Gathering Force
Disclaimer: Same as before.
Ever since the abductions of six people from Bayville by the Darklings under warlord Harsk, the task force had moved from reconnaissance to offensive action. Profile flights and actual missions were being launched. The last two missions had captured two important lieutenants of warlord Harsk and another mission was being planned to capture or kill off more of his infrastructure.
Ted McDougal sat at the wheel of one of nine wide bodied Humvees carrying a team of Gamma assaulters. Big Un was on the fifty caliber machinegun, Chief was in the second seat, manning the radio and Nate had his SAW poking out one of the windows.
The world was green through the night vision goggles Ted wore and suddenly the signal for retrieval was sounded. The vehicle convoy returned to base with its latest catch. Mukle Mebe, Harsk's chief armaments minister, was just captured on this mission. The local militia hadn't even had a chance to pull on its pants and wake up.
This was how most missions had been going; very rarely did the Darklings and orcs manage to put up serious resistance. General Grayson had varied the tactics that the taskforce used on missions. Sometimes they arrived on vehicles and left on helicopters, or arrived on helicopters or left on vehicles, or even arrived and left on either helicopters or vehicles to confuse the enemy.
They hadn't yet located the missing kids from Bayville but they were sure hurting the warlord responsible for their abduction. The Intelligence agents were keeping a watch on the Bayville area, the task force had pulled out to Ibn Djarra to concentrate solely on the rescue mission.
~ ~ ~ ~
The sound of vehicle engines and gunfire meant that the Rangers were back. Tteel Klaak, a Darkling militiaman, grabbed his AK-47 and ran outside only to see the Humvees driving off in a hurry leaving behind a cloud of dust. These Rangers were everything Darkling militia men secretly dreaded. They wore body armor and helmets and when they came in at night they blackened their faces to look fierce. In broad daylight not a single part of them looked human. The black vested soldiers that jumped from helicopters before the Rangers were even more terrifying. They could capture buildings in a matter of seconds and kidnap the occupants before the militia could have any idea what was happening.
The prisoners in the hotel were safe, at least that was the consolation. The Warlord's orders had been explicit, to help the orcs keep these six teenage prisoners from escaping or from being rescued by the Rangers.
"Scott Summers, we have not forgotten you!" came a voice over a loudspeaker from a helicopter.
Every night for two weeks helicopters flew overhead and broadcast messages of hope to the prisoners. Tteel Klaak had heard another message the night before saying, "Kitty Pryde, we are coming for you."
"When do you think they're coming for us?" Kitty whispered to Lance.
"I don't know." Lance said, "I don't even know who they are, much less when they're coming."
They spoke in quiet tones because their guard was not an orc. The orcs could care less of what their prisoners said, but these Darklings, who loved to be overbearing would often hit prisoners for talking. Kurt already had two teeth loosened from one of their rifle butts.
~ ~ ~ ~
"That's right, we're coming in and kicking your ass." David Falk muttered as he sat silently at an outdoor cantina. For nearly three days he was snooping around enemy territory near the Dharran Market, the center of Warlord Harsk's territory.
He had been assigned to search out Misulu, Harsk's major domo. He hadn't seen any time when the man was vulnerable during these past three days. They hadn't even noticed him, because David Falk was a master of disguise. This time he was dressed as a journalist riding a bicycle. He had camera equipment and a photographer's vest to go with his cargo pants and gray t- shirt to complete the image. His Oakley's covered his eyes fairly well, to make him even more of a gray man.
It was midnight when he saw another technical drive up with another struggling prisoner. From this distance it looked like Jean Grey, there was some kind of weird collar around her neck that one of the Darklings near her said would explode if she tampered with it. He also saw Misulu move into a small house across the street from the cantina.
Around nine thirty the next morning he saw Misulu walk with several other Darklings, most of the armed, into a convoy of three sports utility vehicles.
"Leaving." He spoke into a small two way radio concealed on his person.
~ ~ ~ ~
Two MH-6 Little Bird and two UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters flew over the desert toward the road where a convoy of three SUVs was heading out.
The driver pointed at the helicopters flying overhead, one of which flew in front of the convoy with two miniguns pointed right at it. "Sir." The driver said.
