Labrys 7 - The Game

[Scrasamax]

I can't believe it. Labrys 7, they are sending us to mutherfurbin Labrys 7. It would be more humane to juice me with poison, or strap me to an electric chair, or a d**ned gas chamber. Oh, you haven't heard of it? Let me tell you then, since you are all going there too.

You know all those war scenes and shoot-em ups you see in the holocasts and sim-theatres? Yeah those, the ones that look so real. Yeah, they look real because they are real. Yep, all of those soldiers you saw bite it in the last war flick really did die. And we are about to become the extras for the next flick. We get our weapons, and whatever else they need for the battle. We fight, and we try to furbin survive.

We are going to hit the ground running, bullets and lasers spamming all around us. We are going to crap our pants, cry for our mothers, wet ourselves, and somewhere along the line... we are going to die.

Some of us. Me, I'm going to get the hell off of that planet as quick as I can. There is some sort of reward if you win your battles, i dont know if it is a pardon, or what. I killed to end up getting sent here, and by God if it will get me out then that is what I will do.

*****

The transport was one of many. They landed, disgorging their cargos of condemned criminals armed with a variety of weapons from mundane to exotic. After 90 seconds, the transports lifted off, taking off at such a steep angle that the few men who clung desperately to their seats were shaken off to fall to their gory deaths.

Within twenty minutes, the air was whinging with tracer bullets and the incessant sound of machine guns and mortars falling like rain.

[Maggot]

Curtis screamed as an incoming bullet narrowly missed his face by a bare inch.  Pure terror coursing through his body, he flung himself behind a large rock and frantically reached for a grenade to screw onto the nozzle of his RPG-40 grenade launcher. If he'd known in advance that this was the fate that would await him for the cime he had commited, he would never have even looked at that young woman, let have raped and killed her. It was sick and vile, what they had done to him. He had been doped up on crack when he'd let his urges get the better of him. Surely a man didn't deserve such a gruesome end for something he'd commited when he didn't even have his sense working like they were supposed to.

As he took aim with the sight of his RPG, he silently swore that if he ever made it out alive, he'd be fleeing this f**ked up planet once he could save up enough money to get onboard the next transport. The people who ran this place were psychos, deranged butchers that needed to be locked even more than he did.  With one last furious curse, he squeezed the trigger of his weapon and watched expectantly as the grenade soared towards the source of the machine gun fire that had almost pulverised his head. 

[Scrasamax]

There was a heavy Crump sound and the machine gun fell silent. Other guns picked up, adding the semi-regular fire of rifles to follow up other machine guns, those not so close. Randall pressed his head to the rifle he was carrying. He thought for a moment, one bullet, through the temple and it would be over... No, that was the cowards way out, and he wasnt no punk to go down like that. Another convict fired a RPG, knocking out the machine gun nest.

He lifted, the rifle came to life in his hands, bullets chattering out of the barrel. Two, three men fell, blood spurting from ragged wounds. The rest of the 'enemy' cowered back down. Randall shouted at the man who took out the nest "Hey, you got any more of that good s**t?"

[Maggot]

Over the high pitched screams of dying men the and the shrill chatter of a motely collection of machine guns, M-16s and Ak-47s discharging their lethal loads, Curtis still managed to overhear the shouted question. A tremor of barely supressed fear and tension ran through his body and he instinctively reached for a new grenade to affix to his grenade launcher's nozzle, all the while suspiciously scanning the direction from which he had heard the inquiry.

''You'd better belief it, homeboy. Try to put a bullet through my head and you'll be the next fool who finds an RPG up his a*s.

[Scrasamax]

"we're on the same side!" Randall shouted. "I'll cover you, lets knock some more of these SOBs out of action before we get cheesed!"

[Maggot]

''Okay'', Curtis yelled back. ''Since I don't have much of a choice anyway, I'm gonna belief you. Just keep your end of the deal ''. With those words, he laid the stock of his grenade launcher against his shoulder in preparation for a fresh strike. He inhaled a deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves and then fired another grenade at the next source of hostile machine gun and rifle fire that he spotted.

