Sunday, June 25th, 2017
Desert Base
Northern Mali
18:22 GMT+2 (16:22 GMT June 25th)
Abigail screamed as she felt the searing heat on her skin.
She continued screaming as her skin burnt under the onslaught. She had never felt so much pain concentrated as it was. She tried to move her arms, to pull away the implement, which was hurting her, but neither would move; the bindings were too tight. Then the heat mercifully subsided and she lay back, sobbing with relief. She had lost track of how long it had been since a soldier had strapped her down to the camp bed. Through her tears, she looked over at the distraught face of Patrick and she shook her head before she passed out from the pain in her thigh.
Patrick was strapped into a chair with an armed soldier standing two feet away from him on either side. He had been there for about thirty minutes, and in that time, the Russian bastard had used Abigail to loosen his tongue. The youngster had absorbed the pain from the white-hot knife blade which had been heated by a blow torch, all before signalling to him not to break for her. Patrick was trained to resist interrogation, but when children were being used to persuade him to talk, that limited his options somewhat. He had no desire to see any of the children hurt, but he also had a duty to retain the information he held on everyone he knew. Many would die if he broke and divulged everything he knew about Fusion, Vengeance, and all the others. After ten minutes of one-sided interrogation, Abigail had been brought in and she had been tied down to a camp bed. The Russian junior lieutenant had then pulled off Abigail's boots, socks, and trousers. Dulov had then produced Abigail's own knife and a blow torch. Abigail had flinched at the sight, knowing what was about to happen. She dug deep into her training and used that training to shove her fear deep down. Yes, the eleven-year-old was scared, but she knew that to show it could be dangerous. She knew exactly what the Russian intended and why she was being used to coerce Patrick into talking. Abigail had smiled at Patrick to let him know that she would go along with her torture. Then the blow torch had been ignited, and for a moment, Abigail had expected the flame to be used directly on her skin, but instead the Russian took his time heating up the knife.
Abigail struggled to contain her emotions. She felt anger and humiliation at their capture, but no matter how far she shoved her fear down, it was still there and she began to fight against the restraining ropes as Dulov put the blow torch down and he brought the white-hot blade down towards Abigail's left thigh. The girl lost sight of the blade but then she felt the heat approaching her thigh and then . . . she screamed and screamed. Time passed so slowly before it all became too much, and Abigail passed out as the knife touched her thigh for the sixth time.
That was when another unwelcome face appeared in the barracks.
"Hello, François," Dulov said as he stepped back from the passed-out Abigail, a little over fifteen minutes after starting the interrogation.
The French mercenary, François Boucher – or Sauvage as he was better known – studied the scene before him and a wicked grin spread across his face.
That same time...
Modibo Keita International Airport
18:28 GMT+2 (16:28 GMT June 25th)
THE PHOENIX
Dr Rodney Staite was beyond confused as he climbed the stairs leading up to the giant Boeing 777 which sat basking in the radiant sunshine.
The man was, however, incredibly pleased to find himself entering a much cooler atmosphere as he stepped aboard the jet where a young boy heaved the access door closed behind him. The boy grinned up at the bewildered man.
"Iain Millar, Dr Staite. Please come this way."
Rodney found himself being led aft through an obvious security door and along a passageway. He passed several first-class seats, two of which appeared to be occupied by sleeping youngsters despite it only being four o'clock in the afternoon.
"They're on duty later tonight," Iain explained cryptically as they passed on by.
Rodney followed the boy through a doorway into a large open space, pleasantly lit and occupied by a large circular couch and a dining table with matching chairs. Two youths were sparring in the centre of the circular area – Rodney was sure that they were trying to kill one another – and three girls sat talking. Rodney audibly sighed with relief as he saw his wife enter the space from further aft. Jennifer Staite grinned happily as she hugged her husband.
"Jen, thank goodness! Should those two be . . . are they trying to kill each other?"
"Oh, that's just Marc and Ariana – they're training, nothing more."
"Hi, Daddy!" a pair of voices piped up.
