Monday, June 26th, 2017

The Sahara Desert
Northern Mali

12:01 GMT+2 (10:01 GMT June 26th)

The desert heat was beyond sweltering and the shimmering mirages were playing havoc with everyone.

The train which they were following glistened in the sun and added its own reflections to the shimmering heatwaves. The 190-tonne six-axle locomotives were each almost twenty-three metres long and almost five metres in height. Each was driven by a monstrous sixteen-cylinder diesel engine which produced over four thousand horsepower. The men on the train may not have been aware of it, but they were being observed by over a dozen people from four different directions.

Due to the geographical makeup of the desert, the train bed on which the track ran had been laid followed a tortuous route through the sand dunes and the towering sandstone cliffs which meant that although the train had travelled 120-kilometres in the space of four hours, it had actually only covered about sixty kilometres as the proverbial crow flew from the desert facility. It still had over eight hundred kilometres to go before it reached the border with Mauritania. That issue and the fact that the train's mean speed of advance was only about thirty kilometres per hour meant that planning the assault was to be child's play.

Quite literally.

12:01 GMT+2 (10:01 GMT June 26th)

The Strike Teams

The primary planning for the attack was in the hands of Psyche, Piranha, Arbiter, Foxtail, Rampart, and Stripe.

They all had the experience for planning such a mobile attack and Hit Girl stood back and watched from a distance as the plans came together. It had taken some time, but the first draft of the plan was ready. As the senior members of the joint vigilante organisations sat on the sand in preparation for the briefing, Psyche and Rampart stepped forward.

"We strike at dusk – nineteen thirty hours," Rampart began. "The setting sun will be directly in the drivers' vision and it will get in the way of the helicopter pilots as well. Unfortunately, we do not have air support beyond the Reaper which we have been promised will be on station from eighteen hundred hours, fully armed with eight Brimstone missiles. Now, we need to be careful not to damage the freight cars as they may be carrying hazardous materials which could include nuclear material. We anticipate that Priabin will have substantial land forces to assist him as darkness approaches. He knows that we would not attack during daylight and he would see dusk as a bad time. Jackal and Nox have reported a large force of vehicles departing the fort in the past hour and heading along the tracks – that force consists of a dozen off-road vehicles as well as about forty men. We do know that Priabin also has a dozen soldiers aboard the locomotives and maybe more concealed in freight cars – most of which are air-conditioned. The Hinds are probably carrying more troops as well. So far, we cannot rule out interference from the Malian military or other military assets. Psyche?"

Psyche stepped forward to continue the briefing.

"Hit Girl will be in overall command of the four LSVs which will be used to strike at the ground forces. An airdrop will be made at fifteen hundred hours with additional ammunition for the machineguns. Once the ground forces are neutralised or diverted, with the support of the RAF Reaper, Kick-Ass will move in with his truck and put eight vigilantes aboard the rear locomotive. That team will take down the troops aboard and capture both locomotives, preferably keeping the drivers alive if possible. That boarding operation will be led by myself."

Then it was Foxtail's turn.

"Once the locomotives have been stopped, we will then have a limited window to do a search – we will have Geiger counters to assist in that task, but we may not have enough time for a full search considering how many railcars there are. The best we can do is keep the train in situ and protected until dawn when reinforcements arrive. Those reinforcements will consist of elements belonging to 16 Air Assault Brigade. The Pathfinder Platoon will make a HALO jump to mark a landing zone for forty men of 3rd Battalion, Parachute Regiment. They will come down two kilometres south of the expected location for where the train should stop – the pathfinders will adjust as needed for the main 3 PARA force. Once the train is passed into 3 PARA hands, we depart and make for the main facility."

Next, it was Stripe's turn to run through the allocation of human resources.

"The team boarding the train, under the command of Psyche, will be Trojan, Wildcat, Intrepid, La Terreaur, Termino, and Rigour – they will be under callsign: Tango One Alpha. Kick-Ass will be driving the truck – callsign: Tango One Bravo – with Rage. The four LSVs will be under the callsign Tango Two. Tango Two Alpha will be manned by Hit Girl and Stripe. Tango Two Bravo will be manned by Shadow and Piranha. Tango Two Charlie will be manned by La Coccinelle and Splinter. Tango Two Delta will be manned by Rampart and Obsidian. Remaining at callsign Tango Base will be Astute in command with Hal, Arbiter, and Pyrrha. We are low on manpower due to those injured and many going out will not be anywhere near one hundred per cent, but we have no choice. Also out there, will be callsign Tango Three, our sniper team: Leon and Songbird."

