you sure we should be stopping here, Sarge?” the senior corporal in the Blonde relief force asks her commander, as the three platoons of recruits break formation to take a brief rest in a large park on the outskirts of the city. “The girls need some rest, corporal,” replies the Sergeant. “We’re only a mile from our objective, but we’re not in the city yet. We’re perfectly safe here. Get the other corporals over here so we can plan our next move.” The corporal complies, uneasily. The blasted out ruins of the city loom menacingly to the east, while to the north is a small rise of ground, a hillock that can conceal enemy troops on its reverse slope. I hope sarge knows what she’s doing, the corporal muses as she rounds up the other noncoms. For their part, the fresh faced 16 year old recruits, grateful for the respite from their long march, loll on the ground, happily sipping water from their canteens and chattering and giggling with each other. They are close to their objective, and at this moment the war seems very far away.

Like a ravenous bird of prey, Ming surveys the Blonde recruits through her binoculars from the third floor of a blasted out office building in the city. She allows herself a satisfied little smirk as she scans the ranks of the enemy recruits taking their ease in the greenery of the park. They stopped exactly where I wanted them to, she reflects triumphantly. “Are the Cadets in position, Chang?” Ming inquires, glancing down quickly from her binoculars. “Yes, Lieutenant,” Chang replies, lying prone on her belly, peering through the scope of her sniper rifle. “They will move in to the attack when we fire the first shots.” “Excellent!” Ming replies, again peering through her binoculars, her attention now drawn to the four Blondes standing clustered together in the center of the bivouac. I’ll let the Cadets do the dirty work; no sense in risking any of the women in my Shock Team, she reflects silently. Those are the leaders, Ming decides, honing in on the quartet of Blondes deep in earnest conversation. They will be the first to be eliminated. “Chang, you will take the tall woman in the center who is speaking to the other three,” Ming quietly orders. “Kwan, you will eliminate the woman standing to her right,” Ming instructs the Shock Trooper lying in firing position at Chang’s side. “You will fire on my command.” The two black clad warriors zero their scopes in on the two blonde heads. Breathlessly, they wait for their Lieutenant to give the order. Ming takes her time, focusing first on the enemy noncoms through her binoculars, then scanning the lounging recruits, before returning her gaze to the Sergeant and her corporals. She observes them for a long moment, gazing intently at the pretty, earnest face of the blonde Sergeant as she elaborates her plans to her subordinates. Still, Ming remains silent. Chang and Kwan lie in readiness, barely able to stand the suspense any longer. Their targets are 1000 yards away, and they have a clear field of fire. Suddenly, they hear Ming’s calm clear voice ring out like a bell. “Fire!”

The blonde Sergeant and her senior corporal never hear the sound of the shots that slam into their skulls almost simultaneously. The hollow points explode inside their brains and they are both flung lifeless to the ground as the two surviving corporals throw themselves flat. Hearing the shots the young blonde recruits grab their weapons and scramble to their feet, just as a shouting rank of Asian Cadets, bayonets leveled, comes storming down on them. Huddled together in bewildered clusters of twos and threes, the blondes fire a ragged, panicked volley with their M-16s, felling several of their charging enemies. The bulk of the cadets crash into the center of the mass of blondes, and begin stabbing with their bayonets. Several blondes go down, run through by Asian steel, but with the two surviving corporals shouting “Steady! Steady!” the blonde girls recover and begin fighting back with their own fixed bayonets. The blondes shake off their fear and shouting, grunting 15 and 16 year old girls now engage in the ultimate cat fight to the death. Enraged at the brutal killing of their sisters, the blondes work themselves up into a battle frenzy that matches that of their opponents. The battle is fought with an animal fury that no struggle between men could ever replicate. The girls on both sides have been trained to thrust low, aiming for their opponents’ bellies, so as to inflict the most agonizing wounds on their victims. Loud screams of agony rend the air as bayonets are eagerly thrust home. The cadets’ rifles are longer, but also heavier and more difficult to handle than the M-16s of the blondes. More blondes directly in the path of the charging cadets go down, skewered by the longer reach of the Asian bayonets, but this first rank of attacking cadets has outrun all of the other ranks, and has no force to support it. Outnumbered more than two to one, the cadets suddenly find themselves surrounded by blue eyed warriors intent on giving them no quarter. Now the cadets’ longer rifles become a fatal handicap, as they clumsily and unsuccessfully try to swing them in the direction of enemies closing in on them from all sides. Stabbing repeatedly, delighting in the feel of their bayonets sliding deep into the flesh of their enemies, the blondes close in on the diminishing cluster of Asians, stepping over the bodies of fallen cadets as they thrust again and again at their surviving sisters. No mercy is shown as the blondes inflict multiple wounds on each cadet, intent on ensuring the death of every last one of their opponents. Soon, a feminine cry of triumph arises from the fair haired ranks; every single one of their enemies lies dead at their feet. Their triumph is shared by their two corporals. These 16 year old recruits have passed their first test in battle and have emerged victorious. Seven blondes lay dead, but the rest of the unit is intact, aroused for further battle, and with 20 dead cadets to their credit. “Form up! Form up!” the senior surviving corporal calls out as she and her fellow noncom shake the recruits out into a firing line. The blonde recruits now face a second charge from another rank of their adversaries.

