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Sergeant Tuke stared at the lip of the crater, lho stick burning into his right hand. It took him a moment to realise that the stub had burnt into his fingers. He quickly expelled the offending butt onto the ground, swearing as he sucked on his now burnt index finger.

“Sarge?”

Tuke spun his head, finger still in his mouth. A gaunt and unshaven trooper sauntered toward him, Lasrifle hanging off of his chest. Trooper Gerrick stopped beside the sergeant, drawing out a thick match from the top pocket of his dark green shirt.

“You want the honours?”

Looking at Gerrick, Tuke shook his head slightly.

“Fine.”

Gerrick looked across the pit at the four soldiers standing on the opposite edge some thirty metres away. Each one was shaking the last few drops from a promethium can, having just climbed up the edge of the crater.

One of the troopers saw Gerrick, and gave him a thumbs up, stepping back into the scorched dirt of the jungle clearing. Gerrick returned the gesture, and then, in a single, almost practiced movement, struck the head of the match against the side of his bayonet sheath on his thigh, and hurled it into the pit.

With an astonishing rush, the misty morning was instantly cast into light as forty-odd litres of low-grade promethium ignited in a giant forty-foot high fireball.

Tuke was almost thrown off of his feet by the blast, shielding his eyes from the heat. Black smoke rushed over him, choking every breath he took in with thick soot. He turned from the flames and bought a muddied sleeve to his mouth as he trudged to his patrol truck.

He uncovered his watering eyes just in time to see lieutenant Cragh approach him, his aide in close tow. Tuke almost snapped to attention, holding himself back at the last moment, instead nodding to the officer.

“Sir, what brings you-”

“Spare me,” Cragh barked, leaning on the front of Tuke’s truck, “Is that the last of them?”

“Yes sir, two twenty in total sir.”

“Two twenty?”

“Yessir,” Tuke nodded, drawing out a re-write pad, “Two twenty confirmed, probably double that if you count the leftovers.”

Cragh nodded, scribbling on his automated slate with one finger. He looked back at the scrawny sergeant, eyeing him up and down for a moment.

“Civilians?”

“Eighty seven we counted, mainly women and children.”

“Where are they?”

“Village field sir,” Tuke pointed, “Over there.”

Cragh looked at Tuke, his face stern as always.

“You know what to do.”

Tuke nodded, sliding the re-write pad into his pocket. He turned towards the village field, his boots scraping on the damp ground towards the massed group of civilians.

Ok, um, just something i whipped up.
Intro is done, now i've got the first part done, just needs to be edited.
Leave comments guys, love crit.

Thanks
Remoah

Tuke made a beeline to the two corporals on the edge of the village field. Behind them, ten troopers formed a cordon around the grouped civilians. Lasrifles cradled into the shoulder, ready to swing and open fire on the group if anyone made a break for it.

Corporal Ervik was heading the guard detail, his carbine slung across his back, a lho stick held near his mouth. He saw Tuke approaching and had already given him a nod, turning to face Tuke.

“Sergeant,” He addressed, lowering the stick from his mouth, “How long we gonna be here?”

“As long as it takes Corporal,” Tuke muttered, his voice low and coarse, “And not a moment less.”

“Yes sergeant, it’s just-“

Ervik trailed off, throwing his lho stick to the ground and destroying it with a kick of his boot. Tuke looked at him still, his gaze unmoving.

“Just what corporal.”

“It’s just, well, we’ve been picking up bodies for two frakking weeks, and my men are getting itchy sergeant.”

“Itchy, what constitutes itchy corporal?”

Ervik tried to avoid the sergeant’s gaze, knowing a blasting would come if he gave the wrong answer, or even if he gave the right one.

“Itchy sir, y’know, they want to fight the enemy sir, it’s what they joined up for,” Ervik said, a noticeable fright in his voice, “They’re seeing the rest of the battalion being awarded action bars and making headway, and our company is stuck on guard detail at these frakking villages, or at the staging grounds hauling bodies around.”

“They want to kill people you mean corporal?”

There was a tense silence for a moment between the two, as Ervik searched for the right answer.

“Well,” Ervik struggled to find an answer, “Yes sir, they do, frankly sir, I do too.”

Tuke nodded, turning his attention to the guard detail. He took a deep breath as he pushed past the corporal.

“Alright, listen up!” He barked, the troopers instantly putting their eyes on him as he pointed to a side of the field, “Any man who looks like he can hold a rifle on this side. Women and runts on the other side!”

There was a nod from the troopers, and instantly they moved into the group, grabbing all the able bodied men and dragging them to the side of the field. Tuke looked at the ragged bunch of civilians, they were all darker skinned than any of his men, and a lot larger. Even some of the children looked as if they could hold a rifle and make use of it.

It took a good two minutes to separate the group, as only a few of them grasped low-gothic, instead muttering in quick barks of their own throaty tongue as they tried to figure out what was going on.

