Difference between revisions of "Atlantis"

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[[Image:Cover2.jpg|left|350px]]
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'''Book One: ''Atlantis Rising'''''
  
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'''THE ATLANTIS STORY'''
 
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BY: BRANDON KRUPCZAK AND WILL ANDERSON
 
  
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''Written by Brandon Krupczak''
  
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Please note this is only a teaser, and if you want to see the rest of the story, type in 'Atlantis: chapter 1' to get to chapter 1 and the prologue, 'Atlantis, chapter 2' to get to chapter two, and so on and so forth. Or, you could click on these new, shiny links here:
 
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 1]]
 
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 2]]
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{|
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 3]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 1]]||[[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 11]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 2]]||[[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 12]]                         
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 4]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 3]]||[[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 13]]
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 5]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 4]]
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 6]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 5]]
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 7]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 6]]
  
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[[Atlantis: chapter 8]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 7]]
  
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[[Atlantian fans]]
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 8]]
  
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<br>
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 9]]
  
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|-
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| [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 10]]
  
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Drawing by Will Anderson
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|}
  
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==Atlantis Teaser==
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Hello people reading this! You may have accidentally stumbled upon a book that is under way currently. The book is basically about World War Three, in a world where there are eight continents. The eighth is Atlantis, which surfaces in December of 2012. Maybe the Mayan calendar wasn't counting down to this day, but counting up to the day when Atlantis would rise above the oceans once more, supposedly.
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They were ready.  
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Staff Sargent Thomas Lane gripped his M9 carbine tightly. Dressed in his Mk. III Tactical Battle Armor, he waited anxiously for the doors of the deployment bay to open. He ran a quick equipment check, starting from head to toe:
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Helmet. Integrated hands-free comm unit with a video feed linked up to his visor, displaying tactical data taken from the Predator UAV's circling overhead, info from the Intelligence sector, and, most importantly, his other team members. He initiated a squad-wide test call, beaming all the members of his unit.  
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Below is a random chapter from the book that I display here on the front page. The link above brings you to the page that the chapter is actually housed at. If you scroll down to the very bottom, you'll find my work in progress section, where I write the next section/chapter of the book. Because I start writing completely fresh chapters, the work in progress section might end in a fragment of thought, or there might not be anything displayed there.  
  
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"Marines, this is Lane, initiating test call equipment check, over."
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Please also note that none of my writing here is completed and I go back numerous times to a piece to improve it. The chapter below will be changed multiple times and improved upon, so if you read it now you might wanna check back every now and again to see if I changed anything.
  
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Ten acknowledgment lights winked into existence on his visor's heads-up display, next to the video feed. They could all hear him.  
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Also, please note that any writing I do here is written to entertain, and therefore the story has to fit in with itself, so please excuse any religious or opinionated writing I have here and do not take it into offense. Please don't copy my work. It's not nice.
  
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His helmet was good and the straps were tight. Check.
 
  
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Torso shell; snug and warm, the hydrostatic gel layers forming to fit his muscled body. Shoulder armor good. Gauntlets secure. Check.
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Also check out my friend Jamie Knox's writing here:
  
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Legs fine. Knee guards in place, and combat boots laced up.
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[[Reaper's First Drop]]
  
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M9 tactical carbine with 50 round extended magazine tight up against his chest, and six spare clips in his cargo pockets. Glock 18 semi-automatic, 20 round handgun 'locked and loaded', as the saying went, holstered on his thigh. Combat knife strapped to the side of his shin in it's sheath.  
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And here's a new, alternate account of the war, from the perspective of an elite soldier from an elite Black-Ops Spec-Ops division.
  
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The rest of the squad finished their checks as well and began a buddy check on whoever happened to be standing next to them in their own private, cozy little deployment bay. Hoewin, the team's skilled and esteemed sniper, checked over Chaumers, the Heavy-Ordnance-Anti-Vehicular soldier of the team, and vice versa. The Nelson twins, the valuable machine gunners, checked over each other. The team medic, Dyke, checked over buddy Sanders, who was the communications and technology expert. All the members of Tom's squad were like brothers, due to countless dangerous situations they had pulled through, but Dyke and Sanders were especially close. Trippe and Shama, the new recruits, checked each other until Reilly barged in, pointing out that a more experienced soldier should supervise in case of flaws. Reilly doubled as the team's Dino expert, while Shama was the team scout. Trippe was merely a soldier waiting to fight. Reilly finished checking Trippe and turned to Shama, while West, the second-in-command came up to Tom.
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[[Atlantis Rising: Perfect War]]
  
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"You think they're ready?" West asked quietly, nodding over to Trippe and Shama as he checked and re-checked Tom's gear.  
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And another little project of mine. Here, I'm writing about the video game ''Fallout 3''. The setting, premise, and some of the characters are not my creation, but basically I'm taking the game and writing my own addition.
  
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"They're as ready as they're ever gonna be." Tom said. West finished his check and Tom returned the favor.
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[[Fallout 3]]
  
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"I dunno. The DB's reported a pretty big mess. If that army got past those bunkers, the minefields, and the sniper posts while being harassed by the sorties..."
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An additional project, using the concept and setting of the ''Fallout'' universe again. This is an idea I've wanted to explore: A Fallout game in the Carribean.
  
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"Exactly." Tom pointed out. "They'll be sufficiently weakened and so no problem at all for the base. Remember, they've still got to get past the solid concrete wall, not to mention all the artillery and MG fire. Plus, we'll be out there. What could get past that?"
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[[Fallout: Caribbean]]
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And a Halo project, told from the perspective of a Marine Fireteam. Just regular soldiers, not Spartans or even ODSTs.  
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[[Halo: Fireteam]]
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==Atlantis Teaser==
  
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West exhaled in a forced chuckle. "Yeah. I just hope this doesn't go sour."
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''"Soldiers, you will be deployed via fast-rope. You will rappel down to the ground and await the indicator in your HUD before beginning. As soon as you see the signal, you may begin. Good luck, recruits. Up first: Echo Squad! Squad Leader, make sure your squad's gear checks out."''
  
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"Come on, this'll be a milk run. What could go wrong?" Tom asked with his customary forced optimism.
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The DS gestured to Matt, and all of them went and gave one another triple buddy checks.
  
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But even as West was putting on his mask of relaxation and felicity, there was still a lingering uncertainty of what was to come. Within ten minutes of the imminent battle, that uncertainty would become utter desperation.
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"Ready when you are, Frost!" Holly yelled over their Team comm.
  
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"Roger that, Aura." Matt yelled back. Each of them had callsigns. His was Frost. Jamie's was Scorch. Scar was Flare. Malcolm was Spark. Holly was Aura. "Alright. Squad, move out! Go, go, go!" Matt barked.
  
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The bay door slid open, signaling that it was time to move.  
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Scar attached her rappel harness to the line and jumped out the side, one hand on the rope above her, and the other below and slightly behind her butt, the "brake" hand that controlled how fast the line went. Malcolm followed, then Jamie, then Holly. Matt was the last one out, as befitting his status of Squad Leader.
  
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Tom cautiously glided out the bay, the solid sheets of purple rain tapping his helmet, his visor automatically compensating for the increase in lighting. He and his team found themselves in the main, frontal courtyard of the facility, and a NAV marker on his HUD (heads-up display) pointed him over to one side.
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Scar landed, disengaged her harness, and let it drop to the forest floor. A crew would come later and get it.
  
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Tom ran up to the gates, his men right behind him. Armored Stryker tanks were waiting to take companies of men outside. The Strykers were highly advanced modern tanks that could seat twenty men, not including the crew, as well as have the capability to fire the 120mm cannon and .50 cal on top. Tom and his team piled into one of these beasts of destruction, grateful to be out of the driving rain. At least it wasn't cold in the tropics. They sat down in the seats, not bothering to strap themselves in for the short ride to the trenches just outside the wall. Another squad clambered in next to them.  
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Soon the entire squad was on the ground, and Matt quickly led the squad under cover of the trees. As soon as the V-22 Osprey was out of sight, they doubled back and went after the bird. They kept the lines from the rappel - there was always a use for thirty feet of tough nylon.
  
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With capacity filled to the brim along with the extra two officers, the Stryker pulled up to a secondary, smaller vehicle deployment door. The things were dotted down the circumference of the wall, and each was just a section in the concrete that could be pulled aside with an extra sliding door in front, just like the big gate.  
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The countdown timer in Matt's HUD read D + 15:07 when Matt raised his fist, the sign to halt. With slow, exaggerated sign language, he indicated for the team to spread out and climb the trees. Jamie went with Matt in one tree. Scar went by herself, and Malcolm and Holly shared a third.
  
