The Wrong Coordinates 1 [2]

The metallic clunking of loading weapons seemed a bit unnecessary, considering we

were seconds away from our brains being scattered across the floor.

"That's a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let's do it and see how

spectacularly it fails." Theodore, dripping with sarcasm, responded to my

plan—which, by the way, is our only shot at avoiding becoming dead meat.

After we took down that stupid scrap metal, bullets rained down on us—it must have

sent a signal to their base.

"We're doing it. Tell the others on the ship to prepare the explosives," I commanded

Theodore, expecting him to carry out my orders as my assistant.

"Will your plan even work? We're literally outnumbered," Theodore shouted as bullets

whizzed past us. The other members of the first squadron ran alongside us,

throwing smoke bombs to conceal our movements.

"Confidently speaking, the answer is a resounding no," I replied with a mix of confidence and resignation, fully aware that trying to take on an army of a hundred

thousand with just ten thousand of us was like bringing a toothpick to a sword

fight.

I crouched behind a barricade, bullets zipping past us in a deadly chorus. "Then

why are we doing it?" Theodore's voice cut through the chaos, his concern

palpable.

I glanced back at him, a smirk playing on my lips despite the gravity of our

predicament. "Because it's fun," I replied with a glint in my eye, grabbing a

smoke grenade and lobbing it towards the enemy lines.

"Hoo! We're going to die." I just rolled my eyes at Theodore's sarcastic cheering,

the plan was simple, use all the tank and explosives towards the enemy. Well,

yeah, that was the plan I told them.

As we reached the dock, putting distance between us and the enemy soldiers firing

from the walls, my plan was straightforward yet audacious.

"Advance toward the enemy's wall and keep firing," I commanded the soldiers, while

casually grabbing an explosive weapon to enhance our attack.

Tanks and explosives descended from the ship as my army cautiously approached.

Tanks crushed obstacles while soldiers stealthily maneuvered toward the enemy.

Approaching the enemy's walls, I felt like a chess player in a deadly game. Every move

mattered, If only I had the brains to avoid losing all my pieces. But hey, in

this game, trades are just part of the deal.

Anxiety thickened as we neared our target. With one order, the force halted. Silence

fell, all eyes turned to me.

With a sly grin, I raised my arm and shouted, "Fire!"

The thunderous roar of our cannons rattled the very earth, signaling the beginning

of our assault.

The soldiers or we had one job – to take down the enemy lines. And somehow, we

managed to screw it up spectacularly. As we let loose the first round of

explosives, our hopes soared with the high-caliber shells – only to come

crashing down when most of it missed the target and instead hit those blasted

walls.

I couldn't believe my eyes. After all that preparation and hard work, it had all

been for nothing. The enemy was approaching upon us, as the airships

approached, I whispered to myself, "This is not good. This is not good at all."

Then, as if to put an exclamation mark on the situation, I muttered under my

breath, "Oh, this is baaaad."