Disclaimer: C&C Generals, C&C Red Alert 2, and all related names, concepts, etc. are property of Westwood Studios and EA Games.
There are places mentioned in this fic that match the names and locations of those in RL. I used the map to provide the stage for this endeavor. However, I have never actually been to any of these places, so do not expect any accuracy with landmarks when it comes to up-close scenes inside cities or towns or stuff like that. (Holds true also for names of infantry divisions, etc…) BUT names of people and events are purely fictional. You know the drill.
Hmm… My first fanfic… C&C games about combat… I feel an attachment to the concept that they represent: War. No, I'm not a war freak. But I value the extreme emotions experienced by human beings in such a cataclysmic event. It's pretty hard to duplicate them, though. I wonder if I can hack it…
Enough said.
Prologue
"My men say the Americans are almost upon us! We cannot last this!"
A line of Crusader tanks were steadily blasting their way through the besieged city of Omsk, a place now overrun by military forces on the Ob river near the border of Russia to Kazakhstan. Rangers were running alongside the tank column, sweeping out the streets and the smoldering cobbles. The main road was littered with foxholes and canon fodder. The GLA were everywhere. But the Americans were gaining ground each second. The momentum of the tanks on the ground was paralleled by the massive amount of air cover. The middle of the town, where the city hall was located, was still untouched mainly due to anti-air. However, when the tank cover below hits the barricade, the Raptors and the Comanches were set to move in and pummel the city hall.
"Do not lose hope, fool. I will kill you myself if you do not stop demoralizing our brethren!"
A middle-aged man wearing a thick sheepskin coat and black sunglasses under a shapka was standing nonchalantly above his commandeered desk in the middle of the room on the second floor of Omsk's garrisoned city hall. He had removed his eyewear when he had reiterated, and he looks very old for his age. His beard was already turning white but the creases on his forehead were still minute. He was scarred the whole of his left face below his eyebrows, and he had lost an eye there. He wore a patch to cover the empty socket. It cannot be discerned directly whether he was the one who barked his defiance to retreating because he had suppressed his expression as quickly as it had changed. However, it was clear by his posture and air of authority that he was the man the Americans were after, and who the GLA were behind of. In the middle of that room, standing above his subordinates, he stood clearly expressionless, paying attention to the events outside.
Around him, the many other desks held equipment like radios and intercoms. Several men were using them to keep contact with the troops outside. They kept turning toward the man in the shapka and barking events across the desks. The operator at the relay for the radar was jotting down notes of enemy positions and now laid them on the desk in the middle.
"Kaheeb, it is too much. If we remain here, we will certainly be crushed…"
Suddenly, a sonic boom from several Raptors overcame the rumble of Quad cannon fire. The sound of RPG and rifle fire that tried to down the low-flying planes could be discerned coming from the east side, near the river. What followed was an earth-shattering explosion that rocked the whole of city hall. Kaheeb rushed to the windows and the fireball he saw blinded his eye. As the men with him began to panic, Kaheeb watched a Quad cannon and several tanks burn in a napalm inferno.
Several dozen men were running around below, screaming guttural agony and burning to death. The others did not know whether to shoot at their close brothers or to let them die in suffering.
Kaheeb remained expressionless. But he cannot believe what he just saw.
They may certainly be crushed if they will make their stand in the ruined city.
The GLA had made their retreat from Afghanistan and Northern China after the combined might of the US and Chinese forces began a massive push upward to drive the GLA back into the Siberian wastelands. Kaheeb, or Al Darim Kaheeb, was leading the rabble of men and material that came from Eastern Kazakhstan, and was supposedly going to aid in the campaign in south-east Europe to try and distract the enemy, had they not been routed by the Americans coming from the Middle East. This was the 9th day of skirmishes that were happening against the GLA to drive them into what was to them unfamiliar territory. Many of their brethren have been captured, hundreds of cells have been uncovered, and what remains have either been killed, are now being pushed into Siberia, or were defectors to the cause.
Kaheeb was dumbstruck. He had fought for the cause for almost seven years now. How did it come to this?
All around the city hall, the remaining Quad cannons were laying down air cover for a barricade of Scorpions and Marauders cramped into the pathetic streets of the demolished city. Dozens of rebels and RPG troopers were lined up within the rubble, trying to hold their ground. The steady inflow of Rangers, Pathfinders and Missile defenders were taking up positions, surrounding the hall except from the direction of the river to the east, which was ice at this time of year. The Americans were cutting down the GLA positions, and soon, it was clear that the day would end for the GLA. The steady hurrump hurrump of cannon fire and the unending rattle of rifles were all over the city and were concentrating on the center. The GLA troops were being decimated, and the few tanks they had left were being pummeled by the onrush of the Americans. The Comanches were coordinating with the Rangers on the ground to push the GLA back…
Kaheeb hurriedly walked back and began to gather his papers.
He quickly went down the stairs, followed by his men.
"My general, the pickup is ready for us outside." A man in two layers of clothes and a windbreaker was waiting near a fire exit to the direction of the river. Behind him, a Technical with a blanket of dirty white canopy was being refueled. Several other Technicals were parked outside, uncamouflaged. They began revving up and headed toward the riverbank.
Kaheeb was still expressionless. He touched the left side of his face, flinched, and followed the man in the windbreaker outside. Around him, his men began to pack up, or take up weapons and rush outside. A barrage of gunfire came from somewhere in the building, and a grenade explosion soon followed, but Kaheeb was past caring.
Read and review, readers. I don't mind flames and getting cooked a bit. I expect that. However if you happen to like what you had read, or want to send a suggestion, you can of course post it on the reviews. I'm working on the next chapter. Happy new year, folks, and a belated Merry Christmas.