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Overhead, multiple Orca-squadron hovercraft armed to the teeth with chain guns, mortars, rockets, and flamethrowers soared high over the walls, their complements of fifteen men making each of them considerable foes. Tom also spotted three Huey gunships hovering menacingly above the gate; the Guardian Angels. They looked sinister in the grey half-light of the thunderstorm, and stood out in relief against the sodden ground every lightning flash. If the Atlantians and their Iraqi allies were planning on beating the U.S. and Great Britain, they were in for a serious disappointment. Sorties of F-35 Joint Strike Fighter pairs had been moving all day, giving a little activity to the enemy Anti Air batteries. They were battling the rain as much as anything else.
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"Frost, requesting permission to re-format to a sniper?" Scar whispered over the Teamcomm.
  
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The doors opened, first the small, thin emergency sliding door that came apart extremely fast, then the big, re-inforced concrete blast doors slid apart like lethargic stone monsters, then the emergency sliding door on the other side.
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"Roger that, Flare. Permission granted. Scorch, outfit yours with the AR. Aura, you're our grenadier. Get the XM320 on there." The XM320 was a single-shot 40mm grenade launcher that could be attached to their carbines. Matt put one on his. Malcolm preferred a straight-up assault rifle.
  
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The Stryker rolled through the mud, bullets pinging off its thick armor plating. The driver expertly turned the craft so that it presented the smallest possible target to any explosive infantry while it moved. As it rumbled on to its destination, it fired shots from its cannon, causing large explosions throughout the landscape.
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Beside Matt, almost completely invisible in the heavy jungle shadow, Jamie lay prone along two branches, with his AR balanced on a third branch with a clear line-of-sight to the ground.
  
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Flashes of light jumped around everywhere as the native and Iraqi forces fired upon the guards and autoguns on the wall, and the Americans returned fire. Explosions dotted the field, and it was filled with the screaming of men dying. War was so bloody for so little a point. All the time, soldier's lives were undervalued, and spent on so hopeless and whimsical a case.  
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Matt slid down from the tree. "Spark, get down here and help me create a barricade. We need to push any incoming squads into one firing lane. Scorch, Flare, give me a dot." In response, Malcolm slid from his tree, and both Scar and Jamie highlighted the firing lane that they had access to with red laser-dots. Matt took armfuls of brambles and thin, thorned vines and dumped them to the left and right of the lane, in between the trees, to create a natural-looking wall that would influence the squads to find an easier way through. Right through their lane of fire.
  
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Tom pointed the driver over to a clump of rocks just inside the trench that would provide cover while the men jumped out of the tank and into the trench. The driver consented, and soon they were hurtling at 30 miles an hour over the short, 100 foot stretch to the trenches. Overhead, the skies were cloudy, blocking any view of the bright, sparkling tropical sun behind bloated, dark and ugly thunderheads. In addition, sheets and sheets of rain cut down visibility to a bare 30 meters, soaking the already sodden ground and making ever increasing pools of mud.
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Matt strung triplines further out into the jungle with the Nylon cables, attaching them to frag grenades.
  
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The Stryker stopped with the back exit doors directly behind the rock spree. The big marines piled out of the vehicle, Tom being the last one to leave.
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Matt's countdown ended. "Alright people, we can now shoot at and be shot. Let's wrap this up." Malcolm laid the last armful of brambles in place, and then they both scampered up into their separate trees. There were five other squads in this particular mission, all within a square mile. It wouldn't be long before they had some hits.
  
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As the men rushed out, the tank's turret, which was just barely peeking over the boulders, fired off a suppressive shot that sent two of the pickup trucks that the Iraqis called transports flying through the air, the men who had until recently been manning the attached .50 cal both looking like a Superman dressed in rags.
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Five minutes passed, and no one came. The squad was getting impatient. "Spark," Matt whispered. "Be the rabbit. I need you to go along the lane and see if you can draw some fire, then sprint back here. We'll cover your approach. I'd do it myself but I'm not fast enough."
  
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As soon as the last man was out, not including the crew, the Stryker took off towards a bridge in the trench, leaving Tom and his team to fend for themselves.
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"Roger that, lead." Malcolm said, grinning. "I've always been one for the suicidal frontal charge." He slid down his tree, landing in the brush below. Before he had even gone two minutes, the sound of gunfire erupted through the forest. "Frost, I've got multiple targets here. They've got me pinned, I could use some assistance!"
  
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"Hoewin! Do your stuff!" Tom shouted above the noise and explosions. Hoewin dropped up behind the squad and found a nice mud hummock to hide behind. The team's sniper had already donned a specialized sniper camouflage Ghillie suit, and he was virtually invisible as he crawled around and lay prone at the top.
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Matt looked to Holly. She nodded, slid down, and circled around to the right to counter-flank the guys surrounding Malcolm. "Spark, help is on the way. How long can you hold?"
  
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Tom rushed into the trench, not bothering to find an entrance, instead just dropping into the chest-high depression in the tropical mud that was splattered everywhere. The others were right on top of him, coming out from behind the rocks firing.
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"I've got good cover, I'm inside a shallow cave-thing in the ground. I can hold out a while."
  
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One of the Nelson brothers, James, stayed behind the rocks along with Hoewin to give the rest of the crew some covering fire. The sharp crack of Hoewin's sniper seemed to compliment the pounding of James's LMG.
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"Roger that. Keep your head down, but keep the attention centered on you. And watch out, they'll try to advance. Watch your flanks."
  
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Tom peeked over the top of the trench, looking for a target.
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"You got it, Frost." Malcolm said, and tossed a grenade out the opening of the cave. It exploded, and Malcolm heard someone groan. "Yeah, bring it!" He shouted.
  
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He nearly had a bullet in his face as one glanced off the slippery rock in front of him and shot up towards his head. Luckily his helmet sent the bullet grazing off and in the opposite direction. Ducking back down, one of his men opened up a few rounds for covering fire.
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Holly took up a firing position, sighted through her scope, and tagged a soldier in the back of his head. He dropped like a load of rocks, asleep by the time he hit the ground. Return fire peppered the rock she had been hiding behind, and two soldiers broke off to get her. But Holly wasn't there anymore.
  
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Now, Tom didn't know how scared he should be from this near death experience, but the battle lust seemed to dump the shock aside for now. He'd feel ''that'' later.  
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A soldier fell as rounds tore into his inner thigh. He dropped to the ground, not out yet but with a crippled leg. He hobbled behind a piece of cover as Holly filled the air with bullets around the second soldier. A grenade rolled to a stop next to her, and at this she turned and fled back the way she had come, then darted back, and got the attention of the two remaining soldiers pinning Malcolm.
  
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Tom popped back up and sprayed three round bursts around wildly. However, there was a method to his madness of wasting more than half a clip of ammunition for as little as two actual hits, maybe less. The trick was to get the enemy to duck and therefore stop shooting at you, while your squadmate pops up next to you and fires off accurate shots with the intention of death. Death to the enemy.
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At the momentary distraction, Malcolm bolted out of the hole, sprinted from rock to tree, from tree to bush, from bush to ground, and drew the soldiers down through the firing lane, followed a second later by Holly. Jamie adjusted his grip on the AR as the two squadmates ran down the path. 30 seconds later, the first soldier popped into view. Jamie waited until the last soldier appeared, then nailed the one closest to any viable cover.
  
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Sure enough, West felt his jibe and cautiously poked his head up, then fired off a single round into the distance. Tom realized he was using his infrared function on his visor. He immediately sent out the squad wide signal, but only Trippe and Shama hadn't switched yet. As well as him.
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The steady thrum of the AR set Matt's head pounding, and he opened fire on the last one in the line. Then Scar fired, and a round slugged the first soldier in the chest.
  
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He immediately switched to that function and watched as the haze turned red and lifted out of his sight. Now he could actually see. See to shoot. See to kill.  
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Jamie's target fell from hits to the leg, side, and shoulder. He wasn't quite gone, but almost. Jamie finished him off with another quick, sustained burst.
  
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Tom fired off a few more rounds. His clip ran dry and he loaded in the next. Simple. Methodical.  
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Matt's soldier dropped to the ground, out for the count with five rounds in his chest and more in his left arm.
  
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West ducked down as his clip ran dry as well. Tom was forced to duck as a wall of bullets came at him. Even James's Squad Automatic Weapon, more colloquially known as the SAW, silenced as a rocket detonated next to their position, and by extension, Hoewin's sniper.  
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Scar's target took the heavy caliber bullet in the chest and sat down with the force, hard, landing on his butt and jarring his head. Before he could recover, Scar punched another round into his chest. He spun halfway around and ate dirt.
  
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The Guardian Angles continued to hover over the gate, making sure nothing got near it. Meanwhile, an Orca hovercraft landed behind an enemy entrenchment, and it offloaded all its men excepting the gunners and pilot. The highly trained marines scattered under wild return fire, diving away from the hot zone. A pair of them even jumped into an enemy trench, and they got up amidst a wave of beating, kicking, and smacking. Hoewin evened the odds by one, and the Iraqi pummeling one of the Marines dropped, missing a vital article of his body. The distraction allowed the Marines to recover and draw their combat knives, soon turning the tide of the melee.  
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Four down. The last soldier turned to flee, but Holly popped out of the shadows and nailed him with a grenade from her XM320, which cast training rounds into a wide arc everywhere, painting the nearby forest a vivid crimson.
  