Once the group had stopped moving, Tuke strode in, the grassy patch squelching under his ankle-high black boots. Corporal Ervik kept a few paces behind him, rifle now held across his chest.

Tuke drew out his six-shooter pistol, emptying six rounds from the chamber, and turning to Ervik, he held up a single round and slid it into the cylinder. He spun it with a finger, letting it turn under its own force.

“Corporal Ervik,” He announced to the squad, “Has implied to me that sixth squad, of my platoon, is a little bored of their work.”

There was an eerie silence amongst the soldiers, as well as the civilians. Even the children remained silent, though Tuke couldn’t tell if it was their nature, or their ignorance, or both.

He swung the pistol up, snapping the cylinder shut as he did, barrel aiming it square at Ervik’s head. A gasp came from a few in the crowd, and the young corporal stood rooted to the spot, his face instantly paling as his fingers began to shake.
Tuke spun the pistol on his finger, his hand gripping the barrel now, extending the weapon to Ervik.

The young corporal took a step up, wrapping a hand around the wooden grip of the weapon. He bought the weapon close to him, cradling it in two hands. Tuke turned away from Ervik, a silence now filling the air.

He strode toward the side of the crowd with the women, and grabbed one by the arm, dragging her out towards the centre, indicating for her to stay there. He took a few steps back, and grabbed a young child, his mother gasping as Tuke snatched him up, carrying the child to the centre.

There was a commotion in the crowd. One man shouted, taking a step forward, a thin blade now drawn in his hand. He shouted something toward Tuke, his nostrils flared and bare chest rippling with engorged veins.

Tuke flung a hand behind his back, the pistol grip of his assault stubber in hand a moment later. He bought the weapon up quickly on its sling, the man taking another step forward as Tuke’s forward hand wrapped around the hard plastic.

The air cracked as a single, ten millimetre slug tore the man’s chest apart. His bare skin was shredded, blood flying over the group huddled behind him. The body fell to the ground in a heap, the wet mud now stained with litres of blood.

There was a scream from a young child, quickly to be stifled by its mother in the crowd.

Silence soon followed, and Tuke slowly lowered the weapon, the civilian crowd now staring intently at him...

Rushed edit, however i think it provides something.
The actual initial peice is fairly bland now i look again.

Hope we all like it.
Thanks

Sounds good so far,but I will have to hear it progress before I really make a decision.

thanks mate.
Yeah, theres alot of progression in the next peice, this is just buildup.

Well get wrighting!!!

Mate, this is brilliant.

sA

He dragged out two more women, and another child to the centre of the field, facing each one to the group. The children were sobbing, their arms held close in tiny fists, their dirtied rags interlaced between their fingers.

Tuke spun to face Ervik, the corporal holding the revolver in both hands, staring intently at its dull metallic shape.

“Step up corporal.”

Tuke pointed at the space in front of the first woman. Ervik took a tentative step forward, slowly making his way in front of the woman. Tuke looked at him, slinging his rifle behind his back.

“Good,” He breathed, “Now shoot her.”

Ervik looked at him, his face now completely pale. Tuke didn’t flicker even an eyelid, as he growled at the corporal.

“Disobeying an order results in termination corporal,” He breathed, “And not the one you get after eighteen years.”

Ervik nodded, slowly bringing the weapon up. His hands shook, as he slowly faced away from the woman. She held her hands to her chest, her eyes streaming. Ervik squeezed the trigger back, the hammer rising over the course of a second.

Click-

There was a scream, and the woman dropped to her knees, hands covering her head as she began sobbing. Ervik stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving.

Tuke stepped forward, and pulled the woman to her feet. He pointed towards the crowd, and not a moment later she sprinted over, fleeing into the arms of an older woman.

“One down corporal,” Tuke barked, “Next.”

Ervik looked at his feet, slowly stepping forward. He stopped in front of the child. The young boy was barely hip height, his face buried into a ragged shirt. Tuke looked at Ervik again, the trooper still cradling the heavyweight sidearm.

“Now, corporal!”

Ervik raised the weapon, placing it an inch from the boy’s head. Eyes fixed on Tuke, the corporal’s lip was twitching, eyes pleading with the sergeant.

“Do it.”

Ervik cocked the hammer back, the gun visibly shaking in his hands. Tuke stepped towards him, his jaw clenched and his hands in fists.

“Ervik.”

The corporal shut his eyes, screwing his face up into a ball.

Click-

The child stood rooted to the spot, slowly looking up at Tuke. A shout came from the crowd of mothers, and the little boy broke into a run, ducking past Ervik as he began to wail at the top of his lungs.

Tuke grabbed Ervik by his webbing strap, dragging him one forward and placing him in front of a young woman. He stepped back.

“Should be easy by now Corporal, come on!”

Ervik clenched his grip, the hammer dropping back as he did. He held it for a moment, and finished his squeeze.

Click-

Ervik shuddered, as the woman broke and ran to the crowd. Tuke stepped back, standing in front of a young girl, barely six or seven. She looked up at Tuke, eyes wide and sobbing.