Rodney smiled as he looked down at his two daughters who both hugged him tightly. After a few moments, Rodney looked back up at his wife.
"What's going on, Jen?" he asked pointedly.
Jen called over to Marc and Ariana, then to Naomi, Becky, and Annabelle.
"I need the space, look lively!"
All five youngsters vanished.
"Marty, seal us up," Jen said into her comms and the doors at each end of the space locked – the hand pad beside each door changing from green to red.
Lin and Xiāngxìn pulled a still bewildered Rodney over to the couch and sat him down.
Axis of Evil
Deadlight Facility
18:35 GMT+2 (16:35 GMT June 25th)
Joshua & Eva
Joshua did his utmost not to trample the fallen Eva as he and the man fought to the death.
The man was hurt, but he still had plenty of fight left in him, so it was really down to skill. Joshua was nothing like Chloe or Mindy; he knew that he was fallible and that his skills only went so far. The young man was as far from being arrogant as it was possible to be. The morale boost from his father – that meeting still kind of freaked him out a bit – had given him the psychological edge to deal with what was coming. He knew that Eva needed help, so he dug deep for every bit of strength and stamina which he possessed, and he laid into his opponent, ignoring the strikes pummelling his own body. Only after another few minutes of fighting did the French mercenary make a critical mistake. Joshua managed to get his opponent into a choke hold and no matter what his opponent did as the man thrashed around, Joshua hung on, restricting the flow of blood and oxygen to the man's brain. The man was slowly suffocated, and his brain was starving for blood and oxygen. The thrashing became frenzied as the man knew that he was about to die, before then getting weaker as the man suffocated. Joshua cared less for the man's wellbeing, gripping vice-like until all movement ceased and then hanging on for just a few seconds longer to make sure.
Joshua released the lifeless corpse and he ran over to Eva, just as he heard feet running down the nearby tunnel.
Modibo Keita International Airport
18:38 GMT+2 (16:38 GMT June 25th)
THE PHOENIX
Rodney frowned as his two daughters sat down on either side of him while his wife paced the carpet as she spoke.
"We need your expertise, Rodney."
Rodney was at a total loss.
"Expertise?"
"Your expertise in nuclear physics."
That was not the answer he had expected.
"Nuclear physics?"
"The threat we face is nuclear, as in..."
"Nuclear," Lin cut in.
"Weapons," Xiāngxìn finished.
Rodney looked stunned as he was handed a card file folder containing everything known about the looming Axis of Evil threat. Rodney flicked through the pages detailing the items of nuclear material recovered and the sections of the nuclear device. After twenty minutes, Rodney looked up at his wife.
"This for real?" he asked.
"We didn't just fly you halfway around the globe for a joke," Jennifer pointed out.
"This device, it's a joke!" Rodney declared. "Nobody builds nukes like this anymore – except maybe for North Korea. Look, I built a better device at home when I was twelve."
"They let you build nuclear devices in Canada?" Jennifer asked.
"No, but that's not the issue here."
"We think we may have found the factory where the nukes are manufactured, but we need you to be able to tell us if it is all real, or just a bluff," Jennifer explained.
Rodney looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Desert Base
18:42 GMT+2 (16:42 GMT June 25th)
François Boucher was grinning as his subjects were prepared.
"So, you pick on children?" Scarlett demanded as she, Lucy, Abby, and Dakota were forcibly stripped.
Lucy and Abby were already standing naked in the barracks, their wrists secured behind their backs with plastic ties. It was a new experience for Abby; she rarely ventured out into the field and she was scared. Lucy stood beside Abby, doing her best to keep the tech geek's spirits up, despite the open humiliation.
"I did not invite you here, yet you came," Dulov responded evenly. "Children brought into a war as soldiers are fair game. But I'll make it easier on you all – it just needs one of you to tell me what you know and why you are in Mali. I will release you all, you have my word."
"Right, Dawson," François grinned. "It is time for you to prove your loyalty – pick one for me to fuck."
