Location: New York City, New York, United States of America

Unit: 22nd Special Air Service, British Army

Date: May 1st, 2021 CE

"So they know all our patrol times?" A man in a suit asked, he was an older man with a mix of silver and black hair. The speaker had a short beard which he would ruffle from time to time and was quite buff even in his old age. This man was none other than the newest US President, Lincoln Rodes. He continued to speak in front of the small audience in his office, "I want all patrol times changed from our systems and dummy versions to be put in place. Along with militia base locations changed and anti-personnel mines planted there."

Another man in a suit stuttered, "Claymores, Sir?"

"If we can make them detonate automatically, once they are stepped on, then yes," He moved his hands up to his mouth while still sitting in his sleek leather chair.

"B-but sir," another person paused, "we said we wouldn't use anti personnel mines, right?"

A dark look came over the president's face, "Tell the UN, that we now consider anyone working for the NZA to be a war criminal and can be executed on sight when needed," he paused, before his tone grew even darker, "You don't have a problem with this Prime Minister Halvard?"

A former British army veteran walked forward into the light followed by two members of the Special Air Service, "Not a single problem, we are already in the process of forming a team to carry out operations that will never see the light of day."

The President turned to the other American man, "Tell. The. UN."

He took a step backwards, not sure what to say, before walking out of the new Oval Office. This new office was located on the twentieth floor of an old repurposed government building. It was quite a modest building, with only forty floors. Of course, to the British Prime Minister, this was unheard of in a Government building from somewhere like London.

The room had a dark grey aspect to it but also had tips of gold here and there were the two standard flags always present in the office. At the centre of the room, there was a golden oval that matched the shape of the room. This room suited the current President, Lincoln Rodes, he was a calm man. But when someone pissed him off he would become as vicious as a bear. That's how he was feeling today, he wanted to tear every NZA soldier limb from limb; no matter how they begged none would be spared for what they had done to his beautiful country.

"So Prime Minister, this team... who are they?" The President indicated for the British gentleman to take a seat in the office.

He kindly accepted nodding, "Well, this team are going to be comprised of the world's finest soldiers to ever walk the earth. Soldiers that can act on their own and in a team, currently I have some files from your forces we'd like to pull to assist us. Canadian, Swiss, South-African and Indian governments have already accepted, we are currently in talks with the other nations."

"Why didn't you go through the UN?" The President was confused.

A masked soldier walked forward, "That would be my fault, Mr President."

The American Politician raised his eyebrow, "And who would you be?"

"Oh yes I should have introduced you, Mr President, these two behind me are the first two soldiers in the unit. This one you've already talked to, you do know his callsign but maybe not his name," Prime Minister Halvard said with worry on his face, the President noticed this strange reaction and realised something was wrong, but before he could say anything the British man continued, "This man is 'Reaper-1', Captain Jonathon Mclaw."

Jonathon took off his helmet and kept it under his arm before removing his balaclava, the soldier had black hair with brown strands here and there to match his eye colour, "I made the call to go directly to the countries rather than through the UN, as the team's creation of my recommendation."

The President smiled, "So I finally get to meet the UK's star soldier, Reaper-1 it's my pleasure to meet you," he extended his hand to greet the Captain, "So how did one of my soldiers catch your interest? Was it one of the members of the Green berets? If it was I'm very sorry to inform you we can't really afford to give any of them away."

Jonathon smiled and tilted his head, "Mr President, with all due respect your Special Forces have been pushed to their maximum limit and won't take any guidance off me no matter what I say, so, I have other troops in mind," he pulled up a briefcase and slipped out a bag of files, "These are the Soldiers I want, incredible, untamed talent. I want to turn them into super soldiers."

The President analysed the files, "Two from the 184th Infantry, three from the 82nd airborne and that's it?" he paused looking at the documents, he'd only ever heard of one of these names, "I know you'll probably be able to recruit four of these but this one," he paused handing the SAS officer a piece of paper, "Will probably be impossible, we've been asking him to move to marine snipers but he won't budge."

Mclaw looked back to his friend, "Oh I have some connections in MI6 and I found out the reason he won't join... his buddy," the Captain paused, "in that pack, there was another soldier, he is not just in the same unit as that soldier, but also the same platoon."

Rodes flicked through the other files, "Corporal Mounts, 184th Infantry Regiment, grew up in San Francisco, stationed in Visalia, exact location unknown," the President's eyes were wide open, "How the hell did you get this information?"

"Military Intelligence knows all," he gave a simple answer.

Rodes shook his head, "Fine, we'll give you these soldiers. However, we also get to use this squad whenever we need an HVT disposed of and you have to do something for us when we hand them over."

The Prime Minister stepped forward, "What do you need done, Mr President?"

He grinned from ear to ear, "Get these NZA fuckers off my continent."

