Project Warfighter - Operation Olympia

[New Emmerian Coalition]

(IC Operation for Project Warfighter group, if you haven't signed up, please do so: OOC )

Operation Buzzard - One Week Ago

3 A-10s buzzed by overhead as the entire port went up in flames. We drove swiftly as columns of flames appeared instantaneously between us and secondary extract. Cpt. Shephard swerved last second, took us straight into the ocean. Atlas' Blackhawk hovered above the water, keeping the PMCs held back with bursts of fire from the mounted gatling guns; but they already had a lock on it. As the burning helicopter crashed into the sea, the remaining members of Task Force Atlas managed to make it to the Mk V Retrieval Vessel. As they climbed aboard, two little birds had encircled it. Private Security had us surrounded, and our snipers weren't responding. I looked to Shephard as a laser hovered on his forehead. They had us pinned from the very beginning. How could they know we were here?

Preacher woke up tied to a small folding chair in the middle of a harsh desert. A small table sat between him and an interrogator. The man was dressed in a sharp tuxedo; he didn't belong here. On the right side of the desk was a cold bottle of water, and a small can of tuna. On the left side was a taser. A man stood guard at the door; it was obvious he was in a cell of sorts. The interrogator stared deeply into Preacher's eyes before beginning to speak.

"Long week, huh?" He asked. Preacher didn't respond. "Alright, I don't have much time and I'd prefer we get this over quickly without much bloodshed. I know you're STIGRU, I know you're Emmerian. There's no reason you should have been in the Gulf, and there's no reason your peers should have either. You can give me your name, rank, serial number, whatever, but I'd rather you just tell me the details of your operation and what your objective was." He placed the taser on the center of the table.

Preacher had no expression on his face at all. He stared blankly back at the interrogator.

"Alright. I should have expected this." The man said, non-chalantly. He motioned to his guard and sat back in his chair. The man stepped forward, slinging his Ak-12 and grabbing the taser. He walked forward, grabbing the taser and reaching his hand towards Preacher.

------ Today ------

What was left of Task Force Atlas had received intelligence of the Private Organization's remote base location. Members of the STIGRU Sentinel Dispatchment had joined up with other remaining members of the STIGRU team in Atlas. The briefing was short, but informative. Their target was man named only by his nickname; the "Disciple." He was a known extremist and weapons contractor. He had supplied most of the Persian Gulf with weapons ranging from small Makarov pistols to Hind-D Helicopters. He was a priority target for Task Force Atlas, and many allied states. As the briefing finished up, they had been notified that the detachment sent after the Disciple's recent shipment was captured, they were likely to be held at this location and were most likely immobile. Stretchers and medical equipment would be required on the mission. It was supposed to be a simple tag-and-bag; get in, neutralize the threats and rescue the hostages, then get out.

"Alright boys, Eckhart is taking the team on this one. Maintain strict radio silence once in the A.O. Don't risk blowing your cover." He surveyed the teams as they prepared to board the VTOL that was to transport them. "These men are extremists; they are savage. Whatever ounce of humanity left in them is gone. You are weapons free on all targets. Hostages are a 2nd priority, but still that, a priority." He pointed to various locations on the map. "Radio in at these specific locations for extract, only after your objectives have been accomplished. Hooah?"

[Exantos]

(I will be taking the role of Smith until he dies and then so on and so forth. I'm planning on killing at least 1-2 of my men by the end of this. That doesn't mean that my guys are bad at my job. I'm just hoping that Emmerian you can set up a situation where I'm surrounded outgunned and will lose a lot of my men unless a sacrifice or such is made.)

I replied to our commander, "Hooah!" As I leaped into the V-Tol following the rest of my team.

When I got on board after dropping my gear into my seat and started to brief my men: "Alright boys we're going in for a simple smash and grab. We get the hostages. We get out. Then we get to the extraction point with no casualties. When we get dropped off I want a cleared perimeter before I even set foot on the ground. Jacob, Ricky I want you on the ground in full body armor with James covering you guys from the V-Tol. As soon as we get a perimeter set up we move out towards the hostages last known location. If their are terrorists there kill them all except one and we'll begin an interrogation. I think we're working with the Platinum Squad on this so it should be an S.O.P, unless they bring out their robots. Alright?"

Jacob said, "Sir it's going to be a bloodbath in there, what about civilians?"

I said, "Try not to shoot them but if they're seen collaborating with terrorists then they will be classified as a terrorist and treated as such. Otherwise try to move them out of the way. We don't want any bad press out of this. Alright?"

My men replied, "Sir, yes sir!"

As I moved towards the pilots to tell them that we're prepped to go I heard James say, "Hey Ricky, I bet I will bag more terrorists than you will."

Ricky replied, "Bull*muffled remainder of swear word*."

After I patted the pilots and gave them the thumbs up I turned around and saw that Jacob had managed to stuff both Ricky and James's heads into his backpack. I walked back and said, "Ricky, if you're planning on stuffing someone's head into a backpack then remember to have space for your own. James and Jacob, you men are Exantonian Golden Legion Soldiers and I expect that you will be acting like them. If not then I will have your asses back in Exantos before you can say sir, yes sir. DO YOU HEAR ME!?!"

James and Jacob replied, "Sir, yes sir!"

After that got sorted out I sent a message from my tablet to the head of the group of spec-ops.

Sir, I was wondering if my Golden Legion troops and the Congreveopian Platinum Special forces troops could be paired up. We have experience with working with one another in the past, and we're both part of the RavenForce alliance. Thank You sir.

[Congreveopia]

Leighton was the final one to board the V-tol. He walked on and saw his squad already sitting inside. Charles, their drone specialist had his hardened laptop out, and the rest of them were looking at something or other on their PCUs (smartphone-like things).

“You’ve all read the briefing?” he asked.

The squad made assorted “Yes”. sounds.

“And you understand the mission profile?” he asked.

Again they said yes.

“And you are reviewing the last satellite intel?” he asked.

The squad looked uneasily at each other. Leighton walked around and looked at their electronic devices. Charles was playing KSP, Thomas was playing angry birds and John was playing chess.

“I guess we’ve got time in-flight.” said Leighton, walking forward to the cockpit. “We’re ready.” he said.

[Congreveopia]

Fortress, over the south pole (don’t ask):

“Commander, why are we over the south pole?” asked one of the technicians, walking onto the command deck. “I’m getting tired of chipping ice off the drones’ wings.”

“Don’t ask.” said the commander “And don’t pretend that you haven’t just gotten Nexus to chip the ice off with one of the robotic arms in drone storage.”

“Well my quarters are still too cold.” said the technician, good naturedly, walking off the command deck.

“The last sentinel flyover is complete.” said someone “Unless someone launches an ICBM or paints all the roofs green, the satellites won’t tell us anything else.”

“I don’t like being in the dark.” said the commander.

“Yes, but you know we can’t change the orbits of any of the satellites to put them over the target. It would be too obvious.” said an officer.

“Yes.” said the commander “And surprise is everything. Fine, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee and check how Fortress is handling the cold. Make sure we’ve got a triply redundant link to the squad and let me know when the V-tols arrive.”

[Wolfian State]

A team of SIF operatives entered the VTOL.
The team leader, going by the designation Terrier, made a short rehash of the mission.
"Our main target is the man known as Disciple. Secondary objective is rescuing hostages. Maintain radio silence until at extraction point. Weapons free. Understood?"
"Understood" answered the team.