Amber was loitering in the back of the barracks where she hoped that no one would pay her the slightest interest. Hearing her name had made her jump but then when she had heard the demand, she had cringed. Slowly, she walked down the barracks before she stopped beside the passed-out Abigail.
"You pick someone, bitch," François suggested, "or I stick my raging cock up your tight little twat, right the fuck now."
Amber paled as she turned to face her former friends. As her eyes moved from face to face, she was horrified about the choice she was being forced to make. She had to decide which of the four naked girls standing before her was about to be fucked by the giant French mercenary. Things had gone too far, and Amber knew it, but how was she to fix things without putting herself at risk. Then she saw Lucy look directly at her. The veteran Predator tipped her head, almost imperceptibly, to her right, indicating Dakota. Amber realised that Lucy had figured things out and was helping her to make the impossible choice. Amber hated herself as she picked Dakota out of the naked line up and the girl was summarily jerked out of the line.
Dakota grimaced as she was stood before everyone, the very focus of attention. She had figured that Amber might pick Abby or Scarlett. Picking her was shrewd, Dakota figured. Amber knew that Dakota was no virgin. Amber also knew that Dakota had already been 'raped' as a Predator for educational purposes, over a year previously. Not that any of that actually helped Dakota any; she knew what was coming – no pun intended as her bindings were cut and a soldier grabbed hold of her arms and folded her down over a large wooden table which had been there in the barracks for decades. Then she began to shake as fear and humiliation fought its way through her training and she began to sob.
François loved every minute of the display; he liked his victims to show fear. Without hesitation, as he stood behind Dakota, François released the belt on his combat trousers, letting them fall down around his knees. Then went his boxer shorts, releasing his raging erection. Dakota screamed as she was penetrated very roughly and then she sobbed quietly as she was brutally fucked by the man. She felt her body reacting to the thrusting cock between her legs and she willed herself not to respond to the sensations which told her that her cunt was enjoying the action. Then the man came inside her, and she sobbed even more. However, Dakota was not beaten – not by a long shot. As François withdrew from his conquest, Dakota turned her head to look at her rapist and she forced a grin.
"That the best you've got?" Dakota spat derisively. "Barely felt like there was anything inside me."
Despite the seriousness of the situation and the naked humiliation, Abby found herself giggling. Scarlett laughed, as did Lucy. Patrick grinned his support for Dakota as François coloured with embarrassment for a moment. The mercenary threw a nasty look at the Russian soldiers who had smirked. Then the bastard grabbed Dakota by her hair, and he slammed her face down into the tabletop. Dakota screamed as her head struck the tabletop and her legs buckled for a moment as she fought to remain conscious. Then, as her head was pulled back up, she forced a smile, despite the stream of bright red blood which ran down the left side of her face, originating at a nasty bruise and cut on her forehead. François was raging as he threw the girl to the ground where she rolled into the bare legs of Lucy.
François yanked up his boxers and trousers before he pushed the naked girls out of his way, and he stormed out of the barracks.
Axis of Evil
Deadlight Facility
18:48 GMT+2 (16:48 GMT June 25th)
Joshua & Eva
Joshua grabbed a pistol out of the holster of the closest guard, and he raised the weapon just as four people emerged from the tunnel to the left.
Joshua squeezed the trigger as the first head appeared, but he swiftly moved the muzzle as he saw who his target was. The errant bullet clanged against a steel conduit and then pinged off down the tunnel.
"What the fuck!?" Natalie exclaimed as she glared at Joshua.
"Sorry, Nats – I never expected to see you all here," Joshua grinned. "No harm, no foul."
"That was cool!" Tim laughed as he enjoyed Natalie's annoyance.
"Can it, Timmy!" Natalie responded.
"Okay, let's focus," Nicky grinned. "Who is that?"
"Eva?" Tim asked as he knelt down beside the girl.
"She was hurt in the fight," Joshua explained as he joined Tim beside Eva.
"Ow," Eva grimaced as she sat up and looked at Tim. "Tim?"
