At The Edge of The World

December 24th, 2014

Staff Sergeant Joshua Flint, 1st MEUSOC Battalion

1305 Hours

Agent Oliver stood near the window listening to my story. I finished placing my hands on the table, clicking my finger against the metal. A jetliner took to the skies behind the buildings and trains crossed the city by monorails. The blue skies were clear of clouds and the jet contrails like small threads of cotton against the blue fabric. The sounds of traffic and blaring sirens of the police cars muted through the glass. Agent Oliver turned around and walked over to the chair. She sat down, rubbing her forehead. The room still smelled like paint and unfinished construction with the smell of strong coffee coming from a single cup on the table. Agent Oliver pushed another file towards me. I looked at her with and slowly opened the file.

"Operation: Carthage, after a month of stalking and surveillance with intelligence from both the Russians and British intelligence agencies, you finally found him." Agent Oliver picked up her small paper cup and sipped the caffeine drink.

"Hannibal." I growled looking at the photo of him looking back at the London Eye in the middle of a busy English street.

"Tell us what happened Josh, why did he get away?" Agent Oliver leaned forward focusing her attention on me.

"You were there, you know what the story was." I sank into the metal chair, crossing my arms and looking at her.

"They want to hear it from your mouth Josh." Agent Oliver tapped on the table impatiently.

"Sure, why don't you bring Jorge in huh? He'd love to tell you all about the wound that they gave him." I growled back watching her reaction.

"Josh, stop being so stubborn just tell me the story. I want to know as much as you do why he escaped." Agent Oliver said through gritting teeth.

"Then you tell your side of the story and I'll tell mine." I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table.

"London, April 21st, 2014..." Agent Oliver started, sipping coffee from her cup.


April 21st, 2014

Staff Sergeant Joshua Flint, 1st MEUSOC Battalion

Room 403, Saint James Hotel

London, England

0635 Hours

I felt eternal bliss consumed by darkness and wrapped in warmth. Something pushed me out of the mist of sleep, an annoying chirping. A morning call. I grumbled and rolled over. My body ached from the past month. Operation: Rock River took a lot out of me and man did it hurt. The 1st Reconnaissance Battalion fighting in Iraq pulled out at the end of the day. An earthquake shook the city, destabilizing the Marines and the PLR. With no communication and no way of organizing, the Marines were killed one by one. The few that got lucky were on their way to the next battlefield. Misfit, Hitman and Assassin, the three main companies of the Recon Battalion got out alive and Sergeant Blackburn's squad was given a top-priority mission given by the Special Operations Command themselves. The ringing of the phone made me pick up the annoying machine.

"Mr. Flint your six o'clock wake-up call. You haven't picked up so we kept calling you." The British voice explained as I grumbled, pushing myself off the bed.

"Thank you." I replied, slamming the phone back down.

My muscles screamed with soreness. My arms, back and legs burning as I stumbled into the bathroom. The hygienic ritual began. Brushing my teeth, washing my face and shaving the growing stubble became everyday life on and off base. I kicked my boxers off and threw it in the clothes bin. Hot water steamed over my body fogging up the glass door of the shower. It felt good, really good after a month of doctor appointments and stitches. The still fresh wound on my cheekbone, neck and forehead still stung. With another Russians arm dealer dead, that would be one less guy to take out. I twisted the shower knob close and looked at the steamed up mirror. I wiped out the condensation of the mirror to take a look at myself. Green eyes stared back at me. A strong set jaw with a small gash on the upper lip. One small stitched wound still fresh with white dry medical glue hid the reddened cut on my right cheek. Another gash sat on the upper left of my forehead, the crew-cut hair hiding a part of the cut from the impact against the helicopter's passenger door. I turned around and looked at my back. One healed scar across the middle of my neck from a bullet graze sat in the open along with other long scars across my back from my childhood. Sighing, I walked out into the bedroom and pulled out my usual attire. Cargo pants, a blue tee and sneakers. I picked up my phone and a small radio transmitter connected to a hidden wireless radio in my back pocket. The little thing was disguised as a bluetooth headset and no one would suspect it. Sitting next to my camouflaged backpack filled with military equipment was my combat knife and pistol. I grabbed the USP 45 Tactical pistol and checked the weapon. Eight bullets and two magazines. I loaded the small pistol and racked the slide, slipping it into the back of my pants. The seven inch KA-BAR combat knife was stowed into my left pocket before I left the room.

"Reaper One, I am active." I spoke into the bluetooth headset, pressing the elevator call button.

"Roger that Reaper One, three is on over watch." Elf replied as a woman walked over to me.

"Morning." I greeted with a smile.

"Good morning." She replied standing with her hands dug into the pockets of her jeans.