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Grabbing his radio, Tom called for an artillery barrage from the wall to the open span of land where the Iraqis were huddled, spraying tons of rounds from their AK-74's.
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"Alright!" Jamie crowed.
  
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The artillery was already up and firing, but they shot scattered. Tom coordinated with the gunners to hit a nice, clumped target. The giant 105mm shells from the wall cannons pounded the ground, sending rocks and mud flying everywhere but doing surprisingly little damage. This kind of attack was meant to make the enemy cringe and falter, unable to see while you dashed to find a better position.
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Matt disengaged his spent clip and slapped a new one in. "Let's hope the other squads come running for the noise. One down, three to go, gentlemen."
  
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Tom saw at least three bodies fly up, arms flailing, rifles twisting as they plummeted back to Earth, unable to escape gravity for more than a few seconds.
 
  
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Tom scrambled up the side of the trench, dashing out, making for a large boulder just ahead.
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The next squad was slightly smarter. Instead of running pel-mel into the contested area, they sent one scout on ahead through the firing lane, and the rest hung back and encircled the target area. Too bad for them, Matt's squad had moved from the one killing field and into another close-by clearing, where they could easily spot the would-be flanking attack.
  
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Bullets sung close at his heels as he sprinted to the rocks, his men belatedly following. Finally they were out, able to shoot accurately again. Just as Tom was about to pop some Iraqis who were ignorantly not standing behind cover, three sniper shots came in quick succession, causing the Iraqis' heads to burst in a violent spray of gore. ''Jeez, can't Hoewin let me take a few?'' Tom thought.
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"Open fire!" Matt yelled, and the two soldiers in sight twisted around, trying to find the source of the noise. One was slugged by a heavy cal. sniper shot, and the other fell to the combined fire from Jamie's AR and Matt's carbine.
  
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The Nelson brothers flanked to either side, laying down suppressive fire for Hoewin, who was finding higher ground to snipe from. Chaumers hefted his Javelin explosive-grade, missile-delivery system, took aim, and fired at a clump of Raptors; the high-heat missile sent them yelping away in retreat as it came from above.
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Holly and Malcolm, still on the ground, rose out of a cover of leaves and dead brush and moved around behind the three soldiers left that came running. Standing up, they nailed two with one salvo of fire.
  
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Tom continued to take peeking shots, leaving almost none of his body exposed as he did. West was right beside him, working his way to the front as he fired. He liked to be in the thick of the action.
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The last one hit the dirt and rolled under a log. Holly and Malcolm pursued.
  
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One of the Iraqi's T-86 light attack tanks loomed out of the mist, and Chaumers let loose a anti-tank missile from his Javelin.
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"Negative! Disengage!" Jamie yelled, and opened fire into the brush to their left.
  
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Trippe took a bullet in the shoulder and went down, arms flailing. Tom loosed a torrent of curses. No new recruit should have to take that.
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Holly hit dirt. Malcolm followed half a second later with three rounds stitched across his back. He wasn't out yet, but his entire suit was getting quickly more rigid.
  
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Maddened at the sight of the poor wretch lying on the ground in so much pain, Tom popped up like a hyperactive bunny and sprayed the rest of the clip from his M9 carbine, eliciting cries of agony from the enemy.
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He turned onto his back and fired in the general direction of where the shots had come from. Holly sidled around to him and took out a fake med-pack, wiping clean the Training Rounds and administering an electric shock through the armor. Malcolm's suit unstraightened a little, and Malcolm crawled back into better cover.
  
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Tom tried to fire another burst, but the clip was empty. Bullets sailed close over his head; he could practically feel them. Cursing, he pulled out his sidearm and emptied the clip as he dove behind a larger clump of boulders, expecting at any second to feel the fiery sting of a bullet impale him.
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Jamie was still firing bursts from his AR at the last squad. Matt held his fire; there was no clear target in view, and to give away his position would be stupid. Scar attached a flash suppressor to her rifle, and started shelling the squad's general position.
  
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He made it to safety without feeling anything even remotely resembling stinging or pain. Instead he felt the cold muck sloshing through his fingers and splattering his chest, and the heavy, driving rain pounding down his back. The handgun was empty and he tossed it aside.
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"Watch flankers." Matt advised, seeing shadows moving behind her. Scar turned and nailed one soldier who had tried to flank her, and Matt caught another with a grenade.
  
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Crouching, he reloaded his rifle, fumbling with the clip from adrenaline. He finally fit it into the slot. As he did so, he glanced at Trippe. West had flagged down a medic, and now he was giving Trippe a shot of morphine as well as cleaning and bandaging the wound. He was going to be okay. Twisting around into a hunched stand, he nearly fell back in surprise. Stumbling back, his eyes registered an enormous, terrifying Velociraptor bending over the rocks he was using as cover. Red war paint was smeared over it's face, giving it a terrible, vicious appearance. Tom dropped the rifle into a pool of mud, but he didn't dare bend over to get it.
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Matt slid to the ground as Jamie covered him, landed, and ran in a half-crouch to Holly. He saw a rifle barrel poke out of a bush, saw a blast coming their way, and tackled Holly to the ground. The burst nailed him in the calf and he rolled up into a crouch.
  
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The Raptor, a she, gazed at him with contempt obvious on its face, rainwater drizzling down its muzzle in streams. And all Tom could do was stab his pathetic knife into it, and he had about as much chance of that as he had becoming president. All it had to do was open its jaws, lean forward, and snap them up, then Tom would be done. Done. Done for good. No waking up. No nothing. Although he had always believed in Heaven...
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Matt rolled off and came up firing. Jamie suppressed the soldier that had just shot at them while Matt took him out, Holly and Malcolm covering his flank.
  
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Now wasn't the time for a religious debate with himself.  
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Then Scar took multiple sustained bursts from the last soldier from the other squad, and toppled from the tree. She was out cold. Fury ignited in Matt. Toppling her from the tree was not necessary, and she could have injured herself. He and Holly outflanked the soldier and drilled him to the ground with long automatic fire.
  
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In a last, desperate attempt at survival, Tom twisted and ran. Ran like the old man with the scythe was after him, which he had been, for some time now. He yanked the knife out of it's sheath even though it would do no good. It was a comfort thing.
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They split and threw themselves behind rocks, Matt reloading as he went. There were two left on the other team and three left on his; Malcolm had been drilled again in his helmet.
  
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The Raptor bounded after him, raking its claw down his back. Tom cried out in agony. Raising its killing claw, it charged. Right as the claw was an inch from Tom's back, he dove to the side. The claw planted itself into the dirt.
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Jamie's AR barked again and again. With his suppressive fire, Matt darted from cover to cover and distracted the two soldiers long enough for Holly to creep around and take the first one out. The last soldier sprayed fire everywhere, panicking, and continued even as Matt, Jamie, and Holly's combined fire drilled him into the ground.
  
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The Raptor landed with it, snarling angrily. It had missed for the first time in its life. It turned at Tom and growled, a fierce challenge to the enemy. Her rider twisted around, an AK-74 assault rifle cradled in his arms, pointing at Tom. He stood no chance.
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The DS broke through their comm. lines, "Cease fire. Echo team, you have won the mission. We will collect you shortly. Hold position."
  
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Tom flung the knife at the Raptor's rider with all his strength. The tiny metallic missile caught the man between his eyes, hilt first, momentarily stunning him and knocking him off balance, making him slouch in the saddle. The Raptor cried out in alarm: her Master was hurt.
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"Roger that." Matt responded. "Alright, lady and gentleman. We won!"
  
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Tom took advantage of the momentary confusion to dive behind a rock, hopefully to safety, but instead onto a fallen body.
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The survivors of Echo Team gazed around at all the unconscious forms before them. They may as well have been dead. It was only now that Matt got the first hint of what a war could really be like. He would have to do better, make sure none of his crew got hurt, ever. This was one simple mission, and two of his own had gone. What would have happened had they been live rounds? Scar and Malcolm, dead, blink of an eye, without ever seeing their attackers. What was this going to come to?
  
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Oh, so gross. Tom gagged, then stopped. He realized something: fallen soldiers had fallen weapons, which wouldn't have fallen so far from the body.
 
  
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Scrambling frantically through the mud, his fear-numbed hands grasped at a bit of cold plastic material. Yanking it up from the suction-like mud, he brought it into view: a handgun. What type he didn't care, he whirled above the rock, aimed, and fired. The first bullet hit the Raptor's shoulder, causing it to whirl around, snarling in pain. The second bullet took the rider in the chest.
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This was war.
  