Most of them were silent throughout the flight, powernapping or meditating. Greyhound, the team's drone expert, and Red, the designated marksman were having a discussion which had began in the latest football match but had developed into a talk on history and now into philosophy. Terrier listened to them while considering the situation they would be in once the VTOL landed.

[Die Erworbenen Namen]

Vladimir was holding an SMG in his right hand, pointing it skywards so as to not shoot anyone that might be helping them. He had the iron sights flipped down, and the holographic sight still on, which was zoomed in only 1.2 times, but could be switched to night vision if needed, so as to illuminate enemy positions. It also had the option of going negative, which meant that it would invert the colors coming in, so as to get a better feel when someone moved.

Vlad was wearing a jet black trench coat for night operations, but it could be flipped so that it was white with mesh for camouflage attachments such as fake leaves, or green strips. On his head was a modified Guardsman helmet, with the same attachments and additions as a Death Korps helmet, with a few more. He had his aviators on, with an officer's cap on top of his head and the gas mask hanging by the side of his helmet. The protection of the helmet actually went down to his mid neck in the back, and around the side, and had padding inside.

He was climbing into the VTOL with the rest of his squadron, his boots clinking on the metal floor. After getting inside, they sat down on the seats near them, and strapped themselves in. Vladimir took off his gloves, which had grippings and pads on them, and began to tape his hands up, covering the knuckles and digits, before putting the gloves back on. Then he began taping his gun. This was for comfort and extra grip, which would come in handy should he need it.

[Separatistia]

4 days ago, remote Mercenary Compound, 21:39
A small convoy of consisting of two khaki URALs accompanied by Vodnik slowly pulled up to a small facility in the middle of nowhere. With their lights off, vehicles stopped before a small blockpost standing infront of the facility's entrance. Vodnik's driver activated car's horn, the silence of the desert was briefly broken. Floodlights of checkpoint turned on, revealing an MG nest slightly away from the road and a team of guards making their way towards the first vehicle, their weapons at the ready. Within a minute, the team surrounds the convoy, the leader approaches the driver's side of the Vodnik and gives a knock on the window. The window is rolled down, revealing a man wearing a peculiar ski-mask on the other side, staring back at checkpoint team leader.
"Identify yourself." Mercenary commanded to the car operator, the response was a short as the order, "Your backup, Kolechian Tac Solutions". The driver presented a plastic card to the merc. A quick inspection of the card's contents later, the man radios in for his commander, reporting the arrival of the "Kolech team". Being told to allow the convoy to move inside and do not interfer with anything they do, sec team returns to the checkpoint to free the passage. Once the cars enter the facility, road block shuts down behind them, the lights depower and the compound returns to it's lifeless state...

3 day ago, Mercenary Compound, Warehouse 1, 00:15

Two rows of folding chairs, at least twelve in each, sit in the empty space between massive cargo containers, occupied by an obviously relaxed bunch of men, their gear doesn't match with each other and one could call them rag-tag, but they would be quick to notice that they all sport same camoflage pattern and distinct black balaclavas with a white skull patern painted over the face area. Some are loading magazines, others are ensuring the plates sit properly inside of the carriers while some just rest after the long ride with cigarettes and cans of food. From the side, a man emerges, his gear is no different from his comrades, the only exception being a massive gold-finished handgun resting in the chest holster of the man's plate carrier. He stops before the drawing board standing infront of the row of seats, a map of the compound is attached to it with colorful magnets.

"Okay, guys, attention!" The leader exclaims and operatives quickly put away whatever occupied their attention not just a moment ago, all staring towards their commander.
"It's briefing time. I hope all of you rested well on the way here, because from now on it's gonna be work time until we leave this desert. As some of you might know, this compound is property of Disciple, our ally from the Separation War, one of many merchants that kept us armed, clothed and fed through the conflict. Right now, we're returning this favor in exchange for some off the books funding. Our job for the next week is reinforcing this compound's security, providing proper anti-tank and anti-air defenses and ensuring that Disciple will safely leave this facility when his business is done."

The man steps to the side, allowing operatives to observe the map of the compound.
"Tomorrow morning, Vano will take all the sappers and surround the compound, except for the road, with mines. Two rows, anti-tank on first row, anti-personnel on second, to ensure that no one will get into the compound in any way but by the road we entered compound with. All the ordnance can be found in the URAL. One pair of marksmen and automatic riflemen will take two overwatch positions and keep eyes open for incoming hostiles, reporting any sightings and providing covering and suppressive fire. Twelve men will split into three patrol teams and will engage any hostiles that they or overwatch teams spot. Four men with Anti-Air and Anti-tank training will take up Igla S and Metis-M and assume positions in buildings and remain concealed until either overwatch team or patrol teams will report sightings of possible enemy transport, engaging them afterwards. Remaining six will reinforce this warehouse with defensive positions in case of overwhelming opposition, this is our rally point. Once our job here is done, we will escort Disciple to his escape vehicle and hand him over to his men, afterwards we'll leave at point Desert 1. Vodnik and the device are already concealed in the compound and their crew will activate the device in case of emergency. After activation, remember the plan Pobeg and exfiltrate to location Eagle 2. URALs should be still operational. Team leaders are to come with me, they'll answer all your questions after they return."

A number of men stand up from their chairs and follow the commander deeper into compound. The rest return to whatever they were doing before or start rolling out the sleeping bags, hoping to catch some sleep before a long day ahead.

[New Hayesalia]

BASTION WORKING DOG TEAM, ABOVE OPERATIONAL AREA

Woof

The New Hayesalian detatchment on this operation was very small. Comprising of two special forces soldiers- Sergeants Paul Wilter and Novis Nurven- armed to the teeth with advanced technology, the two soldiers were aided by two German shepherds sitting at their feet. Wearing body armour like their handlers as well as a New Hayesalian flag, these four operators made an effective and efficient team. The role of the New Hayesalians was to assist the other teams, as well as crowd control.

The New Hayesalians sat in a VTOL close to the ramp, apart from a bunch of troops from 'the Raven Teams' a special forces outfit out of Exantos. Their commander was screaming orders, stuff that realistically should've been done on the ground but could be repeated for effect.

"Oi Novy," said Wilters, quietly. "Did you notice that guy saying they'd kill all but one terrorist?"
"Specific I know." Nurven replied, smiling. "War is always so politely predictable."

The two dogs were very capable of killing. They were also capable of tracking. Their specific role would be to lead the team to the location of the hostages, Emmerian special forces operators. It wasn't expected for all of them to be alive, and quite frankly this rescue mission could be a bloodbath. Ideally, for the NH Government, they wouldn't lose two men on a support mission to Emmeria. As the Raven Team kitted up, the New Hayesalians looked through their Mk3 Ripper rifles and their sidearms, readying them for action. The dogs also received attention, practicing some commands and checking the audio-visual equipment mounted on their doggy-vests.

They were all ready to go.

[New Emmerian Coalition]

Operation Olympia - Task Force ATLAS

Eckhart loaded his M8-R Compact with the standard 30-round PMAG. The rest of the STIGRU (not counting Eckhart or Ira) on this mission had taken up the Folsom OBR for this operation; an AR styled rifle that fired in automatic and semi automatic using the trigger as a fire select, it had excellent range and combat capabilities.