"Well?" Piranha asked, as she focussed her eyes on Hit Girl.

Hit Girl looked over at Kick-Ass and both then nodded approvingly at the planning team.

An hour later...

13:01 GMT+2 (11:01 GMT June 26th)

Psyche and Foxtail sat on the sand eating a cold lunch consisting of British ration packs – the teams had discarded the American packs a few days previously as being deemed a cruel and unusual punishment.

Psyche was worried for her friend as she had seen some of the bruising, but Foxtail had been very tight-lipped about what she had actually endured. Still, Psyche sensed that her friend needed her support. As for Foxtail, she did need support from Psyche. She knew that her face was a mess, as was the rest of her body, only she could not talk about the interrogation and the pain, although she knew that she should, and who better than Psyche. However, she had a mission to control, so there was no time to worry about a few painful bruises.

Together, they enjoyed their chicken curry washed down by a carton of fruit juice each. Both were extremely fed up with the desert and the continued hardships, but they both knew what was at stake. Planning the next mission had proved to be a valuable distraction for Foxtail, allowing her to file away the constant pain of her bruises, not to mention the mental anguish which the interrogation had brought on.

Nevertheless, she would give everything she had to the mission.

..._...

One benefit of not having to attack for several hours meant that there was down-time available for everyone.

For most, that allowed them to wash, change their underwear and socks, and to get some much-needed rest. Some took things to the extreme, as Hit Girl soon found out when she heard some girly giggling from behind her LSV. As she crept across the sand, she took a moment to glance underneath the vehicle to find two people on the far side, both of whom were sitting in the sand, one of whom was a boy – that was not hard for Hit Girl to identify but what was sticking out of the boy was.

"Wildcat!" she hissed as she stepped around the back of the LSV.

There was a momentary squeal – from Wildcat – as she covered up her bare breasts and a yelp – from Trojan – as he covered up his exposed groin.

"Changing your bra, Wildcat?" Hit Girl queried.

"Yeah – we kinda got side-tracked," Wildcat admitted coyly as she pulled on her sports bra.

"I've never been jerked off in a desert before," an embarrassed Trojan mumbled as he pulled up his trousers.

Hit Girl laughed.

"Don't mind me," she commented as she walked off.

A short while later...

13:36 GMT+2 (11:36 GMT June 26th)

Mindy & Chloe

The LSV crested a sand dune before coming down the other side at speed and then coasting across the sand before sliding to a halt.

Mindy turned off the engine and then turned to Chloe who sat in the front passenger seat. The pair of them had come out into the sand dunes, about a kilometre to the north of their camp, to talk. Mindy was very worried about her best friend. It had been blatantly obvious that Chloe was suffering from the pain of her injuries. Mindy had already seen the pink and red which had been the front of Chloe's body, but she knew that some soothing cream was helping with that, as well as plenty of water to combat the dehydration. Chloe, however, was suffering more from the separation from Joshua, and Mindy had figured that out very quickly. Mindy knew Chloe inside and out. Mindy knew what made Chloe tick. Mindy knew everything about the sixteen-year-old young woman and Chloe knew it.

Finally, Chloe was able to let out our sorrows. She trusted Mindy like no other – probably even more than she trusted Joshua. Mindy had always been there for Chloe, especially after Chloe's mother had been killed the previous year. They had both been through hell together, more than once, and somehow made it out the other side in vaguely one piece. Chloe sobbed and sobbed as Mindy held her tightly. Mindy hated doing it – such emotion freaked her out – but she knew that Chloe needed the human contact. After twenty minutes, Chloe felt much better and she pulled away from Mindy, smiling.

"Thank you, Mindy, I know how much you hate things like that."

Mindy grinned.

"It was a little uncomfortable," she admitted. "But did it help?"

"Yes, it did," Chloe replied. "It was hell, Mindy; I don't mind telling you that. I suppose I should think myself lucky that they didn't have a cesspit."