"Take it slowly, Eva – you've been hurt," Tim told the girl as he helped his friend to her feet.
"I've had worse, and we have work to do," Eva responded as she steadied herself with Joshua's help.
"Let's move," Jason commented as he scanned the tunnels. "We are going to have company before too long.
The now six-strong group moved off down the tunnels, each of them armed, two of them barefoot.
Desert Base
21:18 GMT+2 (19:18 GMT June 25th)
The interrogations had finally ended, and everyone was grouped outside on the darkened parade ground.
Those naked were told to dress and then food was issued, along with a small amount of water while the bindings were removed. Everyone was ravenous after the day of hell and the water was a literal lifesaver. However, the sun had already taken its toll, and several had suffered sunstroke from the extended exposure to the blazing desert sun. As for the night's sleeping arrangements, comfort had not been considered. The camp beds had been thrown to the back of the barracks and the ten female captives were forced to sleep on the bare stone slabs which formed the floor. As for the four male captives, they were moved up to the former officer's quarters on the first floor. Armed guards ensured that everybody behaved properly. Despite their humiliating surrender, word had gone around that no one was to make any outward attempt at making an escape. They all knew that Mindy would have a plan to rescue them and doing something unexpected would more than likely fuck things up.
Not that everybody went to bed like meek farm animals. . .
Three kilometres east of the
Axis of Evil Deadlight Facility
21:58 GMT+2 (19:58 GMT June 25th)
Joshua & Eva with Team Bourne
and Strike Team Bravo
Eva blinked as her eyes adjusted to the glare from the bright arc lights which lit up the facility under the dark desert sky.
The loading of the train was still underway, and would be for some hours yet, she figured, as they crept out under the lights, swiftly moving into the shadows before vanishing inside another eight-storey building all but identical to the one which they had just left. Once inside, Jason guided the group up two levels before he waved them all into an empty room which had once been a laboratory. Then he pulled out a handheld radio and punched a decryption code into the keypad before he placed the device on a laboratory bench, then pressed a key to put the device on speaker.
"Foxtrot Six, this is Tango Six," Jason said.
"About bloody time!" came a grouchy voice which Joshua instantly recognised. "You found the little shit?"
"Love you too!" Joshua called out.
"I'm here too!" Eva added.
"Are you both in one piece?" Mindy asked in a concerned tone.
"Yes," Joshua replied. "Nox got banged up a bit, but we're good."
"Sierra Alpha is not doing well," Mindy went on. "But they are all alive."
"Good," Joshua replied.
"Okay, Spectre, go ahead."
"Those nukes – well, they're fake," Jason began.
"They're real; I can assure you of that," Mindy countered.
"Okay, wrong choice of words. Yes, they are real, but they are a distraction from the real nukes," Jason persisted. "I've been trying to track down a source for your nukes ever since you notified the Agency. I've got hard evidence showing that those, admittedly well made, nuclear weapons are not the real deal. Yes, they are fully functional, but they use old technology and have been deployed in a laughable fashion . . . easily detectable. They were meant to be intercepted. The CIA, SIS, and the rest, they were supposed to think that they had cracked something big and that they were a dozen steps ahead of the perpetrators of nuclear Armageddon."
"The truth," Nicky went on," is that we've all been taken for a ride – this place, it was where the distraction and the real devices were manufactured. While the distraction devices were bad, the devices that they were covering for are worse . . . in every way."
"How is that possible?" Dave asked from far away. "A nuke is a nuke."
"Yes, but those devices you know about were physically large – about eight centimetres wide by 30 in diameter. Relatively easy to detect and a bastard to move. They are city killers, around 150 kilotons – while those they built here, for their operation, . . . they are more like one kiloton."
"Isn't that better?" Joshua asked in a confused tone.
"Not when they fit inside the average large attaché case. They made a lot of devices – why risk one large device when you could easily infiltrate a dozen into a city? We know exactly how many they made – we just don't know where they went," Jason finished.
