Allen lead the charge from the front, peppering the remaining fortifications with bullets to either kill or keep the survivors in hiding. Then, they dropped down into the first of two lines of trenches as the bombardment lifted. Allen quickly found himself face to face with a raider as the his company flooded the trenches. The Raider lunged himself at Allen, who quickly ducked and brought the butt of his gun slamming down into the raider's knee, breaking instantly and causing the raider to collapse in pain and from the lose of use of a leg. With the raider on his knees, Allen quickly slammed the butt of his gun on the raider's head, knocking him unconscious before dispatching him with a bayonet to the neck. By then, the entire trench was already secured and the three companies charged the second trench, also quickly dispatching those inside. Allen yelled and then lead the charge up the final bit of hill to the final line of fortifications, guns blazing as the slaver-raider force found themselves unable to return fire unless be instantly killed.
Rhys charged alongside the second company as they quickly advanced towards their enemy, guns blazing and mowing down any form of resistance. One Raider was lucky enough to get a shot on Rhys, a bullet slamming into his right shoulder but not before getting mowed down by the overwhelming force of the Republic. Not long after the second trench was secure, the three company's moved rapidly up the hill. With another quick strike, Rhys and his squad took down another important slaver leader with deadly precision, Rhys taking him straight through the heart. One female member of his squad, a girl named Ashley, borrowed a grenade launcher and launched a shot against a tight group of raiders, blowing them up and throwing their remains across the hill. Second Company followed the first up of the hill, and once they reached the top, the battle was over.
Allen quickly found a way to raise the Texas flag over the church, high enough up on the church spire to be seen for miles. The way to advance deep inside Dallas and surround the stronghold line was now open, and once more, he sent a messenger squad back to John. After that, he found Rhys, grinning at the newest extremely successful battle, "We've essentially wiped out the majority of the strongest enemy factions in Dallas, it should be smooth sailing from here on out."
"Fantastic." Rhys replied before taking some tweezers and biting his lip to hide the pain of taking the bullet out of his shoulder. "Once we're finished with these animals, we can focus on whatever it takes to solidify the Republic's hold, should not be hard considering that all the hard work is fighting our enemies is now done."
Allen stared at the wound in Rhys' shoulder for a few moments before suddenly running off, returning after a few minutes with a syringe, guaze, a stick, and a bottle of whiskey. Handing the stick to Rhys, he said simply, "You might wanna bite on that." Before wiping off the wound with a rag before pouring the whiskey on it to disinfect the wound, knowing it would sting like hell. Allen then quickly found a vein in Rhys' arm and drove the needle home, pushing the syringe down to inject the stimpack into Rhys before wrapping the wound in guaze. "There...that should do..."
Rhys almost didn't flinch when the Stimpack was injected, but made a little bit of noise when the whiskey was used to as a disinfectant. Once done, he took a deep breath. "Thank you Allen, I owe you one." He then looked at the republic soldiers below him as they cheered into the air after celebrating their victory, something that brought a smile to his face as men and women cheered, hugged or even kissed one another as they roared loudly. Rhys raised his rifle into the air with one arm as he yelled "Long live the Republic!", which intensified the cheering of the crowd of soldiers drastically as their combined voices could be heard for miles, their echo bouncing off the walls.
(Sure) About a week or so after the events of their last battle, and the elimination of the strongest forces of raider and slaver gangs in the Metroplex removing plenty of stress from the minds of many of the Republic's commanders, the remainder of battles against the far weaker forces were far easier than what was expected. While some did fight to the death, most battles ended in an absolutely overwhelming victory for the Republic. For two or three of it's battles, they were hardly considered battles at all, some raiders completely surrendered only to await execution or were fighting amongst themselves for even considering the thought of surrender. The Republic became a much safer place to live and travel, and thanks to it's new found powers, it began to expand rapidly.
(Dallas. Just in Dallas. They haven't fought for Fort Worth yet, which is extrordinarily dangerous.) John looked over the map of North Texas with a bold line representing the edge of the secured territory of the Republic of Texas. The line cut sharply down at the border with Fort Worth, which, without a doubt, was teeming with the most dangerous raiders, slavers, mercenaries, ghouls, and mutated animals. He had to clear it, but even with the massive victories of the Mid-Cities and Dallas, taking Fort Worth, with its high radiation areas and other massive dangers, would make it extremely long and arduous to clear. They would literally have to go from room to room to clear it as those dangers would not surrender, they wouldn't make suicidal charges, they would make the Republic pay for each and every inch of ground. They would be facing a well armed, more or less united, and determined to resist any attack. They would need to train and regroup, but the Republic wouldn't be safe until Fort Worth was cleared...