Less than a quarter mile to the north, on the crest of the hillock, the 17 year old Asian Cadet Leader is appalled. She has completely lost control of her 100 girl troop. She didn’t have her troop ready when the two signal shots rang out and her first rank of Cadets went charging pell mell down the slope. Even worse, the second rank, along with some stragglers from the third, has also blindly charged ahead. Now, the rest of the troop begins to move forward in a disorganized mass, eager for battle and yet not organized for it. Enraged, the Cadet Leader throws herself in front of the remainder of her troop, shouting, stamping her feet, waving her sword. Forcing them to a halt, she forms them in a long thin line whose charge will overlap the ranks of the enemy. Even with our first two ranks gone, we still outnumber the enemy, she reflects, as sword at the carry, she leads her depleted troop down the slope towards the enemy at a slow, deliberate pace.

The blondes level their M-16s and fire at the second enemy charge. Screams of agony rise from the ranks of the cadets, as charging Asian girls are knocked off their feet by the flying lead. Now more steady and disciplined, the fire of the blondes this time takes down more of the enemy than the panicked volley fired in the initial attack, but the senior corporal is dissatisfied at the still relatively low death toll inflicted on the enemy. They’re aiming too high, she assesses the fire of her recruits, a time worn defect of all young soldiers their first time in battle. Soon, the earlier scene is repeated as the cadets crash into the blonde battle line, and another vicious bayonet fight ensues. The killing is savage, personal and merciless, as pairs of blue eyes and brown eyes lock onto each other, each drawing energy from the burning hatred of the other. More and more girls are consumed in the close quarters maelstrom of slaughter as the destructive fury that women are only capable of directing at each other is fully unleashed. The blonde junior corporal goes down, dropped with a bayonet thrust square in her belly. Eventually, the pattern of the first bayonet fight is repeated, with the isolated, unsupported second rank of cadets wiped out, just like the first. Another seven dead blondes. Twenty five more dead cadets. Recruits rush to the side of the fallen blonde corporal, but her sightless eyes staring at the open sky tell a tale of quick, brutal death. The depleted ranks of the recruits now form up to face the final onslaught from the mass of cadets drawing near.