"That's a problem," Mindy admitted.
"You going to quit on us?" Jason demanded.
"Not while she has air in her lungs, she won't," Dave stated. "She's never quit a thing in her life."
"Well, there was that one thing," Stephanie's voice chimed in over the radio.
"And the time she...," Joshua added.
"Oh, and there was that time...," Dave threw in.
"You bastards finished?" Mindy growled as everybody laughed.
Eight kilometres
west of Desert Base
22:19 GMT+2 (20:19 GMT June 25th)
Sierra Bravo
The team were in a desert wadi, people and vehicles hidden out of sight.
A few were out on patrol, but most were sleeping, ready for the morning. Mindy, Dave, Stephanie, and Megan were gathered together, sitting on jerry cans in their makeshift camp. They were listening into the radio link via earpieces and chipping in as required. There was silence for several moments and Megan frowned as she studied Mindy's expression.
"A problem?" Joshua asked over the encrypted radio link voicing Megan's own thoughts.
Mindy was troubled and it was another few moments before she spoke again, looking up at Dave as she did so.
"I began all this with just a single city to protect. Then I expanded into Scotland, taking in Los Angeles, Vancouver, and Paris. . . but now, it seems, I am responsible for protecting the entire goddamn world!"
"You're Hit Girl," Megan stated. "For the record, you can take on the world."
Mindy grinned broadly at the praise, her ego blossoming.
"With our help, of course," Stephanie threw in and Dave chuckled as Mindy's ego rapidly deflated.
"If I need to take Fusion nuclear, then I damn well will!"
"You go girl!" Joshua responded from many kilometres away. "Anyhow, Hit Bitch, how come Spectre is here and he knows how to get in contact with your purpleness? I smell a purple rat, all the way out here!"
Stephanie was sure that Mindy blushed, but then Mindy grinned mischievously.
"Well, your little mishap, plus the distraction of Sierra Alpha, allowed Sierra Tango to slip into the facility. I personally called them to let them know that you and Nox were in trouble."
"You planned the whole bloody thing, you evil purple...!"
Megan and Stephanie grinned as Joshua ranted on for a few moments more. Mindy just rolled her eyes as she listened to the ranting before Joshua ran out of steam.
"You finished?" she asked.
"Next time we meet, I will make you sorry," Joshua responded.
"I will look forward to it," Mindy grinned.
"How are they?" Joshua asked, turning the conversation in a different direction.
"Not good," Dave said. "We've seen video of the fort and . . . and Sierra Alpha is suffering."
"Did you see...?" Joshua ventured.
"She is fine," Megan confirmed, wincing – she had seen the fort images and the strung-up Chloe.
"What next?" Joshua asked.
Mindy looked around at her family and friends, then she smiled grimly.
"Let's get some sleep – we attack at dawn!"
The following day...
Monday, June 26th
Mali
04:40 GMT+2 (02:40 GMT June 26th)
Everyone was awake, on the move, and combat ready.
People were about to die – only, not a one would be a friendly; at least that what was what Hit Girl hoped. All were fully quipped with body armour and every weapon which they might need to take down the enemy and rescue their kin. They were not the only ones ready for action. Across the country, at Modibo Keita International Airport, THE PHOENIX was ready for action. The command centre was fully manned, and everyone was armed in case of attack. Aft, Jennifer was preparing her medical facility for the wounded which she knew would be coming. Back in the desert, Rampart and Obsidian were sitting on the ground, ten kilometres to the north of the old fort. The helicopter was as ready as the ancient piece of flying junk could be, as was her crew.
There were also others awake and ready, all awaiting their time to go into action.
The Fort
05:02 GMT+2 (03:02 GMT June 26th)
It was still cold and the men on duty, patrolling around the fort, were bored.
The excitement of the previous day was waning, and the men were looking forward to seeing some more naked girls. They were also looking forward to seeing the Frenchman breaking some bones. Duty in the desert was dull at the best of times, so anything to break the relentless monotony was very welcome. There were sixteen men patrolling around the fort as an attack on the fort or an escape by the prisoners was expected during the nighttime hours. Some figured that any attack would fail as they had seen the enemy routed so effectively a little over a day before. That gave them a false sense of security which was to be their undoing.