"Keep driving." Misulu said, cupping a hand over his cell phone receiver. He removed his hand from the receiver and said clearly, "I'm going to be late."
From one of the UH-60 Black Hawks three Gamma snipers sat in the back of the aircraft. Leroy Hoffman, a lean, level headed fellow of twenty six with short cropped black hair, aimed his M-14 sniper rifle at the middle jeep's engine and squeezed off a single shot.
Marvin D'Arco and a third sniper, Mark Lazio, both carried telescope sighted CAR-15s. The other Black Hawk carried more Gamma assaulters. The Gamma operators surrounded the jeeps and forced out the occupants with no struggle.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ted McDougal hosed down the cargo humvee together with a quiet, introspective Gamma operator, Staff Sergeant Phillip Twofeathers. He was a full blooded Apache Indian who often wore a traditional leather wrist guard with hand made beads and carried a tomahawk on his belt.
Another helicopter took off, the Loudmouth, as the men called it. It was used to broadcast more propaganda to the orcs and Darklings. "We're coming for you guys, just hang in there."
Phil Twofeathers grinned in his mysterious way, a toothy little grin framed in a cinnabar face framed by longish black hair. "You got attached, didn't you."
"Kinda." Ted replied as he hosed some more dust off the tires with a high pressure hose.
"It happens." Phil Twofeathers replied. At twenty-eight, Phil Twofeathers had been in the Army almost all of his adolescence and adult life. He had that air of wisdom inherent to a native medicine man but was as fierce as the youngest brave of his tribe. He was from Bitterwater, a town on the border of the ever expanding menace originating from the east. He was calm and courageous under fire. Where Cass Garner was reckless, almost like a human berserker, Phil Twofeathers was level yet brave. Ted befriended him when the unit moved out of Bayville and into the Ibn Djarra airport.
"Well, I befriended a few of the Bayville kids." Ted replied. Phil Twofeathers grinned knowingly, "Well one of them. Her name's Taryn, who's in two of my classes at Bayville High."
"I see." Phil Twofeathers replied in his irritating yet reassuring all knowing Indian's grin.
The pair stopped conversing for a moment as they saw another bunch of Gamma operators leading a group of eight prisoners to a barge as well as leading a ninth off for interrogation.
"Another successful hit." McDougal observed.
Leroy Hoffman, one of the Gamma operators that Ted tried to beat at a game of chess last week, waved Twofeathers over, "I've gotta go man, see you later."
Phil Twofeathers matched action with deed and went of to the hangar to collect his gear.
~ ~ ~ ~
A few moments later Ted saw a small Gamma team consisting of Leroy Hoffman, Cass Garner, Philip Twofeathers, and Mark Lazio running out to a waiting Black Hawk. Phil Twofeathers was carrying his own CAR-15 as well as another weapon.
Aboard that Black Hawk as the Gamma operators climbed aboard the pilot said, "My name is Martin "Abbott" Flanagan, I'll be your pilot this afternoon. If you're currently in the Ibn Djarra frequent flyer program you'll be earning a hundred free credit hours today. Federal regulations have designated this a nonsmoking Black Hawk helicopter and airsickness bags are located in the lap of the person next to you."
The helicopter took off over the desert off towards its rendezvous point. The soldiers at the Desert Dunes airfield were used to watching helicopters come and go all the time.
~ ~ ~ ~
As he stood on a sand dune David Falk ducked as the helicopter swooped over his head, landing on the beach in front of him. As soon as it touched down, David Falk picked up his bicycle and walked off to the helicopter. The other operators aboard helped him pull the bicycle and his camera bag inside.
As he sat inside the helicopter David Falk said, "Nice man, very smooth."
"Single shot through the engine block." Frank Tall said proudly.
Leroy Hoffman grinned in acknowledgement. "That's a shame that was a nice jeep too." Falk replied, chambering a round into his CAR-15. The helicopter took off again as he spoke.
~ ~ ~ ~
The firing range was a hub of activity. Almost daily the task force's various units practiced their marksmanship, went on several exercises, or on the five mile fun runs that the Rangers did practically every day.
One of the Gamma operators, Grinch, had his 9mm Beretta out and started firing double taps (firing twice at a given target) at a human silhouette target down range. Two sets of holes started to appear in the target's head.