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The rider was thrown off the beast with a violent twisting motion, coming down to earth and face planting in the mud. He didn't stir.
 
  
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The alarmed Raptor snorted in fear. That fear was soon replaced by rage as the beast charged after Tom. Tom didn't move an inch, but stubbornly pounded the rest of his pistol rounds into the Raptor's mighty jaw, penetrating the brain. The Raptor gave a last weak roar and desperately dove for Tom. It seemed as if the thing would bite Tom's head off, but at that moment it met its end as Hoewin had finally reached the summit of a small hill, and taking notice of Tom's distress, cracked off a shot at the beast. For a short moment Tom was standing in shock at the wreck of blood and guts resting next to him.
 
  
−
As soon as the moment had begun, it had ended. Tom sprang into action. Trying not to scream in frustration, Tom sprinted back to his fallen assault rifle, checking to make sure it wasn't damaged by the rain or mud, when he heard the cry. On the other side of the group of rocks, West was in danger.
+
==Work In Progress Chapter 14==
 +
'''
  
−
“Help! Help!!!” The shrill cry of pain chilled Tom's already freezing blood. An enormous Velociraptor was hanging over the man, and Tom saw Shama face down in a puddle of reddish mud. The rest of the team was similarly engaged. Without stopping to think, he brought around his rifle and fired. The Raptor fell to the ground amidst a flurry of lead. Riley took a swipe across the face just as Hoewin saved another life, and Dyke popped up and tackled Riley's assailant.
 
  
−
''Mental note.'' Tom thought. ''Pay raise to Hoewin, on the basis of saving too many people for his current salary. Better yet, give him a commission. Pay raise to Dyke, on the basis of tackling a prehistoric monster to save a friend's life. Oo, and winning it looks like.'' He thought all this even as he emptied his clip, saving another few soldiers. Then the counter clicked to zero. And still two more pe- one more person to save. Time to see if Tom could measure up to Dyke's insanity.  
+
"You guys have got to check this out." Malcolm said as they boarded a cargo lift. "So the new shipments of Croc Armor have come in while you two were away, but the boys have been working overtime developing some gear strictly for the Shock Forces. I've gotten to work fitting our new armor with all our old custom stuff, but with some new toys."
  
−
Yelling bloody murder at the top of his lungs, Tom dove onto the Raptor. Without the assurance of a knife, as Dyke had. Oops.  
+
"What kind of toys?" Jamie asked, yawning. Upon arrival back at Firebase Bravo, he and Matt had been debriefed, taken several hot showers, and stuffed their guts with the contents of several MREs. Life was good.
  
−
The Raptor yelled in surprise, but it had just witnessed its friends dying around it and a similar tactic employed on one of them, so it figured it had something similar coming. Tom was shaken around violently as his considerable mass was tossed side to side, up and down. He wrapped his hands around the Raptor's neck and pulled. Apparently he was pretty strong because the Raptor started bucking harder, already wild at its ever increasing lack of oxygen.
+
"Dude DWAI. You'll see in just a sec."
  
−
Tom held on. The other option was death.
+
The lift sank several stories into the ground, to where Ford had had a Research and Development Lab excavated and lined with a fast-drying concrete substitute while Matt and Jamie were gone.  
  
−
Hoewin attempted a cautious shot, but it went too wide as the Raptor bucked out of his line of sight.  
+
It was the classic Malcolm workshop scene, with tables and workbenches lining the walls, equipment strewn all over the place in differing states of organization. But for some reason the lights were dimmed to half-intensity, throwing the room into deep shadows.
  
−
West, from the ground, somehow managed to grab a rifle and fired it one handed at the Raptor.  
+
They got off the lift and stood for a second. Matt inhaled the stale air and examined the sets of armor that lay draped over tables, gauntlets and shoulder pauldrons dismantled.
  
−
He would have been disappointed with the spread if he could've seen his handiwork, but just then the rain cut him off. The first few rounds went completely wide, a fourth even hit Tom on his back. But the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth rounds hit the Raptor. One got under it's jawbone, where the armor didn't cover, and it dropped like a stone weight.
+
"I don't see anything." Jamie said after half a minute.
  
−
“Uhhg, thanks.” West gasped as Tom hurried over. “I think I broke my leg.”
+
"I do." Malcolm said, unable to contain a grin.
  
−
“Ok, just take it easy, and wait for the meds.” Tom said. West dragged himself off the ground, and Tom called for a field ambulance to pick him up. If West's leg was broken, it would be suicide to order him to keep fighting, unlike Trippe, who could still move. After about thirty seconds, a vehicle came by. West hopped in the specially adapted ambulance, and they went screeching off to the next soldier.
+
Matt looked harder. "Oh. Clever."
  
−
Meanwhile, Dyke, Sanders, and Trippe had gotten to their feet,and Riley was blinking stupidly, staring up at a beleaguered Tuck Nelson as he dragged him to cover while firing his 8 pound machine gun in one hand. Tom glanced through the mist at another company of soldiers, who were tending to two men with clenched jaws, sitting against boulders with large red streaks on them. Tom forced himself to turn his attention back to his own squad, peering at the stricken tropical landscape. Almost immediately he spotted muzzle flashes here and there, and he raised the rifle to his shoulder, pearing through the scope. He emptied the entire clip on three of the Raptors. They fell, and Tom narrowly dodged an arrow. He stabbed a knife vaguely in the direction of the native who had attacked him. He dropped another native with his bayonet, then smacked another with the butt of his gun.
+
"What?" Jamie asked.
  
−
A Raptor came up, and Tom reloaded and fired hurriedly. It didn't go down, but was severely wounded, and Dyke finished him off. “Thanks,” Tom said, glancing at the man. They were all tired and breathing heavy. The soldiers were highly trained, heavily armed, and just simply the best of the best, but how much blood could you see in one day?
+
Matt reached out with one hand and gently probed the flickering semi-shadow before him. It laughed, so Matt grabbed the camouflage cloak and pulled it off.
  
−
A giant T-Rex was wreaking havoc in the front lines, and needed to be dealt with fast. Yes, fifteen years ago it would have been a large tank or vehicle making the ruckus. Now it was a living, breathing tank with teeth. Tom sighed. He missed the good old days. He shouted into his radio, “I need aerial support! Requesting Cobra gunship engagement of Rex 1. Target will be marked.”
+
The figure laughed again. Matt could now see the armor in greater detail, but the invisibility mechanism still worked amazingly well.
  
−
“Roger, require clearance code omega five."
+
Scar and Holly tapped some controls on their gauntlets from inside their new armor and solidified into the visible spectrum.  
  
−
Tom gave the requested clearance code.  
+
Malcolm hit the lights, and the room lit up.
  
−
"Roger, dispatching aerial support. Clear the engagement area.” A calm and serene voice broke the panic and confusion of battle.  
+
"Awesome! I want one." Jamie cackled.  
  
−
“All forward units, withdraw! Clear the area for air strike!” Tom ordered. As if he needed to. The soldiers were giving the beast a wide berth. Tom chucked a couple canisters of red smoke as a target for the gunners. Dyke and Reiley flanked to the sides, throwing each another canister of signal smoke and pinpointing the Rex in their laser sights. The Rex howled with rage as the acrid smell of the chemicals reached his sensitive nostrils. He stomped in a rampage, oblivious to all else, which was an added bonus.
+
"Pretty sweet." Matt agreed. "How does it work?"
  
−
Chaumers fired another high-heat flare, and the Rex stomped angrily.
+
"Unfortunately it sucks up power like a wild hog." Holly said, detaching a power cable from her back. "So the armor can't support it for much longer than a minute in combat situations unless its plugged into something."
  
−
It was almost impossible not to watch, even though he was supposed to be kicking enemy butt. A few moments later, an air-to-ground missile zipped over the tree line, to then crash into the poor Dinosaur's narrow head in an explosion of flames, hot metal, and a newly developed poisonous gas which was supposed to put the Dino asleep if it came into contact with it's head. All it did was make it madder. No matter, the actual gunship was already appearing over the tropical giants of trees. It pummeled the creature's side in a hail of hot bullets and smaller, non-poison missiles. The Rex gave a low moan of pain and fury as the Cobra helicopter whipped by overhead. The Cobra was relentlessly pummeling it in a hail of machine gun fire. It circled 3 times before the Rex finally gave up, the men on its back being long dead from the bullets. It collapsed in a cloud of dirt, blood was oozing from multiple wounds; it couldn't survive much longer. A ragged cheer emanated from the soldiers, while the natives and Iraqis moaned with despair. It gave a final cry of pain as the soldiers added their own slightly smaller bullet wounds to its body, then slumped to the ground, dead. Tom sprinted forward, sliding out a plastic sampler and tube as he ran.
+
"It's none of the 'Oh, I'll take a miraculous video of whats behind me and put it in front of me and for some reason it looks like I'm invisible' crap." Malcolm explained. "That would require the entire exterior of the armor to be covered in video screens. Instead, the armor's on-board computer gets a general bearing of its surroundings and then tells its new photo-reactive armor plates to change color and shade depending on what it registers. Like we said, the computer system and the photo-plates suck power really fast, so you can only do it for about a minute on one power cell."
  
