Location: NZA Facility, Antarctica

Unit: GOU

Date: 14th March 2023 CE

10 minutes earlier...

Mclaw retrieved a set of designs, holding the main diagram up to the sky and comparing it with the battleship ahead of him. "Burt!" he called out.

Burt swiftly approached, taking the designs from Mclaw and quickly scanning them before sending them to the GOU's system for further analysis.

Richards' voice crackled over the radio, his frustration evident, "Oh, for God's sake," he paused, clearly having examined the designs, "it's there?"

Mclaw spoke into his radio, relaying the information, "Richards, the engine room is located at the front of the vessel... be cautious. According to the plans, there are multiple squads of marines stationed on board. Over!" He nodded, expecting a response.

But there was only silence in return.

Mclaw touched the side of his helmet, trying to establish contact, "Richards, radio check, over?" Still, there was no reply.

Mclaw turned to Mabasa, "Tian, open up your radio," he instructed. Mabasa complied, adjusting a dial on his pad. Mclaw continued, "This is 1-1, radio check, over."

Mabasa shook his head, speaking in a hushed voice, "Nothing coming through the comms."

Mclaw's attention was caught by a sudden flash from the balcony above. Reacting swiftly, he drew his sidearm and propelled himself off the floor, firing two shots in the direction of the disturbance. Two bullets found their mark, and a body plummeted from the sky.

Standing exposed outside of cover, Mclaw found himself facing several NZA soldiers who had their rifles trained on him. Without hesitation, he shrugged and dove back into a sturdy hiding spot. Bullets whizzed through the air as Mclaw skillfully used a mirror to shoot over the top with his rifle. Suddenly, the gunfire ceased.

Peering cautiously over the top, Mclaw witnessed smoke billowing out of a doorway, and a massive figure emerged from within. This towering individual was incredibly muscular, standing at an imposing height of over 8 feet. As the figure stepped into the open, Mclaw recognized the face. The man discarded his winter jacket and spoke in a thick Australian accent, tauntingly addressing Mclaw, "So you're the reaper, eh? You don't look all that impressive to me, mate."

Mclaw held down the trigger, unleashing a full magazine of bullets on the enemy. However, the adversary swiftly took cover behind a steel barrier, disappearing. Mclaw moved to reload, but before he could react, a powerful gust of wind struck his head, and a forceful punch landed on his back, propelling him into the air. He crashed into a large crane, causing its top to break off upon impact.

Mclaw propelled himself off the broken crane, barely budging it an inch before landing on the pier. In horror, he watched as the crane crashed onto the battleship, causing the bow of the boat to momentarily submerge before resurfacing again.

"Richards..." Mclaw muttered, his voice filled with concern and realisation.

Emerging from behind the palettes, the figure approached Mclaw, who briefly dropped to a knee. "Impressive. A normal person would have been turned to mush from that," the figure remarked.

Mclaw stood up, revealing a massive hole on his side, as if someone had taken a giant circular cutter to his left torso. He coughed up blood and wiped his mouth, "I wouldn't exactly call it fine..." He straightened his posture, and to the astonishment of onlookers, the wound began to heal before their eyes. "Well, not yet."

The enemy grinned at the display, revealing his name, "Captain Mclaw... it seems I underestimated you. Now, I shall fight you with all my might!"

Mclaw nodded, showing his unwavering determination. "May I know your name first?"

The figure responded, "General Ryder Black."

Mclaw took a moment to process the information. General Black, the seventh High-Value Target they had been after. However, the man standing before him looked different from the pictures he had seen. Black possessed the physique of a Greek god, with bulging muscles and multiple layers of abs visible beneath his shirt. "General Black, Chief of the Defence Force... how far you have fallen," Mclaw commented.

Black made a sweeping motion with his hand. "You say fallen, I say I've found a higher purpose!"

Once again, the notion of a higher purpose echoed in Mclaw's mind. Did all members of the Oceanic Empire truly believe in this concept, or was it only the elite? The thought lingered briefly as the situation unfolded before him.

In a sudden blur of movement, Mabasa materialised behind General Black, bellowing a fierce battle cry as he aimed a devastating punch at the man's temple. But upon impact, Mabasa's fist came to an abrupt halt, halted by the unyielding strength of the enemy's head.

Black remained motionless, not even flinching. Several seconds passed before he slowly turned to face the perceived nuisance at his side. Sensing the impending danger, Mabasa instinctively pulled back, realising the gravity of the situation. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath.

Mclaw extended his hand, his voice resonating with power, "Niji CONTROL monstrum!" Instantly, flames erupted from all corners of the room, enveloping Mabasa's entire body just as Black unleashed his fist towards him. However, the strike was repelled, as if bouncing off an invisible barrier, sending reverberations down Black's arm.

A smile crept across Mclaw's face as he dropped to one knee. Despite his weariness, he knew he had to keep fighting. He couldn't afford to give up, not now, not ever. But as he lifted his gaze, he noticed that the flames surrounding Mabasa were not dissipating. Instead, they multiplied, swirling around him in numerous streams. Mabasa's eyes widened in astonishment as the flames began to penetrate his skin, disappearing into his pores.