He surveyed the cabin of the large helicopter. These men were ready for the absolute worst this Disciple had to offer. They were approaching the drop off point, where the team's informant would meet them. An old T-72 riddled with holes stood guard by an old temple used by Christian missionaries in the late 1600s. The area had been the site of numerous confrontations between Eastern and Western forces, not to mention a battleground plagued by the horrors of the modern day jihadists that roam the area. The informant's only known name was Ali. He and a small group of fighters had been leaking information to western intelligence agencies for the past 15 years. The Pilots voice echoed off the comms.

"Blackbird-One here, we've reached the LZ and are commencing drop-off." Large plumes of dust entered the air as the twin rotors moved into vertical position. The large chinook esc entrance opened, allowing the special forces a quick drop off. Ira saw Ali peering from the top deck of the ancient compound, an SVD rifle in his hands. He gestured his men to stand down. Two large wooden doors swung open, revealing the large domed structure's inside. Military cases were stacked upon one another, each of varying size. A large selection of various weapons were laid across a table in the corner of the area, and a M2-Browning Gunner sat at the end of the room, facing the entrance.

"Nice to see you again, brother." A man in STIGRU fatigues stepped from one of the tables. The tag on his uniform read 'Garrett.' He shook hands with Eckhart, and exchanged looks with the rest of Atlas.

"Haven't aged a bit, old man." Eckhart smiled. "I'm the acting supervisor of Task Force Atlas at the moment."

"We're running extremely late; Disciple and his cronies have began their operation." He picked an AK-12 from the table and brought it to show the team. "They're running high quality guns and bringing highly advanced pain to their little crusade. Word is they're buying the quality goods from rogue units and contractor parties, though we can't confirm that."

"Then that must mean they've supped up their anti air. Getting in via the VTOLs won't be an option I presume." Eckhart asked.

"Precisely. But Ali has a bit of a plan for getting you guys in. Hope you don't mind getting close to the cattle." He looked at the rest of the group. "I trust you all have been apart of some of our operations before, but this one is a bit different then the rest. Ali will brief you on the details but I'll give you a general summary after."

Ali made his way down a spiral of stone stairs.
"The men have already made their way into the town. They've killed 82 people, God knows how many more." Ali stopped when he noticed the men. "You are unwise to bring such an amount of equipment, at least for this course of action we are planning to take." He walked over to one of the cases, and pulled a large tarp from it. "It's primitive, but it's made with the synthetic fibers used in such devices as the Emmerian OctoCamo, or some of your special suits. It will conceal you on thermal and to the naked eye, but no more."

He passed out briefing packets to the men on the teams. Each contained detailed information about the Disciple and compatriots. They would learn about what is to be expected from him and his mercenaries and the jihadists he works with and supplies. The most the briefing said was about the enemy forces: Simple AKMs, a few AK-103s, and standard clothing with the possibility of soft armor. They said nothing of advanced equipment.

"We were originally going to run this op with Atlas two weeks ago," Garrett walked forward, "But circumstances have led us to have to postpone the Op until we could get men together. That means these packets are dated, but should give you a basic idea of what you'll be facing."

"We're planning to ship you directly to his front door. They have shipping convoys running directly through the desert before they enter town. We're going to ambush it, and replace some of their cargo. Risky yet necessary, and our only way of entrance." Ali said, crossing his arms. "I'll need some of you dressed in proper attire along with my men; we will need to look convincing to get close to the trucks. We'll be disguised as members of the national police force."

"I'm up for it." Ira said.

"Anyone up for it can follow me to the Barracks to get prepared. The rest of you, follow Mr. Garrett here and get ready. You're our ambush party. The desert can reach upwards of 118 degrees in daylight, do take caution in your outfitting."

Deep within the Compound - The Disciple

Two men walked the ancient Cell block's ancient halls. Behind them, they dragged a member of Atlas. Beaten and bloodied, the man was broken. They finally arrived to a room with five more of them. They were lined across a wall, each wearing a blindfold with their nation's name on it. A man stood behind a camera, and another in front of the men with an AKs-74u. He began a speech in Arabic as the camera turned on. He spoke of their holy mission and the infidels which would seek to destroy them and everything they stood for. He slowly moved across from side to side, gesturing with his gun every few moments. Near the end of his speech, he stood to the right of the room, chanted, and horrifically executed each of the operators in a volley of gunfire. The last words he spoke in English.

"7 Hours. The infidels have 7 hours to give into our demands."

The Disciple had watched from one of the surveillance cameras. He saw the brutality in the men's heart and sprouted a twisted grin. His moment was cut short by one of his own security members.

"Sir, the last of the shipping convoy from H.L.A. left port this morning. They're carrying the last of the supplies from the previous purchase." He said.

"That's fine." The Disciple turned. "They'll arrive later on today. I expect our company will be excited for the contents of our purchase."

"Sir, what of the other group?"

"Friends. I supplied them during one of their conflicts, and now they are repaying me. Treat them with respect and inform them of the convoy as to avoid any accidents."

"I'll be sure to help them unload." The man saluted and left the room.

Disciple simply nodded, turned back to the camera. He had no intention of helping the Jihadists until they became one of the biggest sources of his income. Now he was becoming rich off of their Holy War. He knew he had become a target for most western agencies, yet he was perfectly calm. He had plenty of confidence in his peers.

OOC: Sorry for the late post guys. I'm in Phoenix again.

[Exantos]

I hand signaled James and Jacob to go along with Ali. As they were planning to lead I turned to Ali and asked, "Can we still wear our body armor underneath the tarp or would it obstruct our movement. I need to know if we're going to be going in under armored against a probable well supplied and well armored convoy."
After getting my response I whispered to Jacob. "Keep an eye on Ali and the other insurgents. I know that we're supposed to trust them, but we've been double crossed before and I don't want that to happen again."
He nodded as he walked off with Phil, Ali, and Ira. Suddenly my phone buzzed and as I woke it up I realized that I had a message from High Command. Amazingly that I could get a signal in there I read the message:

You are to continue with Operation Olympia. We need to get a move on as the insurgents have started executions *video* show that to the people with you to get them to hurry up. Remember Nobility is without Fear...

As I passed the video around to Ricky I felt a familiar old feeling. A feeling of disgust. Of how a human being could kill another without a sense of empathy just for their own personal gain. That insult to my honor was just too much. I turned around and asked Eckhart, "Do you have a shooting range around here."(Presuming he said yes)
I grabbed my HK walked outside and put on burst fire with my silencer on. As I shot down target after target I began to feel my mood begin to lighten. I turned around and realized that Ricky was right behind me. He said, "That video a bit too much huh?"
I replied, "Yup, I mean how can they honestly do something like that. I mean murder someone just for their own personal gain. Did you see those demands. I mean why would they want *x* amount or else they'll do *x* killings."
"Well, people just want to make the world go around them sometimes. You have to think about how their minds tick. I mean they will do something for no apparent reason except for the fact that it will bring pain to others. Yet that's why we're here. We're here to stop those sorts of people. That's what we've done before and I've no doubt that we'll do it again. Those were the principles our team was founded on. Anyways did you read the mission intel?" He said as he handed me the packet.