"Excuse me but do you know a Starbucks near the London Eye?" The woman looked up at me nodding.

"Yes, its actually not quite far from it. There is one opposite of the Eye on the boardwalk." The woman said with what sounded like a French accent.

"Reaper One, incoming briefing." Jorge spoke into my ear.

"Would you give me a moment, I have to take this call." I said as she nodded.

"Alright Jorge, what's up?" I asked walking into the elevator.

"Major General Lefebvre want us to meet up with a suit in the Starbucks you're walking to. The spook's suppose to help you find Hannibal." Jorge explained, the elevator door opening to let in a couple staying at the hotel.

"What time is the business meeting?" I asked trying to remain unsuspicious.

"Ah, thirty minutes from now." Jorge replied quickly as I nodded.

"Alright Jorge, thanks." I stated before tapping the headset like I was turning off the device but I really wasn't.

"You're a business man?" The woman asked as I nodded.

"Yeah, is that hard to believe?" I replied with a casual smile, I hate talking to people who were overly curious.

"I don't know. You're built like a tank and look like a military man on vacation." She observed walking out the now open elevator doors.

"I use to be in the Marines, now I work for a wingsuit company. We sell gliding equipment and the sort." It was our cover if anyone asks anymore questions.

"Okay then, I have to go. See you around?" She said with a small smile, standing in the hotel lobby.

"Sure." I replied with a short answer.

"Reaper Two, I'm active." Bal reported on the radio with a yawn.

"Have a good night's sleep Bal?" I asked walking out from the hotel and into the chilly April morning of England.

"Yeah, especially with that chick I picked up at the bar." Bal replied with a small chuckle.

"You're such a player Bal." Elf joked, sipping some beverage.

The weather in April made the hairs on my skin stand up. Being raised in Maryland, I was use to sixty five degree Fahrenheit weather. Usually it was warm enough to wear a tank top if you dared. I pulled out a phone and used the GPS function to find the London Eye. It was a few blocks from the hotel, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. On the way towards my destination, electronic shops with television sets played the BBC news channel. I couldn't help by stop to listen to some. The anchorwoman was reporting on the war in Iraq. My mood turned into frustration. Why wasn't I in the thick of it with my Marine brothers? Videos and images of the Marines rushing into battle just to get cut down by PLR militia men just angered me even more.

"Today the United States Marines are assaulting the capital city, Arbil to flush out the lieutenants of President Farukh Al-Bashir. President Al-Bashir staged a coup on the weakened Iraqi government and vowed to take revenge on America for destroying his country after Operation: Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom." The anchorwoman said as the video continued in the background, Marine forces firing at roads and buildings filled with insurgents before cutting to President Al-Bashir himself.

"You come to our country to murder us, yet you call us terrorists?" President Al-Bashir spoke in his office decorated by flags and expensive furniture, wearing his military uniform.

I couldn't watch the news anymore. The sight of Marines getting massacred, it was just too much. PLR might be untrained and completely inexperienced but they were well armed and they had numbers on their side. Improvised Explosive Devices had no role in the world of all out warfare and this was one of the bloodiest wars since Operation: Iraqi Freedom. United States forces were due to pull out of the middle east by 2012. It's 2014 and we're still there. I looked up after a long walk to the river Thames to see the giant London Eye. To the right of it was a series of vendor shops and a Starbucks. Inside, it felt like a relaxed workplace with college kids on their laptops, talking to their friends and business men and women talking about...well – business.

"How can I help you?" A female cashier asked standing behind the counter.

"Can I have a tall white hot chocolate, whole milk with whipped cream please?" I replied, digging into my pocket and pulling out my wallet.

"That'll be two pounds and fifty pence." The cashier stated as I gave her three coins and waited at the counter.

"Not a fan of coffee?" She asked walking to the back where all the magic happens.

"Yeah, it dulls my senses after you get addicted to it." I said with a small smile.

"Sounds like what my father would say." The girl replied waiting for the hot chocolate to finish.

"Your father?" I asked trying to strike up a conversation.

"He's an old fart in the British Military, 44th East Essex Regiment of Foot or something." She murmured trying to remember the name.

"44th Regiment of Foot, part of the 5th Infantry Division based in Shrewsbury. That's a long way from home isn't it?" I asked as she went to grab my drink.

"I'm attending college and trying to find extra money to buy some art equipment." She explained giving me the paper cup.

"It's been nice talking to you." I replied walking to a nearby window and sat down to observe the area, looking for Hannibal.

"Jorge you active?" I asked into the headset grabbing The Telegraph.

"Yeah, I'm at the mall opposite of the river Thames and the London Eye. Perfect view of the area." He replied from the mall which I judged to be directly opposite from me.

