Urban Decay

[Omi]

Lukas poked his head round a building, making sure the road was clear, before scrambling across the street and flattening himself against the wall. His communicator hissed suddenly, startling him, then started broadcasting a repeating message. He listened carefully, then decisively thumbed the "TRANSMIT" button.
"Jawohl, Hoffman here. I read you, comrade-Major. En route to your provided coordinates now."
A bit cliché and blunt, perhaps, but he'd always liked that aspect of the armed forces. What was the point of having all that military jargon if it didn't sound a bit cool?

He heard growling echoing through the streets behind him, and decided to stop his mental soliloquy on the finer points of language. Perhaps later. Now, however, it sounded like there was a pack of wild dogs after him. Hostile wildlife, indeed.
"Safety off, then," he muttered, reaching down to flick his weapon into firing mode. He would have, too, if it had had one. He poked around a bit. Nothing. Better "shooting and safe" than "safetied and sorry" seemed to be the Coalition approach to such things. Despite his soldier's sense, Lukas sort of approved. Nobody ever kept the safety on anyway; hearing the command for "safeties off" was just a formality and an excuse to roll your eyes at the commanding officer's expense.
The growls got a bit louder, and Lukas realised he'd been daydreaming again. Silently berating himself, he set off at a jog towards the RV point, holding his rifle at the ready.

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