Seventy yards to the south of the old abandoned fort, beyond the remnants of the outer wall, two Russian soldiers patrolled.
"Я ненавижу этот ранний утренний холод, Андреев." {I hate this early morning cold, Andreyev}
"Вещи нагреются, скоро, мой друг." {Things will warm up, soon, my friend.}
"Надеюсь, мы увидим еще немного киски!" {Hope we'll see some more pussy!}
Andreyev paused his walking as he realised that his friend, Grigory, had not responded. He turned to see that Grigory was no longer walking a few feet behind him. Andreyev turned back on the path he had just walked, searching for Grigory. Only, Grigory was not doing too well – indeed, the man was dead, his throat cut from ear to ear and his heart severed in two.
Just eight feet from where Andreyev stood, Grigory's body lay, blood soaking into the sands. Beside the corpse, was a killer. The killer was clad in desert camouflage and lightweight body armour. Her blond hair was covered in a tagelmust which covered her head and face. In her right hand, a vicious combat knife dripped blood as she rose, ready to strike for the second time that night. The killer sprang forward and struck Andreyev before the man realised that anyone was even there. The knife struck him in the heart as a hand covered his mouth. The weight of the attacker shoved Andreyev down to the sand and he struggled, but his heart had been severed, joining the left and right ventricles. The heart was tearing itself to pieces and oxygenated blood was no longer being circulated. Andreyev's struggles became feebler, despite the fact that he was pinned down by an eleven-year-old girl who then withdrew her blade from the man's heart, and cut open his neck, cutting deeply into the carotid artery and the windpipe. A final burst of air escaped from the man's lungs out of the severed windpipe.
"Target two is down," the killer reported without a moment's compassion for the two dead soldiers.
The killer then faded into the darkness, re-joining her companion who had also just made her own double kill.
Desert Base
05:22 GMT+2 (03:22 GMT June 26th)
Junior Lieutenant Vasily Dulov was shaken awake by his Sergeant.
"Внешние охранники не сообщают, сэр." {The outlying guards are not reporting in, sir.}
"Разбуди полковника. Мы под атакой." {Wake the colonel. We are under attack.}
Dulov threw back the blanket he had slept under and he reached for his pistol belt on a nearby chair before running from the room. He met François Boucher thundering down the stairs from where he had been keeping an eye on the four captured male prisoners.
"We are under attack, François," Dulov reported.
As Dulov and François emerged onto the parade ground, the sound of engines starting echoed around the fort as all four APCs started up. Very swiftly, the potent armoured vehicles raced out of the fort to take up concealed defensive positions covering the main gate. Soldiers ran to their defensive positions – what there were – and prepared to fight off the impending attack. Nobody seriously expected an attack to succeed as they had believed the attackers to have been thoroughly routed. They expected the attack to be half-hearted and performed by an exhausted and wounded enemy.
In truth, they were very, very wrong.
Fifteen thousand feet
above Desert Base
05:05 GMT+2 (03:05 GMT June 26th)
Reaper Two-Four
The General Atomics MQ-9A Reaper drone was cruising in a lazy doughnut at 150-knots, invisible to anyone on the ground.
Hanging on hardpoints attached to the wings was a full weapons load of two 500-Ib GBU-12 Paveway II laser-guided bombs and four Brimstone anti-armour missiles. The eleven-metre long unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) was able to loiter for up to fourteen hours on its twenty-metre wingspan and had been airborne for many hours to that point. The AN/DAS-1 MTS-B Multi-Spectral Targeting System mounted beneath the nose of the aircraft had clocked every movement on the ground and the operators, over eighteen-hundred-nautical miles to the north at RAF Waddington in England, had watched as warm targets had gone cold after being met by another warm target which had then gone on to make other warm targets, just as cold.