"Why didn't you report in earlier?" I asked looking at my watch, 0655 Hours.

"You know, family stuff." Jorge grunted back.

"Tell me about it, I've got oh I don't know fifteen minutes?" I said with a chuckle pretending to read the business section of the newspaper while scanning the boardwalk.

"Alright then, you know David right? He has a soccer match today and I wasn't able to make it today so I just told him to go play, wishing him the very best. I mean come on, he's just ten and I'm sitting here trying to find some madman trying to destroy the United States." Jorge said, ranting as I flipped through the pages amused at the father of two.

"It's for the greater good Jorge so your kid can grow up in a safer world." I replied taking a glance out the window.

"I know but Haley has a concert performance today with her fourth grade class and I'm missing out. I just wish that some days I can be in two places at once." Jorge said with a sigh.

"We are men of sacrifice Jorge and men of violence so people can sleep peacefully in their beds at night." I took a sip of the hot chocolate.

"Sergeant Flint?" A female voice asked as I looked up at her.

"Yeah and who are you?" I replied to the stranger.

"I'm to spook you're suppose to meet. I'm Agent Michelle Oliver." She explained taking a seat on the wooden chair in front of me.

"How do I know you're with the Agency?" I asked, the woman taking out a small file.

"Isn't this the briefing you got in Hereford? Authentication code words: Punic Wars." She replied passing all the test but my suspicions were still here.

"Great I'm babysitting someone from the CIA aren't I?" I asked looking out the window to find a man in a charcoal suit talking to two of his associates.

"Look I know how to take care of myself." Agent Oliver growled back, the man looked familiar with his blonde combed over hair and growing beard.

"Here's a picture of Hannibal, he's dealing with a PLR agent to take the bomb into Iraqi Kurdistan." She explained as I grabbed the photograph and file.

Blonde combed over hair and a stubble. He was wearing sunglasses and held a suit case walking off a Gulfstream jet. Shit, that was him just now. I looked up seeing Hannibal walking with his two Arabian buddies into a crowd of people on the boardwalk. This was not good. I grabbed the hot chocolate and chugged the drink down before rushing outside the store. He was gone.

"Elf, Jorge I need you to fix eyes on the boardwalk where the London Eye is Hannibal has been spotted. Blonde combed over hair, growing beard and wearing a charcoal suit. He's walking with two Arabian men in a white and black suit respectively carrying a suit case." I quickly spoke into the radio, trying to find him in the sea of people.

"I'm on it Sergeant." Jorge replied as Agent Oliver ran outside in her high heeled court shoes.

"Bal where are you?" I yelled running into the crowd.

"Five minutes from your location. I'm going to try to cut him off." Bal reported as I pushed against the flow of the crowd.

"Excuse me." I grunted, trying to avoid a couple walking together.

"This isn't going to work!" Agent Oliver stated as I nodded.

"This isn't." I said pulling out my pistol and racking the slide, loading a round.

"But this is." I finished pointing the pistol into the air.

"United States Special Forces, everyone get the fuck out!" I yelled with anger, unable to find Hannibal.

I fired a bullet into the air and placed the pistol on safe, running into the crowd of panicking civilians who made a hole for the American with a gun. I found him. The Russian turned around and gave me a small smirk before a civilian passed in front of him. He was gone again. How he did that, I did not know.

"Elf I've lost him." I radioed my sniper, taking a slower and more cautious approach to the Russian.

"I'm on it boss. We've got some police chatter on the COMs, patching it to you now." Elf replied, police chatter now buzzing in my ear.

"We've got shots fired near the London Eye on the boardwalk. Dispatch patrol units immediately." The radio crackled as I found Jorge running down the boardwalk.

"Did you find him?" Jorge asked panting.

"I just lost him, Elf's on overwatch." I replied seeing Hannibal turn left in an alleyway.

"Fuck, over there!" I yelled as Bal ran after him.

"United States Special Forces, get down on the ground!" Bal yelled, Jorge and I running behind him down a narrow London street filled with cars.

"Elf, re-adjust. We are behind the boardwalk on the street parallel to it. Bal is just behind Hannibal." I reported, Bal drawing his M1911 pistol and readying it to fire.

"Roger that, I've got him." Elf replied with a small exhaled breath.

"Permission to take down one of the Arabs." Elf stated as the three of us chased the defector down the street.

"Send it." I ordered seeing police cars block the way a few meters in front of us.

