"We'll be holding off the coast! Just give us a shout when you need a pickup!" Waving, the Navy CPO shouted into the radio and drove off, just as Miller and his team finished wading up the shore.

"Keep safe, Chief." Miller muttered, "C'mon, Marines. We're not keeping Ivan, Chang and Kim waiting, oorah?"

"Oorah." They replied.

"Corporal Douglas, you're on point. Stay frosty, stay quiet, hand signals once we're in the city."

This didn't take long, and it became quickly apparent that the JGSDF and US forces stationed in the city were having to keep quiet as well. The whole city seemed deserted, and other than some sporadic bursts of gunfire, aircraft, and vehicles shifting through the city streets, there was practically no sound. Three Hinds passed overhead, which Miller was only able to avoid by moving his team into a mini-mart.

Surprisingly, the store wasn't only empty of Axis, it had also escaped looting from refugees and hostile soldiers. It had lost power, however, and many of the food items lining the shelves had been knocked over from artillery shells, passing vehicles, and aircraft.

"Hey, Sarge." Douglas whispered, pointing toward the refrigerators. "Free beer. Can I?"

"One for the road. Don't get hammered on me, I need you sharp."

"Aye." Having secured permission from his superior, the Corporal moved up and opened the fridge door, pocketing one can in his vest before proceeding.

All the while, the radio in the store, a battery-operated handheld, kept playing the same propaganda garbage.

"Your leadership has been proven guilty of unforgivable criminal offenses, offenses not the least of which consisting of the support of terrorism, mass murder, and senseless genocide. Lay down your weapons and realize the truth—you are all fighting for a lie. Give up this lie and face the truth..."

After a while of bobbing and weaving through the streets, the team reached Tokyo tower. Their first objective was to knock out the propaganda radio broadcasts coming from the structure... although Drako hadn't specified a means.

Peering around the corner, Miller lost count of how many Russians he saw guarding the radio tower. And that was an understatement—a great many of the guards were North Korean as well. Groaning inside, he pulled back and shook his head.

"We don't have time to do this up pretty. Kohler, get your semtex ready."

"Aye aye, Sergeant!" With a maniacal grin, Private Kohler tiptoed forward, opening some of the pouches in his vest. "This is gonna be awesome."

"The rest of you, hold here. If we don't make it, you guys focus on the triple-A. Things might get loud very quickly. Let's move!"

Miller and Kohler shifted around the corner, quiet as mice, and hunkered down behind a destroyed car. There was a very good reason he chose Kohler to accompany him—while a genuine psychopath, he spoke near-flawless Russian, which he attributed to family ties.

And, just as Miller had expected, two Russian soldiers passed by the car at that moment, one enlisted and one officer. They were dealt with swiftly and silently, and by some crazy stroke of luck, had exactly the same uniform size as the Americans. Miller didn't spend very much time admiring his luck.

It wouldn't work for long, but would hopefully last enough for them to place the semtex charges on the supports of the Tokyo tower and get the hell out of Dodge. After fibbing their way through the gate, Kohler led Miller over to the tower and made a distraction of the two guards standing watch at the guard hut.

"Hey, you don't look familiar." One of the Russians remarked suspiciously, "What're you doing here? This is our patrol route."

Kohler had been paying close attention to the radio and picked up some scuttlebutt from other Russian guards, so he put two and two together and built his story.

"Kruschev's orders. We needed to investigate a report for two American saboteurs." He replied authoritatively, in his best Russian military voice, "And if you two hang around here much longer, I'll assume the worst and shoot you where you stand!" For emphasis, he reached for the filched Makarov sidearm.

The Bolivian Fire drill worked far better than he'd hoped.

"Sir! Apologies, sir! Bardzecki, move your ass already!"

"I know! Hey, quit pushing!"

In their hurry, the two soldiers both crowded the doorway before falling out entirely. With a huff, Kohler turned back to Miller.

"Charges set yet?" He whispered. Miller nodded.

It was when they'd halfway crossed the street that they were seen through. A chorus of shouts and gunfire, and instantly the two Marines were on the run.

"Oh, shit!" Miller yelped, as bullets pinged off the pavement around his boots. "Lose the act, they're on to us! Kohler, push the damn button! Buy us some time!"

"Yes, SIR!" The charges were blown.

All of the Russians who had been occupied with shooting the Marines now turned to see what that godawful creaking noise was... and, as the tower bent out of shape, they began running for their lives. The wire mesh caught a Hind on its way down, goring it on the jagged metal. If the pilots hadn't been killed by that, the whole aircraft ignited and blew before it even hit the ground.

"FUCK!" Douglas screamed, as Miller and Kohler rejoined the team, "How the hell are we going to get their AA now? The whole city had to have seen that!"

"I don't know, we'll improvise!" Miller shouted back, taking back his M16. "On me! We're moving! Herald, this is Mike Romeo Team 2! We've neutralized Tango Tango, the whole damn combat zone is on alert, we still need to knock out that AA, advise, over!"

The Hawkeye crewman promptly responded. "Team 2, Herald, what is your current position, over?"

"We're a block east of the enormous burning cloud that was the radio tower, over!"

"Um... hang on, Team 2, I don't think we've got any support in that sector. I'll check with available resources, over."

Miller grunted, and without time to change back into his MARPAT uniform, simply tore his velcro Raider patch off and reclaimed his helmet, leaving the remainder of the uniform. The team had just started running down the street, when literally out of nowhere, a van tore around the corner, screeching to a halt right in front of them. Reflexively, the Marines brought their weapons to bear on the vehicle, but a JGSDF soldier threw open the door and motioned to them.

"Get in!" He screamed, waving his arms. Things were heating up quickly—Miller decided to ask his questions later. He tagged the van, turned around, and knelt with his rifle aimed at the approaching Russians.