[New Emmerian Coalition]

I hand signaled James and Jacob to go along with Ali. As they were planning to lead I turned to Ali and asked, "Can we still wear our body armor underneath the tarp or would it obstruct our movement. I need to know if we're going to be going in under armored against a probable well supplied and well armored convoy."
After getting my response I whispered to Jacob. "Keep an eye on Ali and the other insurgents. I know that we're supposed to trust them, but we've been double crossed before and I don't want that to happen again."
He nodded as he walked off with Phil, Ali, and Ira. Suddenly my phone buzzed and as I woke it up I realized that I had a message from High Command. Amazingly that I could get a signal in there I read the message:

You are to continue with Operation Olympia. We need to get a move on as the insurgents have started executions *video* show that to the people with you to get them to hurry up. Remember Nobility is without Fear...

As I passed the video around to Ricky I felt a familiar old feeling. A feeling of disgust. Of how a human being could kill another without a sense of empathy just for their own personal gain. That insult to my honor was just too much. I turned around and asked Eckhart, "Do you have a shooting range around here."(Presuming he said yes)
I grabbed my HK walked outside and put on burst fire with my silencer on. As I shot down target after target I began to feel my mood begin to lighten. I turned around and realized that Ricky was right behind me. He said, "That video a bit too much huh?"
I replied, "Yup, I mean how can they honestly do something like that. I mean murder someone just for their own personal gain. Did you see those demands. I mean why would they want *x* amount or else they'll do *x* killings."
"Well, people just want to make the world go around them sometimes. You have to think about how their minds tick. I mean they will do something for no apparent reason except for the fact that it will bring pain to others. Yet that's why we're here. We're here to stop those sorts of people. That's what we've done before and I've no doubt that we'll do it again. Those were the principles our team was founded on. Anyways did you read the mission intel?" He said as he handed me the packet.

OOC: He would have already tested his rifle, but I'll let dat slide. (hehe, get it? Slide?) The demands/executions will make sense later.

"Later. We need to get gear checked and loosen our loads. Your body armor will be fine. " Eckhart said. "And we're well aware of their demands." He tapped his Solid Eye. He turned to the rest of the operators.
"We hit a bump in the road. Lose any unnecessary gear. Drop unnecessary ammunition pouches, armor, and equipment. Priority is water and just enough ammunition for the day. Plates are optional but I recommend a chest rig or similar light LBE. We exvil in 15." He said, taking off his larger ammunition pouches, and leaving a clean 3 double-magazine pouches on the pivotal points on his 6094.

"Get your guns suppressed." Garrett said to Eckhart, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't want to spook our prey, brother, not while the sun's still out."

"You heard the man." Eckhart called. "Black, get your hydration filled, dammit."

Meanwhile, Ali handed out Universal Camo Pattern (ACU) BDUs to the Operators travelling with him and his group of fighters. The uniforms were dusty, and the patterns had all but faded. The patches were easily recognizable as National Police, however. He then handed out Police Vests; MOLLE vests with the bold letters 'POLICE' written on the front. Each had two AK-74 magazine pouches on the chest, and no more. He was sure to pass out Shemaghs (scarves) and helmets as well, as to conceal the men's identities.

"Now, radio silence, everyone. I don't want a single signal leaving this area." Ali said, pulling AK-12s off of the rack at the end of the room. "Not a single shot until I give the go--" He handed the AK-12s out to everyone. "--I'll explain once everyone is ready."

(Gonna wait for the others to post)

[Congreveopia]

“I’ll go police.” said Leighton, following Eckhart. He put on the disguise over his regular clothing, shifting a few things to its pockets and then asked “Is there somewhere I should leave my backpack?”

Meanwhile, the rest of of the squad:

Charles glanced at his packet and then pulled out his PCU and said “Nexus, scan.” and flipped through the pages of the packet in front of the device’s main camera.

“Scan complete.” said the smartphone. “Passing it on to Defence Command, will summarize and brief you in five.”

“Cool.” said Charles. He headed outside while the other two read over the packets. He unzipped his backpack and took out the pieces of a new drone he’d been working on. He carefully slotted the wings into the body, then screwed it together and assembled the tail. Finally, he attached the propeller. The finished drone was very light blue and about the size of a bird. He flipped the power switch, the propellor started, and the drone whirred off into the sky above him. It was no satellite, but he was glad there was an eye watching over him.

Leighton:

“Wait? Radio silence?” said Leighton accepting the AK-12. “I don’t even know if we can do that, but we certainly aren’t going to. Our systems need to stay in contact with each other and command. Calling radio silence on us is like telling a bat to be quiet.”

[Separatistia]

Disciple's Compound

"Dipshit!"
A hand slams a cigarette out of young man's mouth,
"Petrovich, what the fuck? It was the last one!" a complaint comes from the youngster.
The older man sits down beside him, producing a small pack of gum from one of the pouches on his sand-colored LBV. "Don't smoke near the Metis, Misha. Here, take some gum if you need a fix".
Mikhail let's out a sigh and tosses the nicotine candy into his mouth."Thanks, and sorry. It's just we haven't seen much action in a while, makes me nervous".
"I know, I know" Petrovich replies, "But that's what Pushka wants us to do and blowing up the AT won't help the situation."
The older man gives a nod towards the metis system resting on a tripod beside the tarp-covered hole in the wall. Two massive backpacks rest next to the device, a large number of rockets stick out, some with AT markings, while some are marked with letters AP, illuminated by a subtle hole in the ceiling. ATGM crew that consists of two men sit idly by the other wall, waiting.
"So... How's family?" Mikhail turns to his older comrade.
"Ahh, they're fine. My oldest son though? He doesn't want to be militiaman, he says that war is over and all they do is beat thieves up and watch TV these days. No, he wants to be a doctor, says it'll make much more money, can you believe it? He's already accepted into university too, sneaky bastard. No, I am telling you, something's wrong with your generation." Petrovich spits on the ground and leans back into the folding chair.
Mikhail can't help but sigh again and roll his eyes, "Come on, Petrovich, being a doctor's not that bad, how many times did they patch you up? And money's good, he'll have to get his own house sooner or later. And you can still shove him into field medics if you hate the idea of him working at a clinic so much."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. And what did you want to do with your life before this whole thing happened?"
"Pretty much exactly what I'm doing right now."
"Hmm..."
The two fall silent again, the wind continues to slam itself again and again against the heavy duty tarp nailed to the floor. Mikhail shoves his hand into a small messanger bag on his side and withdraws a small square speaker with assortment of buttons on top of it. The play button is pressed and the room is filled with a low-volume electro tune...

Play

[Wolfian State]

Terrier accepted the clothing and handed it to the rest of his squad. Terrier and Greyhound ditched their silenced P90s while accepting AK-12s. Red however held to his HK417 marksman rifle.

"Radio silence, is that understood?" Terrier asked
The others agreed. Greyhound asked whether he should ditch his Sauron drone.
"Negative, I can loose some ammo and hide it in my bag. Some overwatch is always useful. They accepted the police vests and ammo.

[New Emmerian Coalition]

-Bump and Reserve for Post- (Dont die thread, dont die!)

[The United Remnants of America]

In one corner of the room, four men stood off to themselves. They hadn't said more than a handful of words to anyone, and most of these words were simple yes or no answers to questions. These four men, wearing gray and black fatigue body armor, were the URA Sentinels, 1st Battalion, 3rd Special Operations Squad.

