The Actions of ReAction

Amazon Rainforest
0200 Local Time
February 23^rd

Corporal Richards waited patiently, alertly, while keeping an eye on the tree-line. It was nearby, and a small ridge overlooked the river the boat was located on. There was movement, but there was always movement in the rainforest. For the past hour, he had watched to make sure his fellow SEALs were not being pursued by hostiles.

The squad radio made almost no noise. It had been silent for half an hour, and was last used to inform those on the boat that the cocaine processing camp was in sight.

He shifted slightly, and the small rubber craft shifted as well. He held onto one of the large sleeves that contained a ceramic tile, meant to absorb the impact of a bullet or shrapnel.

SEAL Team 4 had been sent on this mission to find and capture a dangerous Columbian drug lord who had bolted to the Amazon after his usual home in Miami had been raided by DEA agents. They came to find that he had not been inside of it at any point in the past four weeks.

The radio began to crackle. Richards sat up a little straighter, and listened carefully. The first voice he heard was panicked. “Bravo, this is Golf, please respond, over.”

“Golf, this is Bravo, what is your situation?”

“We are engaged with unknown hostiles, repeat, unknown hostiles. We are en route to the extraction point, and will need immediate support. Out”

The whole boat got to work immediately setting up their support weapons and preparing the craft for a hasty acceleration.

Several men readied their weapons. Richards hefted his own M240 over the side of the boat, and aimed at the tree-line.

“Bravo, this is Golf, we are approaching the river, and will use flares when we have cleared the top of the ridge.”

Five minutes later Richardson saw the first man crest the ridge. Soon, he saw the second, then the third, and six men were quickly running down the side of the ridge. The last two dropped flares and the green light glowed eerily against the rising smoke.

Something’s wrong,thought the corporal, where are the other two guys? And what are they running from? Less than a minute later, at least one of his questions was answered.

A black shape appeared at the top of the ridge. It was followed by several more. The three men closest to them were firing their MP-5s--apparently to no avail--at them as they ran down the hill.

At first, the SEALs were paralyzed with confusion at what they were seeing. Then, instinct took over, and they began firing. Two fell to the withering fire, and most of the others flinched, but they still kept coming.

The SEALs from the ground team got to the boat one by one. “GO GO!” and they were off, down the river at 30 knots. “What the hell were those things?” Richardson asked.

“Don’t know, but they looked like some kind of bug or something.” responded a very bewildered Lieutenant Donaldson.

“What happened to Garcia, and the package?”

“The package was killed along with his men, fighting in the camp, and Garcia got injured, and held them off so we could get away.”

“What was that?”

Richardson turned around to see Sergeant Gibbs looking behind them.
Then he heard it.

There was a loud SPLASH! followed by a ripple in the water. Both seemed to be coming from behind them.
They heard it again, but louder this time. Soon, the sound was repeating faster and louder each time they heard it, until-

“HOLY SHIT!”
A massive black…Bug had appeared within their view down river.

Night vision gear was switched on, and the bug was revealed to be about two stories tall, with several overlapping plates of exoskeleton. It also had six visible, massive legs, that were pounding away in a locomotion to move it forward down the shallow river. The legs made a huge amount of sound, and the bug’s size alone displaced the water ahead of it.

The SEALs fired their weapons. The bullets seemed to merely bounce off the creature, as it continued its course down the river.

“How far until the Sea Fighter?” Richardson asked, referring to the stealth boat that had taken them to this point.

“About three more miles downriver.”

The boat zoomed down the water, with the bug in hot pursuit.
Three miles later, the Atlantic was in sight.

“Bravo, this is Foxtrot, what the hell is that thing, over?”

Richardson picked up the radio transmitter. “I don’t know Foxtrot, but it sure as hell aint friendly. Do you have any Javelins aboard?”

“Yes we do Bravo, preparing them now.”

Richardson could see men on the crest of the odd, roughly rectangular starboard side of the boat, preparing the anti-tank rocket launcher.

“Bravo, this is Foxtrot, firing Javelin now.” There was a flash of light, and a missile was away, first arcing up into the air, then coming down onto the creature’s head.

The missile breached the tough exoskeleton, and did some kind of damage as the bug cringed and flinched, giving the SEALs just enough time to clear the delta, and board the Sea Fighter, for the journey home.

So, uh, did anyone read this?

You're writing two stories at once?

and

is this based on anything or is it original?



____
u haz maor writing skillz than me.

Original.

i iz reading

pretty good, but 2 stories tall *looks up* just a tad large dont ya think? ah well i liked the story