Black's grin widened with a mixture of admiration and anticipation. "Impressive, most impressive," he remarked, fully acknowledging the extraordinary phenomenon unfolding before him. The flames continued to seep deeper into Mabasa's being, seemingly absorbed by his very essence.

With a surge of determination, Mabasa lunged forward, his fist blazing with fiery energy. As he retracted his arm, his veins pulsated with the intensity of the flames coursing through him. With all his might, he delivered a powerful blow to Black's side.

At first, Black remained motionless, his eyes widening in surprise before fading into disappointment. However, in a sudden twist, Mabasa's fist charged forward once again, emanating a shockwave that rippled through the surrounding area. Black was forcefully propelled several metres backwards, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. As Mabasa pulled his fist back to his side, he stood tall, ready to face the formidable foe.

Meanwhile, Mclaw struggled to maintain his footing, his focus on healing his wounds and finding a way to escape. Mabasa's words cut through the chaos, "Focus on healing and getting us the hell out of here. I'll take on the big bastard."

Nodding in agreement, Mclaw clenched his side, feeling the pain coursing through him. Mounts and Gibson rushed over, pulling him into cover and providing suppressive fire against the advancing NZA ground troops.

Coughing, Mclaw managed to utter, "Richards... check on Richards..."

Both soldiers turned their attention to the damaged battleship, its bow submerged deeply in the water.

Gibson nodded, his voice tense, "One-Three, Two-One, do you copy? Over."

There was only silence in response.

Burt swiftly crawled over, "They're jamming our damn comms. You won't reach him or anyone else," she said, her tone laced with annoyance.

Mclaw clenched his head, a mix of pain and anger washing over him. "Fuck... can you fix it?" he asked, desperately hoping for a solution.

Burt couldn't help but chuckle at his question. "Can I fix it?" she laughed. "Of course I can! I'm already in the middle of breaking through." With a confident grin, she showed Mclaw a progress bar displayed on her wrist pad, indicating that she was three-quarters of the way to overcoming the jamming interference.

As Mclaw turned his head, a sense of relief washed over him. He noticed that his injuries had finally healed, and his body was restored. Casting his gaze toward the ongoing battle, he saw Mabasa locked in a fierce struggle against General Black. Despite their equal footing, Mclaw knew that Mabasa's use of magical energy was rapidly depleting, and he would soon succumb to exhaustion if the fight continued.

Mclaw locked eyes with Burt, determination shining in his gaze. "Burt, get the damn radio working! We don't have time for this," he urged her.

Burt looked up, her expression focused. "It's... on!" she announced, a sense of triumph in her voice.

Without wasting a moment, Mclaw brought his microphone to his face, simultaneously ducking to avoid incoming fire. "Richards, this is Mclaw. Radio check, over?" he called out, his voice filled with urgency.

Richards's voice crackled through the radio, sounding somewhat disoriented. "This is Two-One. Radios are okay," he responded.

Mclaw exhaled a mixture of relief and apprehension. It was time to deliver the news they didn't want to hear. "We've been detected! Watch for contact!" he relayed, knowing that time was now of the essence.

Richards let out a strained laugh, his voice filled with both exhaustion and determination. "Yeah, thanks for the warning. I've already taken care of a good few," he replied, the sound of gunfire echoing through the radio. It was followed by heavy breathing, a loud impact against a wall, and a pained groan.

Mclaw pressed his radio closer, his concern evident. "Give me a sitrep, Two-One," he demanded, needing to assess the situation.

Richards's voice came through, strained but resolute. "Helmet rendered inoperable, head injury, armour breached by shrapnel down my leg. I don't think I'm making it out of this one, sir," he admitted, his tone tinged with resignation.

Mclaw's grip tightened on the radio, his voice filled with determination. "Don't you dare die on me, Richards," he commanded, his words laced with a mix of desperation and authority.

A brief moment of silence hung in the air before Richards spoke again, his voice softer. "Sir, get out of here. It was a pleasure serving with you," he said quietly, his words tinged with sorrow.

Mclaw's heart sank, but his resolve only grew stronger. Gripping the radio tightly, he stood up, firing twice and taking down two more NZA soldiers in quick succession. His voice echoed with determination, "I won't let you die as well!" he shouted, unloading his magazine into several more approaching enemies.

Mabasa was sent hurtling backwards, crashing into a crate with a bone-rattling impact. He clutched his stomach in agonising pain, his contorted face reflecting his suffering. Mounts rushed to his side, their concern quickly overshadowed by a sniper round shattering through a nearby window, finding its mark on the general's chin. The force sent him reeling, but he managed to divert the bullet, sending it harmlessly clattering onto the floor. However, the diversion proved costly as a barrage of 7.62mm rounds found their way into his chest, absorbed by his resilient body.

