Part 2 – Start-Up
The flight to New Orleans was a tense one to say the least, a big empty plane where he slept most of the way with only his rifle to keep him company.
On final approach to the city, Ben had no idea what he was in for as the plane set down on the tarmac.
As he exited the plane, there was a single M1114 HMMWV UAH waiting for him with 'JTF' written on the side.
"Division," the JTF officer asked as he walked up to Ben.
"Yep," Ben said, "Which way are we going?"
"That way," the JTF officer said as he pointed off in the direction of the city.
As they walked toward the HMMWV, Ben noticed that no one was sitting in the back, so he opened the door, and slid his weapon-case into the back seat.
As he climbed into the front seat, the JTF officer spoke up, "As of right now, the first wave of your agents have gone silent. Right now we don't know where they are or if they're alive."
"So I'm part of the second wave then," Ben asked.
"In a sense," the JTF officer said.
"In a sense," Ben asked.
"We had a few more enter after half the First Wave went silent," the JTF officer said, "They went in with advanced equipment, but we didn't hear from them. We have no idea about what's going on, yet."
"Yet," Ben asked.
"We will," the JTF officer said, "As soon as we enter the city."
"How many agents have flown in since before I got here," Ben asked.
"Right now about thirty have shown up," the JTF officer said.
"Weapons," Ben asked.
"A bunch of M4s, some MP5s, a few HK416s," the JTF officer said.
"Good," Ben said, "I was beginning to think there would be other snipers."
"You're a sniper," the JTF officer asked.
"Yes," Ben said, "Why?"
"There's been talk of a sniper in the city that flies under the banner of the New Confederate Armed Brigade," the JTF officer said.
"The New Confederate Armed Brigade," Ben asked.
"Yes," the JTF officer said, "A bunch of southern boys and girls who have rallied under the Confederate colors in the name of reforming New Orleans under the name of the old state leaders."
Pulling up to the staging area where the other agents were waiting, Ben could tell several of these agents were primarily Afghanistan and Iraq veterans who had become cops or firefighters, or even medics.
As he stepped out of the HMMWV, and opened the back door to retrieve his rifle, he heard the clopping of boots on the ground behind him as another agent strolled up to him.
"Agent Jaeger," a five-foot-nine Caucasian-Chinese male with red hair and blue eyes in his early thirties said as he walked up to him.
"That's me," Ben said.
"Darius Cook," he said as he held out his hand which Ben shook, "I'm the Division Commander for the operation that's going into New Orleans."
"Sir," Ben said as he nodded his head, to which Darius ushered him to follow, "What's our plan for when we enter the city?"
"Right now," Commander Cook said as they entered the nearest tent where several Division Agents were waiting, "The plan is to establish a foothold," in front of them was a holographic map of the quarantined area of New Orleans, to which he pointed to the Superdome, "Right now the JTF have the Superdome secured as a temporary stronghold, but Ray Clark, the head of the JTF went radio silent earlier this morning so we don't know his status."
"Then we're going to find out," Ben said.
"You're damn right we are," Commander Cook said, "Right now our focus is getting into the city. With what happened to the Division Commander in New York, command is not authorizing any flights in or out of the city."
"What about the ferries," Ben asked as he pointed at the river, "They still run?"
"They might need a little work," one of the agents said as he walked up to the table, "The mayor ordered them to be shut down when Martial Law was declared so no one could get in or out."
"Agent Ben Jaeger," Darius said as he pointed at the agent, "This is Division Agent Amos Adams."
"You can call me Ben," he said as he shook Agent Adam's hand.
Agent Adams had to be at least six-foot-five, he was Polynesian, Hawaiian probably on a count of his bronze skin tone, and the visible Samoan tattoos on his neck that appeared to run down to his wrist.
"Call me Amos," he said, "It's been about three months since they were ordered shut down. Three months of not running, nasty river water, and cold weather don't mix that well."
"Is there a way to fix them," Darius asked.
"There is," Amos said, "But I'd have to take a closer look at them."
"You're a mechanic," Ben asked.
"I was one of the engineers aboard the U.S.S. Freedom," Amos said, "I know a thing or two about engines."
"Think we could move all the agents on one of them," Darius asked.
"I bet we could," Amos said, "We'd be pretty exposed on the water, but I bet we could pull it off."
"We'll have to risk it," Darius said, "Get on it."
"With your permission sir, I'd like to go with him," Ben said.
"I was about to suggest that," Darius said, "But I'm not keen on sending you two out there by yourselves," he looked at one of the agents standing by the door, "Agent Lee," he called, causing the woman to turn around to see her commander, "Front and center."
The woman that entered the tent was about five-foot-five, she had a head of black hair that was kept tied back in a ponytail, she was Polynesian-Chinese mix, but by the way her ponytail was tied, Ben could guess she was from Southern California.
"Agents Jaeger, Adams," Darius said, "This is Division Agent Chloe Lee," he then pointed at Ben and Amos, "Agent Lee, these are Agents Ben Jaeger and Amos Adams. I have an assignment for the three of you."