[Scrasamax]

The machine gun fire lightened on their position, and fewer convicts were getting their insides blown outside by heavy gun fire. A few others, looking scared and clinging to old rifles like they were security blankets had started to tag along.

"Anyone know what this is supposed to be? What battle are we fighting?" One of the men asked, his faced smeared with blood and grime. "I mean, maybe it could help." Another man, doughy in the face and holding a submachine gun nodded vigrously.

"I'm not sure," Randall said, "Looks like late 20th, or early 21st from the weapons." He looked down at his own weapon. It looked like an old earth rifle, but instead of the stamped aluminum and high density plastics, it was made of standard synth-metal. All of the guns were. Replicas that worked. He grimaced as a mortar hit close, spewing up a geyser of dirt.

"What about the Urlichian invasion? That was 2170, and god knows what went into that one?" A thin man with beasy eyes said. "That's too late, besides, we are being shot at with guns, not beam weapons." Another said.

"I want off of this rock. There has to be a way out of here..." Randall said, holding his rifle. "I think I saw a spaceport when we were coming across. Might be a few miles from here... if we can make it, who knows, we might be able to steal one of those transports and hot-foot it off of this place..."

[Pariah]

"Like f**k we are.  This s**t they gave us was heavy duty back in it's day, but if they've got enough s**t to hand out to the f**king cons, what they f**k you think they got waiting for us up at the f**king port?"  Jay looked around, while pulling another drum out for his gun.   "F**k, don't see why I shouldn't go with you, at least numbnuts here knows which end of that thing to point at the enemy."

[Maggot]

''Watch it with the trashtalk, biatch'' Curtis snarled at the punk that had just dissed him to his face. ''Grind my nerves and I might not save your ass the next time those mofos decide to put a cap in it.''  Then, turning to the self-appointed leader of the group, he asked the most pressing question currently weighing on his mind.

''How the f**k do we get to the port without getting killed?  I want to get out of this sh*t-hole real bad''.

[Scrasamax]

"Either we play their game better than they can... or we don't play it at all." Randall said. "I dont mean throw down our guns, that'll just get us dead that much faster..."

[Maggot]

''You gotta be more specific than that, homie.'' Curtis drawled.  ''If you got a plan, now be the time to share it with us.''

[Scrasamax]

"It wasnt a big spaceport, maybe a couple miles of fence, some guard towers. No telling if they are manned or just auto-guns. Place like this, I bet there isn't a soul there, just all automated machinery, droids, and s**t like that."

[Pariah]

"Lead the way then, might as well die trying to do something than get a gutload of frag."  Grimacing as a round went whizzing by his ear, Jay cursed.  "Besides, I'd hate it if one of those f**kfaces got lucky and dropped my **s."

[Level]

The angry clack and whizz of bullets overhead and the constant ground shaking thumps of explosives made Damian pull his knees tighter into his chest and hug closer to the soggy brown earth at the bottom of the ditch. Physically thrown out of the transport shuttle, the weapon he had been given was lost in the struggle, not that he would have known how to use it anyway, and now here he was, trying desperately to hide from the killing going on all around with tears streaming down his cheeks and his pants full of his own excrement. Man he stank.

Suddenly three well armed and rough looking men dropped into the ditch behind him. All that Damian could do was straighten up as stiff as a board and with eyes wide with terror scream, " NOOOooooooo, don't kill me, pleeeeaaassee. And there it was again that now familiar feeling of warm liquid running down his leg.

[Maggot]

Curtis wrinked his nose in disgust as the combined stench of urine and fecal matter assaulted his nostrils. Barely containing his disgust, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

''You gotta be kidding me. This f*g ass c*nt crapped himself. Now there ain't no call for that. Ain't no call at all.''

[Scrasamax]

The current flight of shuttles have deposited some 450 new recruits for the 'Blue Team' to replace losses incurred in last week's Gunship/tank duel. Recruits are doing well, less than 1/4 were lost in initial combat or shuttle drop.

Auto-cameras are active. In 24 minutes will commence with filming for main battle sequences.