The last surviving blonde corporal takes careful aim and squeezes the trigger. Her slug smacks into the upper chest of the Cadet Leader, hitting her just above the heart. “Charge!” the Cadet Leader gasps, even as two more slugs thump into her body and slam her onto her back. “Steady!” the blonde corporal calls out. “Steady! Hold your fire! Aim low girls! Aim low!” she exhorts her recruits. Catching sight of the crumpled bodies of their slain sisters littering the battlefield, the cadets let out a loud cry of rage. The screaming, charging mass of cadets draws ever nearer to the blonde firing line. The blondes hold their fire, intent on inflicting maximum carnage on their opponents at close range. “Fire!” the corporal finally yells, and the recruits cut loose with a volley of hollow point slugs that brutally bowls over a file of cadets at point blank range. Once again, however, the momentum is too strong, and the Asian girls with their bayonets slam into the blonde ranks for a third time. This time, however, it is the blondes who are outnumbered two to one. They sell their lives dearly, and take more cadets with them in the ensuing bayonet fight, but weight of numbers begins to tell. As before, the killing is merciless. A pretty 15 year old Asian girl, on a battlefield for the first time, thrusts her bayonet into the belly of an equally pretty 16 year old blonde. Above the din of dozens of other girls fighting and dying all around her, she can hear her opponent let out a loud gasp of agony. Pulling her heavy rifle back as quickly as she can, the cadet surprises herself by uttering a savage little cry as she thrusts the bayonet forward again into her blonde victim. The blonde staggers backward, her rifle falling out of her hands. Gasping heavily, she drops to her knees before flopping over onto her side. The cadet steps triumphantly over her vanquished foe, leaving her to die in agony as the combat swirls around her. The Asian girl happily notes the blood now glistening on her bayonet. Soon it will be dripping red as the blood of a second and then a third blonde girl mingles with that of the first. All around her the carnage reaches a crescendo as more and more blondes are mercilessly done to death. Stabbing her way through the enemy ranks, the young cadet hones in one enemy soldier in particular, the one shouting orders to the other blondes. She’s mine, the cadet vows to herself, intent on anointing her blade with the blood of the blonde leader. Reaching the enemy noncom, the cadet thrusts low with vengeful determination. The blonde corporal cries out in agony as the cadet’s bayonet plunges deep into her belly. Doubling over in pain, she drops her rifle and sinks to her knees. “This is the enemy corporal!” the exultant cadet calls out. Two of her comrades come running up and pull the gasping, mortally wounded corporal to her feet. They hold their enemy upright, as with a loud cry of triumphant rage, the cadet thrusts home her bayonet again, plunging it to the hilt into her helpless enemy’s bowels. The blonde’s eyes roll back in her head, her mouth drops open and her body sags. The two cadets holding her try to pull her upright again for one final thrust, but realizing that the limp form is now beyond further pain or pleasure, they pitch her face forward into the dust, discarding her like trash. More and more death screams fill the air as more blondes feel cold Asian steel thrust deep into their vitals. Their ranks rapidly thinning, the blondes are now tightly hemmed in by a hedge of Asian bayonets and every thrust strikes home. Finally, an anguished young female voice cries out “Stop!” Throwing down her rifle and flinging her hands into the air, a young blonde recruit offers her surrender. Her example is quickly followed by her two surviving fellow recruits. For a moment, the cadets stare at their three frightened prisoners, holding their hands high in the air. “We should kill them!” the battle frenzied 15 year old cadet snarls, preparing to lunge with her bayonet. “No!” a 16 year old first class Cadet calls out, intervening to spare the prisoners, at least for the moment. “We must take them to back to the Barracks! They will be dealt with there!”