−
Biological samples were invaluable, and a dead specimen was nearly as good as a live. He cut off a piece of it's skin, and then took a sample of muscle tissue from beneath. He capped the lid shut after storing them both carefully inside the tube.
+
"What's the cape for?"
  
−
Cheering erupted from the crowd of men as they rushed forward in order to take cover against it's protective flank, as the skin on it's back and sides are so hard, it is bullet proof. The belly and head are a different story. More of the soldiers began taking samples, and one was so intent on getting a good piece of organ, he cut away too much skin and gasped in surprise as a bullet spat out of it's body moments later, as some dumb Iraqi had been emptying clips and clips into the fallen Dino with naive hope of hitting something. The soldier continued on even though he had taken a nasty wound in his shoulder. Tom launched himself back into the frenzy of Raptors, eager for a smaller opponent to exploit.
+
Malcolm winced. "Cloak. Camouflage cloak. It's to break up the humanoid figure. Our eyes identify things by shape and color, so if we blur the outline of your body and minimize the difference in color you're practically invisible."
  
−
The Cobra hovered menacingly over the fallen Rex, as if daring the Iraqis or natives to do something about it. Because of it, the space immediately around it was devoid of any enemy presence. After a few moments of consultation, the Cobra opened fire from its two mounted chain guns and smaller, less powerful 10mm nose gun at nothing in particular. The bullets sent pools of mud plopping up like Mexican jumping beans. Tom was sure that something was being hit, but he couldn't tell in the haze.
+
Matt crossed to the worktables and inserted his arm into a gauntlet, then pulled a switch and a blade jumped out of the side. "Nice."
  
−
After thirty seconds of sustained fire, the helicopter launched its final three missiles at different spots on the ground. The helicopter radioed to Tom. "Commander Lane, we are out of munition, returning to base to re-arm and re-fuel, will radio when clear, over," a slick voice announced in the high-tech hands-free comm link in Tom's helmet visor.
+
"Yeah. Retractable gauntlet blades, your custom elbow spikes, high-density non-standard issue gel bladders, M5 fiber gloves in the gauntlets, steel knuckles, integrated sonic pulse emitter in the helmet speakers. And then some of the newer stuff, we've got optional gauntlet attachments, custom-fit for each of us. Jamie's, Scar's, and mine shoot flames. Yours, which is a much smaller attachment, can send an electric shock through the gauntlet and anything you're touching. Holly's shoots a gas grenade loaded with tear gas. Of course, the rebreather and visor in the helmet will make you impervious to gas attacks."
  
−
The statement needed no response, and almost immediately the Cobra turned away slowly, almost reluctantly. Tom didn't need it anymore, and it had to refuel.
+
"Thank heaven." Jamie snickered. "Finally, a piece of equipment that's been Matt-proofed."
  
−
The other squads were adding their bullets to the fray as well. The Iraqis were being driven back to the rainforest.
+
"Somehow, I knew you would say that."
  
−
Elation seeped through Tom as he realized that they were winning, bit by bit, piece by piece.
+
"And I did."
  
−
Darting from cover to cover, rock to fragment of a tank, Tom and his team were only able to take fleeting snapshots from their guns. But it was better than standing around in the middle of the battlefield waiting to get mown down by a machine gun like all the Iraqis.
+
"Yes you did."
  
−
Motioning for his men to cover him, he knelt to examine a piece of Dinosaur feces. Again, he slid out another sampler tube and took a sample of the feces. He pocketed it, then looked up in surprise.
+
"Okay."
  
−
Something whipped across his face, creating a dull, excruciating pain. He was thrown to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. He looked up, and an native officer was sneering at him, mere inches away from his face. His team was on the other side of a spur of rocks: they couldn't see him. The officer seemed to think that Tom was done for. But Tom knew something he didn't.
+
"Alright then."
  
−
Off to one side, West had noticed Tom's plight and was quietly sneaking around to the back of the Atlantian. He wanted to take the man alive.
+
A few seconds passed in silence.
  
−
Tom was distracted by a string of words: “You not have business here!" The Atlantian screamed in broken English. The Atlantian's own base language was similar to English, so it wasn't hard for them to learn.  
+
"Awkward." Scarlett stated.  
  
−
The Atlantian was right. What rights did an American army have on a peaceful island like theirs?
+
"Right. Anyway." Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Mark Two armor, really cool stuff. And it came in just in time, too."
  
−
Just then, West jumped forward, taking the man full on. Tom scrambled back as the Atlantian was beaten to the ground. Although West had  the advantage of size, Atlantians had been trained from the age of seven to fight. Especially in melee. Just like Sparta, from Ancient Greece.  
+
"Meaning?" Holly asked.
  
−
Tom grabbed a weapon off the ground and advanced on the pair of struggling soldiers; one in an American's highly sophisticated combat armor, the other in what looked like a variation of the full Greek battle armor. The metal looked unusual. As well as it might: Atlantis was the only spot on Earth where it could be found. What was it? Solinium? Tom didn't remember. It was light and valuable and stronger than steel. It might even stop a small caliber bullet. Of course, all the Atlantians wore thin suits under their armor now. Completely bullet proof, and more cushioning should a bullet actually hit. But all that armor could only do so much against a blunt swing to the head with the stock of an assault rifle.  
+
"We're about to get sent out again. All of us, to go mop up that Russian detention outpost you two were at. It's a joint operation between us and the Atlantians - first official mission together, just to kinda test the waters."
  
−
Tom heard the air rushing out of the way of his makeshift cudgel as it smashed into the Atlantian's helmet. The metal crumpled slightly inward. Tom was extremely strong for his age of 18, and he was pretty tall, even if he wasn't the bulkiest. He was also extremely young to be a Sargent. But thats how good he was. Or at least, so people said.  
+
"So they're sending five Shockers and how many Atlantians?" Scar asked.
  
−
Tom got up and brushed himself off. The battle was almost over. Just another 3,000 guys to go. Then the horns sounded.
+
"Well, a bit more than us five. And you're not gonna like it."
  
−
The battlefield stilled as the natives and Velociraptors bowed, and the soldiers looked up in fear. It had arrived.
+
The five of them packed their new armor and weaponry into armored crates, and Malcolm lead the crew back up to the ground floor, and from there they commandeered a Humvee for the short cross-camp drive to the armory.
  
−
It being the most ferocious, bloodthirsty giant of a Tyrannosaurus Rex there ever was.
+
Inside the semi-enclosed courtyard was a flurry of pre-mission activity. Soldiers, dressed in the head-to-toe matte black version of the newest Mk II armor, jogged from place to place, securing ammo crates, inspecting gear, loading vehicles.  
  
−
“RRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!” The world came to again as all the soldiers turned and fled.
+
Ford stood on a raised platform just outside the armory wall in one corner of the courtyard surveying the proceedings. He was dressed in cut-down CROC armor and an eyepiece instead of a helmet. From time to time aides dashed up to him carrying messages, then just as quickly disappeared. Carter stood at his shoulder, helmet in hands.
  
−
“Retreat!” RETREAT!!!” Tom yelled unnecessarily. He and his team turned tail and fled without a seconds thought to everyone else behind them.
+
When Ford saw the five 'Shockers,' he motioned them over. The 13's, who had been dubbed thus by the Marine Shock Forces, felt it their due to come up with a name in return. Hence, Shockers.
  
−
Everyone was sprinting full out to the base, and the rear was still being picked off by the Raptors and Atlantians. Tom cried out as he was thrown to the ground, an incredible pain in his shoulder. He had been shot. Tom sucked in a shaky breath. The bullet hadn't penetrated, but it still hurt like heck. ''Unhhh.'' Tom groaned. ''Its not like in the movies.'' Someone picked him up and threw him forward. His team had been separated. Not that it mattered, as long as they all got to the base.
+
"Guys, suit up. We're going in first to soften up the AA, and then when the main strike force arrives, we breach buildings, grab all the sensitive material we can find, then high-tail it out when the bombing starts. Clear?" Carter asked.
  
−
Tom glanced over his un-injured shoulder and found himself at the near back of the horde. He ran forward, and he barely made it to the gates before they shut.
+
"Yes sir!" The crew responded as one.
  
−
The men at the rear were still being picked off by the Raptors. To add to the confusion, the natives were throwing javelins and shooting flaming arrows into the crowd, and the Iraqis were picking off the rear lines with AK-74s.
+
"Right. We'll be dropping in out of the new HALE rocket pods - High Altitude Low Entry Shock n' Awe drop pods. Just like the video games." Carter continued. "AC-130 flies by and drops us off, waits till we hit the AA, then drops down and provides support fire."
  