Mindy grimaced, knowing exactly what she meant.

That same time...

13:47 GMT+2 (11:47 GMT June 26th)

A Russian Patrol

The three-man patrol trudged through the soft desert sand and they had been for three hours.

In a few minutes, they would turn around and head back to a rendezvous point where they could rest and get a hot meal. They had been sent out to patrol the sand dunes, but they had not expected to find anyone among the inhospitable desert sands. However, as they came around a dune, they spied vehicle tracks and they braced up, their AK-12 assault rifles swinging up from where they pointed to the ground at their sides. Then they caught sight of two females dressed in desert battledress and body armour, standing just a few feet away from them. The Russians instantly recognised the American Multicam camouflage scheme, and for a moment, they considered that they may have come across two US Army soldiers. However, the dark look of sheer malevolence which appeared on the face of the taller of the two actually gave the three soldiers pause as without warning and before any of them could open fire, they were attacked by both females.

The Russian soldiers were encumbered with webbing and pouches across their chests and around their waist, not to mention the AK-12 assault rifles which were totally useless for such close quarters fighting. The thought that three men could easily take down two women soon vanished as all three men were viciously struck, seemingly from all sides, by the pair who fought like Valkyries possessed by the devil. The assault rifles were swiftly discarded, and each drew their Shmel bayonet, an 11.4-inch weapon with a 6.4-inch blade. In response, their opponents each drew dangerous blades – the taller woman produced a wicked-looking Tantō with an eight-inch blade while the shorter of the pair produced a fairly standard, but evil-looking, Ka-Bar knife with a seven-inch blade. Blades clashed as the two women moved swiftly, dancing across the sand, making advantageous use of their lighter weight and quicker movements. The larger men, encumbered as they were, moved slower and had to make up for it by putting their strength and longer reach to use. However, they swiftly realised that they were not fighting mere soldiers, no, they were fighting two women who were both obviously highly skilled in close quarters combat, and who could apparently fight as a team without any outward form of communication.

The two women were also fighting to the death: their blades coming perilously close to the soldiers' necks. The sounds of metal striking metal echoed around the sand dunes underneath the waning afternoon soon. There was no hesitation as the women lunged and struck in calculated moves which quickly drew blood within the first few minutes of fighting, however, one soldier soon made a mistake as he tried to punch the taller woman in the side but instead found himself being used like a climbing frame as the woman flew into the air, using his fist as a pivot. She landed softly and slashed at the man's chest above his webbing, the razor-sharp blade slicing through cloth and through to the skin. The large man grunted with the pain, but he continued to fight, knowing that if he did not, he would die. He dropped to the sand and the woman fell to the ground, landing softly, an evil grin forming on her face as she ran at the man and struck with her left boot. The sole of the lightweight desert boot struck the man's upper chest, above the row of pouches, and he almost fell back at the surprisingly heavy strike from such a seemingly lightweight woman. As the senior soldier of the patrol, he was quick to realise that he and his men were starting to struggle in the intense heat and the high humidity while the smaller women had less bulk to carry. He knew that they had to end the fight quickly or they would all collapse with heat exhaustion.

However, heat exhaustion was not going to be a problem for the junior member of the patrol – he had more immediate issues to contend with as he fought the shorter of the two women. Nothing that the man did brought him any closer to killing the woman who had attacked them. She scared him as she showed no fear, just intense malice, the eyes dark and seemingly uncaring as they tracked his every move. He was feeling the first vestiges of fear as he realised that he was seriously outmatched. He did not want to die in the desert at the hands of some mad woman. But a growing fear spreading through his mind knew that he was going to die. Then he stumbled and fell to his knees. He saw the shadow in the sand and as he looked upwards, he saw death coming at him. The soulless woman plunged her Ka-Bar hilt-deep into his neck, ripping open his windpipe and explosively releasing copious amounts of hot blood which the soldier could feel as it soaked into his battledress and splattered down his front. He felt his strength ebb and then as the blade was ripped out the side of his neck, he felt nothing but he could see the woman pass from sight as the azure blue sky filled his view and he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Then his view began to cloud as darkness edged in from all sides and he felt fear like he had never felt before. He feared death, but there was preventing the inevitable as his heart struggled against the impossible blood loss and then finally stopped.

