Assorted Flash Fiction Writings #2
Copyright© 2024 by Chaon
Training Exercise
Writing prompt: A platoon of battle hardened commandoes is put through their paces in a training course. They go into the ducts and suddenly are hunted down by a bunch of predators.
This was only supposed to be a training exercise. They were just supposed to be running an obstacle course designed to simulate an environment that would normally be difficult to traverse, like a ventilation system, and that should have made it safe.
They were some of the elite of the their Military. Special Forces Commandos, and nothing should be able to put fear into them.
But these monsters that Command managed to source? They were something else. Nothing should have been able to move like that in these confined spaces. There shouldn’t be predators small enough to fit in here, while still having the necessary limb structure to clamber over the gaps. Afterall, the whole point of the metal obstacle course was that it didn’t offer purchase for claws.
But somehow these predators did exist, and they seemed extremely motivated to eliminate the entire team of Special Forces Commandos. The shrieks of squadmates being eliminated one by one until they were the last ... It was soul chilling.
But not as soul chilling as turning a corner to find one of the predator’s grinning faces cm from their face and hearing the high pitched whisper of “Got you Mr. Fuzzles!”, before a hand grabbed their shoulder, and then that was it.
All of the Special Forces Commandos had been eliminated by these predators ... What a defeat...
“Hey, thanks for letting us borrow your Kids for this training exercise. These guys needed to be reminded to take things seriously, and your Kids certainly did that with that game.”
“Yeah, it was good exercise for them, and honestly I kinda thought this setup was a playground initially. We played in similar ones when I was a Kid.”
“Kids, time to go. No, you can’t bring him with you. Because first off their name isn’t Mr. Fuzzles, and secondly, they’re a person, not a pet.
No, you can’t keep them as a servant either, I don’t care if they said that their life belongs to you, it still belongs to their military. Yes, my word is final. Because I’m the parent, and you’re only 4. Now let’s go.”
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