−
The last of the men dove through the main gate, just as their was less than a body's width of space between the two great slabs of reinforced concrete. Tom was able to breath again as the doors shut. Only three Raptors and an Atlantian had made it through, and the Atlantian had gotten stuck in the door, his foot still being squeezed into the concrete. The remaining soldiers made quick work of them.
+
Ford nodded. "We'll be dropping you guys in addition to Orca Team, so you'll have some more numbers to fill out the ranks at first. Find and destroy as many AA emplacements as you can, then call it in and sit tight."
  
−
Tom could now hear the reassuring thud of the machine guns, the whistling howl of the mortars, and the sharp crack of the snipers. Battle was chaos. Inside the 12 foot thick, 50 ft high reinforced concrete walls, he felt safe.
+
"Right. Let's get this show on the road."
  
−
But it wasn't over. The Rex was still charging, and no one could stop it. Except maybe, him. But there was no way Tom could climb the steps up to the wall now. Then he felt it. An excited, bubbling energy as something inside him rebelled the inevitable failure.
+
"Yeah, lets go plan some more cliches on the plain ride." Scar rolled her eyes.
  
−
He was rising suddenly, and he looked down. He was 15 ft in the air. 20, 30ft, 40, now 50 feet! He was at the top of the wall! He catapulted a few feet above the wall, then came back down with his arms flailing. Tom bent over and grabbed a ZEUS missile launcher from a fallen soldier. But a single missile wasn't enough. He could still feel the energy, boiling, scorching, and unbearable. He had to release it, or die. It was that simple.
+
"At least it made sense this time." Malcolm pointed out.
  
−
He stood straight and raised the launcher, suddenly confident, injury forgotten. He knew what he had to do. He manually locked the sights on the Rex, the launcher beeped to indicate it was locked, and Tom fired. Then he threw it away. Focusing hard, he released the energy in one compact sapphire ball. It surrounded the missile, and together they drove into the Rex's skull, along with half a dozen rounds from the 60mm artillery cannon dotted around the wall. BOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!! The Earth shook tremendously. The Rex was terribly wounded. It thrashed around madly in pain, crushing many of it's own men. With a final cry of blood lust, it escaped into the jungle, followed quickly by ''her'' allies.
+
"Hey!" Matt laughed.
  
−
A ragged cheer began on the ground, and became more steady as more and more joined the shout.
+
The five of them split up into the locker rooms in the armory and helped eachother into their armor. It took about ten minutes to gear up in their armor, then another five while they signed out and inspected their custom weapons, each enhanced to fit the user. Matt's HK UMP-45 had been modified for higher muzzle velocity, and Matt had custom-ordered his own magazine design that held thirty-five instead of twenty-five rounds, and was fatter and wider instead of longer. Matt had also kept the SMG's distinguishing .45 ACP rounds for increased stopping power.
  
−
By the end, Tom's name was echoing throughout the entire facility joyously. He was a hero. He had saved the day.
+
The rest used XM8's in various configurations, with the exception that Jamie swapped his MP7 for a M1014 combat shotgun.
  
−
He was so tired. Never before had he been tired like this. He seemed to be drained. Drained of willpower and life. He barely had the energy to keep standing. He knew why.
+
Now that the Mk. II armor had an integrated anti-armor missile weapon system, Matt didn't need to carry a rocket-launcher or grenade launcher, but instead strapped an MP7 to his thigh, a Magnum under his shoulder, and an electric-flanged mace across his back.  
  
−
The sapphire ball had been a ball of energy, pure energy, his energy. He had sent his last reserves careening towards that stupid Dinosaur. Now he just needed to sleep...
+
"I love this new armor." Holly said once they had joined back up and were piling into a Humvee that would take them to the runway. "They updated all the joints and improved the exoskeletons, so it feels like you're floating."
  
−
He collapsed on the top of the wall. About a minute later, he was aware of soft hands gently pulling him to his feet, swinging his arms around their shoulders. He didn't know who it was. He didn't care. They brought him to the ground where he was placed on a stretcher, and from there carted into an infirmary. Just as he was rolled through the double doors, he fell into merciful, deep sleep.
+
"I wouldn't say floating, but we can actually move, yeah. Sixty pounds of armor, another forty or fifty pounds of ammo and equipment while we're fighting."
  
−
==Illustrations==
+
They exited the Humvee and boarded the AC-130, strapping themselves in for the two-hour flight to the Russian encampment. Atlantis was a big place.
−
[[Image:Cover.jpg|200px]]
+
−
This was the original cover for the Atlantis Escapade. Cool huh? In this drawing, Tom is holding what is supposed to be an FN Scar and a Desert Eagle. Complain to Will if you have any comments.
+
  
−
[[Image:Soldier.jpg|200px]]
+
"We should meet up with an Atlantian Zeppelin about ten miles out from the base, set up a zip line, and Orca will ride across to our bird." An operator told them over their helmet's internal comm. "We've got two hours till the drop, so make yourselves comfortable."
−
A random Atlantian royal guard. Niiiice.  
+
  
−
[[Image:Warrior.jpg|200px]]
+
Matt pulled an oxygen mask from its cradle behind his head and slotted it over his face. They would be going high enough that it would be hard to breath. His full-helmet had its own internal air scrubbers, but they could recycle air for a maximum of 20 minutes, and anyways he didn't want to use up his oxygen reserves just for the flight.
−
First ever drawing of Dr. Shang with chocolate spilled on it. Great job Will!
+
  
−
[[Image:Warrior2.jpg|200px]]
+
For the next hour and a half, the crew alternated cleaning their weapons, adjusting their sights, fine-tuning fore-grips and mounted grenade launchers and high-intensity halogen flashlights, and taking cat-naps.
−
The cover for the second book in the Atlantis trilogy. Yes, that's right, there will be three books in all which include the character Tom. I'm not gonna give away anything more.
+
  
−
[[Image:Cover2.jpg|200px]]
+
Carter roused the crew fifteen minutes prior to their scheduled rendezvous with the Atlantians. Each of them went through their final pre-launch equipment checklist, making sure everything worked correctly, then checked eachother's gear.  
−
The newer, improved version of the cover for the Atlantis escapade, with a messy title.  
+
  
−
[[Image:Chopper.jpg|400px]]
+
Matt felt his heart speed up as the AC-130 pulled into a steep dive. They would have to get lower if they wanted the zeppelin to be able to keep pace.
−
An awesome drawing of an Apache Longbow, the newest type. Sweet Chinook in the background.
+
  
−
[[Image:Car.jpg|400px]]
+
"Alright, boys and girls, time to get suited up." The operator said as the red light blinked on. The six of them slid full-face helmets on over their padded skull caps and made sure the oxygen tanks were fully charged. It would suck to black out from the G's taking away the oxygen from your brain, and end up dying because you couldn't hit a control at the right moment.
−
Tom's awesome Aston Martin DBS with a few modifications
+

Latest revision as of 00:37, 27 November 2010

Book One: Atlantis Rising


Written by Brandon Krupczak


Atlantis Rising: Chapter 1 Atlantis Rising: Chapter 11
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 2 Atlantis Rising: Chapter 12
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 3 Atlantis Rising: Chapter 13
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 4
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 5
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 6
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 7
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 8
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 9
Atlantis Rising: Chapter 10

Hello people reading this! You may have accidentally stumbled upon a book that is under way currently. The book is basically about World War Three, in a world where there are eight continents. The eighth is Atlantis, which surfaces in December of 2012. Maybe the Mayan calendar wasn't counting down to this day, but counting up to the day when Atlantis would rise above the oceans once more, supposedly.

Below is a random chapter from the book that I display here on the front page. The link above brings you to the page that the chapter is actually housed at. If you scroll down to the very bottom, you'll find my work in progress section, where I write the next section/chapter of the book. Because I start writing completely fresh chapters, the work in progress section might end in a fragment of thought, or there might not be anything displayed there.

Please also note that none of my writing here is completed and I go back numerous times to a piece to improve it. The chapter below will be changed multiple times and improved upon, so if you read it now you might wanna check back every now and again to see if I changed anything.

Also, please note that any writing I do here is written to entertain, and therefore the story has to fit in with itself, so please excuse any religious or opinionated writing I have here and do not take it into offense. Please don't copy my work. It's not nice.


Also check out my friend Jamie Knox's writing here:

Reaper's First Drop

And here's a new, alternate account of the war, from the perspective of an elite soldier from an elite Black-Ops Spec-Ops division.

Atlantis Rising: Perfect War

And another little project of mine. Here, I'm writing about the video game Fallout 3. The setting, premise, and some of the characters are not my creation, but basically I'm taking the game and writing my own addition.