But now, in response to Eckhart's orders, the one who looked to be the oldest of the four and the took a step forward. On his ceramic and spider silk jacket was a single name, "Jolly." "Even though we're going silent, should we bring heavier stuff, just in case we need it? Tarzan here's been itching to use his grenade launcher." At the mention of of his name, the largest of the four men, his longer blond hair tied back into a tight ponytail, smiles and nods.

The entire group had gone light for this mission, but each man had brought the essential gear: A Combat knife, a frag grenade, a flashbang, and a Five-SeveN silenced pistol. The leader of the squad, Jolly, had also brought his ACR and a Kriss Super-V, both silenced, along with a phosphorous grenade. Tarzan, who was heavy weapons, had brought with him an M240, an XM25 grenade launcher, and a thermate grenade and a couple landmines. Ninja, the recon specialist, had brought his XM2010 sniper rifle, his own Kriss Super-V, and a tear gas grenade. Finally, Koopa, the rifleman, had brought an M27 IAR, an AA-12 shotgun, and an EMP grenade. Also, the team carried gadgets like NVGs, binoculars, a Sat-phone, E-tools, one medikit, a jammer, a decoder system, a pair of sticky gloves, and all of them wore Mini-Coms on their arms and a X-Com monocle over one eye.

They were ready for anything this so-called "Disciple" had to offer.

[Guruda]

Opting to adjust to the difference in time zone, part of the Gurudan compliment chose to catch a quick snooze before the VTOL reached the LZ. Specialist Alex Raymond and Sergeant Malcolm Greene hugged their HK416 rifles close to their chests as their heads bobbed back and forth along with the aircraft's turbulence. Staff Sergeant Jonathan Anderson remained awake, sandwiched between his two operatives. He always had trouble sleeping on aircraft, thanks to the vibration and persistent noise. Though he wouldn't admit it, nerves contributed to his alertness. In an effort to increase cooperation with like-minded foreign powers, the Gurudan Federal Assembly voted in favor of contributing forces towards the New Emmerian Coalition's Task Force Atlas.

It was of no surprise that the future recruits would be selected from the Gurudan Army Special Forces (GASF), which posed as the Army's premier unconventional warfare unit. Anderson, Raymond, and Greene served in 2nd Platoon, 3rd Battalion, of the Second Special Forces Group. Aside from their service within the GASF, there was nothing inherently special about them as operators. They had done brief stints overseas, training foreign militias or participating in humanitarian operations. As such, their combat experience was minimal, though the fact that they had been in hostile environments gave them a significantly higher level of first hand knowledge compared to most of Guruda's military. While there very little personal stake for Raymond and Greene, Anderson had heard through the grapevine that the brass among the GASF would be anxiously awaiting word of his actions with Task Force Atlas. He was being scouted as an officer candidate, and if he performed well on his deployment, it was highly likely that he would be on track to experience a promotion to Second Lieutenant within the next year.

He sighed thinking of such a prospect, unsure of whether leaving the ranks of an NCO was something that appealed to him. Being bumped up a few pay-grades was certainly desirable, but he enjoyed his role as a Staff Sergeant within 2nd Platoon. He wasn't excited about the extra bullshit the Army would give him as an LT. Being an officer wasn't exactly on his radar, let alone a goal, during his enlistment 16 years prior. As his time in high school was coming to a close, the Gurudan military was undergoing expansion, offering tempting benefits and positions to aspiring young men and women like himself. Several months after graduation he was whisked away to a base on the north-east end of Guruda for basic training.

His initial experiences with his transformation from student to Cavalry Scout caused him to question why he volunteered for service, but by the end of the ordeal he was prepared to give himself to the cause of serving Guruda. After twelve years as a Cav within the 1st Armored, he was scouted by the GASF upon re-enlistment. He was going to sign on for another four years regardless, but after learning of the GASF's interest, he never felt such excitement signing putting pen to paper. Shortly after, he celebrated his 28th birthday with his new team of operators, anxious for what the future may bring. Even though it was just four years ago, it felt like his experiences in the Cav were almost another lifetime. His body was getting tired, but his mind pressed him forward. He complained about the Army a lot, but he lived to be an NCO. The Gurudan military was all he knew how to do; his parents never made him get a job in high school. The truth was, civilian life scared him. The shaking, dark, and cramped VTOL felt a lot more comfortable.

As the aircraft lurched as it touched down, Raymond awoke, alerted by the sudden shift of movement and noise. "Go time?" he asked quietly, yawning as he regained consciousness. Anderson had nine years on Raymond, and the Specialist's fresh face made the age difference obvious at quick glance. Upon confirmation from his Staff Sergeant, he began strapping on his Modular Integrated Communications Helmet, colored with a desert chocolate chip pattern which matched the rest of his uniform, and the rest of the Gurudan compliment.

Still seated, Anderson tapped Greene's shoulder, who went undisturbed by the sudden commotion. "Hey Mac, wake up," Anderson called quietly, giving his friend a nudge.

Greene groaned, and batted his eyes as he looked around the cabin. "Shit," he whispered, bending forward to stretch before he stood completely. "Good flight," he whispered.

They kept quiet within the temple, listening as Eckhart, Garrett, and Ali conversed. Anderson felt a sense of relief when Ali ordered a change in uniforms and equipment, seeing the assorted clothing and gear as a logistical nightmare. He was surprised when there was no standard issue equipment among Task Force Atlas, though it wasn't his place to suggest a change. The HK416 would be missed, but it was a necessary change.

"Sorry, taxpayer," Raymond stated as he discarded his rifle in exchange for one of Ali's AK-12's. After they assisted each other with the swapping of uniforms and gear, they each quietly conversed while they gave themselves a crash course in familiarizing themselves with a foreign rifle.

Greene stretched his limbs in the new uniform, feeling it was a little snug. Their gear was politely piled off to the side, containing their original 5.56mm ammunition, uniforms, and excess gear carried in their packs. They were much lighter now, but they weren't complaining. Anderson gave a quick thumbs up and a nod to Eckhart as the trio moved to the center of the temple. They were ready for the next step.

[New Emmerian Coalition]

Ali looked at Leighton.

"You'll follow the orders, unless you would prefer everyone of us going home in a body bag." His thick accented voice dropped deep, he was serious. He looked around to the others. "Everyone is ready, yes? Then we shall move to the trucks in the back. The plan is to simply stop the caravan long enough for snipers to pick off their drivers, and for the rest of your unit to seize the cargo." He motioned the men to follow him and a small group of his own men, dressed in national police equipment.

Ira checked his AK-12. There was a fresh round in the magazine, armor piercing. Ali had thought ahead, that was for sure. He looked around, suspicious of the men from Congrevopia. Never before had he seen a group of special forces so unwilling to maintain a simple order such as radio silence. He sighed.

"Do as the man says. We're authorized to send you back if you are not compliant." He said, placing his hand on Leighton's shoulder. "Tell your buddies too."

Three STIGRU operatives entered the room. They weren't with Task Force Atlas, but had been assigned to the operation as per Garrett's request. Each carried a large Folsom OBR, the 7.62 variant. They looked to have no plates in their under armor, and were wearing light MOLLE rigs, as opposed to the 1961Gs worn by STIGRU regulars like Eckhart and his small team.

