427's feet pounded the ground as he ran, shaking his whole body. He still held his rifle in his hands, but he doubted he would be able to shoot at the pace he was going.
About halfway to the next outcropping of rocks and trees ahead, the defenders noticed his charge. Braving 341's cover fire, three of them pulled their heads and guns out from behind their barricades.
How stupid.
Back to back, two of them fell back with holes going through their heads. The last one flinched, but resolved himself, aiming down his sights.
Unfortunately, it was too late. 427 had already reached his cover. It was a decently sized cluster of boulders, along with twelve to thirteen trees.
Throwing himself down, he took a moment to catch his heaving breath, feeling his heart beating violently.
Damn, that hurt.
He doubted the defenders were still aimed at him with the lingering threat of 341 hanging over them, but he still army-crawled forwards, slithering around the boulders, and underneath some brush at the end of the treeline.
He tapped the side of his headphones, waking up Gary, whose beautiful symphony of snores was getting only mildly annoying.
"Status report," He whispered, the volume barely above the sound of his natural breathing.
As he waited for a response, he took out his rifle, pointing it at the village. He inhaled to steady his still-ragged breathing, then swallowed. With renewed focus, he looked down the sights.
The village was situated in a valley, surrounded on all sides by steep hills. There was one road in, on the opposite side of which 341 and 427 were. The other two clones were at the main entrance, with one acting as overwatch, and the other…
Running into the most heavily guarded part of the town? Who the hell does he think he is? Kaido?
341 was the first to respond.
"Two down, presumed dead. I have eyes on about four total."
As reliable as ever.
The other soldier on overwatch also responded:
"I have eyes on about six. Most of them died in the explosion."
After that, the line went silent. After a few seconds, 427 spoke again.
"Hey… you there?"
Nothing.
"Alright… Moving on." He never knew he could feel awkward while fighting for his life.
He surveyed the town. The barricade was around two meters tall, with something presumably stacked behind it for the rebels to stand on.
At this point, the elevation had tapered out, meaning it was flat ground from the treeline to the barricade. The constant pop of gunfire from behind him muffled any noise he could hear from the town.
"341, you see anyone?"
"No, I'm just shooting for fun."
Ok maybe I deserved that one.
"I mean, people looking in my direction. I want to run up there silently, and use a grenade to crack it open."
The barrier itself was a hodgepodge of random logs, and wooden furniture stacked on top of that.
Someone's heirloom table is probably getting the wax scratched off of it.
He winced at the thought.
341 was silent.
He's probably in awe of my amazing plan!
"You should be good to go." The green light came through, and with that, 427 took off, gun slung across his back. As he approached the barricade, he slowed down, walking as he got closer.
In this moment, with no way to fire back quickly, his life was in 341's hands. If the cover fire let up, or if a defender looked over without getting shot, he would be shredded to pieces.
This is the dumbest thing I've ever done.
Even the stress he felt yesterday was nothing compared to right now. The adrenaline of putting his life on the line felt like molten metal was flowing through his veins. He fought to control his breath.
One step. The ground was covered with wet grass, muffling the noise.
Two steps. Only seven more left to go.
Three steps. The ground was littered with fragments of wood that had come off the barricade during the explosion's shockwave.
Four steps. A puddle about five inches deep. 427 slowly lowered his foot in, balancing on the other leg, in order to avoid a splash.
Five steps. The other foot cleared the edge of the puddle. About halfway left to go.
Six steps. He raised his back foot at a minuscule pace. The mud clinging to his boot threatened to squelch if he moved too fast.
Seven steps. He could hear voices talking from behind the barricade. He instinctively tried to hold his breath, then realized how stupid that was.
Eight steps. A wooden splinter hidden underneath the grass made a crunch. Instantly, the voice behind the barricade fell silent.
Do I move, or do I stay?
He chose to move. He took the last step, and pressed his back against the barricade, hand over his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest.
Thud-Thud. Thud-Thud. Thud-Thud.
He looked up. The barrel of a gun was pointed out in the direction he came. It slowly swept over the field, pausing as it faced the footprints on the edge of the muddy puddle.
Oh shit.
Ripping the grenade from his belt, he jammed it in the cracks of the furniture, and pulled the pin.
Kling!
