Location: Ripplebrook, Oregon, USA
Unit: Global Operations Unit
Date: May 12th, 2021 CE
"Ten minutes!" Elias Lake called out over the sound of several bullets flying through the air. Ducking behind a sheet of metallic cover he clenched his radio to his chest.
Suddenly a small ball rolled in front of him...
The world seemed to slow down around him, immediately clocking what the small ball was, a grenade. Diving at it he grabbed it and lobbed it down a hill before diving to the ground.
"GRENADE," he yelled.
BOOM!
The grenade exploded just as it hit the ground, harming no one.
"Good catch," Richards smiled and chuckled sitting next to him, clenching his M4 carbine.
Lake crouched, breathing heavily, "That was too close, remind me to never do that again."
Zeller's voice came through both the soldiers' earpieces, "They have a fucking tank, wait no... three tanks! Fuck! All coming from the south."
Lake immediately looked to the large watch tower in the middle of the small village where Zeller had set up.
A shell flew inside causing it to explode in a fireball.
Shrapnel flew across the battlefield covering the cracked roads and grass landscape.
Richards' eyes widened, "Shit Zeller was in there!"
Focusing on the destroyed tower he saw something move... an arm.
Suddenly a body appeared, crawling across the ground, and Richard noticed, immediately turning to his earpiece he spoke into it, "I need covering fire, Zeller is injured but alive, I have eyes on."
A voice came back, it was Mabasa, "You have twenty seconds to get her to cover, get ready to move, the rest of you know what to do. 3, 2, 1 go!"
All the GOU members stood up, lighting up the battlefield. Richard ditched his M4 and ran forward, narrowly dodging several bullets. Reaching Zeller, he scooped her up with one arm and put her over his shoulders; running to another building, he took cover.
Finally exhaling he flicked open the lock keeping his sidearm in place. In his holster sat an M45 pistol. Chambered in .45 ACP it was very common with members of the GOU, with the extra stopping power and precision training program created by Mclaw.
"I think I twisted my ankle," Zeller smirked.
Richards shook his head, "How the hell are you alive, weren't you hit by a high explosive?"
Zeller shrugged, "Eh... I jumped out the window before it blew up the tower, also could you check my back quickly it kinda hurts."
She turned around revealing a huge piece of metal stuck inside her back.
Richard stood their eyes wide, "Lay down on your front, now," turning to the earpiece he spoke, "I need someone else here quickly, someone with extensive medical knowledge,"
"Roger that," Mounts said, "I'm coming now."
Zeller was confused, "Is it really that bad?"
Richard gulped, "No, no it's not that bad, just a bit of shrapnel."
"Huh," Zeller pulled out a mirror from her pocket and held it over her shoulder, "Shhhiitt."
Richard clenched his teeth expecting her to scream.
Zeller laughed, "Holy shit that looks fucking epic, get a picture."
"Huh?" Richard was completely shocked at her reaction, "You have shrapnel filling your back and... you want me to take a picture?"
Zeller tilted her head, "Did I stutter?"
Richard raised his sidearm, firing a single shot over her shoulder. Followed by a cry and a soldier collapsed, "No, just this isn't the time," he looked at her, "Pass me your sidearm, I'm gonna make sure we don't get flanked, Mounts is on his way."
Instead of pulling her sidearm from her pistol, she drew an M45 from a concealed holster on her back, "Here, I'll still have my Deagle."
Richards moved around the corner, raising both sidearms, emptying the magazines in both pistols into several NZA marines.
Pulling back behind the corner he dropped both magazines and grabbed the weapons both by the slide before slamming in two more magazines fitted to his belt.
Peaking around the corner all that was there were several dead bodies dumped across the floor.
Moving back into cover he looked back to the injured Zeller who was being treated by Mounts.
"Didn't know you could act as a medic?" Richards said.
Still concentrating on the wound, "Well I spent quite a lot of my free time with the company medic while Turner was at shooting competitions, beating the marines shitless."
Richards chuckled, "So how does it look?"
Mounts nodded, "It looks worse than it actually is, once evac arrives, you'll probably be out of commission for a week maybe two."
