Disclaimer: Call of Duty and Medal of Honor do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners, namely Activision and Electronic Arts.
Azerd'ra, Azerdistan.
September 16th, 2011.
The city of Azerd'ra.
The capital of Azerdistan.
Originally a fort that was built for one of Azerdistan's ancient kings, it stretched to around 24 square miles. And that was just what was inside the old 47 feet high defensive stone walls of the ancient fort.
Multiple times in ancient history, an attacking force attempted to breach the walls and capture the fort or even lay siege to it.
And every time that happened, the defenders would hold out, and the attacking force would be left with nothing to show for their efforts.
Thus, it was the ideal location for the capital city of Azerdistan, not just for the famed history of fending off invaders and it's impressive size, but for it's position on the map, as Azerd'ra was near the main highway which lead to the 'Four Corners', the most northern point of Azerdistan, where it met the borders of Yemen, Saudi Arabia and Oman, and also lead to the Sbe Niqat Bayda' Valley, approximately southwest of the city, the cities of Bazlarah, Eresibad and Sirkarit, and to the ports of Tarluq and Masar, on the coastline of Azerdistan.
Nowadays, Azerd'ra had expanded, with the old city (surrounded by the ancient fort walls) now home to some government buildings, including the Presidential Palace (the former Royal Palace).
The new city, was essentially consisted of residential homes, government buildings and embassies, banks, parks, squares, streets and markets, places of worship and education, high-rise buildings and skyscrapers, pretty standard stuff for any city anywhere in the world.
And of course, there were police stations and army garrisons. About 13 of them.
At around 2 o'clock in the morning, the streets of the capital were still feeling the sweltering heat of the desert, in spite of the fact that the blazing sun wasn't blasting away (and would not rise up until at least 6 o'clock in the morning).
But at one particular police station, a Lada Riva police car containing two people in police uniforms drove out and headed for the suburban area of the city, narrowly avoiding the little traffic that was ever present this morning.
It took a few minutes later, but the Lada was soon weaving through the small streets, which were still quite empty and mostly void of human activity, before it came to a stop outside an run-down apartment complex that looked like it had seen better days.
Exiting the vehicle, they made their way through the building, people making extra sure to stay out of their way or go into their apartments and shut their doors, due to their demeanour making them seemingly more dangerous than ordinary policemen.
After climbing up six floors, they eventually reached a specific door, and knocked on it three times, then once, then twice.
A few seconds later, and the doors opened, revealing a 5"11' tall, young man with an athletic build and a shaven head that once were full of brown locks.
He asked simply, "You our transport?"
They nodded.
Satisfied, Yuri (whose grip of the pistol that he had unsheathed from it's holster, ready to be used if they weren't who they said they were) turned his head to his compatriot, who was sitting on a chair with his own pistol in his hands.
Vladimir Makarov turned his head up to look at Yuri and nodded, before getting up and joining him at the door, also with his hand on a concealed pistol, ready to draw it out and use it if necessary, if the two were not who they said they were.
The four of them made their way out of the apartment, and right down to the Lada Riva police car.
Yuri whispered in Arabic, "You got everything we asked for?"
One of the policemen curtly nodded, before his partner added, "It's all in the back seat. Now get in, and get those on, we're going to be late if we're to be right on time".
Opening the doors, they indeed could see duffel bags on the back seats.
Getting in, both Yuri and Vladimir unzipped the bags to see some police uniforms all neatly packed in.
Immediately, the two of them got to work on getting them on.
Yuri took a look out of the window, to see nothing but the darkened streets of the capital city of Azerdistan, Azerd'ra.
Despite the rebellion by Khaled Al-Asad threatening to engulf the entire country, Azerd'ra had not been under any sort of danger of attack at all, and thus, despite the seemingly closeness of Al-Asad's forces near the capital, there was somewhat a false sense of security within the capital.
And they were all set on exploiting this false sense of security, for Al-Asad's men had infiltrated the ranks of the police, putting them in a perfect position to launch the coup.
Some minutes later, Yuri and Vladimir, in their disguises as Azerdistani police officers, clutching AKS-74U carbines in their hands as the car made it's way out towards the outskirts of the city, at the city's only airport.
They moved quite swiftly despite the traffic now having become quite busy, until the car parked, outside the fences of the airport's control tower.
Getting out of the car, Yuri and Vladimir opened the boot, where they could see that they had a set of bolt cutters to take down the fence.
Not exactly high-tech, but they'd get the job done.
Bringing it along, they soon began cutting through the fence, a slow process, admittedly, but eventually, Yuri and Vladimir managed to wedge an opening.
