Author: Jack Nightingale PM
Thompson Taylor is out for revenge. After serving his masters for nearly a hundred years, he was subjected to experiments so cruel that the pain alone could have killed a hundred men... Yet he still lives to fight on. With his best friend dead, and a God Son to protect, Taylor will stop at nothing to see his torturers six feet under. (CONTAINS VIOLENCE, GORE AND LANGUAGE)Rated: Fiction T - English - Sci-Fi/Adventure - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,293 - Published: 12-18-12 - id: 3084005
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Here we go…
America only joined the war because they wanted revenge.
The Japanese Imperial Army bombed a key Naval Facility on the island of Hawaii: Pearl Harbor.
Because of this, the Allies were actually starting to win the war after all. The American navy had reached a key island in the chain leading up to mainland Japan, and they were going to take it.
A new company turned up though, offering to provide confidential assistance to the Americans, as long as the Company kept secret.
This assistance came in the form of a small squad, of which no one thought would make any difference.
But they did.
Oh how they did.
There were six men in the team, the Sergeant, the marksman, the scout, the medic, the support gunner and the shot gunner.
The team was packed into a small landing craft, amongst another, well-trained squad.
The 'help' from the company was known as the 'Lock Down Squad', due to their winning tactic of surrounding their enemies, besieging them until they yield.
And now, here they were, fighting alongside the American soldiers in Japan.
A younger man in the American squad looked round,
examining the tall, muscular Brit before him.
His helmet was tilted to one side, the safety straps undone.
His jaw was covered in short stubble, a short cigarette resting between his lips.
His camouflage shirt hung open, a T-Shirt tight enough to show off his toned muscles.
A 'Tommy' gun rested in his hands, intricate carvings chipped into the wooden handles of the weapon.
His holsters on his trousers were holding two colts, polished chrome shining in the light.
His name was Sergeant Thompson 'Tommy Gun' Taylor.
The young man knew the name.
This man's squad had helped in the capture of Okinawa and several other Islands.
So… that left the others.
Private Charlie Brett was chewing a cocktail stick, shotgun cradled in his arms.
Corporal Desmond Wayfield had his lucky Springfield strapped to his back, cap on his head.
One of the men leant against the side of the transport.
He looked Asian, a B.A.R rifle hanging from his back.
He too was smoking… a small smirk spreading across his face. Anthony Creed.
A small sword was sheathed at his side, two large pistols holstered on either hip.
The final one was dressed in smarter uniform than the others, a cap perched atop his head.
This must be their officer, Roland.
A large wave hit the transport, sending the young man over the side of the vehicle.
Thompson didn't even flinch.
"Don't bother." He spoke calmly to one of the other men, looking over to try help him back up.
The man looked distraught, obviously a friend of the drowning man.
The transport began to shake more now, speed increasing.
The driver poked his head out of the cabin,
"We're nearly there… lock and loads guys!"
The back of the transport suddenly became full of life, the marines readying themselves for the assault.
They could hear the Japanese now, bullets clanging noisily off the side of the vehicle.
Creed ducked down, holding his head as a bullet soared past, just a centimeter above his head.
That one was going to pay.
"Alright, we're just about…" The drivers voice cut out, red spraying out of the cabin.
Desmond ran pushed his way forward, yelling at the other man in the cabin to get them to shore safely.
The new driver closed the viewing hatch, seeing as it was just a simple job of keeping the pedal down and driving straight.
The initial landing was rough.
A Japanese artillery shell landed just in front of the transport, tipping it over onto one side.
Out of the twelve men in the transport, only eight made it out. Creed counted to three, knowing Dead Eye had done the same.
He mantled the build up of dirt, sprinting at full speed towards the trench up ahead.
His B.A.R fired, chewing up the Japanese men in the trench ahead.
When the weapon clicked, the magazine empty, Creed hurled it at one of the Japanese, knocking him off his feet.
He drew his pistols, leaping into the air.
He planted his feet on one Jap's chest, firing as he went.
He snarled, the animal inside forcing its way to the surface.
Creed barreled forward, Japanese troops falling dead around him, Dead Eye and Thompson picking them off as they entered the trench.
He fired at another, dropping him to the ground.
An officer entered daylight at the wrong time.
Creed saw him, just as the animal emerged.
Creed snarled, tackling the officer to the ground.
He punched him, over and over again, bruises already showing…
Someone fired at him, interrupting Creed's frenzy.
And Creed didn't like it.
He cracked the officer's neck, before sprinting towards the brave Japanese soldier.
It seemed that, at first, the Jap might actually have won…
But then his rifle jammed.
Creed drew his blade, plunging the metal deep into the Jap's chest.
He didn't even have chance to start removing the jam before Creed reached him.
Unfortunately, Creed had little time to savor the moment before more Imperial soldiers rounded a corner.
All of Creed's ammunition was spent, leaving him with no option but to hide behind cover.
The assassin rolled to one side in time, dozens of bullets tearing through the air. And as though the situation could not get any worse, a shrill cry filled the air.
After a quick glance around the corner, he calculated that the Martyrs would be on him in a matter of seconds.
"Crap, crap, crappety crap…"
Then he smiled.
Thompson Taylor landed in the trench, face contorted in an evil grin. Creed's grin disappeared when he discovered that Taylor was unarmed.
The first Bonsai hurled himself at Taylor, screaming as he did so. Thompson planted a fist in the Jap's face, shattering the Martyr's skull instantly.
Hand bloodied, Taylor snatched the 'Arisaka' rifle from another, forcing the bayonet into his foot.
He screamed, although was cut short by a powerful kick from the Sergeant.
More blood spurted everywhere, Taylor's foot now implanted in the Jap's stomach.
Now, the challenge was to fight off the rest whilst trying to free his foot from its gory prison.
"Uh… Creed? A hand here?"
Anthony crawled through the dust and mud to Taylor's feet, grimacing at the sight.
Thompson span, knocking a Jap over.
Creed groaned, the body squelching as Taylor shifted his weight around.
"Stop moving around! You're squirting blood everywhere!" As if on queue, the stomach exploded from the stress, spewing a vile liquid onto Creed's uniform.
"I swear to God… I'm gonna kill you when we get out of here Taylor."
Thompson broke a Martyr's nose, laughing.
More were coming.
Despite the mess that was inevitably coming, Taylor made one last decision.
His leg snapped forwards, firing the corpse at his comrades, entrails leaving a rather gruesome trail towards the small squad down the trench.
Creed stood, not quite sure if he should believe what Taylor had just done.
"I can't believe it…"
Thompson laughed, "Just wait 'til the others hear about it, eh? It's gonna be a laugh."
Creed shrugged, picking up a Type 99 from the ground.
"Let's just finish this already."
The two climbed out of the trench, stopping instantly.
Taylors mouth was open in awe at the sight, a huge Japanese Air Base just waiting for them.
"Here we go then…"