"OH SHIT! GRENADE!" The person holding the gun screamed, primal fear in their voice. 427 guessed they dove backwards, judging from the way the gun disappeared from view.
He turned to run. He wanted to get as far from the grenade as possible, and out of the fragmentation range, so he ran along the wall. One second. Two seconds. Three.
In his haste, he hadn't asked how long the fuse would last. A stupid mistake.
Suddenly, as he was running, his right foot froze. Completely locked up. Toes catching against the ground, he fell forward, carried by the centrifugal force.
As he fell, the grenade exploded.
KA-THOOM
Unbeknownst to him, a fragment of shrapnel flew over his head, missing by centimeters, as he hit the ground.
The world snapped back into focus from the half-speed it was running at.
What the hell was that? A cramp?
341's voice over the snail dragged him from his thoughts.
"They're abandoning the barricade to fall back. Don't push in just yet, they're still covering the breach." His analysis came over the snail.
"Sounds good." Sitting back against the barricade, 427 let out an exhale. His heart rate was slowly calming down. As he thought about what he just did, he came to a strange realization:
Underneath the terror, he was… excited?
That's too weird to even consider. I was not excited! I am perfectly normal!
Shaking his head dismissively, he looked up to see 341 approaching from the side. He pushed himself off the ground, and walked to meet him halfway.
"Now that they've fallen back from the barricade, we should just climb up the side. No point in going through the gauntlet." 427 stated, dusting off his pants.
"Hn." 341 responded.
A yes? I'm getting pretty good at translating this now.
Walking a distance away from the hole, 341 linked his fingers to boost 427 over.
"Now that I think about it, aren't you tall enough to see over the wall?" 427 suddenly realized.
"Yes. Why?" 341 responded.
"So, since you're standing straight up, couldn't they just shoot you in the head?" 427 asked, genuinely confused.
341 paused for a moment, and then as if coming to a realization, awkwardly stooped over.
Pfft- Hahahaha! He looks ridiculous!
427 bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.
From the way 341's sunglasses reflected the glare, he could tell it wasn't working.
Stifling his smile, he stepped into 341's interlocked hands.
His plan was about the same as every time he was expected to make a plan: RFF.
Run forward, fast!
If it ain't broke don't change it!
"One. Two. Three!" As 341 threw him up, 427 grabbed the top of the barricade and vaulted over, both legs to one side. As he was swinging over, he etched the scene in front of him into his eyes.
They were approximately thirty meters away from the breach, and also 30 meters away from the houses. The barricade was circular, and since they were off to one side, rather than coming through the main entrance, none of the rebels were facing them. In fact, an insurgent's back was facing him, using the edge of the house as cover, rifle pointed at the breach.
He was apparently at the furthest edge from the four, as this was the only one he saw here. Landing in a crouch, his gauntlets hit the stone-tiled floor, making a clanging noise. The sharp fingertips dug into the stone, making cracks.
Using the pull force from his arms, and pushing forward with his legs, he launched himself forward at insane speeds. The wind tore at his face, as he crossed the gap in about two and a half seconds.
The sound from the cracking stone had alerted the man, and after a startled second, he began to turn around. Seeing 427 moving towards him at inhuman speeds, he let out a strangled cry.
427 could see the cocktail of emotions in his eyes. Fear, regret. Maybe anger. It didn't matter. He had already steeled himself.
Despite approaching at such a rapid pace, he didn't slow down. His left leg hit the wall, bending to absorb the impact. His right arm grabbed the gun before it could be fully swung. It cracked under the force of the grasp. With his left hand? He tore out the man's throat.
The sensation was like shredding slow cooked meat at a barbecue. Except for the windpipe, that was like a soft, springy rubber.
He didn't stop. Rebounding off the wall with his leg, he sprinted to the left, deeper into the town. He took a right, after getting past the first house, heading closer to the breach. Looking to his right, he saw another defender.
Taking the corner like a bat out of hell, he continued his frenzied dash. The man swung around, more composed than his dead ally had been. Lifting the gun, he fired towards 427. In a move that looked almost comical, 427 dove forward, like Wolverine out of Marvel Rivals. The bullet sailed over his head, as he plunged all ten fingers into the man's torso.