Activating following equipment:
4 Mi-6 Hind Gunship/drone replicas
2 Cobra Gunship/drone replicas
12 Bradley APC replicas
12 BMP APC replicas
6 T-72 replicas
2 M1A1 Abrams replicas

Radio controllers for ground coordination of gunships have been dropped. Red team has access to Cobra/Bradley/Abrams. Blue team has access to Hind/BMP/T-72. Tanks have auto-drive drones and will follow command of self appointed tank commander. Gunships will comply only with radio controller and will not land unless severely damaged.


_{All drone controllers are limited in function as sanctioned by the Butler Convention of 2260. Drones cannot be commanded to attack neutral structures, drones cannot attack without an organic commander}

[Scrasamax]

A few minutes later several things happened.

A low flying drone dropped a crate with a parachute and a smoke marker. "Ah hells bells, what are they giving us now?" the fat convict scowled. A second drone passed overhead, but did not drop it's crate until it was well past, probably over the concentration of the other group of convicts. As the crates fell, gunfire became sporadic, less sustained and more random shots of opportunity.

The ground shook, slightly at first, but mure urgently. A half squadron of Soviet era T-72 tanks growled up behind the lines of convicts. Their barrels were drapped with camo netting, and their hulls were studded with panels of reactive armor, single shot grenade launchers. As the tanks came to halt, the Hinds, large gunships heavy with rocket pods and chain guns, passed overhead and moved into a holding pattern awaiting further command from whomever grabbed the radio controller


*Tanks and gunships will move and fire their own weapons, but only with the voice command of a human. It isn't so much an RC controller as it is voice recognition.

[Maggot]

From the place of concealment that they ahd selected, Curtis's eyes widened in a combination of raw astonishment and utter panic as he saw the procession of tanks and gunships advance steadily. Despite himself, he begun to breathe raggedly, even his brow became damp with sweat.

''What the f*ck is going on now?'' he whispered to the man who'd proposed that they make their way to the port. ''Is this army supposed to kill us all?"

[Pariah]

"F**k." Jay said, looking around at the heavies that'd just rolled in.  Wiggling back down off the ridge he'd been layed out on, he looked over.  "No, not these ones.  Theres gonna be f**king equipment over there too, and in a little bit this place is gonna be a clusterf*k.  If y'all wanna have a chance of pulling outta this alive, I'd suggest we get at it now..."

[Scrasamax]

"This is how you play the game you d**ks!" One of the other convicts shouted, two others chased along behind him brandishing maching guns. The trio reached one of the big T-72 tanks, popping the hatches and sliding into the drone tank. The con in the turret gave a loud shout and the tank lurched forward. "Gotta get those f**ckers over there while they are jiggling their nuts like you buncha f*gs!"

The tank rolled over the embankment that they had been sheltering behind. Within a few seconds, bullets could be heard pinging off of the hull of the tank. The soviet monster responded with a deafing blast from the main cannon.

"Well," Randall said, "That's an idea"

[Maggot]

''So, is that it?'' Curtis asked in response to Randall's thoughtful comment. ''We just hijack one of these big ass tanks and haul ass for the port?''

[Scrasamax]

"Well, unless you have a better idea," Randall said as one of the T-72s blew apart, catching an Abrams shell in the turret ring.

[Maggot]

Curtis winced as the Soviet-era tank blew up, the sound of its explosion reverbrating for miles around.

''I wasn't dissing yo' plan, dawg. Just wanna make sure I heard you right. From this moment on, you da man.''

[Scrasamax]

"If you say so," Randall said. He kept low and sprinted not towards one of the big tanks, but towards one of the smaller BMP infantry transports. AS he approached the rear hatch slammed open and he ran into the belly of the machine. A second later, the engine roared to life as he slung the top hatch open. "ALL ABOARD MOTHER******S!'

[Maggot]

Inhaling a deep breath, Curtis begun sprinting towards the BMP transport that their provisional leader had just seized. His legs pumping furiously under him, Curtis made a straight bee-line for the armoured vehicle, terrified that if he paused for even a moment, it would rumble on and leave him behind to face the horrors of the T-72s and M1A1 Abrams.

As he reached the vehicle, he scrambled up its side and scooted inside. ''Let's roll, baby'', he gasped with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.