Fighting Retreat

Perhaps six succubi rose with deamonic grace screaming hell fury as they tore towards the combat patrol. Up until this point the marines had held fire, dazed and disarmed by the unnatural allure of these pure manifestations of carnal desire.

But now the were in danger...

Conditioned for years to respond to an immediate threat almost without conscious thought the marines weapons blared to life.

The Succibi flew into a hail of lead, bursts of hollow point ammunition tore gaping wound cavities through the soulless shells while others seemed to almost evaporate under a fusillade of M-249 SAW fire. It may not be putting them down for good, but without a doubt being torn apart by burning lead was doing a damn good job of slowing then down.

Lietenant Peterson Yelled out over the hail of gunfire.

"LEAPFROG WITHDRAWAL, BACK TO CAMP, GO GO GO!!"

At the sound of this the support fire team broke from the line and ran backwards perhaps 40m and set up on a ruined wall, the support team was packing a pair of SAWs as well as an M-240 GPMG feeding from a more than sufficient 600 round belt. Private Russel slammed back the bolt on the MG and took aim then yelled out.

"SET, GO!"

The remaining two fireteams that were now within meters of perhaps eight howling succibi broke cover and ran down into a covered ditch weaving their way back towards the support team. As soon as they ducked down Russell pulled back the trigger and set his weapon spewing pull power 7.62mm slugs into the unarmored demons. The wailing women struggled to advance but found it next to impossible as their limbs were severed again and again.

Finally Lieutenant Peterson was in position to cover the support team as it moved back.

"RP NOW!"

The Marines reached for the secondary grips and sent 4 Red Phosphorous M-203 grenades into the bloodied mess of the succubi, the scarlet substance instantly ignited and turned the very air around those damned souls into fire. They shrieked like nothing the lieutenant had ever heard in his life before finally collapsing, even their immortal bodies falling under the combined trauma of hundreds of bullet strikes and total surface chemical burns.

Peterson's Patrol marched back into the Camp the barrels on their weapons glowing with the heat of sustained automatic fire.

Peterson looked around at the camp, Sandbags and barbed wire now formed high walls and baricades while the complex bristled with covered Heavy Machine gun and flamethrower emplacements.

Peterson ordered his men to the makeshift armory to reload and replace burnt out gear and then marched to the Colonels command post.

"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into."