"AAARGH!" The man howled in pain, tears streaming from his eyes, as he attempted to level the gun once more. 427 didn't let that happen. He pushed his hands forward and to the sides, like he was opening double doors from the middle.
He looked the man in the eyes as he did it. 427 didn't want to avoid the results of the choices he made. He wouldn't run away from the blame, or the grudges, of the dead.
As the light left the insurgent's eyes, a bullet rang out. 341 had shot the third, and he dropped dead on the cobbled street. Blood pooled around him.
Pulling his hands out of the dead man's guts with a sickening squelch, 427 tried not to throw up.
This is probably the worst thing I've ever smelt.
Don't even get him started on the texture.
The white gauntlets dripped with red blood and chunks of gristle. It ran in rivulets along the seams.
427 shook it off, looking around for the last one.
"341, you see the last one?" He asked over the den den mushi.
"I believe he went into one of the houses." A response came.
There were four houses bordering this side of the barrier.
"I'll search the houses. You help our teammate take care of the rest." 427 walked towards the houses, all single storied, basic wooden structures. There were no windows to look through.
The first two houses were duds. 427 would kick open the doors with a massive crunching noise. Inside were tables, chairs, and maybe beds towards the back. He checked the cabinets. Nothing.
Instead of going to the third house in the row, he decided to hit the fourth. If the rebel was in the fourth house, and listening to the doors, he wouldn't expect to be hit next. 427 walked over to the fourth house as silently as possible.
Squaring up in front of the door, he kicked it open with a massive thud. Immediately, through the cloud of wood splinters and dust, he caught a glimpse of shining metal, and a sharp whistling noise.
Following along with the front kick's momentum, he took a deep forward step, knee almost hitting his chest. The flash of the katana over his head justified his decision.
Looking up, 427 instantly knew this man was different from the other rebels. The look in his eyes was that of a soldier, of someone used to doing what he needed to.
Instead of an immediate thrust forward, he chose to bring his back leg closer, in something resembling a boxing stance. His hands stayed in their clawed shape. The man stood facing him, both legs side by side. His sword was perfectly centered in front of him.
This exchange will be incredibly quick.
They didn't have the stamina or durability for those drawn out fights common to the higher echelons of the One Piece world.
For a moment they were silent, still. The dust floated through the air, as the beams of sunlight came through the doorway.
Then, like twin lightning bolts, they moved. The man's sword thrust forward in an incredibly quick stab. It was clear that it had been practiced hundreds of times.
With a quick sidestep, 427 dodged to the left. His right arm came up, gauntlet screeching as the side of the sword dragged forward along it. His left arm swung forward in a precise stab aimed towards the throat.
With a lightning quick backstep, the man dodged the outstretched claw. Unfortunately for him, 427 had grabbed the sword with his right gauntlet. Yanking forward on the sword, the man showed surprising decisiveness by letting go.
Throwing the sword out of the doorway, he exploded towards the now-former swordsman.
The man assumed a front stance like something out of a martial arts movie. In what looked like slow motion, the frontal left hand came up, palm facing towards 427. The back hand curled into a fist, and to 427's confusion, the man thrust forward even though he wasn't within distance yet.
"Samegawara Seiken!"
427's eyes widened with shock.
No way! Fish-Man Karate?
If this was really a skilled practitioner, then it would send a devastating shockwave through the air, crushing 427's chest.
But would a skilled practitioner really lose a sword like that? Or have such poor physical strength?
Mind racing, 427 made his choice. He crossed his gauntlets in front of his head, charging forward. His palms faced towards the man, as his arms formed an X.
There was a shockwave, but it was much weaker than someone truly skilled could exert. The gauntlet trembled, and his arms started to ache, but no serious damage was caused.
Lunging forward like a tiger, his hands swept down, sending the man reeling back. His torso was ripped to shreds. Falling on his back, he took a final rattling inhale.
"Damn you, Germa scum." With a wheeze, the man died.
427 straightened up, panting. He didn't dare remove his gauntlets until he got the all clear, but he knew his arms were probably bruised all over. Maybe even a hairline fracture.
How the hell does someone in the North Blue know Fish-Man Karate?
With an exhale, he tapped his headphones, waking up Gary.
"Everything clear over there?" He waited for a response with bated breath.
"Everything is clear." The response came.
427 looked up, sighed, and let the tension leave him.
The mission was over.