Then the darkness became complete and he saw nothing more.

..._...

The fight was by no means over as the two soldiers fought the demons, very keen not to end up like their colleague who lay bleeding out upon the sand.

Both soldiers realised that they had to put some distance between them and the women, if they were to have any chance to survive the disastrous encounter. Maybe they could then pull their pistols and shoot the women, but no, the women never let them move more than a few feet away. However, the animalistic instinct to survive gave the two soldiers a boost as they fought against . . . what? Neither knew who they were fighting – they were not mere soldiers, that was for certain. Neither of the women had spoken a word, so it was only assumed that they might be American. Neither man had ever witnessed such crazed individuals and they both realised that their training was severely lacking, no matter how well-trained they had thought themselves to be just a few minutes earlier. One man was able to gain a distance advantage and he drew his pistol, an MP-443 Grach which was the standard Russian Army sidearm, snapping off a badly aimed shot which missed the woman advancing on him, extreme anger in her green eyes which somehow appeared dark and bottomless. Apart from the overt anger, there was no other emotion visible, and the man snapped off another round in fear, even as the weapon was slapped out of his hand and he began to beg for his life. The soldier saw another emotion beside the anger, only he began to shake with fear as he saw happiness and pleasure overtake the anger. He tried to scramble away from the unearthly creature who wanted to take his life. But as he turned his back on the creature to escape, he felt a sharp pain in his back and then he found it difficult to breath. He began to choke, and blood spewed up, scaring him, and he realised that he was dying. Then came a menacing hiss in his right ear.

"Неправильное место, неправильное время, товарищ.!"

It was the very last thing he would ever hear but hearing his own mother tongue felt surprisingly soothing to the man as he died.

Mindy & Chloe

As Mindy regained her feet, wiping her Tantō off on the dead man's uniform, she turned to see Chloe putting the finishing touches to the man she was fighting.

Mindy could see that Chloe was very angry and very keen to make someone else, other than herself, suffer. It was, as Mindy had advised her dying soldier, a classic case of 'wrong place, wrong time'! Mindy had considered intervening to assist Chloe, but then she figured that Chloe probably needed the outlet as a way to come to terms with her suffering at the hands of the Russian colonel. It was not often that Mindy had the opportunity to see her very own protégé in action and besides, Mindy enjoyed watching Chloe beat the shit out of someone almost twice her size. Chloe had an awesome technique learnt the hard way and she rarely lost a fight. As Mindy watched, Chloe's fists flew straight and true, even as she slashed at the soldier with her trusty Ka-Bar knife. The man never had much of a chance as he dodged and tried to avoid the punches which may not have felt like much to him, but his injuries were building up and before too long, he would go down – they always did.

The man was probably overheating, as Mindy's experienced eyes had detected a minor lack of coordination in the man's movements as the man had begun to fight for his very being. The man knew that he was on a slippery slope which would end at death's door – Mindy could see it etched on his face as Chloe slashed and punched. Then her blade caught the man in the right thigh, and he staggered as Chloe thrust again and again. Blood spattered across the sand and the soldier soon fell to his right knee before Chloe kicked him to the sand. The man reached for his pistol, yanking it from his holster, but before he could fire off a round, Chloe kicked the pistol out of his hand. With a demonic growl she pounced on the soldier and the blade descended, severing the carotid artery. Then the blade rose for a moment before it descended once again, driving downwards, past the top of the webbing and into the man's heart, severing it in two.

The man tried to scream out, but he couldn't as his life flowed out of him and across the sands.

Twenty minutes later...

14:30 GMT+2 (12:30 GMT June 26th)

The Strike Teams

Dave watched as the LSV pulled up and he saw Chloe and Mindy climb out.

"You girls have fun?" he asked, eyeing some fresh bruises.

"We met some guys, but they weren't very nice," Chloe commented.

"We kicked-ass!" Mindy chuckled.

Dave chuckled, knowing that whatever had happened while the two girls had been out in the desert had given Chloe a new lease of life. Mindy reached up and she gave Dave a kiss on the lips before she headed towards the rear of the camp to get some rest.

"They actually look quite cute," Chloe commented as they stood beside another LSV which was serving as a makeshift dormitory.

