- Joined
- Dec 5, 2025
- Messages
- 15
- Reaction score
- 27
- Points
- 13
"One moment is all that it takes for the world to change, where will you be when it all comes tumbling down..?"
"IED and a firefight, shit.. This is one tough guy but.. He's carryin around those three dead... You can just tell... What are we goin' to do with the guy? Seems like he just had his lucky break.."
"Bueller will need to just get back out there once he recovers. Not much goin' on for him, excellent record, only a few scraps with his superiors, got a helluva an eye too."
"He just lost all his guys and you think it'd be good to send him back out?"
"He's in the Army, we all signed up knowing what the risks were comin' here. He's gonna get redeployed with another unit. Take lead once more, hopefully they all don't fuck up like last time.."
"Sir.. You really got to put it out like that? Bueller needs more then just to find another unit-..."
"Yeah..! Yeah.. He needs time with a chaplain or something, whatever. Get him briefed and out the med-bay, we got boys out there who need support."
"Sir.. Yes Sir."
Afghanistan, Southern Kandahar. 2012.
The bump was the first thing Bueller noticed, he grabbed his head with a cringe of pain, looking over to his driver, Private Lynch, a quiet lad, but was always the designated driver because he drew the short straw at the beginning of the deployment. Bueller quickly brought himself up in his seat as he spoke over to Lynch "You drivin' ova' every pot 'ole you see Lynch? Woke me up from my beauty sleep." Lynch looked over and shook his head, his face being covered with a shemagh, his aviators reflecting the sunlight outside as he turned over slightly "You think that's the worse I can do Sarge? Do a bit more if ya want." Lynch laughed as he continued to peer outside. Bueller smirked and looked back to the other two with them. Specialist Blaine, a mean looking dude, who just loves to smoke cigarettes and carry his M249 in the hot Afghanistan weather, a weird looking guy, and Private First Class Myers, seems to be the guy who keeps the group together like glue, always some sort of issue between him and Bueller.
Myers was the first one to say something, noticing Bueller taking a look at them "What? Got something else to say? Maybe chew on my ass for not holdin ya down in your seat?" Bueller shook his head with a bit of a scoff, and he snapped right back "Listen.. When that happens, you might as well put a bullet in my head before I let you put hands on me. What do you think the guys back at base would think about about it?" Myers seemed to scoff as well and seem to drop the conversation, looking out the window. Blaine spoke lowly, while puffin on a cigarette "Whaddya mean? Sarge you tellin us ya homophobic?" Bueller looked over to Blaine and shook his head and sighed, he turned back over to face front of the Humvee "Y'all are some fuckers, hope ya know it." exclaimed Bueller. The Humvee erupted with some laughter from all parties.
BANG. There was a moment, just before it all came crashing down, Bueller had a moment of clarity, short-lived, and soon forgotten, things went quick after the moment of stillness. Then a sudden jab of pain, Bueller woke as if the bump had gotten worse on the road, he turned to his left, Lynch, was gone, a piece of metal from the right-side of the Humvee door struck deep into the chest of the Private, his eyes wide and surprised, unblinking. Vibrations and shaking rocked the vehicle Bueller found himself in, shock overwhelming him as he blankly stared at the young lad, now gone from this world. BANG. Bueller was shaken violently inside of the vehicle, another explosion rocking them inside, he slammed his head to the side of the door, before reaching to the door handle, flopping outside of the wrecked Humvee. Slumped onto the desert ground, his M4 in hand, he shifted it up to his shoulder and placed himself against the Humvee as cover, his hearing was a constant ringing. Vibrations and pings, ricochets flying right past Bueller, one slashing his cheek as he readjusted himself to the situation.
The overwhelming trumpet of .50 cal rang out just above Bueller, Myers had managed to pull himself up into the destroyed Humvee and got into the gunner seat. The ground shook as suppressive fire was sent out eastward, Bueller then turned his attention to the vibrations past him for Blaine, seeing him past through the windows of the Humvee, his M249 shaking rapidly as it fired eastward as well outside the now blown off doorway of the Humvee's right side. The convoy itself behind them had stopped at a standstill, caught between tight corridors of valleys and mountains, various figures eastward started to pressure said convoy. The ringing began to ease for Bueller, he brought his M4 on overdrive, pulling the trigger once, twice, three times, he kept firing at various locations eastward, ducking down occasionally, the loudness of the battle starting to become more apparent, blood trickling down his brow onto his face. The battle itself was hectic, Myers continued his suppressive fire until ammunition ran dry, a loud curse would be heard as he called out "DRY ON FIFTY! WE STILL GOT GUYS EAST! FIFTY ME--" A deafening barrage of AK fire and DSKH fire seemed to cut the mans words short, slumping down as the world around the now quiet gunner fell short. Blaine on the other side, continued his fire, for a short while, dipping down onto the other side of the Humvee, crawling into a spot behind a rock calling out "IM HIT! FUCK! THEY'RE RIGHT ON US!"