I ran after the three men with Bal taking the lead. Bal was a natural born sprinting, getting better physical fitness scores than all of us. Jorge on the other hand was built for long endurance since he was in the SEALs. I was a bit of both. One of the Arabs looked back. He had a shaved face and short hair along with a white suit and suitcase. Sweat rolled down his face and stained his black shirt. An inaudible bang only heard by soldiers that worked hundreds of hours in the field echoed throughout the city. The Arab's side exploded with a mist of red, blood flying from his stained suit. He crumbled into the ground with a scream of pain. Jorge slowed down as the two men ducked into another alleyway as the police constables pulled out their batons and tazers walking up to us.

"Stop and put the weapon down!" A male officer yelled, Jorge running to my side.

"How is he?" I asked shifted slightly closer to the officer as he walked forward, both of my hands up in the air.

"Stable but if we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to die of blood loss." Jorge whispered, the officer and his tazer well within an arm or two's reach.

"Officer, these men are Special Forces. They're running through the streets with guns!" A frightened civilian quickly spoke to the police officer as I rolled my eyes.

"Special Forces?" The officer replied in a panicking voice.

"We're seriously going to do this again?" Bal said with a frustrated sigh.

"All units, all units we have three special forces soldiers shooting up the place. Requesting back-up, requesting back-" The man spoke into the radio as I cut him off.

I took a step forward, grabbing his hand with the tazer and kneed his arm. He yelped as I pulled him forward and elbowed him in the face. Something hard smashed into my back. My tolerance to pain numbed the impact. I turned around to see another male police officer about to swing down with his metal baton. My left arm grabbed his baton hand, my right fist smashing into the constable's stomach. Once, twice, thrice until he was on the ground. I grabbed his baton and looked up to find four K-9 unit officers with their dog. Looking to Jorge and Bal who holstered their weapons, I gave a short nod. We rushed forward as I grabbed a tazer gun. I squeezed the trigger. Two small clips exploded from the pistol and stabbed the first officer shocking him into the ground. Throwing away the gun, I flicked my hand out to deploy the baton. The officer pulled out his own and swung at my head. I ducked slashing the metal stick at both of his knees crippling him to the ground before bringing my hand back and smacked the side of his face. He fell onto the ground cold as I saw Jorge and Bal quickly disarm and knock out the police officers. The German Shepard jumped at Bal who quickly grabbed the dog's neck biting at the animal's own jugular with a snarl. The animal turned away cowardly and yelped, running away from the scene. Sirens blared in the air as I looked to see more police men walk out. Riot shields, tazers, police batons but no guns. I felt something like a mosquito bite stinging me in the bicep. Turning around, I saw a female officer who paled as I turned to her. I grabbed the baton and tore it from her hands before pushing her onto the hood of one of the constable's car and cuffed her with her own hand cuffs. The fight dragged on as three men took out fifty police officers before the SWAT team arrived and even they didn't stand a chance with their weapons. Police officers and SWAT teams alike laid down on the ground in a pool of blood, the odd policewoman on the ground cuffed with their own gadgets. A man in police uniform finally walked up to us with two scared police Sergeants armed with tazer guns. He had what looked like the Royal Crown on his tabs, from which I guessed was the Commissioner.

"You've basically decimated my entire police force. Can you explain why you were doing this?" He asked as I looked at him wiping the blood from a lucky shot off of my forehead.

"We're chasing down a known terrorist. Your police force made me lose him when I was hot on his trail." I grunted back, looking behind me to see the Arab gone but his briefcase still lying on the ground.

"Well then, since we don't have anymore hostilities, drop the weapon and just turn yourself in." The commissioner suggested as I looked to Jorge and Bal whom were covered with blood and sweating nodded.

"Okay." I replied throwing the baton onto the ground.

"Bring them to the station." The commissioner ordered, his two men slowly inching towards me.

"Don't cuff them, you'll do yourself more harm to yourself if you do and holster those bloody things." The commissioner said walking back to his Audi S8.

The two Sergeants guided us into a police car. Before they closed the door, the policewoman whom I cuffed walked up to me and gave me a small piece of paper.

"Call me." She said with a smile as I chuckled.

Four hours later we were back inside the hotel with the whole team assembled. Elf brought his L96A1 sniper rifle and the briefcase he took from the injured Arab whom he sent to the hospital. Jorge was by the window with our satellite phone calling his kids and Bal eating a Subway sandwich on a small coffee table filled with massive amounts of food. I was inside the bathroom cleaning off my wounds and washing the grime and sweat off my body. In the mirror, my back was covered with reddened spots from where the baton hit. On the sink next to my phone and pistol was the number of the policewoman. I thought about it as I pulled on my cargo pants and tank top.

"Just call her Flint." Bal said, only using my names when we weren't in the field or running ops.

"I don't know Bal." I replied pocketing the phone and shoving the pistol into the back of my pants.