"As cute as a sleeping puff adder," Mindy corrected.

Stephanie was asleep on the sand, lying on her back. Beside her, lay Tommy, his right arm resting across Stephanie's stomach. That gave Mindy pause. Her conflicted mind conjured up various responses to what she was seeing. A part of her wanted to rip the boy apart for daring to touch her daughter in a manner which could be deemed as inappropriate, but the more normal part of her trusted both her daughter and Tommy Morgan. The boy knew what might happen to him should he dare to do anything inappropriate to Stephanie, however, both often caused multiple cuts and bruises due to their love of a rough and tumble lifestyle and the need to spar on a decidedly serious and dangerous level. Mindy was often conflicted where Stephanie was concerned, and it was a struggle to cope with how her mind reacted to her observations. Dave said it was love; which was probably perfectly true as that was an emotion – among many - which Mindy continually struggled with. Also sleeping with Stephanie was Jamie, who lay facing his sister. Then came Saoirse. Mindy winced at the sight of the normally beautiful face which was now marred by some quite severe bruising. For unknown reasons, Mindy saw Saoirse as a sudo-daughter, and often she felt overly protective of the teenager, even though the girl had a family of her own, and despite the fact that Saoirse had tried to kill Stephanie on three separate occasions. Mind you, Mindy reasoned, if she had killed everyone who had tried to kill her daughter, at some stage or another, then there would not be all that many people left in Fusion or Vengeance.

Mindy and Chloe both lay down on the sand beside the sleeping youngsters and very quickly the two tired friends fell asleep.

Some distance to the east...

14:50 GMT+2 (12:50 GMT June 26th)

The Deadlight Facility

It was very quiet.

"Is there anybody left?" Eva asked.

"Doesn't look like it," Jason replied. "They've bugged out."

"Why would they leave this place empty?" Tim asked.

"Probably because they've finished with the place, doofus!" Natalie responded sharply.

"Nats!" Nicky cautioned.

Natalie scowled, biting down a snarky response. The stress of the recent weeks was getting to her and Tim tended to be an easy target, although she usually did regret being nasty to the boy when she lost her temper as he did not always deserve her snarkiness.

"Still, it's an expensive facility to just abandon," Joshua stated.

"I agree," Jason reasoned. "Nats is correct, but I still wouldn't leave such a place as this unguarded."

The group were in the central building, four storeys up going through offices. A lot of paperwork remained which had been a surprise, as were the intact computer systems which still functioned. They had also discovered the main computer centre and Marty was busy trying to hack in with the assistance of the team.

"Okay!" Marty stated happily from the other side of the country. "I'm in and I'm starting to compress and copy their primary databases."

"We're going to fish about and see what else we can find," Joshua advised Marty. "We'll let you know if we find anything else of a computer disposition and collate paperwork and other intel for pickup once our queen finishes playing with her train."

Marty laughed as he signed off. Joshua and Tim went back to stuffing paperwork into several large boxes they had found while Nicky disconnected a handful of desktop computers to take away with them. Joshua focused on his tasks, so he was not thinking about Chloe, even though she was never forgotten. Eva could see Joshua's worry as he worked, and she hoped that he would be back with Chloe very soon. Whilst their time in the facility had dramatically improved, she still wanted to get away from the place.

There was something innately evil about the facility, but the girl could not put her finger on it.

Back in the desert...

16:30 GMT+2 (14:30 GMT June 26th)

The Strike Teams

Everyone was waking up.

Stephanie awoke to find Tommy's arm across her midriff, and she shoved it off with a casual smile as she stood up. She then scrambled across a sand dune to where she found Megan squatting on the ground, her trousers and underwear around her ankles, beside a two-foot wooden stake, driven into the sand, on which a roll of toilet paper sat.

"Mind if I join you?" Stephanie asked as she shoved down her own trousers and underwear and joined her aunt.

"Not at all," Megan grinned as she finished up, wiped, and pulled up her trousers.

Megan waited for Stephanie to finish before the two girls then headed back towards the camp and an early dinner.

..._...

"Hi, sport!" Dave called out to Stephanie as she came past. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks, Dad," Stephanie responded with a grin as she cleaned off her hands with a baby wipe from a pack Megan had grabbed.

