Red Dove Rising: 1639 (A Summoning Japan fanfic)

Prologue

“Fuck!”

“What’s going on!?”

Their voices were met with shock as the following words came out of the radio.

<<Kontakt 300 metrov sprava! Eto vrazheskoye protivotankovoye orudiye, i oni ispol'zuyut listvu kak prikrytiye! (Contact 300 meters at the right! Its an enemy anti-tank gun, and they are using the foliage as cover!)>>

Then, the distinctive sound of a shell whizzing by could be heard outside, slightly shaking the vehicle. Thoughts of them being ambushed flooded their minds, making the men panic.

“Fuck! Were going to die here!”

<<Shut up! I can’t focus!>>

Then, as the gunner turned the turret, repeating shots from the 20mm auto cannon created vibrations within the vehicle, showing the IFV’s defiance.

*Da! Da! Da! Da! Da! Da!

Then, the gun went silent. As Masov’s heartbeat became rapid, so did his breathing. His respiratory system absorbed the oxygen from his nostrils in a fast pace, and exhaled carbon dioxide as a by-product. He gripped his LMG, hoping for his fears to subside.

<<Target neutralized.>>

The voice coming from the gunner calmed his senses, and met peace. Breathing slowly, he prepared his weapon for the incoming battle, the noise of a helicopter’s propellers shook the metal insides of the IFV, as it passed overhead. Sound of multiple gun and cannon fire was becoming more frequent, indicating that they were nearing their destination. As minutes passed, the light from the outside world gradually became dimmer and dimmer, until the only source of light came from the mechanical lamps and the glow from the explosions or tracer rounds that could be seen from outside their firing ports. Maksov’s body began sweating due to stress and anxiety was making him uncomfortable. Then, their IFV stopped and a voice came out from their comms.

<<Disembark!>>

At his command, the locks sealing the steel hatches above them were, one by one, jerked open, letting the cold evening air into their faces. Maksov remembered the process that was taught to him by the countless drills he partook and skillfully exited the passenger compartment of the vehicle. What greeted him were the ominous glow from the fires that came from the still burning buildings, and attack helicopters flying by overhead by as they laid waste to the remaining enemy fortifications placed on the outskirts of the large town. Beside them were dozens of vehicles, ranging from main battle tanks with ERA to humble Armored personnel carriers, all bearing the cube-shaped yellow and red squares of the Svalvard military.

Not wasting any time, the group jumped down from above the IFV’s, their legs meeting contact with the burnt ground below. In front was a road leading deep into one of the town’s blocks, devoid of anything alive. Regaining his composure, Maksov began advancing into the town alongside his squad, and soon they entered.

He was instantly met with the horrible stench of what seemed to be something rotting entering his nostrils.

“What is that smell..?”

Ignoring it, he began walking, clutching his LMG in preparation for an ambush.

As he kept walking, he felt a sudden chill. He found the cause of the horrible stench. It was the countless roasted and mangled bodies of dead Rukenian soldiers, some of the corpses still having their kilt skirts, which contrasted on their entirely forest-green military uniforms. The disgusting sight was sickening, even making some of Maksov’s squad mates regurgitate their meals from their stomachs. Yet the IFV squashed said bodies under its tracks, unleashing a bloody gory mess of organic paint on the paved roads. The gruesome display of gore galore disgusted Maksov, but what he would see next horrified him, and his peers.