BANG-- BANG-- BANG-- The Humvee shook almost on top of Bueller, it felt like three RPGS just slammed onto the right side of it, it sent him flying back into the dirt and sand of the ground behind him. Shrapnel shredding his arms, luckily his rifle remained functional, Blaine was unresponsive now, the Convoy began to open fire fully now, their positions pulling up to swing around the steep inclines of the valley they found themselves in. BANG-- In the distance eastward, one of the convoy soldiers just used an M72 LAW it seemed, an explosion slamming into a nearby position just 150 meters eastward in the valley of the ambush. Bueller put himself back into position and just realized that his position was being pushed, he heard the triumphant cries of the Taliban, they were rushing in to finish off what they could in the chaos, now that there ambush positions were being pushed on from the other elements of the Convoy.
Bueller brought himself to his feet with the Humvee as cover, bringing a new magazine into the rifle, he brought it up and fired with quick precision, his ears seemingly constantly ringing as the noise grew ever intense in combat. One... He's on the ground, crying out in that crude tone of his, Bueller made it quick. Two... He switched targets, another cry of victory called out, the classic from Taliban "Allahu Akbar!" Three... No chance, the man slumped like a bag of cement into the desert, dust billowing underneath his feet. Four... Just in case, but something seemed different, the gun fire started to quiet down, but with the sudden burst of energy, and the sound of boots stomping in the sand, another man appeared, just at the backside of the Humvee, only to be greeted by Bueller. Five... The Convoy started to pull forward closer toward Bueller's position, Bueller couldn't help but slowly drag himself along the length of the Humvee toward his last shot, toward the man who made the last final ditch attempt to take his life. Bueller reached the location and found a man coughing on his own blood, and slowly creeping a hand to his AK. Six... Every shot count, and the gunfire stood still, the hum of the fire against the Humvee, the eerie drone of the desert wind blowing against Bueller, and three dead soldiers.
Two weeks before present day. 2018
Bueller woke up against the tree, gunshots ringing out within the swamp, and it kept rising in volume and intensity. The dead were stirring underneath him, he held his Remington up to his chest, raising it up to his eye level as he looked toward a small river cropping, with a dock nearby, and a ferry. Various figures moved about, though he couldn't quite tell what was going on, he rubbed his eyes, exhaling deeply, "Could be 'em.. Killed or took my brother, probably the first.." mumbled the grizzled Bueller. Bueller pushed himself up on the tree he was on, and started to slowly climb down, the ghillie making the man look as if he was a walking moss patch on a tree. The dead continued their onward march toward the erupting gunfire, Bueller moved forward, the Bayou truly felt like Afghanistan today.
(OOC)
A Short story by yours truly! Hope ya enjoy the small Bueller Backstory drop lmao. More may come, who knows!
"IED and a firefight, shit.. This is one tough guy but.. He's carryin around those three dead... You can just tell... What are we goin' to do with the guy? Seems like he just had his lucky break.."
"Bueller will need to just get back out there once he recovers. Not much goin' on for him, excellent record, only a few scraps with his superiors, got a helluva an eye too."
"He just lost all his guys and you think it'd be good to send him back out?"
"He's in the Army, we all signed up knowing what the risks were comin' here. He's gonna get redeployed with another unit. Take lead once more, hopefully they all don't fuck up like last time.."
"Sir.. You really got to put it out like that? Bueller needs more then just to find another unit-..."
"Yeah..! Yeah.. He needs time with a chaplain or something, whatever. Get him briefed and out the med-bay, we got boys out there who need support."
"Sir.. Yes Sir."
Afghanistan, Southern Kandahar. 2012.
The bump was the first thing Bueller noticed, he grabbed his head with a cringe of pain, looking over to his driver, Private Lynch, a quiet lad, but was always the designated driver because he drew the short straw at the beginning of the deployment. Bueller quickly brought himself up in his seat as he spoke over to Lynch "You drivin' ova' every pot 'ole you see Lynch? Woke me up from my beauty sleep." Lynch looked over and shook his head, his face being covered with a shemagh, his aviators reflecting the sunlight outside as he turned over slightly "You think that's the worse I can do Sarge? Do a bit more if ya want." Lynch laughed as he continued to peer outside. Bueller smirked and looked back to the other two with them. Specialist Blaine, a mean looking dude, who just loves to smoke cigarettes and carry his M249 in the hot Afghanistan weather, a weird looking guy, and Private First Class Myers, seems to be the guy who keeps the group together like glue, always some sort of issue between him and Bueller.
Myers was the first one to say something, noticing Bueller taking a look at them "What? Got something else to say? Maybe chew on my ass for not holdin ya down in your seat?" Bueller shook his head with a bit of a scoff, and he snapped right back "Listen.. When that happens, you might as well put a bullet in my head before I let you put hands on me. What do you think the guys back at base would think about about it?" Myers seemed to scoff as well and seem to drop the conversation, looking out the window. Blaine spoke lowly, while puffin on a cigarette "Whaddya mean? Sarge you tellin us ya homophobic?" Bueller looked over to Blaine and shook his head and sighed, he turned back over to face front of the Humvee "Y'all are some fuckers, hope ya know it." exclaimed Bueller. The Humvee erupted with some laughter from all parties.