A few minutes later, Mindy and Chloe returned from the sand dune which had been designated as the female latrine.

"Why do girls always go and wee together?" Jamie asked Tommy.

"Just another one of a million strange things girls do with no fathomable reason to it," Tommy responded with a sly glance at Stephanie and Megan who both scowled back.

"Come and get your food," Charlotte called out, from the other side of the camp.

Stephanie and Megan laughed as the two hungry boys swiftly vanished from sight.

That same time...

Modibo Keita International Airport

16:30 GMT+2 (14:30 GMT June 26th)

The Phoenix

Jeanne Benoit was exhausted after hours of surgery.

Finally, the girl they had been working on for all those hours was out of immediate danger. It would be many weeks, and probably months, before the girl was fully healed, but heal she should. Despite the hard work, Jeanne was very happy to know that the child would continue to grow and have a chance at a full and fruitful life. Without the state-of-the-art medical bay in the amazing aircraft, the girl would have not stood a chance at survival, but instead of dying, the youngster lay in a lower bunk outside the medical bay, in a drug-induced slumber while various IV bags hung from the deckhead above her bunk, the plastic tubes running down into her left arm and left ankle. A white sheet and a blanket covered the girl to keep her warm in the airconditioned aircraft.

Rachel was busy scrubbing down the medical bay, removing all traces of blood-soaked clothing and the blood itself. Several sealed bright yellow bags filled with medical waste would be stowed in the hold for later incineration. Rachel was assisted in her task by Anne-Marie and Danny who were eager to help where they could, and both enjoyed the work as they cleaned up the bloody mess.

As for Jennifer, she was just as exhausted as the other two women, but very pleased with the outcome of another life saved.

The Midships Seating
Seat 10F

"Is Becky annoying you?"

"No, I'm fine," Frieda stated.

"I'm Annabelle – you need anything?"

"No, Becky found me some clean clothes and showed me the shower. I've also eaten loads, thanks to the crew," the young girl admitted.

"Okay. Anything you need, just ask."

"Thanks."

"I'll leave you to rest," Becky said as she left Frieda on her own.

Frieda was still feeling greatly overwhelmed with everything. Only a short while before, she had been a slave for the Russian colonel. She had spent months living in that hellhole of a jungle. She had never understood why she had been taken into the jungle and used to blackmail her sister – whom she had believed to be dead. Then she had been dragged from the jungle sweatbox to the desert dryness. Then everything had moved very fast and the next thing she had known, she was being flown out of that hellhole and pushed aboard the most amazing aircraft she had ever seen. For a while, everyone had simply ignored her presence, except for Becky. The girl was younger than Frieda and very bossy, but Frieda had not minded it as the hot shower had been amazing, as had been the first clean clothes she had worn in over a year. Seeing a face which she knew – Ariana – was something out of the blue, but she had not had the nerve to ask about her sister. As yet, she had no idea what was going on, and she had seen people – kids actually – with guns. Despite that, everyone seemed so friendly.

Becky had shoved the girl into a luxurious seat saying that Charlie – presumably a boy in the desert – was not using it at the moment . . . she had swiftly fallen asleep.

..._...

Another person still partially in the dark was Rodney.

The man knew quite a bit about what was going on, but he still felt like he was being kept in the dark. He had not seen much of his wife as she had been busy keeping a dying girl alive. Rodney had decided to concentrate on the immediate problems which he could help with and ignore the other problems. Therefore, he had spent hours going through documents and schematics trying to figure out if the so-called Axis of Evil really did have viable suitcase nukes or if it was all just a smoke screen. Where the documents and schematics had originated, he had no idea, but they kept spewing out of the printer in the command centre at his command as well as being displayed on a large horizontal touch-screen display. His ordered mind swiftly recognised the important facts and discarded the rubbish, whittling down the intelligence to that which mattered. Unfortunately, it did not look good for the good guys – the bad guys definitely had viable nuclear weapons and the technology for miniaturisation of the important structures.

The only thing that really kept him going were his two assistants – his daughters – who dutifully provided him with everything he needed. He had tried to ignore the horrible images which had appeared on the large screens within the command centre as well as the live radio traffic coming from people evidently fighting for their very lives, some hundreds of kilometres away from them. The people around him were very serious and he could tell that they were all very concerned about their friends. He had been stunned at the support which the group had received from an external military source – the British Royal Air Force and their Reaper drones – as the weapons had helped to turn the tide against their enemies.