(That was an accident, sorry) Rhys had been spending most of his time by himself, conducting his business hunting and picking off the occasional raider that ventured too close to the Republic's border. While these usually took place late into the night, he was known to continue sharpshooting during the day as well. The Australian, today, was doing something completely different. He was assigned to assassinate an important slaver leader in Fort Worth, and he just so happened to be in his sights while he sat down in the middle of a 4 story concrete building, looking out the window facing west.
Allen knocked on the door to John's headquarters room, currently based in a forward position near the border with Fort Worth, John had summoned him so he came. "Come in, Allen." John said, somehow able to discern the identity of the knocker by the knocking. Allen slipped in through the door and closed it behind him, "You wanted to see me?" John nodded and motioned to a seat opposite from him at the table he was sitting at, "I did. There's some important things that need to be discussed." Allen, curious, took a seat and gave John a curious look, "And those are?" "Well, for one, I must say that once the Republic has secured North Texas and is on stable footing, I must continue my journey west. As much as I would like to stay and watch this nation grow and come to prosper, that sadly can not happen. Every moment I waste slightly increases the chance I will never get what I've walked across the entire United States for." "...Oh..." Allen said breathlessly, staring wide-eyed at John. "Look, Allen, you're extremely smart, you know your stuff. You have a plan, and I have mine. Yours is just a bit more...stationary than mine. You're a nation builder, Allen, I'm not. I'm simply a tool, a means to an ends. Which is why I want you to design the government of the Republic of Texas for when I leave. And I'm promoting you to Colonel and putting you in command of the 1st Brigade in honor of your essential role in the swift taking of Dallas." Allen's chin dropped, he couldn't think of how to respond other than breathe out a quiet, "Thank you, sir.." "You are also in charge of retraining your troops to do what your company did in Dallas, but keep in mind, fighting in Fort Worth will be...intense to say the least." Allen fell silent for a bit, then suddenly thought of something, "...John? Where's Rhys?" John was quiet for a bit, then simply said, "He was ordered by General Smith to take out a slaver leader in Fort Worth. The gang isnt as strong as the Hell's Half Acre Gang, but still is fairly powerful...There is a 80% chance he won't make it out alive and it is almost guaranteed he won't make it out unharmed..."
Rhys looking out the window of a 4 story building as he stared outwards to a courtyard that involved a group of slavers as they surrounded a large bald man of asian decent with a dragon tattoo around his right eye. It was the one. If he died, slaver power in Fort Worth would diminish considerably. He looked out the window as he adjusted his rifle and checked for the wind around him, and then took a deep breath as time seemed to slow down around him. But just as he took the shot, he seen a brief shine of light. Then...nothing. Half a second after taking the shot, a 308.round slammed directly into Rhys's right ribcage, causing him to cry out in pain as he fell down from his chair and onto the floor next to him. Dragging himself up with all his strength, he poked his head from the corner to see if he had made contact with the shot. It was that moment he seen something he really did not want to see. A mini-nuke was flying towards his direction, aimed at the exposed support of the building. "O sh-" Before Rhys could finish, the mini-nuke slammed into the building that caused the building to shake rapidly. Rhys then using all of his strength, ran across the room to find any possible exit before the building was to collapse onto him. Unfortunately, the only way to escape in time was to jump out of a window. Taking his chances, he jumped out of the building a mere moment before the foundations gave way as the building collapsed, with Rhys landed hard onto the concrete below him that broke both of his legs. Injecting any available stimpacks into his legs alongside some Med-X, his speed was reduced to a shamble as he tried desperately to find a way to leave Fort Worth. Many of the exits were radiation hotspots, the others were covered in a swarm of raider and slaver gangs. Running out of options, Rhys then seen at least thirty raiders running towards him like maniac's, gun's blazing. Rhys took the closest available cover he could, an old car. From that point on, Rhys knew he might not survive.
Allen had quickly left John's headquarters after hearing the news, John may have not wanted to attack Fort Worth yet, but he still gathered up his nearby company and lead them to Fort Worth, they were going to make a precision insertion, to stay grouped together to punch straight through the line to get to Rhys. The concentrated group quickly overwhelmed the slaver checkpoint on the border, but didn't stop and gather supplies, Allen kept the soldiers going at almost a run, quickly cutting down any who dared showed their face, only being so successful due to being concentrated on a single street that would lead straight to where Rhys would be and the surprise of the attack. Allen simply prayed that he would make it in time...