Once through, Yuri and Vladimir got out their AKS-74U carbines and checked them over. Satisfied on their condition, the two of them then moved towards the control tower.
Even though Yuri and Vladimir kept on alert, ready to take care of anyone who would stumble across and discover their presence, they found that getting to the control tower was rather uneventful, right up until they found four air traffic controllers.
Immediately, Vladimir and Yuri went up and seized control, shouting at them and establishing control over them.
Thus, they were completely compliant, not resisting as Vladimir forced them into a room and lined them up against the wall, keeping his weapon trained on them.
While this was going on, Yuri radioed to one of General Nasir Ayad, the commander of Al-Asad's forces, giving the helicopters the word to go in.
"General Ayad, the control tower is secure. Bring in the helicopters, we'll move on to securing the landing zone, then we'll go for the communications center".
While Yuri moved down the stairs to get started, Vladimir then shot the air traffic controllers with one shot to the head, before he went to follow his friend.
For, in order to get the helicopters safely to their landing zones, the anti-air defences had to be taken out of the equation.
Namely, S-125M, S-200 and 2K12 surface-to-air missile batteries (along with their accompanying radars) that could mean a very bad day for Al-Asad's forces, if they were left alone, free to engage.
After locating where they were, Yuri and Vladimir began to move to the SAMs, weapons at the ready. Making short time, they soon found Azerdi Army soldiers, lazily loitering by the SAMs, not on alert at all.
They soon paid for it, as Yuri and Vladimir all took them down with ease.
And before long, the SAMs were destroyed.
This meant that the helicopters started coming in. An assortment of Mil Mi-8 transport helicopters, and Mil Mi-24 attack helicopters.
On board the transports, were around a platoon of around 20 soldiers, while the attack helicopters were armed with a single 12.7mm four-barrel Yak-B machine-gun under the nose, four UB-32 rocket pods containing S-5 rockets and four anti-tank missiles.
An excellent deterrent for any attacker, as the Mi-8s hovered a few meters off the ground, and dropped the soldiers from the rear. Those soldiers moved out to secure the area, but when it was confirmed that the area was clear, Yuri and Vladimir took command and had them head to one of the many TV and radio stations in the capital.
Pretty soon, gunfire erupted.
The city was now fully awake from the sounds of boots crunching on sand and gravel, roaring engines, tank tracks clanking, helicopter rotors in close proximity to buildings, and gunfire, which started off sporadically before becoming more constant.
And the gunfire was a signal for a certain group of men to go into action.
These men, who had infiltrated Al-Fulani's government and military apparatus months ago, were now in the right place to achieve Al-Asad's goals.
Those goals were to seize the many television and radio stations across the capital, to secure checkpoints and ensure a clear path directly to the Presidential Palace, where Al-Fulani, his family and his cronies were undoubtably hiding away, for an column of armoured forces and infantry were moving down the highway towards Azerd'ra's city gates, in order to firmly establish control in the city.
The TV and radio stations were seized quickly and with little resistance, but soon enough, opposition arose.
Those loyal to the government of Al-Fulani were soon doing their utmost to hold out against Al-Asad's forces, determined to ensure that all Al-Fulani had fought for and struggled for, for all the people, would not go down without a fight.
Valiant as their efforts were, they were still too few to make that much of a difference, and they were soon swamped by the sheer, overwhelming numbers of Al-Asad's forces, men whose loyalty to Khaled Al-Asad was so absolute, that they were willing to do the unthinkable in order to achieve Al-Asad's goals.
One by one, the TV stations and radio stations were falling under the control of Khaled Al-Asad, and all their transmissions were shut down.
With TV and radio off the air, the next objectives for Al-Asad's forces was to quickly take down the army garrisons in the city.
Pretty soon, gunfire was soon drowned out by explosions that rocked the city.
Which were followed by faint screams of horror.
Across the city, in their garrisons, Azerdistani Army units were totally unprepared for the surprise attack being launched, as hostile troops moved in quickly and began a mass slaughter.
In one garrison, the soldiers were so asleep and unaware that all it really took, were three grenades and everyone in the barracks were killed.
In another, one sleepy soldier had gotten up, and had gotten shot when he looked out of the window, thus prompting a bloody, one-sided firefight.
But one garrison was soon to be the sight of a pure massacre when their commander, who was not like many of his compatriots, had managed to organise the soldiers into a reasonably good defence against Al-Asad's troops.
So, they had to bring out heavy ordnance in order to stamp out the garrison.
Only that their idea for heavy ordnance wasn't rockets or high explosives.
It was flamethrowers.
The soldier with the flamethrower aimed the nozzle directly at one of the many open windows and let rip a jet of flame that engulfed the interior of the building.