However, the hot diesel engines of the four BTR-70 armoured personnel carriers registered on the infra-red targeting system and the remote operator smiled as he targeted his four anti-armour missiles on the four dug-in APCs. They may have been semi-impervious to ground-launched missiles, but from missiles diving in at over 450 metres-per-second, there was no defence. The operator squeezed his trigger four times and the four missiles fired off as a salvo, angling downwards at supersonic speed, the millimetre wave radar of each missile locked onto one APC apiece.
In less than a minute, all four APCs were pierced by the tandem shaped charge which detonated inside the armoured citadel of each vehicle, shredding everything inside and turning the crews into barbecued mincemeat.
Desert Base
05:15 GMT+2 (03:15 GMT June 26th)
Sierra Echo
Rampart directed the helicopter in towards the fort just as four explosions lit up the early morning sky, briefly bringing daylight to the battlefield.
The pilot grinned happily as she realised that their greatest threats – the APCs – had been neutralised. That left everything open for Sierra Bravo to attack with helicopter support with a lot of the risk eliminated. Though the attackers on the ground only numbered twelve, the majority were attacking from two sides – from the west and from the south – which would target the damaged portion of wall, however, they had split into three sections – two teams of three, one team of four, and a team of two. The team of two – Leon and Songbird – had driven around to the east from where they would launch a sniper strike on anything that moved which was not a friendly.
As for the other teams, they each had their own missions.
05:15 GMT+2 (03:15 GMT June 26th)
Sierra Bravo One: Kick-Ass, Stripe & Intrepid
Sierra Bravo Two: Hit Girl, Psyche & La Terreaur
Sierra Bravo Three: Wildcat, Trojan, Termino & Rigour
On the ground, Kick-Ass, Stripe, and Intrepid closed on the fort from the west, cutting down the outlying sentries.
By the time the enemy had been alerted, they were just feet away from the southwest tower, close by the collapsed section of wall. Their job was to force a way into the fort with the assistance of Sierra Bravo Two. They knew that they had to be fast and decisive, or the prisoners may be executed before they got to them. Stripe and Intrepid had handled the killing of the sentries while Kick-Ass had kept watch. The very moment the APCs had gone up in flames, the team had jumped up, and run towards the main gate.
There, they joined up with Hit Girl and her team. Psyche and La Terreaur were already blooded, having taken down their allocated sentries, and they were very keen to kill again. As for Hit Girl, she just wanted to kill. As the two teams approached the piles of sandstone which had once been a wall, they came under fire from soldiers atop the southwest tower. As they did so, there came a sharp crack and large calibre rounds began to smack into the crenulations of the southwest tower, sending fragments of sandstone spinning in every direction. Several of the sharp pieces of stone scythed into soldiers, cutting several quite severely.
Elsewhere, upon the battlements, two grappling hooks soared into the air and then as they came down again, their plastic covered splines locked onto the crenelated defences high above. Thirty feet below Trojan and Termino braced the lines while Wildcat and Rigour raced upwards, both diving onto the battlements where several soldiers were looking out over the desert, searching for the attackers. None of them saw death leaping over the crenelated walls and advancing towards them. Wildcat struck first, her ko-katana slicing into the first soldier at the neck, sending an explosive blast of blood from the man's carotid artery into the face of his comrade. That distraction meant death as Rigour somersaulted off the crenelated wall and drove her own ko-katana into the man's back, severing his backbone.
As both corpses collapsed onto the wooden battlements, the two girls were joined by Termino and Trojan.
Twenty minutes earlier...
The Barracks
04:55 GMT+2 (02:55 GMT June 26th)
Chloe grimaced as she turned over, the pain from her injuries hurting her quite badly, and enough to make her scream out.
Amber was already awake – actually, she had not slept much as she was scared and worried about what was going to happen. She knew that at some stage the captives were going to be killed - the soldiers had said as much the previous night – so she knew that she had to do something but she had no idea what.