"Green light, brother." Garrett looked at Eckhart,flipping the switch on a SAT phone. "We're ready to go. Ali's got us some transport in the back, but it's not exactly first class."

"I'm sure it's fine." Eckhart grinned, then looked to the men behind him. "We're cleared hot, once we get into our transport there will be radio silence. That is not a request." He chambered his rifle.

Three of Ali's men hoisted open large wooden doors near the edge of the old fortress. Outside were three large National Police Trucks, and two farmer's trucks. Eckhart's squad were going to be posing as stopped workers near the fake checkpoint. They were to use the concealment of the large wooden crates to their advantage. Hay littered the ground of each. They were meant for cattle. The STIGRU Snipers would set up before they reached the checkpoint, thick desert brush being their only concealment. Timing was key to this operation. Eckhart climbed into one of the trucks.

"Cozy." He muttered, as the stench of feces and horse filled his nostrils. He had a silencer screwed onto his carbine, just as the rest of them did as well. Black climbed up behind him.

"Not much of a difference from the Revelations' mess hall." She muttered, taking a place right next to Eckhart.

Ali and his men entered the large SUVs once belonging to the National Police. Ira entered the passenger seat next to Ali. He noticed bullet holes in the dashboard, and one where he'd normally have rested his head. He was curious onto how exactly Ali had acquired these, or if it was a sign of things to come.

[The United Remnants of America]

The Remnant Sentinel team, being a part of the seize group, picked one of the more aged-looking trucks and climbed into the back of it. After sitting down in what they prayed was dirt but knew wasn't, Koopa made a sickened sound.

"You keep that mouth locked tight, Kovanich. I am not losing my morning MRE because of you," grunted Jolly.

"Sorry, Captain. You just know as well as me that what this truck was carrying before us wasn't hay and mud," Koopa replied.

Ninja gave a low chuckle, "Come on, guys. If you pretend it smells like candy, you won't be sick anymore."

Koopa closed his eyes and took a small breath, which forced a gag and cough from him. "Yeah, I call bullshit on that one!" The other three Remnant operators had a laugh at that.

[Congreveopia]

Leighton:

Leighton walked off in the direction of his squad.“Hey, Nexus, you there?” he asked once he was out of earshot of the others.

“I am the size of a large town. My location can only be tracked statistically.” replied Nexus through the contact patches on Leighton’s glasses.

“Yes, that would have been a stupid question if I had wanted an answer of that nature.” said Leighton. “Regardless, I need some help. Whoever’s in charge here just asked us to go radio-silent. Can we do that?”

“I can inflict it on you, yes.” said Nexus “You probably don’t want it, though. Also, R&D’s going to be a bit miffed if you just ignore all the work they put into making your coms stealthy.”

“No, I mean fully silent.” said Leighton “No noticeable EM rads.”

“The only noticable electromagnetic radiation you are giving off is light and body heat.” replied Nexus “That is kinda the point of stealth.”

“You know what I want.” said Leighton.

“I know what you are trying to ask for.” said Nexus “I doubt you want it, though.”

“Of course I don’t want it.” said Leighton “But I want to start a war with Emmeria on our first op even less.”

“Noted.” said Nexus “Fine. I can use your ultrasonic sonar to let your suits’ computers communicate at short-range, which technicaly fits what he asked for, but I still don’t advise it.”

“Neither do I, but we don’t have time to run him through the blueprints for our uniforms. Run the plan by command, let the others know, and then kill our radios.” said Leighton.

“Okay.” said Nexus “What about Charles’s drone?”

“He launched one, did he?” asked Leighton “Is is smart enough to go autonomous?”

“Yes.” said Nexus “It’s not going to do much good like that, though.”

“We can call it up if we need it.” said Leighton “Just have it follow us for now.”

Leighton finished up checking his gear and headed over to the SUVs.

The rest of the squad:

“So, chirpy is going to be all alone?” asked Charles as he walked over to the trucks.

“I do not see how that could possibly matter to your drone.” said Nexus. “You’re the last one, can I switch you off yet?”

“Fine.” replied Charles, looking up. His drone was far too high for him to see. A little green triangle on his HUD marked its location, then disappeared as his communications with it ended.

The squad walked up to one of the trucks. Charles glanced inside and said “Oops, forgot something. One minute.” before turning and running back towards the building.

“Boy we sure do look professional.” muttered Thomas, climbing in and finding a patch of bare floor to sit on.

“We’ll get a chance to prove ourselves eventually.” replied John, sitting down next to him.

“Okay, I’m good.” said Charles, climbin in wearing his gasmask.

“Nice.” said Thomas “Very sheep-farmer-esque.”

“I’m going to put it away when we get there.” said Charles, sitting down. “Sometimes I wonder why I left my nice office job.”

“Because one of your recent drones is running on Plutonium-241?” asked John. “How easy is it for civilian companies to get that?”

“I’ve always felt that the government has no right to say what a man can and can’t do with weapons grade radioactive material.” joked Charles. “Alright, let’s get going.”

[Guruda]

Anderson watched with curiosity as Ali's men opened the gate to the fortress, revealing their transport outside. "Let's go, shall we?" he quietly stated to Raymond and Greene whilst chambering his rifle. The trio emerged from the old building, and carefully climbed into the rear police truck. Anderson took the front passenger seat, giving a thumbs up and a "hello" to Ali's driver, unsure if there would be a language barrier. He glanced back just in time to see Raymond and Greene settling into the seats behind him. "Alex, get your suppressor on," he reminded his Specialist, after spotting the lack of equipment on the end of the AK-12.

Raymond looked over the rifle with haste, apologizing for his mistake. He hoped his friends wouldn't notice the slight shake in his hand as he attached his suppressor, but the truth was Anderson and Greene had their minds on other things. The Specialist swore to himself as he completed his task, before holding the stock of the AK-12 tight against his shoulder. He didn't appear very nervous on the outside, but his gut was tight. The plan made the operatives vulnerable, and was downright suicidal. The weapon's stock wasn't going to rest anywhere but his shoulder unless someone came and took it from him. He could handle himself, but in the event of an ambush, it might not matter. It was all too unfamiliar.

Before Guruda's Army, Raymond was a sort of baseball prodigy, though it was more of an unconfirmed report to Anderson, Greene, and the rest of 2nd Platoon. They had heard he was very talented, but never saw it. Sports and roughhousing were typical activities throughout the Battalion, but when the team opted to play some baseball, Raymond rarely showcased the pitching skills that provided him with a full ride to Fairweather University, among others, despite the urging and betting coming from the other operatives. When he declined the scholarship to the prestigious academic and athletic institution, it was an absolute shock to those that knew him, and some found it outright appalling. He grew up in the capital city of Fairweather, and lived there all his life. The University was close to home, and Alex wanted to get as far away as possible. Though he didn't live in absolute poverty, his father certainly never moved them out of the working poor. If he could be considered working. He was a single father, and Alex's mother was never really in the picture, and he opted not to ask many questions. For his father, odd jobs were the norm, never settling into a definitive career path. He just didn't have the desire to make a full time career for himself, which may have allowed him and his only son to live in comfort.

