Mission 3: Operation Olympiad, Part 2

Disclaimer: Same as before. Warning, this may turn into a darkfic sooner or later.

Last light. Game time. As soon as I see the signal that Black Leclair is in position, I'm going to engage the machinegun nests with accurate rifle fire. I've got a good position a few feet underneath the crest of a nearby hill, behind a tangle of brush and boulders. Before Black Leclair started his trip down into the bridge I cut several firing lanes and even did a few dry runs on the sentries.

I see a small flash of a penlight, a sign that Black Leclair's in position. I aim slowly at the nearest gunner and squeeze off a round, killing the first Heartless with a round through the head. Rapidly I cycle the bolt, aiming at the second gunner, over four hundred yards away. The second Shadow Heartless is trying to maneuver the light machinegun about as I've got my crosshairs centered just below his throat. If my trajectory calculation is off, I'll score a chest hit, but if it's bang on accurate I'll blast him right between the eyes.

Crack! The rifle sings again and I see another Heartless fall dead. I cycle a fresh round into the chamber, two dead Heartless from two rounds of ammunition, the third, a Soldier Heartless is also going to retrieve the gun. Right, he's still in the nest, so I squeeze off another shot, this one calculated on gut instinct. This one strikes him just under the armpit of his raised arm. The shock from a .303 round alone can sometimes be fatal, but I know this one's gone right through a lot of internal organs. He's spastically twitching on the ground as the round rips through his body.

The first nest is neutralized. Now for the second, the one that has the best firing position on the bridge. The first Soldier Heartless is easy to pick off, because it exposes its head a bit too long, and that's all I need at three hundred and fifty yards. Crack! I've put him down for good. The two other gunners are firing wildly into the emerging darkness. All they've done is pinpoint themselves to me. I fire two successive shots and the gunfire stops.

Black Leclair sprints from hiding and begins placing his explosives on the various spots on the bridge he's identified as most vulnerable to sabotage operations. Six rounds, six dead Heartless but there could be more, so I remove the almost empty clip from my weapon and put in a fresh ten round magazine. It's a good thing I reloaded when I did because I see a patrol of Heartless coming towards the bridge. It's at least a platoon sized element, forty to fifty of them.

No worries, all I've got to do is find the leader, or failing that the lead scout. Killing one or both of them will cause the Heartless to go to the ground. They'll entrench or better still, head towards me and avoid Black Leclair entirely. I draw a bead on the lead scout, slowly breathing out air as my finger depresses the trigger. Crack! The lead scout falls dead and the patrol hits the deck and finds cover. They've frozen, which makes them sitting ducks. As long as I can keep them from advancing on Black Leclair long enough for him to wire his explosives, detonate them and run, we're good to go.

A pair of Bandits attempt to rush Black Leclair. I squeeze off two rounds in quick succession. The first round strikes home, sending the creature spiraling into the ground. The second round misses the other Bandit by about three inches, but that's enough to get it to stop and turn its head. It's the last thing the creature does because I put a second round right between its eyes.

A burst of machinegun fire from the Heartless position alerts me. Evidently they followed the SOP and carried three light machineguns. I relocate to another vantage point, as the first burst of fire narrowly misses my hiding place. Wanker! That was close. I've gotten another position underneath a half fallen tree and draw a bead on the first gunner and his assistant. It's an almost perfect couple of head shots.

I squeeze the trigger again, as soon as the first Heartless appears in my sights. It flips backward, as the round tears a hole through its forehead. The second Heartless ducks behind cover and I've got just a piece of the second Heartless gunner in my sights. It's all I need. I squeeze off another shot, my fifth one from this magazine, and I've broken the creature's back, sending it convulsing on the ground. Another Heartless out of action from accurate sniping, as I pan my scope around their position, if a Heartless raises it's head above the rocks, it's dead.

A Heartless slowly raises itself from the rocks, only to duck again as a .303 round clips off the rocks. A near miss on my part, I'll be sure to correct my aim a bit higher next time. I hear two more rifle shots from Black Leclair's Garand rifle. A Heartless falls dead, two rounds to the chest. Another Bandit is creeping up on him so I kill it with a round through the throat. The creature twists spastically as it dies.

I see Black Leclair is running to clear the bridge and I keep up my long range harassing fire on the Heartless, scoring kills or severe wounds upon them as Black Leclair detonates the explosives and hot wires an enemy truck. Oblingingly he pulls up to my position, I hop aboard and we pick up the other three blokes in the cave.

"Put her in with the other victims." The blonde haired, hawk nosed, and balding man said. Despite his baby faced appearance, Lewis Dodgson was one of the most ruthless and aggressive fellows in Maleficent's pipeline of kidnappers.

His two accomplices, a clean cut Californian man with sandy brown hair, and a tubby, bespectacled fellow with a handlebar mustache were carrying Diane. Her hands and feet were tied with rope and she had been gagged via a rag stuffed in her mouth and held inside there by a few strips of adhesive tape.

In the small room of the abandoned warehouse there were half a dozen victims. "You idiots, could you have picked a more conspicuous victim!" Dodgson fumed, "Maleficent's gonna kill us..."

"She was going on leave. If we can get her off this world and somewhere else fast enough, we're home free." George Baselton, the fat man with glasses, replied.

"Chances are this is going to go unnoticed anyway." Howard King said.

"You idiot! Chances are people are gonna notice something's amiss." Dodgson said.

"Hey," Baselton asked Dodgson, "Isn't she the woman that turned you in for theft."

"Why yes?" Dodgson said, "Greetings, Lieutenant Schonke. It's been so long. Remember me?"