“Fun game,” He announced, “Isn’t it corporal?”

Ervik looked up, face colourless.

“S-Sergeant.”

“What, don’t you like this game? “ Tuke enquired, sarcastically cocking his head to one side, “I’m a bit tired, perhaps it’s time to finish, would that please you corporal?”

“Yes sergeant,” Ervik barked, his eyes almost pleading with the sergeant.

“I didn’t hear you corporal.”

“Yes Sergeant!”

Tuke chuckled, shaking his head, he surveyed the crowd. The entire population was either looking away, heads in hands or in their chests. Spinning on the spot, Tuke smiled.

In one quick motion he pounced on Ervik, a foot driving into the back of his knee. The corporal grunted and fell to the ground, feet squelching in the muddied grass. Tuke placed one hand on each of the corporal’s shoulders.

“Gun up corporal.”

Ervik shuddered, the pistol’s only movement from the shaking of his entire body.

Tuke grabbed the corporal’s right forearm, dragging it up into the child’s chest. The gun was shaking visibly, as Ervik kept his gaze on the ground. Tuke thumbed the hammer back for the corporal with one hand, the other wrenching his head up to eye level with the young girl.

“Balls corporal!” He shouted, “Show some frakking balls! You joined to kill right? Isn’t that what you said? You wanted to get into the action, to kill some people, score a couple of battle trophies, come back to your family once this is all over and talk about the war?”

Silence, Tuke let go of the corporal’s arm, leaving it in the girl’s chest. Ervik was shaking fully, needing two hands to steady the weapon. By now the young girl was crying, her eyes pleading with Ervik, her dirty face scrunched up.

“Sergeant- I-“

Ervik breathed.

“I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it!”

“Disobeying a direct order is a crime against the Emperor corporal,” Tuke spun around, “Lance-corporal Ryce, what is the punishment for disobeying a direct order!”

There was a cough from the back of the crowd, as the young squad second-in-command spoke up.

“D- Death sir, execution by the commissariat.”

“Good corporal,” Tuke barked, “And we know that platoon sergeants in these regiments are authorised to carry out summary executions, without trial, and without direct authorisation by the aforementioned commissariat! Now, corporal, that bullet can easily have your name on it.”

Ervik looked back at Tuke, gun an inch from the girl’s chest, shaking. Tuke wrenched the corporal’s head to face the girl.

“Now, corporal, you choose, you or her.”

Ervik took a breath, clenching his jaw. The faint smell of urine mixed with the muddy and thick air of the jungle village wafted through his nostrils. Tuke held his hands on the corporal’s shoulders, rubbing them firmly.

“Man up corporal,” Tuke growled, “Pull the trigger.”

The sound filled the entire crowd, rolling through the hills and trees with a resounding rumble. Tuke’s vision was blurred red as the half-inch wide projectile literally tore through the young child, covering both the sergeant and the corporal in thick arterial blood.

Silence filled the group, and the woman beside them fell to the ground, sobbing. Ervik fell to the ground too, his body shaking, the pistol still in his hands. Tuke stood up, his hands now on his hips. The squad looked on in shock, and children in the crowd wailed in terror.

Ervik crawled onto his hands and knees, spitting blood from his mouth. Tuke grabbed the corporal by his webbing harness, standing him upright and dusting him off a little.

“Wasn’t too hard, was it corporal?”

Ervik was silent, his entire body pale and shaking.

Tuke took the pistol back, patting the corporal on the shoulder. He opened the pistol’s cylinder and slid the round out, holding it in two fingers. He turned back to Ervik, placing the shell in the soldier’s hand and closing his fist around it.

“There’s a war story to tell corporal.”

He placed the five remaining shells into the pistol, and closed the chamber.

Ervik stood on the spot, staring at the shell, the open rim was scorched, the remainder of the soft metal casing shining a light metallic silver. The base was punctured from the hammer, and a slight crack from the high-pressure load had formed along the side.

Tuke took a step forward, snapping the loaded weapon shut again. The sergeant took a breath, and swung the weapon around.

Ervik looked up, his vision blurred grey for a moment.

Tuke thumbed the hammer back on his pistol, a sneer on his face.

“Itchy now?”

Bang...

~~~~~ END PROLOGUE~~~~~

Ok guys. Hope you enjoyed it.
Um, anyhow, Comments + Crit is much appreciated.

Anyhow, let me know what you all think.

So wait the Sergeant killed Ervik,well that was a little sad but a good story non the less.Great job.

well the sgt is a psychopath, and i wanted that to be apparant. Ervik was itchy, and Tuke saw it as a sign of weakness, so he made his point, then killed the Corporal.

Anyhow, this is 'nice' guard compared to penal legions lol.

I see what you mean,it was a good story though.

Thanks mate.

Good story and characters. Sergeants are never called "sir" though as they are not commisioned officers, aside from that, very good