Following soon after, were what seemed to be screeching of the damned, as soldiers and officers in the garrison screamed in pure agony at the flames burning away at their skin.
Soon enough, the doors to the garrison opened up, and out of the flames came the burning soldiers.
Shots were fired, dropping many of the burning soldiers, but as more came out of the door, they were stopped by the cold, stern command of their commanding officer.
"Do not shoot them".
Turning to look at him in confusion, the commanding officer's cold gaze was focused intently on the soldiers, even so as he continued, "Let them burn, for the pain they endure, is the fate of all those who oppose Al Asad".
Afterwards, there were no gunshots to disguise the gut-wretching screams that echoed as men burned and died.
At another garrison, there was much less of a fight to be found, as one element of Al-Asad's forces soon found out.
"Sir the garrison is surrendering. They're throwing down their weapons and holding up a white flag. What should we do?"
Taking a look at the garrison, which was surrounded by his own forces, the commander looked upon the Al-Fulani loyalists, who having thrown away their weapons, had their hands behind their heads as they were led out by his troops.
Continuing to look upon the Al-Fulani loyalists with absolute distain, the Commander then turned to his senior NCO and told him to, "Take them around to the ditch. And give them the welcome mat".
Knowing what that meant, the NCO internally shivered, before he nodded and had his soldiers bring the prisoners to a ditch and put them there, where they'd be told to stay there until 'prisoner transportation' arrived.
The prisoners obeyed, thinking that they were going to get a second chance of life.
Fools, thought the Commander, who then gave orders for a company of soldiers to relieve his men, surround the ditch and open fire on the prisoners.
At first, the prisoners thought that the company of soldiers who relieved their guards, were going to take them to the prisoner transports.
But when one prisoner stood up and inquired on their transportation with one of them, he was promptly shot in the face with a pistol.
Fear arose among the prisoners, but before they could do anything, the soldiers got their weapons and opened fire.
The screams of the prisoners pierced the air, even over the gunfire, but were replaced with a silence that was only pierced by the small clangs of expended casings hitting and rolling on the floor.
One by one, Azerdistani Army garrisons were falling all across the city, their soldiers dying before the masses of Al-Asad's forces.
Despite fierce resistance from some, all they were doing was delaying the inevitable conclusion, in that Al-Asad's soldiers were able to be within striking distance of the Presidential Palace itself.
But as soon as they reached the perimeter of the Presidential Palace, they found the gates and anti-vehicle defences had been set up.
After taking fire from guard posts, the mass of Al-Asad's soldiers started scrambling for cover, before firing back.
Meanwhile, within the Presidential Palace itself, Yasir Al-Fulani and his government knew that a dark fate awaited those who were on the side that opposed Al-Asad, so a helicopter was called in to pick them up and get them out, in the hope that they could reach the President and get him out (knowing that his family and his ministers would not all fit).
And soon enough, a Bell 212 narrowly avoided missile locks and anti-aircraft fire to reach visual sight of the Presidential Palace and go right in for the rooftop.
On the grounds surrounding the Palace, the senior commander charged by Al-Asad himself to capture the President was informed by one of his soldiers who had spotted Al-Fulani's transport coming in.
"Sir, a helicopter is inbound for the Presidential Palace!"
Damn! Al-Asad will have my head if I let Al-Fulani slip through my fingers!, was the one thought that swam through his mind, before he composed himself and ordered his soldiers to bring up something to take down the helicopter.
A technical, fitted with a DShK in the flatbed in the back, and carrying soldiers equipped with RPG-7s, arrived, and one of the soldiers began to bring the DShK into action against the helicopter.
And as soon as he got sights on it, the soldier pulled the trigger, unleashing a volley of 600 rounds. All of which, struck the fuselage and the tail.
The helicopter, trailing smoke, had to wave off from the attempt and leave, for damage was far too severe to keep on flying.
With the helicopter out of the way, Al-Asad's forces continued on as normal, assured that inside the Palace, they were panicking now that their escape had been cut off.
However, there was only one obstacle in their way.
The gate, which was currently closed, and defended by two guard posts, armed with two fixed machine guns.
At first, they had tried taking the gate down using lorries with winches, but one was shot to pieces by the machine guns, and the other had managed to get a hold on the gate, only to knacker it's engine trying to pull the gate down.
Then came diggers attempting to breach it, only to fail. The gate would not budge.
When the guard posts continued to give them trouble, Molotov cocktails were thrown at the guard posts in an attempt to destroy them.
But only their paint was scorched by the flames.
The commander was informed of the situation, "Sir, our lorries just are unable to bring down the gate. No matter how hard they pull. Diggers too. Nothing can dislodge that gate!"