Ming, Chang and the Shock Team arrive on the scene after the three blonde prisoners have been led away. The battlefield is strewn with the dead, the dying and the wounded. Ming watches as a cadet walks up to a blonde recruit writhing in agony on the ground, her olive drab uniform soaked with blood. Holding her rifle in both hands, the cadet thrusts downward with all her might, plunging her bayonet into the blonde’s belly. The blonde lets out a loud cry of anguish, raising her hands feebly in a futile attempt to defend herself. The cadet stabs again and again at the squirming young body, until finally the blonde lies still. Nearby, another cadet savagely kicks a wounded blonde in the head before finishing her off with her bayonet. All over the battlefield, these brutal scenes are repeated, as all of the wounded blondes are mercilessly done to death. Turning to a different scene, Ming watches another cadet propping up one of her wounded comrades and giving her a drink from her canteen. “Should we call medical teams for the wounded cadets, Lieutenant?” Chang breaks the silence. “Not yet, Chang. We may have wounded Shock Troopers who will need assistance today,” Ming replies crisply, keeping in mind the imminent attack on the blonde Headquarters. “The medical teams must be kept in readiness for them.” Just then, Ming hears the distant sound of gunfire to the north. The battle for the Headquarters has begun. We’ll never be able to get there in time, she reflects darkly. Everything is now up to the two Shock Team Sergeants. Lin is aggressive to the point of rashness and Yung can be overly analytical and cautious at the most crucial times, Ming muses, focusing on the primary weaknesses of the two women. Hopefully they’ll balance each other out, she thinks, heaving a deep sigh. Ming watches the surviving cadets form up and march off the corpse strewn battlefield. She and Chang walk past the body of the Cadet Leader, flat on her back, eyes wide open, her face frozen in her death agony. I’m glad the little slut is dead, Ming reflects vengefully. She completely bungled the attack. Disgraceful! Ming, Chang and the Shock Team follow the cadets off the field, leaving the wounded cadets behind. In one of the cruelest ironies of war, the defeated blondes finished off by enemy bayonets suffer less than the victorious Asian wounded who linger in agony, vainly waiting for their medical teams. By the time the medical teams reach the field just before midnight, all the wounded cadets have expired after lingering in agony for hours.

Even as the last of the wounded blonde recruits of the relief force are being finished off just a mile away, the Asian assault on the Headquarters complex has begun. Shock Team Sergeant Lin hesitates only for a moment at the blasted out entrance to the high rise just to the northeast of the Headquarters complex. Sergeant Yung’s Shock Team will be joining hers to use this position as the jumping off point for the attack, but Lin sees no need to wait for her colleague. Aggressive by nature, Lin is eager to secure the high rise and neutralize any threats that may be there. There are no enemy troops here, she concludes after just a moment’s analysis. Let’s deploy inside and wait for Yung to get here, she decides, sprinting forward and motioning for her Troopers to follow. Almost immediately, darting shadows within the cavernous building tell her that her conclusion was wrong, and she can hear the zing of bullets whizzing past her ears. Firing a burst with her AK-47, she drops into a crouch inside the cold, clammy ruins of the building. Her Shock Team fans out into a skirmish line, and she orders “Hold your fire!” The interior of the building is dark and dismal, and there’s no sense in wasting ammunition, she muses. More popping, more zinging bullets. Peering into the gloom ahead of her, Lin can see muzzle flashes at the end of a long narrow corridor off to her left. Suddenly, she hears popping coming from her right front, and sees a muzzle flash at the far end of the building about 300 feet away. More bullets whizz past her ears, while others chip the tile floor in front of the Shock Team. Enemy stragglers, Lin concludes. We will neutralize them easily. “Corporal! Take a section and clear that corridor!” she orders, pointing to the left. “The rest of you, follow me!” Lin and seven of her Troopers surge forward to the right, covering each other as they advance. We’ll have disposed of these enemy stragglers by the time Yung gets here, Lin assures herself confidently.

The corridor down which the corporal and her section of three Shock Troopers are charging is extremely narrow, only 3 feet across. Whoever was firing at them has already disappeared, and they will not have to confront their unseen enemy until reaching the end of the corridor. Sprinting forward two by two, shoulder to shoulder, their weapons at the ready, the Shock Troopers pass an apparently abandoned and locked janitor’s closet. They do not even bestow a second glance on the innocuous closed door, if they even notice it at all. But no sooner have they jogged past it than the closet door silently opens. Julie steps out and slams down the switch on the emergency fire system, located on the cinderblock wall right next to the closet. The sprinkler system has long since run dry, but the rest of the emergency system’s components are still functional. The Shock Troopers stop in their tracks as the blaring klaxon siren pierces their ears. The two Troopers running in front drop into a crouch, while the two women running behind them whirl around and face the way they had come. To their amazement, the huge iron fire doors begin to descend from the ceiling in front and behind them. Confused, the quartet of black clad women hesitate. The two young women to the rear face forward again, almost instinctively. Suddenly, from a doorway in front of them, a shadowy figure pops out and fires a three round burst. The fire is wild, and none of the Shock Troopers is hit, but the two Troopers in front blast back with their AK-47s, as the fire doors clang even lower. “Go! Go!” screams the corporal to the Trooper next to her, realizing that the doors are now so low, that only one of the four can make it out. Diving onto her stomach, the Trooper hurls herself at the narrowing aperture. As she propels herself forward, she can see a pair of boots in front of her, and is conscious of the metallic object skidding past her, towards her three comrades. She barely manages to make it through the narrow opening. As the door clangs to the floor behind her, she leaps to her feet.