Diane nodded silently. As an ensign aboard her first ship she noticed that a few pieces of equipment from the storage lockers were missing. She later found out that a Lieutenant Commander Lewis Dodgson was responsible. Her testimony had been most damaging at the trial.

"See, revenge and profit all in the same package..." Baselton said.

NAVY LIEUTENANT MISSING. Three words constituting a newspaper headline just burned themselves into my mind. We're in a bivouac on Olympia waiting for our transport to take us back to Britannica. It's a copy of one of London's largest newspapers so I don't doubt its credibility. I see the picture of the missing lieutenant, its Diane, without a doubt.

I'm still in shock as I board the plane. I can't believe it. But when I reach the mansion I can tell by everyone's glum demeanor that the headline was true. Denial's given way to anger and pain. Why her? If anyone was in the risky job field, it'd be me, Rusty Puckett, 1 SAS.

As I sit in the card room, not speaking to anyone and radiating a 'touch me and die' attitude. I hear a voice behind me, "Why the long face pallie?" Vic Fontaine said, "Oh."

She's missing and there's not a damned thing I can do except carry on with my tasks. "Colonel Hosgrove wanted me to give you this." Vic said.

"A three day pass?" I reply.

"It's because he predicted her loss would most visibly upset you." Vic says.

Having no choice but to take the pass, I walk out into London's streets wearing slacks, a collared shirt and grab my coat. Bollocks to three days to rest my grief, I'm going after the blokes who kidnapped Diane. I'm going to kill them in cold blood. I can't take weapons out of the armory, it would be too conspicuous as they are counted every hour and if one is missing security will go to its highest alert and all personnel on pass recalled.

I elect on searching out a firearms store I know of in Soho, one of London's seedier neighborhoods. As I walk down London's streets, I notice two men have been alternately trailing me. One of them is a fat man with glasses and the other is a clean cut pretty boy.

I notice Pretty Boy is right behind me and see a 9mm Walther P-38 automatic appearing in his hands. I stop, raising my hands, showing I'm unarmed. He approaches slowly saying, "If you're looking to penetrate the Pipeline, the end of the line is here..."

'For you mate.' I think as I quickly turn and rush him, shouting loudly with an almost animal roar. I barrel into him with a near perfect rugby tackle and the P-38 flies from his hands into the cobblestone. He tries to crawl madly for it but I grab him around the neck and start twisting only to have him bite me in the forearm. He flips me over with surprising strength with his hands on my throat. I simply send my knee into his groin and loosen his grip, managing to sink my teeth into his neck.

"ARAGH!!!" The guy screams, painfully and I drive the heel of my palm into his jaw and turn him onto his stomach and put an arm around his neck. I knew from the outset of this fight I was going to kill him and I remain steadfast in my determination to do just that. I begin twisting his head with all the force I can muster. Breaking a man's neck isn't as simple as its depicted in action films, it take practice and a lot of strength. It is about a minute before I feel the bones of his neck give way and the struggling man beneath me stops moving.

First I grab the P-38 and stuff it into the waistband of my trousers. I then hide in the shadows and see a fat man with a mustache and glasses run up. "Oh shit." he moans, seeing his dead partner on the pavement.

And this little piggy runs all the way home. He doesn't even have the tactical sense to conound potential trackers. He just beelines it to an abandoned warehouse on the London docks. He runs inside and I lie in wait outside, just in case he decides to bring a mate or two to play along.

"Dodgson! King's dead! King's dead!" a breathless George Baselton said as he ran inside.

Lewis Dodgson turned around to see Baselton running inside. "Someody got King..."

"George, for Christ's sake, calm the fuck down." Dodgson said, "Get that gun of yours out and..."

That was as far as Dodgson got before he saw Baselton fall to the ground clutching at his throat.

That was close, as I snuck towards the entrance I saw the fat guy pull a pistol. I pulled the Walther free first and fired a round, drilling a hole through his throat. He falls to the floor, choking, gasping and clutching at his throat. I shoot him through the head to put him out of his misery.

A blond, balding, hawk-faced fellow is reaching for a weapon and I fire a round into his stomach and approach quickly, kicking a Colt 1911 away from him. It's a .45 caliber weapon; American made, and has a lot more punch than the 9mm I'm currently carrying.

"Belly wound, it can take a while to die from those." I say with mock sympathy.

"Bastard..." Dodgson says, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at me.

"Really, such harsh language and expectoration are unbecoming of an officer." I say.

He goes and reaches for the .45, making a commendable effort, but I quickly step on his hand. "You're going nowhere, fast." I say.

"Well, if you're looking for Diane, she's not here anymore." Dodgson grins nastily.

"Well, where is she?" I ask.

"I'm not telling you shit." Dodgson replies.

"Fair enough," I reply, and kick him in the ribs. I hear a bone break as I do so.

"AGH!" Dodgson says.

"So, are we going to tell me where she is?" I ask, slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"Go to hell!" Dodgson says.

"I've been to hell already. It's time for you to go there." I reply, "Whether it's quick by me shooting you again, or slow from this belly wound I don't care."

"Traverse Town!" Dodgson says, "They always take them into Traverse Town..."

"Fair enough, pal." I say, and aim the pistol at him. Firing the pistol into his forehead, I now am armed with enough information to go find Diane. I have three very inconvenient corpses to dispose of, though. But the fact that I killed the three gang members so close to the waterfront gives me a way to do just that...

Next stop, the biggest hole for intrigue, danger, and hopefully Diane. Traverse Town. I tuck Dodgson's weapon in the waistband of my trousers and walk off.

TBC (Pls review my recent fic, Tales of the Heart if it isn't too much trouble.)