***

Mclaw sat in a chinook on his way to meet the rest of the unit, ahead of him sat a man who he'd met during the initial attacks who ended up stopping nuclear annihilation in the UK. He was a lot younger than Jonathon but still, it looked like they were the same age. This man was Jonathon's right hand, Sergeant Roy Hunt.

In the last month, these two had been hitting several NZA ammo depots, reinforcing troops on the frontlines, and destroying any guerrilla units that had snuck into European territories.

Currently, they were on their way to a military base in Utah, near the state border of California. This base was hastily set up and named Camp Utah, mainly to confuse the enemy if the communications were hacked.

82nd Airborne was then placed there as quick reinforcements in case a large number of NZA overran California. That was where three of the five soldiers Jonathon was looking for were.

The journey had been mostly, but SGT Hunt eventually opened his mouth to ask, "So... these Americans, who are they again?"

Jonathon raised an eyebrow, "I thought you read the files?" he shook his head and continued, "Right, the first one in Private Keel York, nicknamed 'Alvin'. He passed his tests with flying colours as well as being an excellent navigator, he will usually carry around a grenade or rocket launcher whenever he can."

"Sounds like a very explosive fellow, who's next?" He asked.

"Right, second is Staff Sergeant Gibson, nicknamed 'Big man', interesting nickname, eh?" He paused before continuing down the file, "Passed with flying colours as well, no surprise there, is generally known to be quite the brawler, able to kick doors off hinges and all that. Finally, Lieutenant Brad Richards. Shown tactical and extraordinary military prowess, incredible marksmanship, and I also met him already two years ago during a training exercise in the USA."

"I thought that training exercise was with the Green Berets?" Hunt asked confused, "Did you run into him in the base?"

Mclaw let out a small laugh, "Ha, no. I met him at the nearest bar and we got hammered together and ended up dancing in the streets of god knows where."

Hunt looked at him, eyes widened before lowering them and frowning, "Of course you did, why am I surprised."

"Am I that predictable?" Mclaw retorted.

Before Hunt could respond, one of the pilots turned to the soldiers, "Prepare for landing, the base looks to be under attack again."

Mclaw threw his hands in the air, "For fuck sake, course they're under attack," he paused and smiled, "The minigun has ammo right?"

"Sir, we have a gunner for a reason," the pilot knew exactly what Jonathon was implying, as you can tell it wasn't their first time flying together, "He'll cover you from above."

Mclaw's smirk looked like it might flood the room, "Here's the plan..."

***

"This is insane," the pilot said to himself.

Mclaw and Hunt both slipped into their gear. Jonathon grabbed his modified cold war era M16 fitted with an under-barrel grenade launcher and a flip-sight ACOG and red dot. Hunt, on the other hand, used an H&K MC51 rifle chambered in a 7.62mm x 51mm cartridge.

"Best plans are always insane," Mclaw said.

Hunt nodded, he'd experienced plenty of Jonathon's half-baked 'plans'. And somehow everything would turn out fine, at this point, Hunt assumed Mclaw was probably the luckiest man alive, so usually, he didn't question him, but today he wanted to ask the routine pre-mission question, "Captain, why do you still use that old M16? There are so many different exquisite weapons."

"Like?" Mclaw responded.

"Oh, I don't know! G36, AUG, Galil, TAR-21, FN SCAR, AK-12, G3, MK 556, ACR-3, L85, C8," Hunt named all these different weapons at almost supersonic speeds and it almost overwhelmed Jonathon.

As soon as Hunt stopped to take a breath, Jonathon explained, "I've been with this weapon since the Falklands. You won't get me to permanently switch, at most I'll ask for my new weapon to be made of a melted-down version of this M16."

Hunt raised an eyebrow, "You still going along with that whole 'I came from a different world in the 1960s and have been working for the British government since'?"

"Yes, I am. Because it's true," Jonathon paused, "By the way, it was 1978, not the 60s."

Hunt rolled his eyes and walked over to the ramp, pressing a button, "I'm opening the hatch now!" he yelled to the cockpit.

"This is still suicide!" The co-pilot yelled back, clicking a few buttons.

The gunner looked at the elites with worry on his face. He'd never seen proper combat and only joined to pay for a university degree; he knew would be getting out as soon as he had his money, but this! He one-hundred per cent didn't sign up for this.

The Gunner gulped remembering how long the life of a door gunner was in Vietnam. Five minutes. While he knew it was just an urban legend, there was a small part of him which thought it could be true, and that shook him to his core.

Then he felt a pat on his shoulder, "Your gonna be fine, kid," Mclaw spoke, "Well as long as the pilots do their jobs correctly that is!"

The Door gunner looked at him, Mclaw could see the worry in his eyes, and then he looked down, "Sir..."

Mclaw stood up, "Listen, kid, you have the biggest gun on the battlefield at your disposal, we just have these shitty rifles, 950 Rounds per minute, I mean, what's that compared to your 4000 Rounds per minute?"

The door gunner chuckled, "It's not the rate of fire that matters, Sir. It's the quality of the soldier!"