"In the van, Raiders! MOVE!" It was difficult to believe how meek he had been five years before—Drako's specialized training regimen, based off the bygone days of basic training being a school of hard knocks, had brought him well up to speed. Peering down the sights, Miller began taking shots to cover his squad.

Douglas was bringing up the rear of the squad, the last one to get in other than Miller. He pulled himself up and turned around to cover his sergeant, when a bullet ricocheted off the side of the van, striking him in the chest. Kohler jumped as he saw the impact pierce the Corporal's pocket, and a warm liquid splashed over his face. Miller jumped into the van, the door slammed, and it started moving again.

"Oh, GOD! Douglas is hit!" Kohler shrieked, nearly panicking, as he tried to wipe the liquid, he assumed blood, off of his goggles.

"What?"

Miller looked at Douglas, then back to Kohler, rubbing some of the liquid off and sampling it. Then, he glanced at the pocket that had been hit, where some of it was still running, hissing disagreeably, and some aluminum fragments were visible.

"Sorry 'bout your beer, Douglas." He said, deadpan, and knocked Kohler upside the helmet. "Kohler, if you freak out on me like that again, you're waxing the helicopter in flight, hear me? Keep your head on your damn shoulders."

"Y... yes, Sergeant!"

The three other Marines laughed at Kohler's mistake. Douglas simply slapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to see you're worried about me, kid." He chuckled.

"You guys pissed some people off!" The JGSDF soldier shouted, picking his rifle back up. "Did you seriously... just..."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout the scratches, but a little paint and a new tower and it should be good to go in no time!" One of the other Marines joked.

There were three additional people in the van, two up front, and one kneeling at the right side window, a Howa Type 64 rifle pointed out the smashed pane. This one stood.

"Leading Private Kagura, Central Readiness Force. These two soldiers, Private Hatsu and Private Mikawa, my subordinates, and our driver's a civilian, Miss Yukari."

"How many more soldiers are we going to have to pick up tonight?" Yukari demanded, "Aren't you people supposed to be able to take care of yourselves?"

Everyone else in the van ignored Yukari's complaints. "Sergeant Miller, US Marines, Pelayo's Raiders. My right hand man, Corporal Douglas, Designated Marksman PFC DuBears, and Privates Kohler and Palko, my support gunner."

"It's an honor..."

Suddenly, two MiG-21s flashed by on full afterburners. Kagura checked the chamber on her Type 64.

"Well, I guess talking's not a free action."

Miller grinned wryly. "Palko, get that SAW to the back window. DuBears, Kohler, keep the cartridge casings out from under..."

"ICOMING!" The soldier riding shotgun, Hatsu, shouted. "Step on it, Yukari!"

"Hang on!" Kagura warned, gripping the handle over the window. Before any of the Marines could do the same, the van lurched forward dangerously, causing almost everyone to fly into the back door. Palko, who had just posted with his M249, almost flipped out the back window, but managed to hold himself in and keep his gun from falling out as well.

An RPG blew apart the pavement just behind the van, and several Russian jeeps tracked around the corner, in hot pursuit. Palko took a breath, steadied his gun, and began firing.

One of the jeeps took several hits in its engine block, slowing down. The others, however, were gaining rapidly. Desperately, Palko yanked a grenade off his chest pocket, pulled the pin, and cooked it for a second before rolling it out the window. The grenade bounced off the pavement, exploding right under the axle of one jeep, causing it to swerve into its partner, totaling them both in one huge, indulgent fireball.

Only a second later, two Mi-24s, likely the ones the Marines had evaded earlier, swooped in from the sky ahead of the van, strafing it with rockets and 23mm cannon fire. With a prodigious hand, Yukari veered the huge vehicle off the left side of the road into a small alleyway clipping both her rearview mirrors as it just barely squeezed in.

"Who the hell are you, woman?" DuBears gasped, throwing open one of the rear doors and brushing several empty casings out.

"This was my favorite shortcut to get to work on time!" Yukari shouted back gleefully. "Oh hey, watch this!"

Several North Korean soldiers had entered the alley, hoping to cut the van off on the main road, and upon seeing that they had chosen the wrong path, had begun attempting to climb the walls or fleeing the way they'd come. Yukari turned on every blinking light on the van, the high beams, and the CD player on full blast, before flooring it down the narrow strip.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Tearing out the alley and back into the street, Yukari turned off the lights again, but left the disc player on. Eying her carefully, Hatsu decided she was a psychopath and dismissed the event.

"Contact! Fast movers, nine o'clock!" Kagura shouted over the screeching tires. The two MiG-21s had come around again, discharging their bombs before pulling away. One of the bombs struck the building ahead, causing it to topple over. Yukari, leaving no doubt that she WAS a psychopath, floored it again and tried to get through... mostly succeeding. The roof of the van was torn off somewhere along the way.

"Oh, dammit!" She cursed, "I just found this stupid van, too! Get a good, sturdy car, and then the Russians come along..."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Miller forced his way to the front of the car. "We could've just gotten crushed!"

"Oh, we're fine! I don't think we need to worry about insurance!"

The two Hinds made another pass. Thinking on his feet, Kohler grabbed at his rifle and gripped the M203 slung under the barrel. The shot turned out better than he'd hoped, as it met with the canopy of the passing helicopter, blowing it out and showering the crew with shards and shrapnel. Without a pilot, it slowly lost control and went into a skyscraper. Its partner broke off the pass.

"Good job, Kohler! Got any more semtex?" Miller asked.

"Yes, sir. What's your plan?"

"We need some drive-bys on their AA. Hey, Yukari? Can you get us there without being killed?"

"Sure thing, boys!"