A whistle blew at that moment and Staff Sergeant Kurth shouted, "Cease fire. Check your weapons."
"Sergeant Kurth." Said Specialist John Halbred, "This is Private Blackstone."
Halbred, the company clerk was leading a baby faced private, fresh out of Ranger school, to his platoon sergeant. "You reporting to me?" Kurth asked Blackstone.
"Yes Sergeant." Blackstone replied.
"No you're not, you're reporting to Lieutenant DiStephano, he should be around here somewhere." Kurth replied.
"Can't I just leave him with you?" Halbred asked.
"Yeah, sure." Kurth replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey who's hungry?" Asked David Falk as he indicated a herd of gazelles and wild pigs running through the bush.
Several of the Gamma Operators grinned knowingly.
~ ~ ~ ~
Captain Ironsides walked through the hangar where several troops were clustered around several long tables where at least two large pigs were roasting over an open fire.
"What is this sergeant, another tax payer funded Gamma safari." Ironsides asked, throughout the deployment the Gamma operators and Night Stalkers had been shooting up game animals in the bush and taking them back to base for cookouts.
"Not if General Grayson's asking." Phillip Twofeathers replied, one of the Gamma team leaders.
"No, I'm asking." Captain Ironsides replied.
"Have a nice meal, sir." Phillip Twofeathers replied.
Captain Ironsides stalked off after the Indian spoke. "Hey there's a line man." Said Private Blackstone to Sergeant Falk.
"I know." Falk replied.
"But this isn't the back of it." Blackstone replied.
"I know." Falk replied.
"Sergeant, what's going on here?" Ironsides asked.
"Oh just some aerial target practice sir, I didn't wanna leave it behind." Falk replied. He was still in civilian clothes and carrying his weapon.
"I'm talking about your weapon. Gamma or no Gamma that is a hot weapon. You know better than that. Safety should be on at all times when you're on base." Ironsides replied.
"This is my safety sir." Falk replied, flexing his trigger finger.
"Let it go sir, the guy hasn't eaten in a couple of days." Phillip Twofeathers replied.
"You Gamma operators are a bunch of undisciplined cowboys. Let me tell you something sergeant, when we get to the five yard line you're gonna need my Rangers, so y'all better be able to be team players."
~ ~ ~ ~
"Nice, really improving." D'Arco said.
"Thanks." Grinch replied, not looking up from his drawing of a knight battling a fierce beast.
"I thought you finished that last week?" D'Arco said, "If I may make a suggestion, observation."
"Shoot." Grinch replied.
"It's a children's book, right? They are not supposed to scare the poor kids shitless." D'Arco replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Speak up. You say this is your safety, well this is my boot son, and it will fit up your ass with the proper amount of force." Said Sergeant Pyle, a machine gunner with a gift for humor.
Right now the short little man built like a fireplug was wearing a helmet with a crudely improvised football face guard attached.
"Is that a hot weapon?" Pyle asked a random Ranger. About half the Rangers in the company were laughing at Pyle's impersonation of the tough Texas cowboy that was their commanding officer.
"Take those sunglasses of soldier, if Gamma wants to wear Oakley's that's there business, I don't wanna see them on you again, Hooah. Where are my running backs?"
"Hooah!" shouted the smaller men in the company.
"Where are my running backs?"
"Hooah!" they responded again.
"Hey, I didn't see you in church on Sunday. You got somethin' better to do? Not on Sunday you don't. I will make you believe, soldier, do you understand?" Pyle replied.
When no one laughed he turned to see Captain Ironsides standing behind him, Pyle took of his helmet and Ironsides walked up to him. "Pretty funny, Hooah?"
"Hooah." followed by a chorus of barely suppressed laughter.
"Alright, carry on. I'd like a word Sergeant." Ironsides said, putting Pyle in a headlock. Pyle gave Ironsides the finger behind his back which caused even more laughter among the Rangers.
"Tell me Pyle, you understand why we have a chain of command?" Ironsides asked.
"Roger that, sir." Pyle replied.
"Because if I see you undermine it again, you'll be cleaning latrines with your tongue until you can't taste the difference between shit and French fries. Are we clear?" Ironsides replied.