Fallout 3

An additional project, using the concept and setting of the Fallout universe again. This is an idea I've wanted to explore: A Fallout game in the Carribean.

Fallout: Caribbean

And a Halo project, told from the perspective of a Marine Fireteam. Just regular soldiers, not Spartans or even ODSTs.

Halo: Fireteam


[edit] Atlantis Teaser

"Soldiers, you will be deployed via fast-rope. You will rappel down to the ground and await the indicator in your HUD before beginning. As soon as you see the signal, you may begin. Good luck, recruits. Up first: Echo Squad! Squad Leader, make sure your squad's gear checks out."

The DS gestured to Matt, and all of them went and gave one another triple buddy checks.

"Ready when you are, Frost!" Holly yelled over their Team comm.

"Roger that, Aura." Matt yelled back. Each of them had callsigns. His was Frost. Jamie's was Scorch. Scar was Flare. Malcolm was Spark. Holly was Aura. "Alright. Squad, move out! Go, go, go!" Matt barked.

Scar attached her rappel harness to the line and jumped out the side, one hand on the rope above her, and the other below and slightly behind her butt, the "brake" hand that controlled how fast the line went. Malcolm followed, then Jamie, then Holly. Matt was the last one out, as befitting his status of Squad Leader.

Scar landed, disengaged her harness, and let it drop to the forest floor. A crew would come later and get it.

Soon the entire squad was on the ground, and Matt quickly led the squad under cover of the trees. As soon as the V-22 Osprey was out of sight, they doubled back and went after the bird. They kept the lines from the rappel - there was always a use for thirty feet of tough nylon.

The countdown timer in Matt's HUD read D + 15:07 when Matt raised his fist, the sign to halt. With slow, exaggerated sign language, he indicated for the team to spread out and climb the trees. Jamie went with Matt in one tree. Scar went by herself, and Malcolm and Holly shared a third.

"Frost, requesting permission to re-format to a sniper?" Scar whispered over the Teamcomm.

"Roger that, Flare. Permission granted. Scorch, outfit yours with the AR. Aura, you're our grenadier. Get the XM320 on there." The XM320 was a single-shot 40mm grenade launcher that could be attached to their carbines. Matt put one on his. Malcolm preferred a straight-up assault rifle.

Beside Matt, almost completely invisible in the heavy jungle shadow, Jamie lay prone along two branches, with his AR balanced on a third branch with a clear line-of-sight to the ground.

Matt slid down from the tree. "Spark, get down here and help me create a barricade. We need to push any incoming squads into one firing lane. Scorch, Flare, give me a dot." In response, Malcolm slid from his tree, and both Scar and Jamie highlighted the firing lane that they had access to with red laser-dots. Matt took armfuls of brambles and thin, thorned vines and dumped them to the left and right of the lane, in between the trees, to create a natural-looking wall that would influence the squads to find an easier way through. Right through their lane of fire.

Matt strung triplines further out into the jungle with the Nylon cables, attaching them to frag grenades.

Matt's countdown ended. "Alright people, we can now shoot at and be shot. Let's wrap this up." Malcolm laid the last armful of brambles in place, and then they both scampered up into their separate trees. There were five other squads in this particular mission, all within a square mile. It wouldn't be long before they had some hits.

Five minutes passed, and no one came. The squad was getting impatient. "Spark," Matt whispered. "Be the rabbit. I need you to go along the lane and see if you can draw some fire, then sprint back here. We'll cover your approach. I'd do it myself but I'm not fast enough."

"Roger that, lead." Malcolm said, grinning. "I've always been one for the suicidal frontal charge." He slid down his tree, landing in the brush below. Before he had even gone two minutes, the sound of gunfire erupted through the forest. "Frost, I've got multiple targets here. They've got me pinned, I could use some assistance!"

Matt looked to Holly. She nodded, slid down, and circled around to the right to counter-flank the guys surrounding Malcolm. "Spark, help is on the way. How long can you hold?"

"I've got good cover, I'm inside a shallow cave-thing in the ground. I can hold out a while."

"Roger that. Keep your head down, but keep the attention centered on you. And watch out, they'll try to advance. Watch your flanks."

"You got it, Frost." Malcolm said, and tossed a grenade out the opening of the cave. It exploded, and Malcolm heard someone groan. "Yeah, bring it!" He shouted.

Holly took up a firing position, sighted through her scope, and tagged a soldier in the back of his head. He dropped like a load of rocks, asleep by the time he hit the ground. Return fire peppered the rock she had been hiding behind, and two soldiers broke off to get her. But Holly wasn't there anymore.

A soldier fell as rounds tore into his inner thigh. He dropped to the ground, not out yet but with a crippled leg. He hobbled behind a piece of cover as Holly filled the air with bullets around the second soldier. A grenade rolled to a stop next to her, and at this she turned and fled back the way she had come, then darted back, and got the attention of the two remaining soldiers pinning Malcolm.

At the momentary distraction, Malcolm bolted out of the hole, sprinted from rock to tree, from tree to bush, from bush to ground, and drew the soldiers down through the firing lane, followed a second later by Holly. Jamie adjusted his grip on the AR as the two squadmates ran down the path. 30 seconds later, the first soldier popped into view. Jamie waited until the last soldier appeared, then nailed the one closest to any viable cover.

The steady thrum of the AR set Matt's head pounding, and he opened fire on the last one in the line. Then Scar fired, and a round slugged the first soldier in the chest.

Jamie's target fell from hits to the leg, side, and shoulder. He wasn't quite gone, but almost. Jamie finished him off with another quick, sustained burst.

Matt's soldier dropped to the ground, out for the count with five rounds in his chest and more in his left arm.

Scar's target took the heavy caliber bullet in the chest and sat down with the force, hard, landing on his butt and jarring his head. Before he could recover, Scar punched another round into his chest. He spun halfway around and ate dirt.

Four down. The last soldier turned to flee, but Holly popped out of the shadows and nailed him with a grenade from her XM320, which cast training rounds into a wide arc everywhere, painting the nearby forest a vivid crimson.

"Alright!" Jamie crowed.

Matt disengaged his spent clip and slapped a new one in. "Let's hope the other squads come running for the noise. One down, three to go, gentlemen."


The next squad was slightly smarter. Instead of running pel-mel into the contested area, they sent one scout on ahead through the firing lane, and the rest hung back and encircled the target area. Too bad for them, Matt's squad had moved from the one killing field and into another close-by clearing, where they could easily spot the would-be flanking attack.

"Open fire!" Matt yelled, and the two soldiers in sight twisted around, trying to find the source of the noise. One was slugged by a heavy cal. sniper shot, and the other fell to the combined fire from Jamie's AR and Matt's carbine.

Holly and Malcolm, still on the ground, rose out of a cover of leaves and dead brush and moved around behind the three soldiers left that came running. Standing up, they nailed two with one salvo of fire.

The last one hit the dirt and rolled under a log. Holly and Malcolm pursued.

"Negative! Disengage!" Jamie yelled, and opened fire into the brush to their left.

Holly hit dirt. Malcolm followed half a second later with three rounds stitched across his back. He wasn't out yet, but his entire suit was getting quickly more rigid.

He turned onto his back and fired in the general direction of where the shots had come from. Holly sidled around to him and took out a fake med-pack, wiping clean the Training Rounds and administering an electric shock through the armor. Malcolm's suit unstraightened a little, and Malcolm crawled back into better cover.

Jamie was still firing bursts from his AR at the last squad. Matt held his fire; there was no clear target in view, and to give away his position would be stupid. Scar attached a flash suppressor to her rifle, and started shelling the squad's general position.

"Watch flankers." Matt advised, seeing shadows moving behind her. Scar turned and nailed one soldier who had tried to flank her, and Matt caught another with a grenade.

Matt slid to the ground as Jamie covered him, landed, and ran in a half-crouch to Holly. He saw a rifle barrel poke out of a bush, saw a blast coming their way, and tackled Holly to the ground. The burst nailed him in the calf and he rolled up into a crouch.

Matt rolled off and came up firing. Jamie suppressed the soldier that had just shot at them while Matt took him out, Holly and Malcolm covering his flank.

Then Scar took multiple sustained bursts from the last soldier from the other squad, and toppled from the tree. She was out cold. Fury ignited in Matt. Toppling her from the tree was not necessary, and she could have injured herself. He and Holly outflanked the soldier and drilled him to the ground with long automatic fire.

They split and threw themselves behind rocks, Matt reloading as he went. There were two left on the other team and three left on his; Malcolm had been drilled again in his helmet.

Jamie's AR barked again and again. With his suppressive fire, Matt darted from cover to cover and distracted the two soldiers long enough for Holly to creep around and take the first one out. The last soldier sprayed fire everywhere, panicking, and continued even as Matt, Jamie, and Holly's combined fire drilled him into the ground.

The DS broke through their comm. lines, "Cease fire. Echo team, you have won the mission. We will collect you shortly. Hold position."