Olivia was in just as much pain as Chloe. The girl had been awoken by the running feet of the soldiers as they had run to face the impending attack. Then, as soon as the four APCs had exploded, everyone was awake. Jake could see that the soldiers were very jittery, and he was worried about his friends and especially for Cassie. Cassie was not in a good way; she had not slept well, and she was in a lot of pain. However, it was immediately obvious to everybody that the attack to rescue them was underway. Patrick was very aware of the stakes ahead and he prepared himself for the moment when they must attack.
After the APCs had exploded and the sound of the explosions had died down, there came the sound of gunfire and the sounds of people dying.
The Parade Ground
05:18 GMT+2 (03:18 GMT June 26th)
Scrambling over the remains of the wall and the watchtower, Hit Girl took down the very first shape she saw, before the shape could raise the alarm.
The soldier never saw the dark shape coming out of the darkness, but he died swiftly and bloodily. The next dark shape tasted Hit Girl's Katana as she waded in, full of hate for what she had witnessed over the Reaper drone's cameras the previous day. Psyche and La Terreaur scrambled over the collapsed stone behind Hit Girl.
"Stop playing with your food, Hit Girl!" Psyche exclaimed as she strode past in search of someone to kill while Hit Girl put her latest conquest out of his misery.
La Terreaur ignored her friend as she caught sight of François Boucher on the parade ground below her. She wanted that bastard – he was a stain on her country, and he had to die. Psyche was very aware of how her friend felt about that bastard and they had talked about how they might take him down, together. The man was a giant, hence the decision to take him down as a team.
Hit Girl had been a little bit dubious, but she had allowed the pair to enjoy the pleasure of killing the bastard.
The Barracks
The young girl was scared out of her wits as she watched the prisoners being moved.
At eleven-years-old, the sounds of battle had her shaking bodily and she had hidden the very moment she had heard the quadruple explosions as the APCs had exploded. She had no idea what was going on – she just heard noise and saw dead bodies lying all over the place. The trauma of watching adults and children – some quote near her own age – being tortured had kept her awake that night, and she was very tired. Only the adrenalin in her veins was keeping her awake. She did not want to be there, but her many months of captivity as a slave to the Russian colonel had dulled her need to escape.
However, a spark inside of her body told her that she could trust the people who were attacking the fort.
The Parade Ground
Colonel Dimitri Petrovich Priabin was not pleased.
His aces had been taken away – the APCs – but he had something else up his sleeve. That something would not arrive for another forty minutes, but he knew that it would shock the hell out of the attackers. However, the vindictive man grinned as he watched the first of the female prisoners as they were brought out of the barracks and as he witnessed two soldiers being killed on the battlements, just a short distance away, he decided to up the ante for everyone as he gave the fateful order.
"Kill them!" the Colonel bellowed to three of his men who swiftly brought up their assault rifles.
Olivia was at the front of the group and she knew that she was all but dead, as was Abigail who stood beside her, but then a shape appeared from the direction of the former magazine, an AKS-74U carbine to her shoulder, spitting fire which cut down the three soldiers, however, not before one of the men got off a short burst from his own carbine.
..._...
The bullets flew straight and true, shredding through flesh.
The first bullet entered on the right side, taking out the fifth rib and passing through the right lung before flattening itself against the sixth rib just inches from the backbone. The second bullet entered the right shoulder, passing through muscle and taking out the second rib before telescoping on contact with the right scapula. The third bullet took out the seventh rib on the left side, before it exited cleanly out the back. The fourth bullet entered the left pelvic region, passing through the left ilium and sending bone fragments deep into the left thigh. The body was already falling to the ground as the fifth bullet dug deep into the right leg, just above the knee, shattering the right femur, the bullet passing cleanly though. The violence of that penultimate bullet strike caused the body to spin around and fall quicker, allowing the sixth bullet to execute the coup de grace.
That sixth bullet tore down the left side of the head, and it jerked the entire body backwards and caused the body to crash to the ground in a cloud of blood, the carbine then clattered to the ground beside the shattered body.