"Hooah sir." Pyle replied. Ironsides let him go into a throng of laughter from the cluster of Rangers around him.
~ ~ ~ ~
General Grayson sat at the command post, it looked like he was going to be sleeping in it again tonight. He was waiting for reports from his either his informants in the city or any of the observation birds that were flying round the clock surveillance missions.
At around 0630 the next morning the call came in that he had been waiting for, Misulu had broken and gave his interrogator, Lieutenant DiStephano, the exact building where the X-men and Brotherhood members were being held. Now he had to wait for his other intelligence source to confirm the source before launching the mission.
He already informed the commander of the Gamma Squadron, Colonel Hartford, to get his team together and start planning their assault on the target buildings.
Already the spy was driving his car down the dusty streets of the city toward the Kaibar Market, where the captured mutants were being held.
~ ~ ~ ~
At 1530 (3:30 PM), the operation was a go. The hangar exploded into a hive of activity as the various units prepared for action.
The Rangers, who had seen relatively light combat up to that point, watched as the significantly more battle tested Gamma unit readied itself for battle. Specialist Mike Shapiro started pouring water into a canteen, "You're not gonna need that dude, we're not out there long enough." Hockle said.
Shapiro picked up his night vision goggles, "We'll be back by five dude, you're not gonna need that either." Stoty added.
"Hey get a load of that, Mazola." said Corporal "Fish" Folk, "He's taping his blood type to his boots. That's bad luck."
Fish was around seventeen, stocky, and carried a SAW into battle. Right now he was indicating Grinch, one of the Gammas, taping a piece of tape with his blood type written on it.
"No," Mazola replied, he was a lanky fellow of Italian extraction with a Brooklyn accent, "That's smart. All Gammas do that."
Mullins, another seventeen year old, sat with his arm in a cast as Mazola handed him a letter. "Uh uh, I ain't taking no death letter." Mullins said.
"You promised you would pal." Mazola replied.
"I'll see you in an hour." Mullins replied as the Rangers and Gamma operators boarded their helicopters and vehicles in their mission to rescue the kidnapped mutants.
Disclaimer: Same as before.
Ever since the abductions of six people from Bayville by the Darklings under warlord Harsk, the task force had moved from reconnaissance to offensive action. Profile flights and actual missions were being launched. The last two missions had captured two important lieutenants of warlord Harsk and another mission was being planned to capture or kill off more of his infrastructure.
Ted McDougal sat at the wheel of one of nine wide bodied Humvees carrying a team of Gamma assaulters. Big Un was on the fifty caliber machinegun, Chief was in the second seat, manning the radio and Nate had his SAW poking out one of the windows.
The world was green through the night vision goggles Ted wore and suddenly the signal for retrieval was sounded. The vehicle convoy returned to base with its latest catch. Mukle Mebe, Harsk's chief armaments minister, was just captured on this mission. The local militia hadn't even had a chance to pull on its pants and wake up.
This was how most missions had been going; very rarely did the Darklings and orcs manage to put up serious resistance. General Grayson had varied the tactics that the taskforce used on missions. Sometimes they arrived on vehicles and left on helicopters, or arrived on helicopters or left on vehicles, or even arrived and left on either helicopters or vehicles to confuse the enemy.
They hadn't yet located the missing kids from Bayville but they were sure hurting the warlord responsible for their abduction. The Intelligence agents were keeping a watch on the Bayville area, the task force had pulled out to Ibn Djarra to concentrate solely on the rescue mission.
~ ~ ~ ~
The sound of vehicle engines and gunfire meant that the Rangers were back. Tteel Klaak, a Darkling militiaman, grabbed his AK-47 and ran outside only to see the Humvees driving off in a hurry leaving behind a cloud of dust. These Rangers were everything Darkling militia men secretly dreaded. They wore body armor and helmets and when they came in at night they blackened their faces to look fierce. In broad daylight not a single part of them looked human. The black vested soldiers that jumped from helicopters before the Rangers were even more terrifying. They could capture buildings in a matter of seconds and kidnap the occupants before the militia could have any idea what was happening.
The prisoners in the hotel were safe, at least that was the consolation. The Warlord's orders had been explicit, to help the orcs keep these six teenage prisoners from escaping or from being rescued by the Rangers.