Back at Rhys's location, he desperately tried to fight back against the horde of raiders that seemed to rush out of nowhere. It seemed that when one was killed, at least ten took his place. Rhys had suffered some horrific injuries, such as laser burns, bullet holes, shrapnel from any nearby grenades, blood rushing out of him and cuts from whenever a raider thought that it would be a good idea if he or she tried to sneak up close. Rhys appeared like a dead man, but was still willing to fight. He had taken down twenty five raiders before the slavers arrived at the scene, where Rhys was forced to use the environment to his advantage, shooting an exposed fuel cell on a car when the slavers were nearby and blowing them straight to hell. It was brutal, and after ten minutes of continuous suppression, Rhys ran out of ammo for his rifle and sidearm, and was forced to attack with a blade. Taking off to find more cover right before his previous cover had exploded, Rhys disconnected the bayonet from his Hunting Rifle and used it as a sword while trying to salvage any available ammo from the dead. While running between cover, he suddenly felt lifeless as he felt his body drop to the ground immediately after being hit by a powerful grenade, sending him flying until a nearby concrete wall stopped him. Rhys had now killed at least eighty of his enemies single handedly, until he began to bleed out. One slaver, likely the last remaining leader, took a 44 magnum from his waist as he held it in his hand, laughing quietly. Rhys was a bloody mess, barely having enough strength to look upwards to see the revolver pointed at his head, Rhys still holding his bayonet. Then, a while flash and a loud sound echoed around him until complete silence.
Allen's company spotted the horde of raiders the moment after, the three soldiers carrying gatling guns instantly stepping forward and opening fire, slicing down dozens of raiders in a few seconds from behind as they weren't behind any cover. The rest of the company quickly charged the survivors, taking a few casualties as some raiders were able to figure out what was going on and return fire, but they were soon overwhelmed. Allen had jumped over a bit of cover to tackle the raider behind, killing him by slamming his rifle butt into the raider's head. Then he noticed Ryhs' body laying limp on the ground, looking like it had gone through hell and back, and a meat grinder along the way. Quickly getting help, he had his soldiers put Ryhs on a stretcher and medics instantly begin attending to him while the rest take care of the rest. Allen could only hope and pray as they quick marched back to the border that Rhys' faintest of heartbeats could be restored to a healthy one...
Rhys's body looked like a nightmare. Despite all of the other injuries he had taken that almost made him appear nearly unrecognizable, the most defining feature is the bullet hole in his head. Yet, his heart was somehow still beating and his eyes were wide open. As the medics lifted him onto the stretcher, the milky white eyes looked outwards to the ruins of hell around him as he was swiftly taken away.
Allen's company got Rhys and their own wounded out of Fort Worth quickly and built a makeshift triage area once they were safely far enough beyond the border, it had been a punishing toll on the company especially when compared with its almost non-existant casualties of previous attacks. More than 25 were wounded, and three were either dead or mortally wounded, excluding Rhys. As the medics worked on the worst wounded first, especially Rhys due to the severity of his injuries which were requiring a good portion of the company's medical supplies, from blood pacs to stimpacks to guaze and disinfectant. They worked hard, barely managing to get Rhys stable right when it seemed he would die. One thing was for certain, it would be a long time before he ever could fight in battle again, if ever. While they were treating Rhys and the other 4 severely injured, Allen had the rest of the company that wasn't guarding the triage area to begin evacuating the less injured deeper into Republic territory and to true medical stations. Allen knew that this toll was a mere sample of how bloody the fight for Fort Worth would be, and it terrified him. Killing raiders, slavers and the like was like hunting animals, but seeing his soldiers hurt and killed disturbed him, but he couldn't show it, he had to keep strong for those uninjured...
Rhys was alive, just. The full extent of his injuries have not been known, but it was certain that there was a possibility that he might never walk again. All of the other injuries he had undertaken were treated, with the exception of a few scars being left upon the body after nearly a kilogram of shrapnel and bullets were removed from his body. The bullet that hit his brain should have killed him, yet he had managed to survive a magnum round at nearly point blank range. While Rhys was put into an induced coma, he would not be fighting again anytime soon, maybe never. Alongside these horrific injuries, he had managed to survive thanks to the doctors of the Republic. When he would wake up was unknown, it could be anytime from a few hours to a few days. Until then, time was cruel to Rhys.