When Julie came up with this plan, I thought she was crazy, Ellen reflects, her mind racing with excitement as she pulls the pin on the grenade. But it’s actually working! With the fire door now three quarters of the way shut, she cold bloodedly gives the grenade a rolling toss, even as she sees a black clad figure sliding out from underneath. The fire door clangs down, the Shock Trooper bounces to her feet, and immediately goes down again, taking 3 slugs from Ellen’s M-16. Ellen throws herself flat on the tile floor.

As the fire door rapidly descends, the three remaining Shock Troopers watch their friend scramble to freedom. She’ll be able to neutralize that enemy soldier and let us out of here, the corporal reasons confidently. And if worse comes to worse, Sergeant Lin and the rest of the Team will be able to help us. She is at first bewildered by the metallic object that skates under the fire door just before it clangs shut and skids to a stop three feet in front of her. Huddled behind her, one of the other Troopers feels an unknown object thud against the heel of her boot. The clang of the door jolts the corporal to realization: it’s a grenade! Almost simultaneously, just as the back fire door comes down, the Trooper behind her spins around, looks down at her feet and utters a little cry of horror. The object that had thumped up against her boot is also a grenade! Three young women in a three foot wide, ten foot long confined space are now staring doom in the face. In the nanosecond remaining to her, the corporal suddenly feels her mouth go dry. Simultaneously, two brief, brilliant flashes illuminate her world and that of her companions for a fleeting moment in time, and then all goes forever black.

The mortally wounded Shock Trooper lies on her back in front of the now closed metal fire door. Softly moaning, she is rocked by the twin concussions behind her, and realizes the cruel fate that has befallen her friends. She hears the rapid steps of her adversary hurrying towards her, and painfully raises her head, looking for her weapon. She spots it, lying just out of reach at her feet. Defeated, she lowers her head back to the floor, and begins softly murmuring her broken, dying thoughts to herself. As her eyes dim, she sees the blonde standing triumphantly over her, rifle pointing down at her head. A brilliant muzzle flash, and then all too, goes dark for her.

After firing two slugs into the head of the supine Shock Trooper, Ellen steps back from the fire door as it begins to rise again, with billowing smoke curling up from beneath it. Standing at the opposite door is Julie, and the two blondes watch as the rising steel curtains reveal a tableau of horror. Between them, both blondes have brought death to hundreds of young women on the battlefield, but even they are appalled by the handiwork they have wrought in the confined space between the two fire doors. Three formerly attractive 18 and 19 year old Asian women lie in a grotesque pile, their bodies shredded by the twin grenade blasts. Thick pools of blood are on the floor, and streaks of blood adhere to the concrete walls like the brush strokes of a demented artist of death. The entrails of one Shock Trooper are spilling out of her belly, and are coated with the brains a second girl, the back of whose skull is completely blown off. The third girl lies on her back, face miraculously still intact, but with everything below the waist completely obliterated. The pool of blood pouring out of her is not red, but black. Julie gags and turns away. Ellen coolly walks through the scene of horror, carefully skirting the massive pools of blood on the floor. Detachedly, she notes a skull fragment, with a clump of long black hair attached to it, sticking to the wall, its former owner’s pulverized brains acting as an adhesive. The two blondes now hurry toward the sound of firing at the other end of the building.
1 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2013-12-31 01:32:17
Finally it's it! Good work! Hope to see a good bayonet-belly-execution on those prisoners like day 1.

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