"Scott Summers, we have not forgotten you!" came a voice over a loudspeaker from a helicopter.
Every night for two weeks helicopters flew overhead and broadcast messages of hope to the prisoners. Tteel Klaak had heard another message the night before saying, "Kitty Pryde, we are coming for you."
"When do you think they're coming for us?" Kitty whispered to Lance.
"I don't know." Lance said, "I don't even know who they are, much less when they're coming."
They spoke in quiet tones because their guard was not an orc. The orcs could care less of what their prisoners said, but these Darklings, who loved to be overbearing would often hit prisoners for talking. Kurt already had two teeth loosened from one of their rifle butts.
~ ~ ~ ~
"That's right, we're coming in and kicking your ass." David Falk muttered as he sat silently at an outdoor cantina. For nearly three days he was snooping around enemy territory near the Dharran Market, the center of Warlord Harsk's territory.
He had been assigned to search out Misulu, Harsk's major domo. He hadn't seen any time when the man was vulnerable during these past three days. They hadn't even noticed him, because David Falk was a master of disguise. This time he was dressed as a journalist riding a bicycle. He had camera equipment and a photographer's vest to go with his cargo pants and gray t- shirt to complete the image. His Oakley's covered his eyes fairly well, to make him even more of a gray man.
It was midnight when he saw another technical drive up with another struggling prisoner. From this distance it looked like Jean Grey, there was some kind of weird collar around her neck that one of the Darklings near her said would explode if she tampered with it. He also saw Misulu move into a small house across the street from the cantina.
Around nine thirty the next morning he saw Misulu walk with several other Darklings, most of the armed, into a convoy of three sports utility vehicles.
"Leaving." He spoke into a small two way radio concealed on his person.
~ ~ ~ ~
Two MH-6 Little Bird and two UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters flew over the desert toward the road where a convoy of three SUVs was heading out.
The driver pointed at the helicopters flying overhead, one of which flew in front of the convoy with two miniguns pointed right at it. "Sir." The driver said.
"Keep driving." Misulu said, cupping a hand over his cell phone receiver. He removed his hand from the receiver and said clearly, "I'm going to be late."
From one of the UH-60 Black Hawks three Gamma snipers sat in the back of the aircraft. Leroy Hoffman, a lean, level headed fellow of twenty six with short cropped black hair, aimed his M-14 sniper rifle at the middle jeep's engine and squeezed off a single shot.
Marvin D'Arco and a third sniper, Mark Lazio, both carried telescope sighted CAR-15s. The other Black Hawk carried more Gamma assaulters. The Gamma operators surrounded the jeeps and forced out the occupants with no struggle.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ted McDougal hosed down the cargo humvee together with a quiet, introspective Gamma operator, Staff Sergeant Phillip Twofeathers. He was a full blooded Apache Indian who often wore a traditional leather wrist guard with hand made beads and carried a tomahawk on his belt.
Another helicopter took off, the Loudmouth, as the men called it. It was used to broadcast more propaganda to the orcs and Darklings. "We're coming for you guys, just hang in there."
Phil Twofeathers grinned in his mysterious way, a toothy little grin framed in a cinnabar face framed by longish black hair. "You got attached, didn't you."
"Kinda." Ted replied as he hosed some more dust off the tires with a high pressure hose.
"It happens." Phil Twofeathers replied. At twenty-eight, Phil Twofeathers had been in the Army almost all of his adolescence and adult life. He had that air of wisdom inherent to a native medicine man but was as fierce as the youngest brave of his tribe. He was from Bitterwater, a town on the border of the ever expanding menace originating from the east. He was calm and courageous under fire. Where Cass Garner was reckless, almost like a human berserker, Phil Twofeathers was level yet brave. Ted befriended him when the unit moved out of Bayville and into the Ibn Djarra airport.
"Well, I befriended a few of the Bayville kids." Ted replied. Phil Twofeathers grinned knowingly, "Well one of them. Her name's Taryn, who's in two of my classes at Bayville High."
"I see." Phil Twofeathers replied in his irritating yet reassuring all knowing Indian's grin.