"Roger that." Matt responded. "Alright, lady and gentleman. We won!"

The survivors of Echo Team gazed around at all the unconscious forms before them. They may as well have been dead. It was only now that Matt got the first hint of what a war could really be like. He would have to do better, make sure none of his crew got hurt, ever. This was one simple mission, and two of his own had gone. What would have happened had they been live rounds? Scar and Malcolm, dead, blink of an eye, without ever seeing their attackers. What was this going to come to?


This was war.


[edit] Work In Progress Chapter 14


"You guys have got to check this out." Malcolm said as they boarded a cargo lift. "So the new shipments of Croc Armor have come in while you two were away, but the boys have been working overtime developing some gear strictly for the Shock Forces. I've gotten to work fitting our new armor with all our old custom stuff, but with some new toys."

"What kind of toys?" Jamie asked, yawning. Upon arrival back at Firebase Bravo, he and Matt had been debriefed, taken several hot showers, and stuffed their guts with the contents of several MREs. Life was good.

"Dude DWAI. You'll see in just a sec."

The lift sank several stories into the ground, to where Ford had had a Research and Development Lab excavated and lined with a fast-drying concrete substitute while Matt and Jamie were gone.

It was the classic Malcolm workshop scene, with tables and workbenches lining the walls, equipment strewn all over the place in differing states of organization. But for some reason the lights were dimmed to half-intensity, throwing the room into deep shadows.

They got off the lift and stood for a second. Matt inhaled the stale air and examined the sets of armor that lay draped over tables, gauntlets and shoulder pauldrons dismantled.

"I don't see anything." Jamie said after half a minute.

"I do." Malcolm said, unable to contain a grin.

Matt looked harder. "Oh. Clever."

"What?" Jamie asked.

Matt reached out with one hand and gently probed the flickering semi-shadow before him. It laughed, so Matt grabbed the camouflage cloak and pulled it off.

The figure laughed again. Matt could now see the armor in greater detail, but the invisibility mechanism still worked amazingly well.

Scar and Holly tapped some controls on their gauntlets from inside their new armor and solidified into the visible spectrum.

Malcolm hit the lights, and the room lit up.

"Awesome! I want one." Jamie cackled.

"Pretty sweet." Matt agreed. "How does it work?"

"Unfortunately it sucks up power like a wild hog." Holly said, detaching a power cable from her back. "So the armor can't support it for much longer than a minute in combat situations unless its plugged into something."

"It's none of the 'Oh, I'll take a miraculous video of whats behind me and put it in front of me and for some reason it looks like I'm invisible' crap." Malcolm explained. "That would require the entire exterior of the armor to be covered in video screens. Instead, the armor's on-board computer gets a general bearing of its surroundings and then tells its new photo-reactive armor plates to change color and shade depending on what it registers. Like we said, the computer system and the photo-plates suck power really fast, so you can only do it for about a minute on one power cell."

"What's the cape for?"

Malcolm winced. "Cloak. Camouflage cloak. It's to break up the humanoid figure. Our eyes identify things by shape and color, so if we blur the outline of your body and minimize the difference in color you're practically invisible."

Matt crossed to the worktables and inserted his arm into a gauntlet, then pulled a switch and a blade jumped out of the side. "Nice."

"Yeah. Retractable gauntlet blades, your custom elbow spikes, high-density non-standard issue gel bladders, M5 fiber gloves in the gauntlets, steel knuckles, integrated sonic pulse emitter in the helmet speakers. And then some of the newer stuff, we've got optional gauntlet attachments, custom-fit for each of us. Jamie's, Scar's, and mine shoot flames. Yours, which is a much smaller attachment, can send an electric shock through the gauntlet and anything you're touching. Holly's shoots a gas grenade loaded with tear gas. Of course, the rebreather and visor in the helmet will make you impervious to gas attacks."

"Thank heaven." Jamie snickered. "Finally, a piece of equipment that's been Matt-proofed."

"Somehow, I knew you would say that."

"And I did."

"Yes you did."

"Okay."

"Alright then."

A few seconds passed in silence.

"Awkward." Scarlett stated.

"Right. Anyway." Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Mark Two armor, really cool stuff. And it came in just in time, too."

"Meaning?" Holly asked.

"We're about to get sent out again. All of us, to go mop up that Russian detention outpost you two were at. It's a joint operation between us and the Atlantians - first official mission together, just to kinda test the waters."

"So they're sending five Shockers and how many Atlantians?" Scar asked.

"Well, a bit more than us five. And you're not gonna like it."

The five of them packed their new armor and weaponry into armored crates, and Malcolm lead the crew back up to the ground floor, and from there they commandeered a Humvee for the short cross-camp drive to the armory.

Inside the semi-enclosed courtyard was a flurry of pre-mission activity. Soldiers, dressed in the head-to-toe matte black version of the newest Mk II armor, jogged from place to place, securing ammo crates, inspecting gear, loading vehicles.

Ford stood on a raised platform just outside the armory wall in one corner of the courtyard surveying the proceedings. He was dressed in cut-down CROC armor and an eyepiece instead of a helmet. From time to time aides dashed up to him carrying messages, then just as quickly disappeared. Carter stood at his shoulder, helmet in hands.

When Ford saw the five 'Shockers,' he motioned them over. The 13's, who had been dubbed thus by the Marine Shock Forces, felt it their due to come up with a name in return. Hence, Shockers.

"Guys, suit up. We're going in first to soften up the AA, and then when the main strike force arrives, we breach buildings, grab all the sensitive material we can find, then high-tail it out when the bombing starts. Clear?" Carter asked.

"Yes sir!" The crew responded as one.

"Right. We'll be dropping in out of the new HALE rocket pods - High Altitude Low Entry Shock n' Awe drop pods. Just like the video games." Carter continued. "AC-130 flies by and drops us off, waits till we hit the AA, then drops down and provides support fire."

Ford nodded. "We'll be dropping you guys in addition to Orca Team, so you'll have some more numbers to fill out the ranks at first. Find and destroy as many AA emplacements as you can, then call it in and sit tight."

"Right. Let's get this show on the road."

"Yeah, lets go plan some more cliches on the plain ride." Scar rolled her eyes.

"At least it made sense this time." Malcolm pointed out.

"Hey!" Matt laughed.

The five of them split up into the locker rooms in the armory and helped eachother into their armor. It took about ten minutes to gear up in their armor, then another five while they signed out and inspected their custom weapons, each enhanced to fit the user. Matt's HK UMP-45 had been modified for higher muzzle velocity, and Matt had custom-ordered his own magazine design that held thirty-five instead of twenty-five rounds, and was fatter and wider instead of longer. Matt had also kept the SMG's distinguishing .45 ACP rounds for increased stopping power.

The rest used XM8's in various configurations, with the exception that Jamie swapped his MP7 for a M1014 combat shotgun.

Now that the Mk. II armor had an integrated anti-armor missile weapon system, Matt didn't need to carry a rocket-launcher or grenade launcher, but instead strapped an MP7 to his thigh, a Magnum under his shoulder, and an electric-flanged mace across his back.

"I love this new armor." Holly said once they had joined back up and were piling into a Humvee that would take them to the runway. "They updated all the joints and improved the exoskeletons, so it feels like you're floating."

"I wouldn't say floating, but we can actually move, yeah. Sixty pounds of armor, another forty or fifty pounds of ammo and equipment while we're fighting."

They exited the Humvee and boarded the AC-130, strapping themselves in for the two-hour flight to the Russian encampment. Atlantis was a big place.

"We should meet up with an Atlantian Zeppelin about ten miles out from the base, set up a zip line, and Orca will ride across to our bird." An operator told them over their helmet's internal comm. "We've got two hours till the drop, so make yourselves comfortable."

Matt pulled an oxygen mask from its cradle behind his head and slotted it over his face. They would be going high enough that it would be hard to breath. His full-helmet had its own internal air scrubbers, but they could recycle air for a maximum of 20 minutes, and anyways he didn't want to use up his oxygen reserves just for the flight.

For the next hour and a half, the crew alternated cleaning their weapons, adjusting their sights, fine-tuning fore-grips and mounted grenade launchers and high-intensity halogen flashlights, and taking cat-naps.

Carter roused the crew fifteen minutes prior to their scheduled rendezvous with the Atlantians. Each of them went through their final pre-launch equipment checklist, making sure everything worked correctly, then checked eachother's gear.

Matt felt his heart speed up as the AC-130 pulled into a steep dive. They would have to get lower if they wanted the zeppelin to be able to keep pace.

"Alright, boys and girls, time to get suited up." The operator said as the red light blinked on. The six of them slid full-face helmets on over their padded skull caps and made sure the oxygen tanks were fully charged. It would suck to black out from the G's taking away the oxygen from your brain, and end up dying because you couldn't hit a control at the right moment.

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