Mclaw laughed back, "Tell that to the A10 fanboys, and you'll be dangling hung from a tree with a noose around your neck within a minute."

The door opened letting the sound of faint gunfire whistle below. The helicopter was roughly a kilometre off the ground, completely invisible in the darkness. Mclaw patted the gunner on his shoulder as he ran up to Hunt. Both Operators fixed their respirators and stood over the ledge of the ramp.

Mclaw finally noticed the flaw in his plan, "We must be insane to do this."

"Yep we definitely are insane," Hunt turned to the pilot once more, "Follow the plan to the tee or I'll come back and haunt you. Also, don't forget to dodge and weave."

Mclaw agreed with Hunt's sentiment, "Yeah he's right, also don't forget, you are the best pilot we have available right now, don't fuck this up."

The pilot lay back in his chair, "I'm the only pilot available right now!"

Everyone in the Chinook hooked onto something, for the two elites it was the end of a long rope. For the gunner, it was a seat rail and for the pilots, it was just a matter of tightening their seatbelts.

"Ready!" the pilot yelled, "GO, GO, GO!"

The special forces dropped from the end of the helicopter each with a rope attached to their belts, they rapidly descended, feeling the pressure on their exposed faces. Both of them reached around grabbing the piece of metal connected to the ropes and hitting a button causing them to fall to a stop. They started to screech to a stop, the climbing rope caught them and they hung in mid-air.

Mclaw rapidly exhaled, "Told you that would work," he said to the microphone under his mask.

Before Hunt could respond, the helicopter, roughly a hundred metres above them, went into a nose dive towards the ground dragging the soldiers behind them.

"FUCK!" Mclaw yelled, "This was a bad idea!"

They both bounced through the air next to each other still gripping their rifles and equipment for dear life. Suddenly the ground became a lot clearer. Those little dots from earlier had turned into full-size human beings, completely visible to the naked eye.

200 Metres. 150 Metres. 125 Metres. 110 Metres. 100 metres.

The helicopter suddenly pointed its nose back up to the sky as the pilot struggled to control it.

The helicopter slowed as the minigun tore through several platoons of NZA soldiers. Suddenly it came to a stop for no more than a millisecond.

"CUT!" Jonathon yelled as he unhooked from the rope letting him fling himself to the ground. Curling into a ball he rolled before getting get up to fire on the NZA forces. Volleys of gunfire flew around Mclaw and Hunt as they readied their weapons to fire.

Engaging the enemy, the firefight began.

Immediately they fired on the nearest enemy unit, wiping out soldier after soldier. They pushed the enemy further and further towards Camp Utah. At the same time, the US soldiers moved out of the camp charging the enemy positions.

The NZA attack units had been flanked and almost obliterated. However, none would allow themselves to be captured so they turned to their final solution. Each of them grabbed a grenade and pulled the pin gripping it to their chests.

Mclaw charged the final position, suddenly he was blasted backwards by a huge explosion. Shrapnel whizzed around him and he covered his face with his rifle, "Shit!" he yelled as he bounced across the muddy ground.

As he stood up a group of US soldiers approached him, "Identification!"

"Captain Jonathon Mclaw, 22nd SAS, British Army," he replied.

"Sergeant Roy Hunt, 22nd SAS, British Army," Hunt followed Mclaw's lead.

The soldiers lowered their M4s and walked closer to the British elites.

The lead American started to talk to the Captain, "So you're my new commander, eh Mclaw?" he asked already knowing the answer, "The Chinook? That was you right?"

"Yep, I'm sort of surprised it worked," Mclaw replied.

The American's eyes widened, "It looked like you had practised that several hundred times before. Wait, are you saying you thought of something that crazy during your flight here?" The American wasn't sure whether he was impressed or baffled.

"That's right," Mclaw smiled, "One hell of a plan, right? Lieutenant Brad Richards."

The soldier smirked back, "Been a long time, eh? You really don't age."

Mclaw removed his respirator and smirked back, "Just as I told you, Richards."

"C'mon we should get back in base and discuss things properly," he replied.

Mclaw nodded, "Sounds good to me," he paused, "Have troops check the bodies of the ones that blew themselves up along with finishing off any who we didn't get to kill earlier."

The American stared at Mclaw, "that's a war crime, right?" he questioned.

Mclaw responded, "Both mine and your government have said that previous war crime agreements and anything under the Geneva Convention no longer applies to NZA forces, ask command for confirmation. If you get blamed for war crimes say I forced you to."

Richards looked to his radio and spoke into it, "Is that true?" he asked.

"One sec," a voice said, "uh... nothing here currently, wait what the..." he paused speechless.

"What is it?" the American asked.

The man on the radio stammered, "Y-yes it's true, but it just came in no more than five seconds ago."

Richards turned to Mclaw and frowned, "You get all the news before everyone else, eh?"

"Doesn't he just," Hunt whispered to himself, agreeing with the American's statement.