The pair stopped conversing for a moment as they saw another bunch of Gamma operators leading a group of eight prisoners to a barge as well as leading a ninth off for interrogation.
"Another successful hit." McDougal observed.
Leroy Hoffman, one of the Gamma operators that Ted tried to beat at a game of chess last week, waved Twofeathers over, "I've gotta go man, see you later."
Phil Twofeathers matched action with deed and went of to the hangar to collect his gear.
~ ~ ~ ~
A few moments later Ted saw a small Gamma team consisting of Leroy Hoffman, Cass Garner, Philip Twofeathers, and Mark Lazio running out to a waiting Black Hawk. Phil Twofeathers was carrying his own CAR-15 as well as another weapon.
Aboard that Black Hawk as the Gamma operators climbed aboard the pilot said, "My name is Martin "Abbott" Flanagan, I'll be your pilot this afternoon. If you're currently in the Ibn Djarra frequent flyer program you'll be earning a hundred free credit hours today. Federal regulations have designated this a nonsmoking Black Hawk helicopter and airsickness bags are located in the lap of the person next to you."
The helicopter took off over the desert off towards its rendezvous point. The soldiers at the Desert Dunes airfield were used to watching helicopters come and go all the time.
~ ~ ~ ~
As he stood on a sand dune David Falk ducked as the helicopter swooped over his head, landing on the beach in front of him. As soon as it touched down, David Falk picked up his bicycle and walked off to the helicopter. The other operators aboard helped him pull the bicycle and his camera bag inside.
As he sat inside the helicopter David Falk said, "Nice man, very smooth."
"Single shot through the engine block." Frank Tall said proudly.
Leroy Hoffman grinned in acknowledgement. "That's a shame that was a nice jeep too." Falk replied, chambering a round into his CAR-15. The helicopter took off again as he spoke.
~ ~ ~ ~
The firing range was a hub of activity. Almost daily the task force's various units practiced their marksmanship, went on several exercises, or on the five mile fun runs that the Rangers did practically every day.
One of the Gamma operators, Grinch, had his 9mm Beretta out and started firing double taps (firing twice at a given target) at a human silhouette target down range. Two sets of holes started to appear in the target's head.
A whistle blew at that moment and Staff Sergeant Kurth shouted, "Cease fire. Check your weapons."
"Sergeant Kurth." Said Specialist John Halbred, "This is Private Blackstone."
Halbred, the company clerk was leading a baby faced private, fresh out of Ranger school, to his platoon sergeant. "You reporting to me?" Kurth asked Blackstone.
"Yes Sergeant." Blackstone replied.
"No you're not, you're reporting to Lieutenant DiStephano, he should be around here somewhere." Kurth replied.
"Can't I just leave him with you?" Halbred asked.
"Yeah, sure." Kurth replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey who's hungry?" Asked David Falk as he indicated a herd of gazelles and wild pigs running through the bush.
Several of the Gamma Operators grinned knowingly.
~ ~ ~ ~
Captain Ironsides walked through the hangar where several troops were clustered around several long tables where at least two large pigs were roasting over an open fire.
"What is this sergeant, another tax payer funded Gamma safari." Ironsides asked, throughout the deployment the Gamma operators and Night Stalkers had been shooting up game animals in the bush and taking them back to base for cookouts.
"Not if General Grayson's asking." Phillip Twofeathers replied, one of the Gamma team leaders.
"No, I'm asking." Captain Ironsides replied.
"Have a nice meal, sir." Phillip Twofeathers replied.
Captain Ironsides stalked off after the Indian spoke. "Hey there's a line man." Said Private Blackstone to Sergeant Falk.
"I know." Falk replied.
"But this isn't the back of it." Blackstone replied.
"I know." Falk replied.
"Sergeant, what's going on here?" Ironsides asked.
"Oh just some aerial target practice sir, I didn't wanna leave it behind." Falk replied. He was still in civilian clothes and carrying his weapon.
"I'm talking about your weapon. Gamma or no Gamma that is a hot weapon. You know better than that. Safety should be on at all times when you're on base." Ironsides replied.
"This is my safety sir." Falk replied, flexing his trigger finger.
"Let it go sir, the guy hasn't eaten in a couple of days." Phillip Twofeathers replied.