"What's the job," Chloe asked.
"We need to get the ferries back up and running," Darius said, "It might be the only safe way back into New Orleans at the moment. Right now we don't know what state they're in, so I'm sending you three to see what shape they're in, and if need be, repair them."
"By the book," Amos asked.
"Forget the book," Darius said, "If you're engaged, then split some wigs."
"We're going to need some wig splitting weapons," Chloe said.
"I've already got mine," Ben said.
"I'll go get mine," Amos said.
"And I'll get one of my own," Chloe said.
Ben followed Chloe and Amos to the weapon's tent set up nearby, where the two of them made a b-line for opposite weapon racks.
Ben simply placed his rifle case down on the table, and undid the locks.
The weapon that Amos picked up off the shelf was a belt-fed Ares-16 AMG-1 with a custom bullet holder that was made of black metal, on the top was a Trijicon ACOG scope, on the side was a flashlight, on the other, a PEQ GP959 laser and infrared designator, and mounted underneath the barrel was an M203.
The weapon chosen by Chloe was an HK416 with a 10-inch barrel, a Magpul CTR stock, a DBAL D2 laser, a flashlight, a Trijicon MRO sight, and a Magpul RVG.
The two of them walked over to find Ben preparing a McMillian TAC-338 with a custom grip, and an Intervention-style carrying handle attached to the bottom of it.
"Lovely rifle," Chloe said as Ben slid the scope onto the top rail, "Custom?"
"Very," Ben said as he grabbed the rifle by the area the carrying handle was mounted to, and lifted it up, the rifle didn't teeter left or right before putting it down, "The handle is designed to balance the weight of the rifle so it stays stable during firing."
"What about the grips," Amos asked.
"You mean the scales," Ben asked as he reached down to squeeze the grip between his thumb and forefinger, "100% pure Walrus tusk."
"Walrus tusk," Amos asked, "That's a little weird."
"They're repurposed," Ben said as he attached a rifle strap to the two clips on the stock.
"Repurposed," Chloe asked, "From what?"
"The ivory my grandfather out on his 1911," Ben said, "He served in Korea, then 'Nam. When he got home, he brought home his old service pistol, found an old Walrus tusk his grandfather brought back from one of the first U.S. missions to explore the Bering Strait, and had them made into grips for his 1911."
"Then you plucked them off his 1911 and slapped them onto your rifle," Amos asked as he reached onto the weapon rack, and pulled out a Glock 19 with a desert tan finish.
"Not exactly," Ben said as he pulled up his right sleeve to reveal a nasty four-inch scar on his inner-forearm, "He passed away shortly before I was asked to join the Division. After he died, my dad, my brother, and I were going through my grandfather's belongings when we came across the box with the remaining tusk still in it. My brother and I were arguing over it, but when it came time to bring the box down, my brother was handing it to me when it slipped out of the box, and the rough edge damn-near split my forearm open. It hit the floor, cracked in two, and he decided he didn't want it."
"So you decided to use it to on your rifle," Chloe asked as she pulled a Sig Sauer M17 off the weapon rack.
"After I was asked to join the Division, they asked me what I would like to keep with me as my main firearm," Ben said, "When I chose this rifle they told me to take it away to personalize it. With the ivory split in two, I took it to a specialized gunsmith who filed down the grips, put a half-inch hole through it, and attached the grips two it."
"Then you fitted the carrying handle," Amos asked as he strapped a series of bullet-carrying tins to his belt, and hooked a few 40mm grenades to his vest.
"Yep," Ben said as he slid on a tactical vest that he slid a few magazines for his TAC into, "It's a carbon fiber core covered in a cast-iron casing that's attached to the case via a quarter-inch diameter screw."
"That adds what," Chloe asked as she slid several twenty-round clips into special pockets inside her jacket, "About three pounds?"
"Two and three-quarters," Ben said, "It had to be no more and no less than that exact weight."
"Helps off-set the weight of everything else, including the scope," Amos said.
"Exactly," Ben said as he picked up his rifle, "Alright, it's time to get out there."
"There's a HMMWV outside," Chloe said, "I'm sure the JTF won't mind if we borrow it for a little while."
"Let's go," Amos said.
As the three of them walked outside, Darius was standing there waiting for them, "You three look like a real strike team," he said, "That's what I want to see."
"You're here to see us off," Amos asked.
"That would be a nope," Darius said as he handed Ben an Orion flare gun, "As soon as you confirm that the ferry is safe, you send up one orange flare, and we'll come to you."
"Roger that," Ben said as he strapped the flare gun to his backpack, and the team walked over to the HMMWV where they found the keys in the ignition, and room for their weapons.
"I'm driving," Chloe said as she walked around to the driver's seat.
"Then I get shotgun," Ben said as he stepped into the front passenger's chair.
Amos climbed into the back, and as the door closed, the three of them started off toward the river.
Guess what happens next…