Zeller chuckled, "That all? I guess I won't miss much then."
Suddenly, the gunfire cut off. The battlefield went quiet.
Mabasa gave a new command, "GOU, watch and shoot."
Everyone looked around expecting the next advance at any second.
"What the hell is going on?" Mabasa whispered looking over a small metallic pile. Immediately turning to his earpiece, he spoke into it, "Lake do you have eyes on any fast movers?"
Lakes voice responded looking up from his wristwatch, "Negative, no friendly, no enemy, do you think it's a retreat?"
Mabasa stroked his chin thinking, "Why the hell would they pull back, we didn't even knock out a single tank?"
A previous member of the 82nd airborne ran over, bent double, to Mabasa's position; this was Keel York, "Sir, do you think they are switching their strike point?"
Mabasa looked at him confused before realising what he was implying, "Shit, Lake have your drones watch the hill at the north, and get Gibson to radio to command that we might need CAS on the double."
"Understood," Both Gibson and Lake replied.
Lake threw his drone into the air and it ascended over the mountainside, revealing a small unit of heavily armed tanks and several groups of armoured soldiers. Focusing on the soldiers, Lake noticed they were wearing a mask. Enhancing the image, he got an even better look. A death squad.
"That's very bad," Lake spoke before turning back to his radio, "There is maybe..." he paused again estimating the number of enemy combatants stationed over the hillside, "a company of NZA death troopers with several tanks."
Mabasa's jaw dropped, "Are you sure?"
"Regrettably, I'm looking at them right now," Lake has a grim look paste on his face.
"Shit, shit, shit," Mabasa cursed, "Where is that air support?"
"The helicopters are no more than five minutes out, along with the Hussars," Gibson informed Mabasa.
Mabasa bit his nail, "Is Ghost with them?"
Gibson quickly checked and responded in kind, "Yep, he's at the front of the formation, like always."
Mabasa nodded whispering to himself, "We might just have a chance," before addressing the radioman, "Tell Ghost to drop his fuel tanks, we'll get aerial refueller airborne for him, there's one that's prepared already for these types of situations. He should be able to reach Mach 2."
Gibson gulped before turning back to his radio, "Hotel-1, Hotel-1, this is Golf-7, inform Hotel-3 to drop his tanks and get here as fast as he can. Break. We have three tanks and need immediate Air to Ground support, over."
"Golf-7, this is Hotel-3 you are speaking to, I hear you loud and clear, I'll be right there," the man said in a strong Slavic accent, "over."
Suddenly, a horrible call came over the radio, "They're moving!"
"Contact North! Hilltop." Mabasa called out as several tanks pulled over the edge.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Shredding through the town, several tank shells landed on the long-abandoned buildings.
"FUCKING HELL," Mabasa yelled narrowly dodging the explosions around him.
VWWWUUMM!
The sound barrier shattered in the distance as a single aircraft approached.
FWOOOSH! FWUSH! FWUSH! FWUSH!
A barrage of missiles lit the mountainside on fire decimating anything there. The tanks exploded a single light-armed fighter jet flew past. Followed by several more.
"Always first," Mabasa chuckled.
Suddenly, the slashing of blades filled the sky as several black hawks circled overhead. Out the side, rotary gunners opened fire on the dazed NZA death troopers.
Three more black hawks landed in the centre of town as a single soldier stepped out.
Armed with an M16 and M1911, the soldier walked forward and whistled at the burning forest ahead, "That's a mess," he said.
Jonathon Mclaw had arrived.
"He really does a presence," Turner was shaking.
Soman patted him on the shoulder, "You get used to it."
Mclaw called out, "Get on the helicopters, we are leaving!"
Richards walked forward, battered and bruised, being carried by a bloodied Zeller and Mounts.
"I thought Zeller was the injured one," Mabasa remarked.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Richard rolled his eyes.
Climbing into the helicopters the remaining GOU members left in what they thought to be victory.
But a few miles south underground lay a dark base, one that NATO nor the UN should ever find. And in the centre stood a man, a very familiar face. A Hunter one might say. Who watched every move Mclaw made. If he couldn't sew distrust he would just have to bring death to every last one of them.