However, he was beginning to understand that the so-called Axis of Evil was a worldwide threat and not just a threat for the group of vigilantes.

The Sahara Desert
Northern Mali

17:50 GMT+2 (15:50 GMT June 26th)

The Strike Teams

The camp had been cleared as if it had never been.

The strike teams were racing across the desert towards their attack positions. Each person was fully equipped with the weapons and ammunition they would need to carry out the mission. The airdrop had dutifully resupplied them on schedule, giving the teams the means to strike hard and survive a few more days in the decidedly harsh desert environment. As was usual, the mood began to darken as the operation began. Each sub team assembled, and the commander of each sub team ensured that each member knew their task to the letter. Everything had to go perfectly as there would be little scope for correcting mistakes.

Hal sat in the front seat of the Toyota Landcruiser, studying the incoming footage from the Reaper UAV, ten-thousand feet above them, its cameras following the train while its system operators marked the image with targeting data. There were two aircraft flitting in and out of the view, a red square highlighting them as they flew with altitude, speed, and course notations. The same was applied to twelve vehicles which drove on the sands on either side of the train which was constrained in its course by the parallel steel ribbons of track on which it rode. As Hal tracked the targets, she updated the teams on the ground, especially those in the LSVs who were equipped with two deadly Starstreak missiles apiece. The Landcruiser was parked up in a key location from where those aboard could follow the attack visually and provide tracking assistance where needed.

Eight kilometres away, Tango Three was dug in, watching the train and the vehicles as they approached their position. The train was due to reach a switchback where the track bed climbed and thus slowed the overall speed of the train which would make boarding so much easier – if such a thing was ever easy. Songbird had her spotting scope ranged and ready, and twelve ten-round magazines, each loaded with ten .338-calibre Lapua Magnum rounds intended for the British Accuracy International L115A4 bolt-action sniper rifle which sat on its bipod ahead of Leon. The sniper was not in the best of moods, and she wanted to shed blood, and she would. She had witnessed her friends suffering from afar and she was determined that only the enemy would suffer from that point on. Each bullet was intended for an enemy soldier, and she would ensure that each and every bullet counted in the upcoming attack.

Leon was not alone with a deep-seated anger and a desire to make others hurt and die. Everyone, those who had suffered and those who had not, wanted revenge and to avenge. While seeking revenge was not all that professional, it gave many something to focus on and the ability to ignore the pain of their injuries. As the four LSVs, followed by the lumbering Mercedes truck, raced across the desert sands, with little more than an hour to go before the attack, nerves were beaten down as adrenalin began to displace the fear and the concern of what they were about to do. Many were battle-hardened and just wanted to add some more notches to their proverbial gun belts while others simply wanted to complete the operation and get the hell out of the Sahara Desert.

Crammed into the load bed of the Mercedes G 63 AMG 6x6 truck, Psyche and the six members of Tango One Alpha were rocked from side to side by the movement of the truck as Kick-Ass threaded the monster vehicle through the dunes and scrub. Beside him, Rage ignored the pain from the bruises on his chest and face. He just focussed on the mission ahead. The SIG Sauer MPX sub-machinegun in his hands was loaded and ready for use with a paired magazine inserted. Several more paired magazines lay on the dashboard ready for immediate use.

It was the same in the four LSVs, although, unlike previously, there were only two aboard each vehicle – a driver and a gunner. That would cause issues when it came to re-loading, gun jams, and injuries, but there was no choice, and they would need every vehicle for the upcoming assault. In Tango Two Delta, Rampart was feeling philosophical about her new ground-based role as she drove the LSV which she still found to be fun, just not as fun as flying a helicopter. However, she had no desire to face off against the giant armoured helicopters of which she knew there would be two to put down that very night.

While there may have been tensions felt amongst the combined forces of Fusion, Vengeance, and Honneur, the tensions felt by the opposing side were higher, especially for Jacques Maurand, the administrator of the Deadlight facility who rode in one of the lightly armoured four-wheel-drive vehicles which drove alongside the train as it approached the hills.