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[Battle report] Smoking Guns at the Temple- Mishima vs. Capitol vs. Ilian (SG2)

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Horned Owl:
Kakibara Hideo kneeled at ease on the dais in his formal business suit, his swords sheathed, his hands clasped loosely on his knees. He watched as his last remaining Ashigaru fought Ilian´s abominations, and lost. Sergeant Inoue valiantly tried to bar one of the creatures´ way towards his Lord, and was cut down. One Templar was twitching on the ground, pockmarked by smoking bullet holes, but the other two disentangled themselves from the dead and frozen Ashigaru and advanced towards him. It was a solemn moment. He slowly and deliberately drew his sword.

Then a burst of gunfire exploded one Templar´s head. Its companion did not flinch. But in the split second that its attention had been diverted, Hideo leaped at it, his blade blurring through the air. The Templar parried, impossibly, jerking up the sword with its own blade and punching him in the chest with its free hand. Ribs cracked, and Hideo was thrown across the room like a limp rag doll. Just at that moment, Lieutenant O´Neill threw himself forward and stabbed out with his own sword, arm extended, in a desperate attack. The Templar seemed to nod once, then collapsed in a heap. The blade snapped and froze over.

Horned Owl:
Lieutenant O´Neill took a deep breath. His sword arm was numb; he dropped the shattered hilt with a clatter. Gingerly, he stepped around the creatures´ empty remains, fastidiously avoiding the Templar´s blade which looked like a deep pool of nothingness on the floor. When looked at from the corner of his eye, it seemed to writhe subtly, like a living creature, and he imagined it watching him with cold, hard eyes. It made him uneasy to turn his back on it. He checked the Mishiman´s pulse: alive. Good.

He raised his rifle with his good hand, then hesitated. This man had bravely rushed the creature, distracting it for O´Neill to get in the killing stroke. Now he lay there helpless, the objective of today´s raid. A quick pull on the M50´s trigger, and the mission would be accomplished. He felt a sudden cold passion, an overwhelming urge to kill, rippling and pulsing outward from the black blade. Terrified, he shook himself and fought the alien impulse down. His hand was trembling, and forcing the finger away from the trigger was the hardest thing he had ever done. He flipped the safety with a huge wash of relief, eased the tension out of his shoulders and sighed.

There was the sound of a ****ed weapon behind him. A small bespectacled Mishiman with a round brown face stood in the doorway, aiming a Shogun at O´Neill´s back with a shaking hand. On a chain around his neck hung a tiny silver Cardinal´s cross, and he clutched at it like a drowning man.

O´Neill lowered his rifle. He felt like laughing. The small man slowly, warily, entered the room.

"Your leader is wounded", the Lieutenant said hoarsely. "He fought with courage. Please try and get him to safety. There is a radio in the next room, if my memory is right." The Mishiman gave the tiniest of nods, his face unreadable. O´Neill threw him a quick salute, and ducked out of the doorway.

Shouldn´t you have pulled the trigger, Calquhoun O´Neill?, the Lieutenant thought as he walked through the corridor towards the entrance. There will be hell to pay once you get home. A severe reprimand, at the least. The Special Forces always get the job done. No excuses. You had him in your sights.

To hell with it, he thought. I won´t kill a valiant man who tried to help me in cold blood. Not for Irving-Jorgensen and his petty revenge. Let them court-martial me if they want to. The Strikers´ way is the honourable way. Let´s try to get Miller and his spotter off that wall, collect the boys, then head for home.

Suddenly, he felt very tired.

Horned Owl:
There, I did it. I mentioned a ****ed gun.  :-[

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