Immediately, he made the call for some heavier firepower to be brought to bear.
And soon enough, a T-72 was brought up as a means to get the gate open.
Once the tank appeared, the men at the guard post fled back to the Presidential Palace as the tank turned it's turret right towards them.
Immediately, the T-72 fired it's main 125mm gun, and the guard post was obliterated.
As the smoke and dust of the ruined guard post settled, they could see that the gate was quite damaged but still holding in place remarkably.
So, the tank fired directly at the gates, before rushing in to ram what remained of it, allowing troops to swarm in the Palace grounds.
Once they were in the grounds, the palace guards and the staff who worked at the Presidential Palace, were all gunned down.
Before long, after the President's personal security detail had been gunned down, Yasir Al-Fulani, his family, his Vice President and his cabinet ministers were all rounded up and taken away.
Located some distance away from Azerd'ra, in a small, desolated, control tower on a small airfield, a soldier burst in with news for Khaled Al-Asad, who was now looking off towards the city from the balcony on the control tower.
Standing to attention, the soldier knew better than to speak first, for Al-Asad was strict in decorum.
And he made it clear that it was bad decorum for a junior subordinate to speak to Al-Asad unless he was spoken to.
"Report".
"All the TV and radio stations are secure. The main airport is under our control. We have secured the city in it's entirety. All major resistance has been wiped out completely".
Al-Asad still looked ahead, only asking, "What of Al-Fulani?"
"Sir, we've captured the Presidential Palace. Al-Fulani, his cabinet and his family are now in our hands, intact".
Turning around, the smile on Al-Asad's face grew big.
"Excellent".
Then, he spoke his next orders, "Have Al-Fulani's cabinet brought to me. They will have a choice. Either join me or share the fate of traitors. Then, get Al-Fulani to a secure location to hold him until his time comes. Separate him from his family as well".
"Now, bring me my vehicle. I need to check up on progress on what's going on across the city. Oh, and start preparations on the arena. I want it to be ready for tomorrow morning. After all, Al-Fulani should, as the Americans would say, go out with a bang".
Then, he got out a phone, and began dialling to a close friend of his.
"Khaled".
"Imran. Yasir Al-Fulani is now within my custody. I have taken the city. And soon enough, I will be in a firm spot to take over the rest of the country. Azerdistan will be completely under my control, as planned. We have everything planned for tomorrow morning, as we discussed".
"Excellent".
Within the Presidential Palace, the captives were now gathered in the Great Hall.
Yasir Al-Fulani, his wife Adela, his three sons (their firstborn Manzur, the second eldest Fatin and youngest Azmi), his four daughters (the eldest Rashida, the second eldest Safiya, and their youngest, five year old Farida), his Vice President Ghulam Araiji and his Cabinet ministers, the Interior Minister, the Defence Minister and the Foreign Minister.
Before long, instructions were passed down to their captors, from Al-Asad himself, to have the captives separated. Al-Fulani's family were to remain at the palace for the time being, while the cabinet was to be taken to a military base under Al-Asad's control, where they would have a choice. To serve Al-Asad willingly, or be subject to "reeducation".
The captive president, was to be taken to a safehouse until "the arena" was ready.
When the captives were all informed of this, every one of them was in a mixture of fear, terror and dread, for their impeding future was not looking like a bright one.
Yasir was silent, doing his utmost to not show any fear to Al-Asad's troops, or to his family.
Yasir watched as his wife, tried to remain strong, even in the face of the dark fate that awaited them all, for the sake of their four children, whose faces were full of absolute fear and terror.
His Vice President, and the rest of his Cabinet ministers, were separated and taken away in trucks, whose progress was being tracked by satellites orbiting the Earth, and taking imagery that was being relayed to halfway across the globe.
George Bush Center for Intelligence, Langley, Virginia, United States of America.
September 16th, 2011.
With the offices of the George Bush Center for Intelligence, headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency, one CIA employee was sitting behind his desk with a mug of coffee that he was sipping, while he was on the phone to an colleague about events that were of great concern to the Intelligence community lately.
Lately, this coup e'tat in Azerdistan, which had sent much of the American intelligence agencies into a panic, due to having been caught off guard.
First, activity had been picked up by satellites from the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, which, backed up by recent signals analysis from the National Security Agency, prompted the CIA into action.
Christopher "Dusty" Goodman of the CIA's Special Activities Division was speaking with an acquaintance by his, down in Yemen.
"So, tomorrow morning, is that what he said?"