Regardless, Raymond had a caring father. His dad pushed him in his baseball aspirations, walking him to every one of his ball games in middle school and junior high. Even in high school, his father had perfect attendance for each of his games. The day that Alex broke the news that he had quietly enlisted in the Army and denied Fairweather's scholarship was the worst day in both of their lives. The father and son had no shortage of fights before, but his decision led to much more than an argument. For Alex, he needed to leave. He didn't care how, and the Army provided a chance to run away, with no financial cost. It didn't matter what signed on for, as long as he was gone. The recruiter had no issue pushing him in the direction of Cavalry. If he ever had a family of himself, he wasn't going to live this way. They would have a consistent place to live, enough clothes to wear, and always enough to eat. His father saw it differently. He was Alex's number one fan, pushing him to be all that he could. His son's success was due to himself, spending years playing catch in the park, and talking him into signing on to the local little-league teams. He turned his son into a pro, and gave him a way to live better than he ever could. His own parents were the same as him, yet they never pushed to install great qualities into their own children. Alex was his everything. The denial of Fairweather's scholarship was a stab in the heart.

It was the only time Alex saw his dad cry, though he couldn't keep his own eyes dry himself. He didn't want baseball, he wanted an escape. Throughout his whole senior year of high school he knew what he needed to do, and knowing what would happen made it the worst year of his life. His ship date was several days after he announced his decision, which turned out to be a relationship terminator. One he was still trying to fix. In the five years since he left home, he always sent his dad a fathers day card, from wherever he may be, though that was their only contact. The Cavalry treated him well, and being a member of the Cav community gave him bonus points with other members of the GASF, like Anderson. He was debating re-enlistment at the conclusion of his first four years, but chose to re-sign with the military after being recruited by the Army's Special Forces. It was an exciting career opportunity, and it would be easier than attempting to go back Fairweather. He had hardly talked to anyone from his home since his departure. He had been in the GASF for nearly a year, all of which were with 2nd Platoon. There was only one brief deployment, a humanitarian operation which was rather low intensity and low stress. There were no regrets with the decision to re-enlist.

Greene noticed Raymond looked distant, staring lifelessly into the back of the driver's seat. He gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder, causing the Specialist to shake to life. "Head up kid, we're heading out," Greene assured, not understanding what was happening inside Raymond's head. His true life-story was a mystery to everyone in 2nd Platoon. It took a special person to get him talking about his pre-Army life, and only one had broken through so far.

"I'm up," the Specialist replied, shaking his head to put him back on track. The thoughts were gone. "I'm up," he repeated in a cheerful manner, smiling and returned a jab to Greene. The Sergeant smiled back. Once the wheels began turning, the knot deep in his gut revisited.

[New Emmerian Coalition]

"What the Hell do you mean, LAST SHIPMENT?"

The convoy leader was nearly ignited with rage. His company had supplied the Disciple for years. He sat back in his seat, and turned to his driver, laying his head back in the seat of the large cargo truck. The driver looked grizzly, and had a long beard; he also had a small cap on, with a kevlar vest. An M8-R Compact was sitting by his leg, on a specialized holster. He spoke a few words into his radio, and the trucks started up. They began moving out of port, two APCs escorting them.

They were being escorted by Haven Logistics and Armaments -- An Emmerian Weapon Dealer and Private Security Company. They had been known to supply forces against their government wishes, though with recent events in the Persian Gulf, they've been slowly withdrawing support as the Disciple sets his sights on Civilian targets -- their company could be cut off permanently from the Emmerian mainland. Business bolstered in Emmeria, it wasn't an option for them. Still, the higher-ups wanted to squeeze as much income as possible from the pockets of the Disciple. He was a hero in the 1980s, they had been briefed.

Within the APC, more men sat. Each wore a professional uniform; tan BDUs, black armor, and FAST Helmets with attached optics. They looked straight out of the Emmerian Garrison. Two men wore hardened combat armor, they were nearly juggernauts in every sense of the word. They both had Knights Armament Chain SAWs, with Core-Ops Blast Armor. Snipers followed in an APC far behind. A small pack of tribal hired guns stayed in the front seat of the frontal most truck, in an attempt to mislead any unfortunate attackers. A grin spread across the leader's face.

"Today's gonna be 'xciting." He smiled. "I just got'a feelin, y'no?"
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Eckhart jolted as the truck hit bumps on the road. The rest of the STIGRU unit had just departed, and they were given the order to unload. They had stopped at an old military checkpoint. Thick concrete walls and wooden gates surrounded them. Eckhart led his men to the shadows behind one of the ruins. He motioned for the other soldiers to find cover in someplace close, but to stay in the shadows. The Police had set up across the road, spikes placed along the road in case the convoy had decided to punch through. Ali felt a chilling uneasiness as he placed a small pack of C4 at one end of the checkpoint. One of his men was assisting him.

As everyone had set up, Ali looked around, and froze in place. He walked to the edge of the checkpoint, and heard the large roaring of the convoy approaching.

"They're early..." He muttered. He turned, motioning his men into position and calling the operators with haste. "Get ready. Let me do the talking!" And he chambered his rifle, put on his best 'official' face, and walked out with two red flags. He waved them.

STIGRU Snipers loaded their rifles, and looked down their scopes.

"Were we expecting this many?" One asked, looking at his spotter.

"Those are APCs, but they don't look Soviet. They look... fresh out of Samarkend..." The spotter responded, zooming in closer. "That's Tokugawa... Garrison Surplus." The spotter patted his partner, whom signaled the other team. He pointed towards the direction of the convoy -- they could spot the APCs as well.

"Sh*t!" The sniper looked at Ali approaching the convoy, attempting to flag it down. "They're going to plow through, and they have no idea what's coming at them, can we hit the driver from here?"

"Wait for it, skinnies in the front vehicle, probably just using stolen gear." The spotter said, noticeably calmer.

"Can we take the chance?" The sniper asked.

"Too risky, stay low."

--- --- ---

Ira heard the trucks approaching, and noticed Ali already in character. He had a faint smile under his mask. The operation had an early start. The rest of the men stood around the police barricades.

"Should be easy." He muttered to himself. "Should be easy..."

[Guruda]

Light conversation presided between Anderson, Raymond, and Greene as the police vehicle bounced along the road, on route to their checkpoint. There was a certain feeling of relief when the truck came to a halt, and the Gurudan soldiers took their chance to disembark. Anderson took the opportunity to get ready as all three hastily observed their checkpoint. He pointed to other operatives setting up spikes along the road. "Alex, why don't you help them set up," he ordered quietly, before Raymond confirmed and took off to assist in their preparations. The Staff Sergeant turned his attention to Greene. "What do you think, Mac?" he asked, as he stared blankly down the street.

Greene's attention kept turning to the thick concrete walls around the checkpoint. Those structures would be their savior if the encounter went poorly. "I think we position ourselves over there," he commented, pointing to one of the walls that bordered the street. If any shooting started, they wouldn't have to bound for cover, or get slaughtered in the open before they had a chance to respond. This way, they could appear inconspicuous, and still give themselves a chance.

