Reality Merged: Shadow
Chapter Zero: Practice Makes Perfect
The man kneeled in the hip-high grass, his M4A1 rifle held at the low ready. He knew someone was out there, he just didn't know who or exactly where he was. It was about 2200H local, and the sun was long gone. The NVGs the man wore made everything a sickly green and reduced his vision further. He sighed again as he wished that they had installed flood lights or something in the area. The area around him was heavily wooded and he was tasked with watching this clearing. The war-game was into its third week and so far all was quiet on the Western front. It unnerved him greatly. His unit and two others were fighting two units and the fabled Shadow team. The wind picked up a little and the leaves on the trees rustled along with the grass. The man scanned around to see if anyone was move in the grass. He didn't see anyone, but kept up his scanning anyway as the wind died down again.
This wasn't just any war game, it was a more "toned-down" version without all of the heavy armor and air support that was used in typical war-games. This was the military division of TPC, Tactical Paintball Combat. Only trained military personnel, usually commandos from SOCOM and JSOC units like the 75th Ranger Regiment, the 160th SOAR and SEAL team 6, were allowed to participate or the elite teams from the civilian division if they wanted to have the taste of a true war-game and not the civilian battles they participate. The wind gusted again, but didn't last too long. Again the man didn't see any movement.
The differences between the civilian division and the military division were black and white. The civilian division's battles usually last no longer than a day. The military division's battles could last weeks and sometimes months before the objectives were complete. It was a whole different ballgame when the military units went to "war" with each other. The unit's pride was on the line. Nothing was ever gained besides bragging rights in these games. The point was to sharpen and hone the skills that would keep them alive in combat. However, tradition dictated that the losers would buy the winners a round of drinks at the end, and no one wanted to have to go through that. It was extremely painful in the pocketbook.
The wind picked up a little and the leaves on the trees rustled again. Suddenly the man was pulled back and a hand clamped over his mouth. A plastic training knife slid across his neck, and in game terms he had just had his neck slit. He allowed the man how had just "killed" him to drag him into the shade. He was laid down and then stripped of his gear. Looting wasn't allowed, but there was no rule against using the enemy's gear for yourself. Most would think doing so was a dirty trick, but everyone in the division knew that in the real world, doing so was considered par for the course. The mantra was "train like you fight, fight like you train." The man looked over who had killed him when he realized that it was none other than a member of Shadow team. Suddenly his hurt pride didn't throb too badly.
Shadow team was legendary in the military division. It was the modern day version of the original Elite team. Their ability to show up out of nowhere and sometimes even win battles without any form of combat was the envy of all SOCOMs and JOSCs in the world. To get "ghosted" by one of them wasn't an insult to ones skill; it was just what they specialized in and used to great effect. Rumor had it that the team was all elite ex-Special Forces, Black Ops. Who knew if the rumors were true or not.
"One, this is Six," I said quietly into the radio as I finished relieving the "dead" Ranger of his gear, "Sentry neutralized, over."
"Roger, Six," the radio replied, "Four, Tree, and Two report the same. Waiting for your signal, over."
"Send in Fife, One. Let's finish this mission, Six out," I replied. I scanned the area and nodded. The map recon I did was correct. This was the perfect LZ for a Blackhawk. I ducked back down into the grass and just listened. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark and even so, I could barely see anything within ten feet of me. It annoyed me to no end, but this was why this night was perfect for this op. There was no moon and the night was going to be as dark as twilight for the entire night. I allowed myself a grin of satisfaction before I squashed it and focused on the job.
An UH-60L DAP quietly landed with its running lights turned off and Shadow-One opened the side door. Shadow-Four, -Three, -Two, and I broke for the Blackhawk and got in quickly and quietly. Shadow-Five then brought the 'Hawk back into the air and we flew back towards our CP. We all quickly slid into the seats on the 'Hawk. We all quickly strapped in as I got back on the radio.
"Sleepy Hollow, This is Shadow-Six Actual. Package secured and on our way back to the CP in a jacked Tango, Uniform Hotel Six Zero Lima, over," I said into the radio after I changed the frequency and encryption.
"Shadow-Six, this is Sleepy Hollow. Roger that we have you on radar. All enemy Anti-Air guns have been eliminated. You are clear to sprint back to the Alpha Alpha, over," the RTO at the CP replied.
"Roger that, Shadow-Six out," I said as I cleared the radio of encryption and frequency and shut it off. I let myself smile and nodded to the rest of the team in the dark interior. I could tell they were all smiling and happy. Another mission completed by Shadow team. Murphy chose that time to rear his fugly mug. As he would say, we went from flying in a helicopter to flying in a manhole cover in three tenths of a second.
"GHOST! Controls are not responding! We are going down!" Shadow-Five yelled from the cockpit. I quickly turned the radio back on and reprogrammed that radio.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is Shadow Team, we have lost power and are going down!" I yelled over the radio on the channel reserved for such emergencies, "Crashing in grid Lima Golf Six Four Fife Tree, I repeat crashing in grid Lima Golf-" I was cut off by the Blackhawk slamming into the treetops and slamming into my restraints. The vehicle was flipped and rolled. It was at that point, as we were tossed around like rag dolls, that I was extremely grateful for everything being strapped down. The noise was terribly loud. I was being slammed and jerked every which way but was able to keep my hands on the radio.
I clutched the radio to try and keep it from breaking. It was a major asset once we got out of the wreck for SAR teams to be able to find us. I kept that radio clutched to my chest as we heard the tail section of the Blackhawk get torn away by the trees as well as the blades. Suddenly the helicopter stopped and we all hung from our restraints. The helicopter had come to stop upside down. The silence was deafening until we all here ominous cracking sounds.
"Oh sh-" Shadow-Four started before another loud crack and we suddenly started falling again. This time we slammed into the ground. It was at this time, my head got acquainted with a large piece of metal. Darkness became the only thing I knew.