"Yes, I'm certain. ISA confirms Khaled Al-Asad was speaking on the same number, connected to somewhere in the Caspian area, Georgia, Azerbaijan, the Caucasus area of Russia. That was all we could get before the call was cut off".
A pause, before Dusty responded, "Okay, thanks. Keep monitoring the channels, log everything down. We need up to date information on anything about the situation. I'll be in touch".
Hanging up the phone, Dusty turned his attention to the outside of his office, noting that activity was more hectic, given the current situation in Azerdistan that was fast progressing and the urge for more concrete information rather than the few tidbits that they had been receiving on the Coup, how it had been done and what was happening now that Al-Asad was consolidating control over the capital, and soon enough, the entire country.
Then, quickly, he accessed his computer, and began looking into all relevant information regarding Azerdistan, Yasir Al-Fulani and Khaled Al-Asad.
Firstly, he summed up what he knew about Azerdistan.
A small country, wedged in between Yemen, Saudi Arabia and Oman, with a coastline approximately near the Gulf of Aden and the Arabian Sea. Former British Protectorate until the mid-1960s. Absolute monarchy lead the country, right up until the Azerdi Revolution of 1977, in which a council of military officers lead a revolt to overthrow them, established a republic and aligned Azerdistan with the Soviets, right up until 1991, when the junta collapsed and Yasir Al-Fulani was elected in 2002.
Given that Azerdistan was positioned near the sea lanes of the Suez Canal, a regime change like this could spell trouble for not just the region and not also to the Americans, but for international shipping, for not only were there an assortment of land-based anti-ship missiles, combat aircraft with the range to the Horn of Africa and back, a small naval force of destroyers, frigates, submarines and a plentiful of fast attack boats and an ancient fort with shore batteries. All this power, had the potential to close off access to the Gulf of Aden and the Suez Canal, which would disrupt international trade and the world economy.
But most particularly, Dusty went into the file on Khaled Al-Asad, briefly reassessing all information on him.
Born on the 1st of May, 1963, Al-Asad had been part of one of the Communist-sponsored revolutionary movements in Azerdistan and imprisoned by the monarchy for years, until the Revolution, when he was freed. Became a devout supporter of the new regime, for his time in prison had left him with a hatred for the West, which had backed the monarchy, and in the early 1980s, became an officer in the Azerdistani Army. He served until 1992 when his old loyalties to the regime and opposition to Azerdistan becoming friends with the United States again forced him out.
It was at that time, in which he seemed to fade into obscurity until 1998, when he started forming an opposition group against Al-Fulani. It was small-scale actions at first, and everyone predicted that the government would take care of Al-Asad's movement in short time. But however, in 2004, he began stepping up his activities into terrorism. It was only until 2007 when he started to start an insurrection from his base somewhere amongst the mountains in the Sbe Niqat Bayda' Valley, which seemed to be against his favor, until very recently, judging by Al-Asad's new friend in Russia. Someone high up within Imran Zakhaev's Ultranationalist movement that was fighting for control over Russia with the Loyalists.
The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and without looking at it, Dusty picked it up.
"Dusty here".
"It's Saul. Listen Dusty, I just got off the phone with the higher ups, and the Pentagon's looking into getting some sort of military presence near Azerdistan. Maybe to evacuate Embassy personnel or the few American citizens in Azerdistan, as well as that whole sort of 'speak softy and carry a big stick' kind of thing, making sure that Al-Asad won't get any funny ideas, you know?"
Dusty nodded at that, "As I recall, the nearest US military unit is the 15th MEU, with the Boxer Expeditionary Strike Group in the Indian Ocean. So, have upstairs said anything about what Special Activities or the Agency as a whole, is going to do?"
"Well, what Agency assets do we have in Azerdistan?".
"We have a couple of isolated assets in country, all under the Station Chief, a Hugo Appleton, but he was in Azerd'ra, and has dropped out of contact with our people at the Embassy since the Coup".
"Right. In the meantime, Dusty, call up your friends in Delta and DEVGRU, and put them on standby, just in case the higher-ups call for their participation. I get the feeling we'll be going to Azerdistan at some point".
"Yeah, I hear ya, I'll get on it".
Ending the call,
"The guys are definitely not gonna like this...", as he dug out his phone from his pocket and started searching his contacts list.
Firstly, for a number at Virginia Beach.
Then, after that was done, he then put a call in for Fort Bragg.
My goodness! So sorry for the delay everyone, but I really had trouble with this chapter!
I had initially thought of including the Marines of the 15th MEU in this chapter as well as the Delta Force and DEVGRU guys, but I was having trouble with this chapter enough without that, so I decided to just save it for maybe, the next chapter.
Anyways, don't forget to leave a review whenever you can, and see you next time!