"Have a good time, you're in another country. Its good to keep your mind of the world of war for a night or two." Bal suggested as I pulled out the phone looking at him before tapping in the number.

"Hello?" A voice asked.

"Hi, uh, you gave me your number a few hours ago when I was in the police car. I was just wonder if you wanted to go out tonight?" I stated looking at Bal who was smiling widely, his face full of pride.

'Shut the fuck up.' I mouthed to him as he walked out with a chuckle.

"Yeah sure, where do we meet?" The policewoman asked with giggles in the background.

"In front of Saint James Hotel?" I replied walking out to the living room.

"Okay I'll meet you in an hour?" She asked once again as I nodded.

"Sounds like a plan." I stated watching Elf read through the documents with Jorge on the computer, finished with his call.

"Okay then, I'll see you later." She replied.

"Bye." I placed the phone in my pocket.

"What do we have?" I asked picking up a plate of pizza.

"A list of cities, bomb descriptions and a lot of names." Elf replied giving me the piece of paper.

"Beijing, China. Moscow, Russia. Tokyo, Japan. London, United Kingdom, what the fuck is this?" I asked reading the paper, eating a slice of the pizza.

"All of the countries are either NATO, in alliance with the United States or with Russia. My guess is this goes beyond some revenge plan." Elf stated walking over to Jorge who sat with a Macbook Pro next to Bal.

"Jorge?" I asked quickly, grabbing a can of Coke and sipping the carbonated drink.

"I've crossed referenced the names with the CIA, GRU, FSB, MI6 and got the code name of defectors. Surprising thing is that they've all defected within both the same time and place." Jorge replied looking up at me.

"Guess where." Jorge stated, drinking a small can of coffee.

"You tell me." I replied looking at him.

"Iraqi Kurdistan, Arbil." Jorge stated ominously.

"Shit, that's where we're headed next." I whispered as Jorge nodded.

"Hey what happened to that spook you were with?" Bal asked from the coffee table.

"Don't know, she disappeared in all the action." I replied feeling the phone buzz in my pants.

"Weird." Elf commented taking apart his rifle.

"Its what spooks do, they disappeared when you least expect it." Jorge stated with a sly smile.

"I've got to go, ride's here." I said with a small smile.

"Can I tag along?" Bal asked as I nodded.

"What's a party without my wingman?" I replied laughing, the other two shaking their heads in disapproval but with a smile.

"Kids." I heard Jorge say with a small laugh as I closed the door.

We met with the policewoman, whose name I found out was Claire Bursnell. She and her friends decided to take us around for a tour of the city and the night life. The next few hours were a blur of lights, music and alcoholic drinks searing through my throat. The first few drinks didn't phase me, the ones that came earlier made me dizzy and uncoordinated, after those I was gone. Everything was black. So much for a party.


April 22nd, 2014

Staff Sergeant Joshua Flint, 1st MEUSOC Battalion

Room 403, Saint James Hotel

London, England

1135 Hours

I was pushed out of sleep by a pounding headache and the ringing of my phone. Growling, I turned over and felt something on my back. It was smooth and silky, light in weight. I cracked my open to see a blonde head buried in my shoulder. Great, I just got in bed with someone I met yesterday. My phone sat on the nightstand ringing and vibrating on the stone. Just a bit further, my hand just a few centimeters away. I grabbed the phone and answered the call.

"Hello?" I grumbled, the woman turning around and exposed her breasts.

"We've got a visual on Hannibal from SATCOM, he just went inside a Swiss bank a few minutes ago." Jorge quickly explained as I groggily got out of bed.

"Where's Elf and Bal?" I replied pulling on my jeans with one hand.

"Elf's standing by with his sniper rifle at the building opposite of the bank. The British SWAT teams are on stand-by to evacuate the building. We're going in with the fifth freedom." Jorge stated, the woman stirring around.

"Where are you going, Sergeant Flint?" It was the policewoman...fantastic.

"I've got a call." I stated walking to my backpack the size of a small girl and pulled out my vest.

"What is that?" She asked walking over to me with the blanket.

"Like I said, I have a call." I grunted pulling a khaki t-shirt over my body and then the vest.

I stood up and strapped a lightweight combat helmet onto my head. It looked like a skateboard helmet, just made out of Kevlar and titanium and filled with gadgets like a flashlight and video recorder. Knee and elbow pads went onto my limbs. A pistol holster on my right thigh and carbon fiber knuckled gloves finished off the attire. I looked at the police officer, her eyes going wide as I pulled out my main weapon: the HK417 rifle from my backpack. The rifle came in pieces, my hands quickly snapping them together and loading a magazine into the weapon. I grabbed my knife and pistol, holstering them in their own sheaths. Standing up, I made the smaller woman jump.