Sergeant Malcolm Greene hailed from the north-eastern end of Guruda, in one of the more upper-class regions of the nation. His parents were well off, and choose to enroll him into a private school with the hopes of providing him with an Ivy league future. That he accomplished, completing his undergrad career from one of Guruda's top universities shortly before his 22nd birthday. He was thirty now, and a lot had changed since then. Additionally, a lot had stayed the same as well. His personality remained largely intact, as Greene remained the rather quiet, studious, and highly polite man he was during his college years. He didn't exactly fit the operator mold, but that's exactly what the GASF encouraged. He enlisted into Guruda's Army at twenty-four, following two years of working at his father's business, which developed and sold agricultural equipment for both domestic and foreign markets. 24 years along the north-eastern shore was becoming rather dull, and the best option was to hitch a ride around the country, and still put his mind to use. Initially, he wanted to sign-on as an Electronic Warfare Specialist, but there was some stonewalling from his recruiter. Once pen was put to paper, he was persuaded to join the Field Artillery Branch as a Fire Support Specialist. It was an exciting alternative, which still provided a challenge and put him out in the field. Directing and adjusting salvos for field artillery was a rush, and forced him to keep his mind sharp.

His intelligence and adaptability is what caught the attention of the GASF, who recruited him five years into his army career. The decision to join the Special Forces community was easy; exciting, unique, and challenging demands awaited him. His wife, however, was less than pleased. Like many military couples, they tied the knot shortly before Malcolm left for basic training. Once he received his posting, they were able to live in military housing, creating a stable lifestyle as they attempted to start a family. Their son arrived three years into his enlistment. For him, choosing his future within the army was a no brainer. If he was admitted into the GASF, an exciting, unique, and challenging career lay ahead. He and his wife were aware that the erratic schedule of the GASF would make life difficult, but it was what he needed to do. They just didn't know it would be this hard. He had been an operator for two years, and their relationship had been highly strained over that time. Their son was now 4, and staying together for the kid seemed like the right thing to do. It was tough, but he and his wife sat down and made the decision that once his contract was up, he was retiring and leaving the military life behind. Now it was a waiting game. Two more years, and he could hang his boots up.

Despite the troubles at home, he was well received among his other operators. Despite his quiet nature, he was one of the more popular guys in 2nd Platoon; he certainly wasn't making any enemies. He much preferred to sit in the sun and read a book, and leave the roughhousing to the younger, and single, operators. At his age, he was nearly a father figure to some, so his actions and habits went unquestioned.

Anderson took a look in the direction Greene was pointing. "That'll do," the Staff Sergeant confirmed, leading the way to the concrete wall. Anderson casually leaned back against the wall, remaining in the street. Greene stood several feet in front of him. They remained silent, simply observing until Raymond returned. Shortly after the Specialist made his way back, the low rumble of the convoy caught their attention.

"Shit," Anderson whispered, once he heard Ali barking orders. He didn't feel the need to comment that the convoy was arriving ahead of schedule. Raymond picked up on his Staff Sergeant's distress. Once again, he felt unease and his heart began pounding in his ears. "You guys stay here," Anderson continued, ordering them to remain near the solid cover. "If this goes south, hug the wall and stay down." He walked off towards the center of the street.

"You got it," Raymond replied, holding his rifle tighter. As the APC's were rolling into view, the restrictive feeling of his mask against his face was almost enough for him to panic. "What about you?" he pleaded. This wasn't going to go well.

"I'll figure it out," Anderson sighed, just loud enough for him to hear. He needed to move elsewhere. The three of them bunching up against the corner of a wall sent the wrong message to those in the convoy. With the convoy rolling closer, he was about ten meters behind and to the side of Ali, who was waving down the vehicles. He steadied his breathing, calming himself as the APC's rolled closer. Looking at the front of the armored vehicle was like staring death in the face. Now, the promotion to Lieutenant didn't seem so bad. Maybe if he died, he could get the officers commission posthumously.

"Good luck," Raymond said quietly as his Staff Sergeant departed. He was too far away for it to be heard, though it was still audible for Greene.

"It's okay kid," Malcolm commented, patting Alex's shoulder. "Anything happens, just stick behind me." His words were calm, and confident. They would get through it, together.

Raymond stretched, and let out a heavy sigh. "Thanks Mac."

[The United Remnants of America]

Captain Jack "Jolly" Rogers stood behind the heavy concrete building of the compound, squeezing the grip of his rifle tightly, awaiting either a gunshot or a go-ahead over the radio that will tell him and his squad to go. He ignored the sweat dripping down his face as he readied every fiber of his body for a firefight. He always got nervous before them, for whatever reason, and he wasn't about to let those nerves get the better of him.

~~~

1st Lieutenant Nikolai "Koopa" Kovanich sat against the wall beside Jolly, holding his battle rifle between his legs, slowly pounding the back of his helmet against the concrete. Koopa just wanted this damn operation over so he could finally get back to his kid and wife. He was the only guy in the squad, including the Operator, who had a family. Tarzan and Ninja were both single, and their squad Operator, Lieutenant Peters, was younger than all four of them and had some kid girlfriend. He knew Jolly had a divorced wife and a kid the wife kept, but other than that, Koopa was the only "family man." The faster these damn terrorists or whatever they were would find the manners to kindly take a bullet in the ass and die was the faster he'd get back to Macy and little Alexi.

~~~

Master Chief Petty Officer Harry "Tarzan" Wilde hefted his light machine gun and stood watching his squad commander and Koopa. One looked tense and the other looked like he wanted to kill everybody. Tarzan suppressed a chuckle as his finger constantly grazed over the trigger guard, wanted to empty his entire 100-round belt to fill some asshole with a death wish. The side of Tarzan's helmet, right beside his pulled back and tightly braided hair, was a kill count that was up to thirty-four, now. He wanted to hit fifty by the end of the op. Tarzan grinned and waited for the go ahead from Jolly...

~~~

Chief Petty Officer Jung "Ninja" Park was the furthest away and the calmest of the four. He stood at the corner of the building and watched through his sniper rifle's scope, following the convoy as it had rolled up and now keeping a bead on the driver of the first truck. If he struck the window right, he could get both the driver and the passenger. That would stop the truck dead and probably give everyone else the time it'd take to waste everyone riding in back, who all looked like some Haji boys conscripted from the nearest village. No threat at all. At least, not to a scout sniper of the URA Sentinels, 3rd Special Operations Squad.

[Congreveopia]

Leighton glanced around and saw an old concrete barrier by the side of the road. He walked over to it and sat down on it, facing the direction the hostiles would come from, ready to dive behind it when the shooting started.

John walked over to one of the buildings. “Here, give me a boost up.” he said to Thomas, who helped him onto the roof. He lay down so that the enemy wouldn’t be able to see them, and activated his tactical overlay to give himself a view of what was going on. Instead of the regular 3d overlay with friendlies, hostiles, the environment, etc. An error message popped up saying “No data received.”John deactivated it and muttered “Radio silence is working great so far.”

Charles saw Thomas give John a boost and walked around to the other side of John’s building, subconsciously dropping a camera ball as he walked so he’d be able to see what was going on even when in cover. He pulled out his PCU and flipped open the feed from the camera ball and saw a “No data received.” message. “Guess I’m doing this the old fashioned way.” he thought.

Thomas walked out and stood by the side of the road. He was in the open, but near enough to Leighton to dive into cover next to him. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Okay.” he thought “This should be a piece of cake. Even without Fortress, we’ve got plenty of support here, and we’re going up against easy targets. Only thing I should worry about is whether we’ll do as well as the rest of these guys. Definitely would be easier to stay calm if I wasn’t standing out in the open, though. Oh well.”