www.funnyjunk.com/text/4430891/Just+something+I+m+writing+part+4
Out of nowhere the rest of the squadron arrived, jetpacks roaring through the sky as they landed. Two more had died since the landing, leaving a solid 52 troopers to get the job done. They all used their thrusters to blast themselves forward, mixing up with the Scral. Now prevented from using their land mines to good effect, the flamethrowers and heavy pistols made short work of any Scral that came close to a trooper. Within seconds, dozens of shrieks blocked out the sounds of flamethrowers, pistol shots, and even the sound of the constant firing of the guns. In less than a minute, the entire assault group had been terminated, and the 51 troopers had breached the perimeter.
It didn't take long before most of the outlying machine gun nests had been destroyed. They split up once again, disappearing into the tunnels.
Garell turned on his night vision, knowing the Scral had the upper hand in the tunnels, with their own radar confused, and rendered almost useless. Now it was guts versus guts. A Scral popped up behind him, his gun blaring. By the time he had poked his out of the ground, Garell had already taken a step to the side. As the Scral realized his target had moved, he felt a pressure against his head, before the steel boot completely crushed his face. Another Scral discovered Garell's frightening reflexes a few seconds later. And when three of them decided to leap out of a different tunnel and ambush him, they were turned into torches before they even had the chance to fire at him.
He fought his way through the tunnels, trying to go further in, and move upwards at the same time. Their flamethrowers lighting the way and Scral alike, their grenades tearing through any organized resistance they encountered.
After half an hour of slow, intense fighting, the fortress was left ruined, the batteries annihilated. Not a single Scral left alive.
Thirty-eight troopers assembled at a nearby spot that was easy to defend.
"Fleet Command, this is Assault Group Alpha, we have cleared the fortress, but no sign of an HQ. Requesting orders, over." the group sergeant, Alfons, reported to their CO.
"Roger that, Alpha. Move up north to target 174. Group Theta has been wiped out there. Investigate, over."
"Roger Fleet Command." the sergeant responded, turning to the rest of the group.
"Alright people, listen up. Theta's gotten wiped out, and we gotta return the favor. Let's go!"