"Stay here for as long as you like and room service is on me." I said with a smile, pulling on a headset that covered both of my ears.

"Jorge, I'm walking to the front of the hotel. Where's Bal?" I asked standing in front of Bal's room.

"He's not awake yet, I'm trying to call him." Jorge replied quickly as I smashed on Bal's door with my fist.

"Wake up!" I yelled, my fuse getting short.

"Wake up!" I yelled again as the door opened.

A girl stared at me, her body stiff as Bal walked up from behind her.

"What's up?" He said nonchalantly.

"Get your ass in your gear now." I replied through gritted teeth, he's eyes going wide understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Got it boss!" He yelled pulling the girl away from the door and quickly closing it.

I walked to the elevator and punched the down button. My foot tapped on the floor involuntarily. The elevator dinged open with a family inside it. Two young boys the age of eight and six and the parents seemed to be either British on vacation or American tourists. I quickly smiled at them getting inside and pressed for the parking garage. A few moments of awkward silence passed before it was broken by the young boy.

"Mister, are you in the Army?" The American boy asked as I turned to him.

"Duncan!" His mom said quickly, trying to keep him quiet.

"It's okay ma'am." I replied with an reassuring smile.

"Yes I am, I'm actually in the United States Special Forces." I stated, the father ruffling his son's hair.

"What are you doing in this part of the world?" The father asked as the elevator doors dinged open.

"Saving the world, the usual high speed stuff." I explained looking at the two boys.

"Take care of your kids, they're lucky to have you." I said as the parents looked at me nodding, the door closing behind me.

"...because I never had a real one." I whispered with a sigh.

The doors slid open again to reveal a security detachment waiting for me. Jorge was speaking with a SWAT team leader behind their assault van. Nowadays women were allowed into the SWAT teams serving as one of their own fire team officers. One I met stood over with her men checking their equipment and combat armor. I heard someone walking up behind me. Turning around, I saw Agent Oliver wearing an armor vest and wielding the lightweight MP7 sub machine gun fitted with a reflex sight.

"Where the hell have you been?" I grunted walking to Jorge.

"I had a call back at the CIA's headquarters about a leak in MI6." Agent Oliver explained, Jorge having a blueprint laid out of the van's side.

"Staff Sergeant." Jorge greeted with a quick nod.

"Staff Sergeant Joshua Flint, I'm Police Commander Jack Lockheart leader of the SWAT's Alpha Team." The fairly large British SWAT officer greeted me, shaking my hand.

"What's the plan so far?" I asked the two, Bal showing up next to me with his hair wet.

"Since yesterday, Hannibal has been seen with two new Arabs. The four of them plus the surviving guy we saw yesterday entered the bank at 1130 Hours this morning. Since then we've tagged fourteen extra Arabs and Russians just to be safe. All of them have been inside the bank since then." Jorge explained showing me a video on his iPhone.

"The bank is being safely evacuated by undercover cops and is close to empty. My police force...or what's left of it since you took most of the officers out, are in the surrounding are. They are ready to mobilize when needed. What's your plan of assault, loud or quiet?" Commander Lockheart asked as I smiled.

"Our plan is to infiltrate the bank from the back door then work our way into the lower levels. Five minutes after a silent infiltration, SWAT and police forces will push inside the bank. Secure the room and wait until we come out. We don't need a massacre here." I quickly explained, the three nodding.

"Cans?" Bal asked pulling out a silencer.

"Cans." I repeated as the Commander looking at the men and women in the parking garage.

"Alright let's saddle up and get ready to hit the building!" He bellowed the order, the three of us and the spook jumping inside the assault van with the SWAT team.

"Agent Oliver, I want you to stay here you -" I said with her cutting me off.

"I told you I can handle myself." She growled back as I pulled out my phone, the van's engine starting with a rumble.

"No I need you to call this number and request Vadim Sidorov of the Russian Spetsnaz Vympel Group. Tell him Staff Sergeant Flint of the Marine's Special Operations Group has important intel. Then go help Elf spot in the building opposite of the bank." I ordered, the spook nodding with embarrassment.

"Elf, give me a SITREP." I spoke into the radio and powered up my optics.

"I've got my eyes on a couple of civvies with the undercover units evacuating them. Give them a few minutes and the building will be empty." Elf reported as I nodded, looking up at the female SWAT leader.

"First time?" I yelled seeing the SWAT leader tapping her fingers on the hand guard of the silenced MP5.

"Third, it just keeps my andrenaline flowing too much that's all!" She replied, the truck screeching to stop.

"Hey Jorge you have some Tylenol?" I asked my teammate.

"Here! Take two!" Jorge yelled throwing me a small cylinder, I popped two into my mouth and swallowed it dry.

