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[u][b]PFC Fenrir Cheslock[/b][/u]
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	The Imp was off in a full-out sprint down the alley. Fenrir, weighed down in his shocktrooper uniform, was having trouble keeping up. How the hell someone in a full suit of armour could be an effective scout, he had no idea, but right now he was having a tough time catching up. Still running as fast as he could, Fenrir hoisted his machine gun up and sprayed a few rounds at the enemy's feet. 

	One or two must have landed, because the Imp tumbled forward, landing face-down on the brickwork alleyway. Catching up to his prey, Fenrir gave his usual hostage speech.

	"By the Valkyrur, surrender now or I will gun you down!" Cheslock bellowed at the soldier.

	Groaning in pain, the soldier brought one hand up, placing it on the back of his head. The other hand quickly reached down and pulled out a pistol. Seeing this movement, Fenrir squeezed his trigger and poured a series of bullets into the back of the imperial. Severely frustrated, he let out a sigh.

	"You idiot!" he shouted at the now lifeless body. After huffing and puffing for a moment, the gunfire on the street reminded him that the battle still wasn't over. Turning around, he ran back to continue the hunt.

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[u][b]meanwhile, at Charlie Section[/b][/u]
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	"You idiot." Smythe muttered under his breath, as Cheslock hustled down the stairs. "Well, let's try to take a little fire off him."

	Hopping up, Smythe stuck his rifle through the window and fired a couple shots off at the enemy building. Following his example, Pierce jumped up with his machine gun, and shot a couple bursts. Looking across the street, he caught a glimpse of an enemy falling backward. Ducking down as a barrage of bullets retaliated, Pierce smirked at his success. They continued trading volleys for a moment, but were interrupted by yet another explosion.

	Pierce peered through the far window, as smoke, dust, and debris flew out of the windows of the building opposite theirs. 

	"Shit!" Pierce exclaimed. "Think that was Fenr-"

	The young shocktrooper's knees gave way, and he tumbled to the floor.

	"Pierce!" Smythe shouted, scurrying over to the body. Looking him over, Smythe saw that a stray bullet had flown right into his left eye.

	"Damn it!" Smythe spat. "Dead before he hit the ground."

	A shower of dust glided over Pierce's body, as yet more bullets pelted the far wall, reminding the militiamen that they had no time to mourn. One of the team's scouts quickly took up Pierce's position, and began firing back through the window. Crawling back to the wall, Smythe loaded a couple more rounds into his gun, and prepared to even the odds. As he turned back to the window, he heard a thumping on the stairs. He span around just in time to see the head of an imperial trooper emerging from the floor below. As the Imp aimed his machine gun, ready to spray down the resistance, Smythe got a shot off, landing straight between the enemy's eyes. With a great calamity, the metallic form tumbled back down the stairs, landing heavily on the bottom floor. 

	"Kipper! Take my window!" he commanded. "I'm gonna keep an eye on the stairs."

	The young scout rushed over and starting firing away through the hole-ridden opening. The three of them held on for a short while longer, when suddenly the gunfire began dying down.

	"This must be it!" he shouted, glancing out the window, to see Imps leaving their stations and running into the streets. He jumped up next to his compatriots, and started gunning down his turn-tail adversaries from above. A couple turned around, and fired back as they ran, causing the three scouts to duck back down again. Then came the sound of a great spray of bullets, just up the street, along with the dinging of lead-on-armour just beneath their windows. A stomping traveled up the stairs, and Smythe again trained his rifle on them, this time seeing a blue helmet emerge. It was the Gallian shocktroopers. 

	Together, they exited the building, and started chasing down the last of the fleeing imperials. As Smythe fired away, he heard gunshots from a nearby building. Charging to the window and sticking his gun through, he saw PFC Cheslock, wrestling an imperial to the ground.

	"[i]Hah! This bastard lost his pistol![/i]" Cheslock grunted through gritted teeth, as he held his target's face to the ground.