A/N: I seriously don't know why I have so many ideas popping into my head…at this rate, the more ideas I get, the less likely I am to finish my stories…but then again, I suppose it is a good idea in a sense—because that way, I can see what stories are good and which are not worth continuing…so here goes…as usual, how many reviews I get now will determine whether or not I should go on with this story, so do read and review would you kindly?

The sounds of the airship "Highwind" was filling the air with its high-frequency chopping noises on the outside; but on the inside, soldiers sat around in a briefing room to get the specifics of the mission. Standing at the podium were two men: a man with a tilaka dead-center on his forehead and next to him was a taller man with red eyes, both men having the feline curves and body type that one would associate with one of Wutainese descent. Everyone knew that the commanders would not be gathering everyone from their day-to-day duties and training regimens if it weren't an important mission.

The man with the tilaka cleared his throat and spoke up into the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've received a mission from the higher-ups with a possible reason to celebrate. The intelligence guys report that our hunt for those Deepground terrorists is nearing the end. This source says that that traitorous bastard Hojo is holed up in our area…we all know what that man has done, and we all know about the atrocities that organization has committed. Because of this, we will be working closely with the Wusheng Imperial Guardsmen, the AVALANCHE mercenaries (regretfully), and all SOLDIER units stationed in the area for this mission. Part of our mission is to perform recon in the area—as well as to confiscate any and all samples of Hojo's work…you are not to engage any tangos until the other units are in place for the assault unless otherwise specified. Bravo Team will be sent to perform this part of the mission; meanwhile, I will be leading Alpha Team to be ready for the initial assault so that we clear a path for everyone else to finish the job. Are there any objections?"

Upon seeing that everyone was willing to do this mission, the commander simply smiled—he knew that every one of the soldiers under his command and that of his colleague next to him have been awaiting this day. Many of them have lost family to those terrorists—the man standing behind the commander being one of them and having lost the most. "Very well then, everybody suit up and get ready for your missions. The sooner we get this mission done, the sooner we can say Alpha Mike Foxtrot to those terrorist bastards as we send them all to hell, and then go home to enjoy the best-brewed glass of beer we can get our hands on!"

The soldiers all were excited at the prospect of this war on terror being over! There was only one term that would describe their feelings…and that word shouted out by all soldiers in the same room was "Oorah!"

Some folks are born made to wave a flag

Ooh, they're red white and blue! Lord!

And when the band plays "Hail to the chief",

Lord they're gonna point the cannon at you!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no senator's son!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no fortunate one!

Within minutes, the armory was filled with the sounds of soldiers getting ready for battle as clips were loaded, knives were sharpened before being sheathed, and ballistic armor was being put on. Rucksacks were being prepared according to each soldier's specialty…some rucksacks were larger to accommodate a medical kit, others carried remote detonators and C-4, and several of them carried hacking tools. These soldiers are members of "Turk Company" in the WRO Special Operations Unit, and they were getting ready for a mission.

Some folks are born, silver spoon in hand!

Lord don't they help themselves?

And when the tax-man comes to the door,

Ooh, the house looks like a rummage-sale!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no millionaire's son!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no fortunate one!

With their weapons ready everyone stood near the cargo bay. It was not long until the twang of the pilot filled the speakers. "All right you sneaky bludgers we're almost there. We're getting closer to the drop-off zone…that area is the fucking closest I can get to dropping you fucking Special Forces bastards to the target without compromising my ship. If this mission is going down worse than fucking prawns in a bloody barbie, then Wolf and Eagle will call me up…I'll be around to bring upon those terrorist blighters the 'wrath of god' that their fucking asses have been asking for all this time. Now get down there, and show those buggers what happens when they kill for the sake of killing, and kick their sodding asses for me when you get there!"

With one last "Oorah!" all the soldiers began jumping out of the plane one by one, releasing their parachutes. As they floated down to the jungle below them, all members of the Turk Company had hidden their excitement in order to be more professional—by all that is good and holy, their mission will be done, and none of those terrorist scumbags will survive this final assault! As it stands, thanks to the special operations and a few black operations contracts done by Turk Company to cause what would be a turning point for their enemy into a great big FUBAR, and since then the terrorists have been on the run for the past four years now, and where they are going is not to their last stand but to their judgment in hell for all the innocent people they had killed. With that thought of a complete and decisive victory in their minds, the soldiers could not help but ask themselves…what could go wrong with the mission? As far as they knew, there's no possible way that this final battle would turn into a big Charlie Foxtrot.

Some folks are born with star-spangled eyes!

Ooh, they send you down to war!

And when they ask them, "How much should we give?"

Ooh, they only answer "More, more, more"!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no military man's son!

It ain't me! It ain't me!

I ain't no fortunate one!

A/N: John Fogerty and CCR are one of my favorite classic rock bands along with Jimi Hendrix and Queen. Since they're on a war against terror, I figured it was sort of fitting, although this is only a flashback chapter.

Songs Used:

"Playing with Danger" by Valve Studio Orchestra from "Team Fortress 2"—the briefing

"Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival—Turk Company arming up and jumping out of the "Highwind" to parachute into the jungle

Vocabulary/Culture Notes:

Tango—this is a military term for a target, although it is also used in the NATO alphabet to designate the letter 'T' on the radio.

Alpha Mike Foxtrot—this is a military taunt for "Adios My friend" (nice way) or "Adios Mother Fucker" (mean way)

FUBAR—a military abbreviation for "Fucked Up Beyond All Reason"

Oorah—this is a word that means anything but no; this came from the British abbreviation for heard, understood, acknowledged (HUA).

Charlie Foxtrot—military speak for "Cluster-Fuck", so you can assume that this is pretty bad