"Your stop Jarhead!" The commander yelled from the back of the truck.

"We'll see you on the other side!" I yelled back, getting off the van and closing the rear doors.

"Well gents..." I said flicking the safety off my rifle and looked to the other three.

"...game on." I whispered with a smile.

"Hoo-fucking-rah." Bal replied racking his FN2000.

"Let's do this." Jorge whispered as the three of us walked towards a metal door.

The bank was large and tall, filled with glass and security cameras. Jorge flashed his right fingers and pulled out the C4 dough. He rolled it into small spheres and stuck the clay onto the hinges before pulling out what looked like two small cylinders the size of a cigarette. You don't want to confuse those two, one gives you nicotine, the other has enough power to take your fingers off your hand. Jorge plunged the blasting caps into the door and backed up against the wall behind it. Bal and I did the same.

'Three, two, one...' Jorge mouthed, his fingers curling into his hand as he spoke.

A small pop exploded from the door, the metal fall onto the floor with a bang. I was first in line. I swept my rifle into the door way seeing two men with Belgian made P90s patrolling the hall with two dead staff members. Good night princess. I held my breath and squeezed. Clack,psst. The first man's head exploded into a mist of red. His body crumpled into the floor, his face splattering onto the stone. Clack,clack. His friend looked back just to get two bullets into his face. Bal's rifle was up and covering me as we walked through the corridor. There were doors on the other side, but we didn't bother to check them. Our goal was to get Hannibal. I felt someone grab me around the neck, his right hand brandishing a gleaming matte black knife. My stomach and heart sank as the adrenaline and training kicked in. I pushed back on the attacker and made him fall onto the ground, his right hand knocking against the door frame. Something behind me cracked. His grip loosened as I pulled out my knife. Shit, he was bringing out his pistol. If he discharged the gun it would alert Hannibal to us. My right hand wrapped around his pistol, the man's head bleeding from his stumble into the wooden table. With my left hand around his pistol, my left hand grabbed the elbow of his arm and shoved it upwards making him scream in pain. My knife came shortly afterward and was plunged into his throat. Blood seeped from the wound onto my hand as he writhed around in my grip. Slowly, life faded from his brown eyes and soon he left the world of the living. Respect your enemies, my instructor taught me. I slid my hand over his face and closed his eyes standing up. My stomach was settled from this gory sight as we pushed on and down a set of stairs.

"Overwatch to Reaper, SWAT teams are enroute in thirty seconds. Callsign Guard dog and Watchmen." Elf reported as I squeezed the transmitter on my shoulder strap sending him a beep in reply.

We ascended down the stairs and hear a loud bang. SWAT was officially in the game. Men shouted orders upstairs, the steps leading down to a giant lobby with the vault door open. I pointed Jorge and Bal towards the corners of the room to give us the maximum amount of fire coverage. We walked slowly towards the vault and waited for a few moments. Jorge slowly paced to the side of the thick door and peered into the room.

"Get back!" He yelled, waving at us.

We started running back. Heat burned the hairs on the back of my neck as I was pushed into a glass window in front of me. God damn these guys loved using explosives. All turned to chaos once again. Dust and British pound notes fluttered in the air. Coughing, I pulled myself of the ground. My ears were ringing from the explosion and vision blurry. The helmet actually came in handy this time around. Heat still continued to dissipate around me, the walls shaking with dust falling off. The walls weren't shaking, it was the bullets hitting the wall itself. I shook my head to clear the mist of exhaustion and turned around to see the Russians the undercover cops tagged before fighting back with modern AK-47s. I lifted my rifle up and aimed down the sights. I walked through the dirt firing into whatever looked suspicious as all the staff down here was either dead or evacuated.

"Reaper, the SWAT is being hit hard by the Arabs. Can you help, over." Elf reported into the radio, his rifle firing in the background static.

"Negative, we are chasing the HVT. Can you tell them to pull back or hold their current position?" I replied firing a bullet into the nearest Russian.

"Roger that, Overwatch out." Elf stated as Jorge and Bal formed up on me, the two of us walking into the vault.

"Where the fuck is Hannibal?" Bal yelled in frustration, the three of us walking down aisles of metal safe boxes.

"There he is!" Jorge reported running towards the man in the charcoal suit with a suitcase in his right hand.

"I've got you covered, go back-up Jorge!" Bal stated, I patted his back and took off after him.