"You Gamma operators are a bunch of undisciplined cowboys. Let me tell you something sergeant, when we get to the five yard line you're gonna need my Rangers, so y'all better be able to be team players."
~ ~ ~ ~
"Nice, really improving." D'Arco said.
"Thanks." Grinch replied, not looking up from his drawing of a knight battling a fierce beast.
"I thought you finished that last week?" D'Arco said, "If I may make a suggestion, observation."
"Shoot." Grinch replied.
"It's a children's book, right? They are not supposed to scare the poor kids shitless." D'Arco replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Speak up. You say this is your safety, well this is my boot son, and it will fit up your ass with the proper amount of force." Said Sergeant Pyle, a machine gunner with a gift for humor.
Right now the short little man built like a fireplug was wearing a helmet with a crudely improvised football face guard attached.
"Is that a hot weapon?" Pyle asked a random Ranger. About half the Rangers in the company were laughing at Pyle's impersonation of the tough Texas cowboy that was their commanding officer.
"Take those sunglasses of soldier, if Gamma wants to wear Oakley's that's there business, I don't wanna see them on you again, Hooah. Where are my running backs?"
"Hooah!" shouted the smaller men in the company.
"Where are my running backs?"
"Hooah!" they responded again.
"Hey, I didn't see you in church on Sunday. You got somethin' better to do? Not on Sunday you don't. I will make you believe, soldier, do you understand?" Pyle replied.
When no one laughed he turned to see Captain Ironsides standing behind him, Pyle took of his helmet and Ironsides walked up to him. "Pretty funny, Hooah?"
"Hooah." followed by a chorus of barely suppressed laughter.
"Alright, carry on. I'd like a word Sergeant." Ironsides said, putting Pyle in a headlock. Pyle gave Ironsides the finger behind his back which caused even more laughter among the Rangers.
"Tell me Pyle, you understand why we have a chain of command?" Ironsides asked.
"Roger that, sir." Pyle replied.
"Because if I see you undermine it again, you'll be cleaning latrines with your tongue until you can't taste the difference between shit and French fries. Are we clear?" Ironsides replied.
"Hooah sir." Pyle replied. Ironsides let him go into a throng of laughter from the cluster of Rangers around him.
~ ~ ~ ~
General Grayson sat at the command post, it looked like he was going to be sleeping in it again tonight. He was waiting for reports from his either his informants in the city or any of the observation birds that were flying round the clock surveillance missions.
At around 0630 the next morning the call came in that he had been waiting for, Misulu had broken and gave his interrogator, Lieutenant DiStephano, the exact building where the X-men and Brotherhood members were being held. Now he had to wait for his other intelligence source to confirm the source before launching the mission.
He already informed the commander of the Gamma Squadron, Colonel Hartford, to get his team together and start planning their assault on the target buildings.
Already the spy was driving his car down the dusty streets of the city toward the Kaibar Market, where the captured mutants were being held.
~ ~ ~ ~
At 1530 (3:30 PM), the operation was a go. The hangar exploded into a hive of activity as the various units prepared for action.
The Rangers, who had seen relatively light combat up to that point, watched as the significantly more battle tested Gamma unit readied itself for battle. Specialist Mike Shapiro started pouring water into a canteen, "You're not gonna need that dude, we're not out there long enough." Hockle said.
Shapiro picked up his night vision goggles, "We'll be back by five dude, you're not gonna need that either." Stoty added.
"Hey get a load of that, Mazola." said Corporal "Fish" Folk, "He's taping his blood type to his boots. That's bad luck."
Fish was around seventeen, stocky, and carried a SAW into battle. Right now he was indicating Grinch, one of the Gammas, taping a piece of tape with his blood type written on it.
"No," Mazola replied, he was a lanky fellow of Italian extraction with a Brooklyn accent, "That's smart. All Gammas do that."
Mullins, another seventeen year old, sat with his arm in a cast as Mazola handed him a letter. "Uh uh, I ain't taking no death letter." Mullins said.
"You promised you would pal." Mazola replied.
"I'll see you in an hour." Mullins replied as the Rangers and Gamma operators boarded their helicopters and vehicles in their mission to rescue the kidnapped mutants.