Mounts acted swiftly, urgently dragging Mabasa away, their urgent pleas to retreat filling the air. Locking eyes with Mclaw, Mounts displayed a mix of concern and determination. "Sir, we must go!" he implored, the gravity of the situation evident in his voice.

Mclaw raised his hand, his face etched with conflict. "I can't abandon Richards," he asserted, his unwavering loyalty prevailing.

Through the crackling radio, Richards's voice reached them, a declaration of his resolve. "Go, Mclaw. This is my steel coffin, so let me meet my fate here," he stated with unwavering determination.

York placed a reassuring hand on Mclaw's shoulder, understanding the weight of the decision before them. "Sir, if we don't leave now, none of us will escape this place alive," he reasoned, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and sorrow.

Mclaw bit down on his lip, emotions warring within him. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, regret seeping into his words.

Inside the bunkroom, Richards fought fiercely, unleashing a barrage of gunfire upon two NZA marines, his tenacity unyielding. Coughing painfully, he uttered resigned words, "That's just how it goes sometimes," before sealing his fate by closing and locking the door.

Mclaw strained to hear the sounds of Richards's ascent through the stairs, the panting breaths interspersed with moments of agony. Then came a cry of pain, a sudden drop, and finally, the haunting silence of static. A solitary tear traced its path down Mclaw's cheek as he hoisted the semi-conscious Mabasa onto his shoulder. Stepping out into the biting winds, he felt the frigid touch of the night air against his cracked suit. Yet, the fiery aura enveloping him provided solace, warding off the imminent threat of hypothermia.

Sprinting beneath the pier, Mclaw's fist collided with a concealed wall, revealing a stash of jet skis hidden for the FSK's planned operation. Cunningly placed, these vehicles had managed to evade detection and discovery. One by one, the GOU operators made their way through the open interior of the concrete pier, clambering onto their respective jet skis. Engines roared to life, but even at full throttle, the sound remained surprisingly subdued. Mclaw led the charge, his hand gripping the throttle as he propelled himself out of the pier. The other GOU members followed suit, their jet skis reaching speeds well beyond 70 mph on the straightaways they had trained on. Within seconds, they hit 100 mph, streaking across the water like swift projectiles. In perfect synchronisation, the GOU members rode together, with Mabasa securely attached to Gibson, his consciousness fading. Suddenly, as Mclaw signalled a left turn, they rounded the edge of the icebergs, only to come face to face with two destroyers emerging from the previously hidden side of Antarctica. Several snowmobiles zipped across the sea's surface, forming a daunting blockade right in front of the jet skis. Mclaw slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding submerging himself, his visor splashed with icy water as he veered to the side. Gunfire erupted, and the operators retaliated against the onslaught. Mclaw's urgent voice echoed over the comms, "We need to keep moving!" With determined resolve, the GOU members swiftly manoeuvred their jet skis, fending off the encroaching NZA forces with their MAC10s. Several snowmobiles were forcefully sent plunging into the frigid depths of the ocean. The GOU pushed farther out to sea, attempting to create distance, but the pursuing destroyers effortlessly closed in, their imposing presence growing ever nearer.

Mclaw's gaze shifted to the enemy battleships, their main turrets ominously aimed in their direction. The turrets flashed blindingly white, causing Mclaw to shield his eyes. Suddenly, a powerful projectile struck the first battleship, tearing through the bridge before penetrating the second battleship's central hull. The resulting explosion ignited a chain reaction, engulfing the vessels in a fiery inferno. A colossal pillar of flame surged into the sky, while shrapnel rained down upon the remaining snowmobile soldiers, scattering them in disarray.

Mclaw turned his attention to the source of the shot, his eyes widening as he recognized a familiar face standing proudly at the console. A smile curled upon his lips as he uttered, "Hit it..."

With a single press of his pad, a colossal mushroom cloud billowed into existence, accompanied by a resounding shockwave that reverberated through the sky. However, there was no time to admire the spectacle. Without hesitation, they pressed forward, leaving the facility behind, along with the memory of Richards.

They continued their journey for approximately thirty minutes until a call broke through the silence, commanding them to halt in Morse code. Mclaw brought the formation to a stop, their jet skis floating in the middle of the vast ocean. "Roger, you are clear to surface," Mclaw acknowledged.

Suddenly, a metallic shape burst forth from beneath the water's surface, bouncing on the waves. The GOU members positioned themselves alongside the hull of the Astute-class submarine, climbing aboard through a hatch. They descended into the cramped confines below.

Mclaw addressed the group, his voice echoing in the confined space, "Zeller, status?"

Zeller's voice crackled over the radio, "Rendezvous with the Hawk is complete. Both Turner and I made it out. Any casualties on your end? Over."

Mclaw's throat tightened as he heard the hatch lock, the weight of loss bearing down on him. "Yeah... we had one," he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. He paused briefly before continuing, "It was Richards."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as Zeller absorbed the news. In the background, faint sounds of helicopter blades and wind permeated through her radio. Finally, she spoke softly, "Another one?"