My lungs burned as the battle raged around me. Jorge was right behind Hannibal, firing his weapons to ward away unwanted guests. We neared a wall. I squinted to see what was on it. Three white squares – detonation charges. Hannibal brought his right hand up and squeezed the detonator. The wall exploded into pieces and the dust was kicked up into the whole vault. I charged forward and jumped over what looked like debris. The next thing I knew was the screeching of train brakes. Looking up, I saw Jorge ahead of me behind Hannibal. A train was headed directly for me. I stepped forward hearing bone crunch under its metal wheels. Some poor bastard wanted a shot at me but jumped directly in front of the train's track. I continued onwards, chasing after Jorge and the Russian. We ran down the length of what seemed like London's metro. My sprint helped me catch up to Jorge, his face red as he continued to pump oxygen into his body. Hannibal looked back and pulled out his pistol. He fired two shots in our general direction. I felt hot liquid flowing down my right arm. Adrenaline kept me from feeling pain. Hannibal fired again, this time emptying his clip. Bullets zipped all around us and ricocheted from the ground. Jorge grunted but continued to run forward and at an increasing speed. I looked at him and saw blood running down his left arm. We were both hurt. The chase went on for minutes before we arrived at a station. It was the evening and it was packed with civilians. Hannibal reloaded his pistol, aiming into the crowd.

"No!" Jorge yelled as Hannibal fired two rounds.

"Fuck!" Jorge yelled again seeing a teenage girl and a business man crumpling into the ground.

"Reaper to Overwatch, I need an EMT at Holborn station right now." I reported into the radio keeping my aim at Hannibal's head.

"Roger that Reaper, EMT on the way." Elf replied as he hopped onto the platform and grabbed the nearest civilian: another teenage girl.

"Don't come any closer or I shoot!" Hannibal spoke, his english heavy with the Slavic accent.

"Okay, okay, we won't step any closer. At least let us get to the wounded." I said, trying to negotiate as the civilians screamed in terror running around and blocking my shots.

"No! You let me go with the hostage and no one dies." Hannibal replied walking backwards.

"Jorge." I whispered and saw the man maneuver to my right, into his blind spot.

Hannibal paused and aimed his pistol at me as he moved backwards. A civilian blocked my line of fire and the next thing I knew, a gun shot reverberated through the tunnel.

"Shots fired, shots fired!" The local police radio exploded into activity.

"All units move it to Holborn station, all units to Holbron station!" The girl collapsed on the floor, her leg bleeding.

"Jorge go after him, I've got the wounded." I ordered seeing my teammate nod quickly.

"Stay with me." I whispered to the girl pulling out a medi-kit and a tourniquet.

She was bleeding from her stomach. I pulled off her backpack, folding her shirt up to reveal the wound and pulled out a small packet of white powder. Quick-clot helped the wounds form together faster, I poured the powder onto her wound to receive a hiss back in return. Ripping out the tape tabs and placed the gauze over her stomach. I moved on. Checking the business man's pulse, he was strong and steady. The man was shot right through his right chest and was wheezing for air. I pulled out a small syringe and stuck it into his chest. Air hissed out from the tube as his chest decompressed allowing him to breathe. A battle seal was placed on his chest to allow blood and air to seep out but not in. Jorge ran back into the room and picked up the girl.

"Where's Hannibal?" I yelled seeing him rip out his medi-kit strapped around his left thigh.

"I lost him after the police started clearing out the civvies!" Jorge replied as EMT teams started pouring into the subway station.

"We got this." One of the men told me, I nodded letting them do their jobs.

"Elf, Bal, report." I ordered still panting and wiped a bead of sweat off of my face.

"Bank is secured and locked down, SWAT sustained some casualties but nothing they can't bounce back from." Elf replied from his sniper perch, my arm just going numb and dropping to my side.

"Two here, vault's shot to shit and we got a lot of dead Arabs and Russians. The millionaires are going to be pissed by the time they get here." Bal reported as a female EMT came up to me.

"You're hurt." She stated gripping my shirt with her gloves.

"I'm fine." I grunted looking down at the wound.

Blood pooled out of it by the dozen, the skin opened showing muscle and bits of bone. It was a clean shot, in and out. She poured some antiseptic on it and wrapped some gauze around the wound. The kid was persistent on dragging me to the ambulance. Jorge got his arm treated and reluctantly walked to the van to get some more work done. Bal, Elf and Agent Oliver showed up to see us have our arms stitched together.

"How does it feel boss?" Bal asked with a smile, sharp pain exploding from the wound.

"Great." I hissed through gritted teeth.

"We're going to Arbil next huh? Live in a bag, sleep from a bag, eat from a bag...just hope we don't come home in one." Elf stated hugging his L96A1 sniper rifle.

"You coming with us too?" I asked the spook, one final wrapping of gauze before we were let go.

"Of course, I'm your intelligence officer now." She replied with a smile.

"Great..." I muttered.

"Next stop, Arbil." Jorge said with a pained smile, holding his rifle.