BANG. There was a moment, just before it all came crashing down, Bueller had a moment of clarity, short-lived, and soon forgotten, things went quick after the moment of stillness. Then a sudden jab of pain, Bueller woke as if the bump had gotten worse on the road, he turned to his left, Lynch, was gone, a piece of metal from the right-side of the Humvee door struck deep into the chest of the Private, his eyes wide and surprised, unblinking. Vibrations and shaking rocked the vehicle Bueller found himself in, shock overwhelming him as he blankly stared at the young lad, now gone from this world. BANG. Bueller was shaken violently inside of the vehicle, another explosion rocking them inside, he slammed his head to the side of the door, before reaching to the door handle, flopping outside of the wrecked Humvee. Slumped onto the desert ground, his M4 in hand, he shifted it up to his shoulder and placed himself against the Humvee as cover, his hearing was a constant ringing. Vibrations and pings, ricochets flying right past Bueller, one slashing his cheek as he readjusted himself to the situation.
The overwhelming trumpet of .50 cal rang out just above Bueller, Myers had managed to pull himself up into the destroyed Humvee and got into the gunner seat. The ground shook as suppressive fire was sent out eastward, Bueller then turned his attention to the vibrations past him for Blaine, seeing him past through the windows of the Humvee, his M249 shaking rapidly as it fired eastward as well outside the now blown off doorway of the Humvee's right side. The convoy itself behind them had stopped at a standstill, caught between tight corridors of valleys and mountains, various figures eastward started to pressure said convoy. The ringing began to ease for Bueller, he brought his M4 on overdrive, pulling the trigger once, twice, three times, he kept firing at various locations eastward, ducking down occasionally, the loudness of the battle starting to become more apparent, blood trickling down his brow onto his face. The battle itself was hectic, Myers continued his suppressive fire until ammunition ran dry, a loud curse would be heard as he called out "DRY ON FIFTY! WE STILL GOT GUYS EAST! FIFTY ME--" A deafening barrage of AK fire and DSKH fire seemed to cut the mans words short, slumping down as the world around the now quiet gunner fell short. Blaine on the other side, continued his fire, for a short while, dipping down onto the other side of the Humvee, crawling into a spot behind a rock calling out "IM HIT! FUCK! THEY'RE RIGHT ON US!"
BANG-- BANG-- BANG-- The Humvee shook almost on top of Bueller, it felt like three RPGS just slammed onto the right side of it, it sent him flying back into the dirt and sand of the ground behind him. Shrapnel shredding his arms, luckily his rifle remained functional, Blaine was unresponsive now, the Convoy began to open fire fully now, their positions pulling up to swing around the steep inclines of the valley they found themselves in. BANG-- In the distance eastward, one of the convoy soldiers just used an M72 LAW it seemed, an explosion slamming into a nearby position just 150 meters eastward in the valley of the ambush. Bueller put himself back into position and just realized that his position was being pushed, he heard the triumphant cries of the Taliban, they were rushing in to finish off what they could in the chaos, now that there ambush positions were being pushed on from the other elements of the Convoy.
Bueller brought himself to his feet with the Humvee as cover, bringing a new magazine into the rifle, he brought it up and fired with quick precision, his ears seemingly constantly ringing as the noise grew ever intense in combat. One... He's on the ground, crying out in that crude tone of his, Bueller made it quick. Two... He switched targets, another cry of victory called out, the classic from Taliban "Allahu Akbar!" Three... No chance, the man slumped like a bag of cement into the desert, dust billowing underneath his feet. Four... Just in case, but something seemed different, the gun fire started to quiet down, but with the sudden burst of energy, and the sound of boots stomping in the sand, another man appeared, just at the backside of the Humvee, only to be greeted by Bueller. Five... The Convoy started to pull forward closer toward Bueller's position, Bueller couldn't help but slowly drag himself along the length of the Humvee toward his last shot, toward the man who made the last final ditch attempt to take his life. Bueller reached the location and found a man coughing on his own blood, and slowly creeping a hand to his AK. Six... Every shot count, and the gunfire stood still, the hum of the fire against the Humvee, the eerie drone of the desert wind blowing against Bueller, and three dead soldiers.
Two weeks before present day. 2018
Bueller woke up against the tree, gunshots ringing out within the swamp, and it kept rising in volume and intensity. The dead were stirring underneath him, he held his Remington up to his chest, raising it up to his eye level as he looked toward a small river cropping, with a dock nearby, and a ferry. Various figures moved about, though he couldn't quite tell what was going on, he rubbed his eyes, exhaling deeply, "Could be 'em.. Killed or took my brother, probably the first.." mumbled the grizzled Bueller. Bueller pushed himself up on the tree he was on, and started to slowly climb down, the ghillie making the man look as if he was a walking moss patch on a tree. The dead continued their onward march toward the erupting gunfire, Bueller moved forward, the Bayou truly felt like Afghanistan today.
(OOC)
A Short story by yours truly! Hope ya enjoy the small Bueller Backstory drop lmao. More may come, who knows!
Last edited:
