The First Contact War
Chapter 21
Operation Falleen Freedom
"History has taught us over and over again that freedom isn't free. when push comes to shove, the ultimate protectors of freedom and liberty are the brave men and women in our armed forces. Throughout our history, they've answered the call with bravery and sacrifice" Tim Pawlenty.
2623 March 30th Earth Standard Calendar, CDR. Luke Sparrow, Falleen, Falleen System.
"Listen up Marines! Spotters have a possible fix on Wilhuf Tarkin head of the Commerce Guild in a building in the west of this town! We're gonna move in, secure the perimeter, and grab Wilhuf Tarkin. Oo-rah? Lock and load!"
CDR. Luke Sparrow narrowed his eyes through his goggles, as he stared out of the window of Black Super-Four-One. He brushed a hand through his hair, and licked his dry lips, before replacing his MICH helmet back onto his head, moving the goggles back over the top of the headgear. He took a deep breath, and steadied himself against the side door the vehicle, taking in the breath-taking view on in front of him. Since he had returned from Riley's funeral he had thrown himself back into the fight with a new determination, he had also began to worryingly enjoy combat a little more than he should do.
They were flying over crystal blue ocean, the sun reflecting gloriously off the water, casting glittering diamonds of foamy spray as the draft from the repulser engine tore through the liquid. It was almost beautiful, had it not been for the twenty-four Warbirds, twelve SuperHornets, and eight Republic LAAT gunships that screamed overhead, loaded up to maximum on weapons or men carrying weapons.
The invasion had begun. A Coalition, consisting of OAG and Republic forces had been waiting in a massive naval fleet for the better part of a month now, off the Falleen Gulf. Plans had been drawn up in record time to facilitate this latest invasion of the Mid-Rim system. And once again, Luke was being sent to take out yet another CIS dictator.
Checking his M416, rigged with an M203 and EOTech, he looked out of the porthole of the Warbird as a SuperHornet hovered into view next to them. The gunner looked up from the controls, and Luke could see that it was a woman there, and thus, was probably the SuperHornet callsigned "Vicious". The only other SuperHornet he knew piloted by a woman was callsign "Deadly".
"Well, hello there, Vicious." Luke murmured to himself, taking a sip from the Camelbak on his back as he did so. "And how are you today? Are you going to be giving me cover fire as I hoof it across the ground and hold down the Grid Squares that you remove from the map?"
Of course, there was no reply. The Gunner simply frowned behind the sun visor on her helmet, and gave a cheery wave, which Luke and Hex, who was sitting with her legs dangling out of the edge of the helicopter, returned. Hex was their SMAW woman, though they had elected to leave the SMAW behind for this mission, as intel hadn't reported any armour in the area, and besides, they had the SuperHornets. The Hex clutched onto the rope that they would be using to descend to the street floor once they reached their location. First Squad had an important job, as they would be the ones kicking down the door of where Wilhuf Tarkinwas supposedly staying. They would have to be quick. They knew there were Anti-Aircraft defences on the shoreline, so once they reached that, the word would quickly pass around that the OAG were coming, and thus, Wilhuf Tarkinshould get the hell out of that building if he wished to remain alive.
The plan was reasonably simple. Delta Force would head into the town, and kick the door in, and that would give them enough time to secure the house and await support from other units. Six of the LAATs contained members of the Republic Commando section of the Special Forces Support Group, and would take and hold the harbour in preparation for their armoured support to arrive. The remaining two LAATs were transporting Republic's elite, the ARC Troopers, further inland, so they could rendezvous with other elements of Delta Force and SEAL Team Six, and begin their push to the capital city, wiping out enemy positions along the way. If DF actually found Wilhuf Tarkinthough, then hopefully, any further incursions would be unnecessary, and they could pull out within the day.
"HQ, this is Outlaw-One-Two, we have reached the shoreline." Luke heard the voice from the cockpit over his headset, and turned to check. Indeed, they were just about to head over the shoreline. As the massive assault force got ever closer to their target, Luke was reminded of October 3rd, 2622. "The Battle of the Bakali Market". "Malinti Rangers". Whatever one called it, the situation was uncannily similar. A modern, heavily-armed OAG Assault Force was screaming their presence deep inside enemy territory they weren't completely familiar, surrounded by a civilian population would most likely side against these invaders, despite the fact that the OAG and their allies were here to help them. Everyone dreaded those two words that would signal the end of the mission, and the loss of the initiative. Warbird. Down.
He turned, and looked inwards at the Marines that sat inside the belly of the Warbird, awaiting their chance to get into the fighting. Most carried the AC30 carbine, with M68 Aimpoint or EOTech red-dot-sights. Some had M203's. Others carried M1200 Shotguns, that they would use to breach through doors. Luke and three other men had M203's mounted to their weapons, and two men carried LMG-5 SAW's. They should, by all rights, have been carrying the AC160 rifle, the standard issue OAG weapon, but the Squad had insisted they be given the shorter, more compact AC30, especially in close-quarters such as this. One or two men had NLAW rockets as well.
Each man wore a set of Desert issue MARPAT, or Marine Pattern Camouflage. Over the top this, most had the Marine brown-grey Beskar armoured plating. The main components of the Beskar armour include an armoured vest, a helmet and large shoulder pauldrons. The chest armour also has an extension to provide protection to the groin. The shins aren't armoured like in the Marine BDU, with only dust-grey combat boots and black kneepads on the lower leg. The thighs have attachment rigs for equipment much like in the other versions. On the waist is a utility belt used for storing equipment. The armoured chest piece also has pouches to store clips and grenades.
The only man still to carry an AC160 was Lieutenant Vasquez. A big, hulking Latino bear of a man, Vasquez sat, squashed into the front of the Warbird. His body armour was a myriad of pouches, containing mostly ammunition and his two water bottles, plus his HF Radio that allowed him to get in contact with HQ, as well as his own men. On his back was a sawn off M90 shotgun strapped through the back of his body armour. He wore no CH252 helmet, only the metallic coloured Beskar covering, with several little chalk lines on the back, in groups of five; the number of people he had killed over his years in the Marines. The number was surprisingly small, considering the fact that Vasquez was thirty-four, quite possibly the oldest Lieutenant in the world, though no-one was sure if this was because he was passing up promotion or being passed over. Either way, many were just happy that he still remained as their CO. He was tough, fit, and an excellent leader, and Luke was proud to be his number three on this op.
An RPG streaked past the helicopter, the signature trail of smoke lazily wafting through the Repulsers. Luke began patting down his gear, making sure all his buckles and pouches were done up, everything was still attached to his vest, his weapon was cocked, with rounds in the chamber and in the magazine. Across from him, the LAATs flared as they stopped above the harbour, ropes quickly being dropped from the inside. A Republic Commando, with no helmet, leapt from the LAAT, clutching hold of the rope, and swinging down to the ground, his DC-14 strapped tightly over his front. More men followed, these ones wearing helmets, and Luke could only assume that the first man had been an officer…a nutcase. He shrugged it off, and turned back to his own men.
"Alright, here's the plan, one last time." Vasquez leaned forward to speak to his other men, his AC160 now in his hands. "We rope down into the street and head to the target building. Second Squad are hitting the front. We're hitting the rear. We clear through while Third and Fourth establish blocking positions. Then we hold down and await further orders. Oo-rah?"
"OO-RAH!" They all yelled, the bravado coursing through their veins. The Warbird was suddenly filled with the sounds of weapons cocking, and shouts of encouragement and excitement from the men of First Squad. They saw another Warbird across from their own begin to hover, and dispense the Marines inside, roping down the fifteen metres or so onto the sandy ground beneath them. This was it.
The Warbird pilot pulled back on the controls, pulling the Warbird's nose into the air, and slowing it to a halt. Hex wobbled slightly from her precarious perch on the side of the Warbird, before she pushed her coiled rope out from the side, and it plummeted to the surface, curling slightly at the bottom as the excess hit the ground.
"Green light!" The crew chief yelled, still holding onto his M137 Minigun, actively hunting out targets. Luke took a moment to grin at the chief's aviator shades, before slinging his weapon over his front, and pulling his gloves tighter over his hands. "Green light, go, go, go!" The Chief patted Hex on the back as she slid out onto the rope, holding on tight at first, and then reducing her grip, allowing herself to slip down. Moments later, Luke was right behind her, his goggles keeping the sand and dust from entering his eyes as he carried on down, before his Converse boots made contact with the sand.
He instantly dropped to one knee, bringing his carbine up into his shoulder, eyes narrowed, teeth gritted, and aiming down the street. He could see Super-Four-Two deploying it's own men about two-hundred metres up, through some alleyways, and then Hex darting in front of him, AC30 on her shoulder, heading down the street. Luke nodded, before getting to his feet. The young Sergeant had her head screwed on right, that was certain. Jogging slightly to catch up, and leave as little a gap as possible (a more desirable tactic during OBUA), the two proceeded down the side of a wall, though not completely pressed up against it, with Hex covering the front, and Luke pointing his weapon slightly to the right of her.
Some movement just at the edge of his vision made him shift his aim to across the street, but as the people got closer, he identified them as Corporal Thompson and Private Zampella of Third Squad, pulling a massive coil of barbed wire behind them, several metres long. Another Marine knelt by the corner, covering them as they pulled it across the street.
"GO, GO!" Lieutenant Connor yelled as he emerged from the alleyway, covering the other arc, down from where First Squad had come from. "Set up the blocking positions, let's go!" They knew the barbed wire would do nothing against a vehicle, but they weren't expecting any trouble from that. First Squad turned around the corner, and out into a courtyard, surrounded by wooden fences and covered in scrub.
"There's the target building! Stack up!" Vasquez jabbed his hand in the direction of the doorway as they picked up pace. Private Anderson slung his AC30 his back, and instead took his M1200, pumping it to bring a round into the chamber. "Left side door breach!"
They did as ordered, with Vasquez taking the first position, Anderson second, and Luke third. Hex, Hobbs, and Walker turned to give cover, and they would hold down the door of the building while the other three went inside. Vasquez turned, and nodded at Anderson. The Private stepped forward, and placed a small, C17 breaching charge on the handle of the door, before returning to his position as the second man.
"Standby." Vasquez readied his AC160. "Standby…execute." Anderson clicked the detonator in his hand, and the charge exploded, knocking the door in, splinters of lock and door spraying around. "Breaching, breaching!" the Lieutenant cried as he entered the room. Anderson followed quickly, and Luke heard seven shots, before silence. By the time he had gotten inside, the first two men had already cleared the room, and were standing on opposite sides of the door, checking for more targets. Three dead Falleen, heads wrapped in multi-coloured shemagh scarves, lay on the floor, with blood and brain spattering all across the wall behind them.
"Clear?"
"CLEAR!" Luke responded. There was a single door to the right of where they had entered, and the three men stacked up once more, as their remaining fireteam piled inside to secure the door and cover their six. "Let's move."
"Jackson, take point." Vasquez ordered, and the Sergeant moved to the head of the group, patrolling through carefully. There was a staircase leading downwards, with an open door at the end, where they could hear shouting and the sounds of weapons being loaded.
Luke knelt down once they reached the base of the stairs, and peered carefully around the corner. The room was larger than he could see from where he was, leading off to the right, with several tables moved edge to edge. He could see one Falleen, with a red beret on his head, stacking magazines. His sleeves were rolled up, and he had a pistol strapped to his belt, probably a DL-44. Luke's eyes darted about, taking in other details. There was another door, this one to the left, and some crates just inside the door they were about the go through which could provide some decent cover. He fumbled around on his body armour, before finding the PTT for his radio, and clicking it down.
"I've got contact. I have eyes on one Tango, but I can't see the rest of the room. There are some crates to the right of the doorway, and a door in the far left hand corner. There's shouting, so there's gotta be more men inside."
"Roger that." Vasquez swapped positions with Anderson, coming down to Luke. "We're going to move in and clear the room. Throw a grenade, but be on the lookout for Wilhuf Tarkin. We'd rather have her alive."
"Yes, El-Tee." Luke nodded. "Flash or frag?"
"Frag." Luke grabbed one of the grenades from his thigh rig, and removed the pin carefully, his M416 dangling to his right.
"Ready?" He looked behind him. Vasquez nodded grimly, before shouldering his AC160. "Then let's go." He tossed the explosive into the room, before turning, and slamming his back up against the wall, loosening his jaw. The vibrations the grenade could cause would rattle his teeth enough loosened, if he kept his jaw clenched then there was no telling what might happen.
The explosion caught the man loading his magazines unawares, and he was sent flying forward, slamming the bridge of his nose onto the table from the force of the grenade, before being killed by the bursting shrapnel of the grenade. Luke burst in, kneeling by the right hand side of the door, and aiming, eyes wide, hunting for targets. One man burst through the door to the right, blaster in his hands, firing wildly, before he was put down by a double-tap from Luke's M416. Vasquez was next in, kneeling by the left of the door, killing two men who tried to approach from the opposite end of the room. When they were certain the room for the moment was clear, they moved forward, Luke leaping over the crates, assaulting it from both sides. He swapped hands with his M416, leaning out to the left around a corner, and getting his first glimpse of the rest of the room. There was a fire extinguisher on the wall, as well as two more doorways, and the tables ran all the way to the end. He stood up to get a look at them, and found huge quantities of small-arms and tactical gear, even some old M69 Flak Vests. Luke made a mental note to mark the building for a more thorough search later, as there was no telling what else could be in the upper levels.
Regrouping, Luke, Vasquez and Anderson shuffled down the wall, listening to the hushed whispers that came through both of the doorways.
"Sparrow, throw a flashbang." Vasquez ordered. "That should put them on their asses."
"Roger that." Luke turned to Anderson, who passed him the distraction device, and he flung it into the room, where it detonated instantaneously. There were screams and shout from the men inside, as Luke slipped through the doorway, moving as far right as he could, until he reached the corner of the room. Two enemies were stumbling about that he could see, and he hurriedly thumbed his weapon to fully-automatic, depressing the trigger, and dispatching his foes with several accurate shots. He knelt down, and leaned around another corner, in time to see another Tango's head explode from the force of one of Anderson's shotgun shells, before all was silent in the room. The smoke was still clearing as Vasquez loosely held his weapon by the pistol grip, using his other hand to depress his talk button on the radio.
"All Callsigns, check the bodies. We need a positive ID on Wilhuff Tarkin."
Luke rolled over the nearest corpse to him, pointing his M1911 pistol into the body's face. The man's greenish-blue features and shaven chin were most certainly not those of Wilhuf Tarkin, and he seemed a bit too tall in any case. The three men worked quickly, turning over all the people they had encountered so far.
"Negative here sir." A Marine informed them as they checked the last of the people in the basement.
"No sign of Wilhuf Tarkinhere, sir." Vasquez looked visibly disappointed.
"Fuck." Was all he said as he kicked a discarded helmet across the room, and holstered his MEUSOC back into the pouch on his thigh rig. He brought his AC160 back into his hands, and reloaded the magazine, putting his empty into the dump-bag on his left leg. "Command, this is Red Dog. Target building is secure, but we don't have Wilhuf Tarkin. Over." He turned, and began heading up another set of stairs to the rear of the building, back up to the surface. Luke and Anderson looked at each other, shrugged, and followed him quickly. "Roger that HQ. Out."
"Heads up! I just got word that Wilhuf Tarkinis broadcasting at a TV station half a click west of here. We're gonna move in on foot, and take down the package. Move it." They emerged back into the blinding sunlight, and Luke suddenly realised that his goggles were still pressed down firmly over his eyes. He pulled them up and onto his helmet, and wiped away the rings of sweat on the back of his glove. "Fall in, we're moving to regroup with Second Squad back on the crossroads." The three elite soldiers fell into line, joined a few seconds later by the remains of the squad, who dropped into position on their tail. The crossroads were back the way they came where Third had established their blocking position, and the enemy had obviously counter-attacked as they had gone into the building. Vasquez led the way, back across the courtyard, and through a mesh gate which he kicked open with his foot. His huge frame had to turn slightly in order to fit through, and they followed on in awe of their officer.
Things weren't looking very good as they reached the stronghold. Lieutenant Connor was firing his AC30 slowly, on single shot, with a nasty looking wound in his shoulder. Next to him, much to Luke's dismay, lay two dead Marines, both staring up at the sky, sightless eyes taking in the clouds and Warbirds that spoiled the beauty of the blue sky. Luke and Vasquez knelt next to Connor, and began helping him, as First, Second and Third Squads commenced the defence of their objective.
"Sitrep." Vasquez ordered. Connor stopped firing, and turned to look at the older Lieutenant.
"They came out of nowhere, sir, honest to God they did. They took out Marvin and Carlton, and we've got Jamieson and Parker wounded down the street."
"I see. OK, here's what's going to happen. Wilhuf Tarkinis broadcasting at the TV station, to the East of here. You and Lieutenant Wilson of Second are going to hold this position until reinforcements arrive, Command ETA's they will be here in twenty, both OAG and Republic. Once that has happened, you will provide dismount support for the armour." Connor nodded, and fitted a new magazine to his weapon.
"What about you?"
"Second Squad will ride the initiative and make the push towards the TV Station. We will link up with the other men of our Squad with Staff-Sergeant Griggs."
"Roger that."
"We'll flank around to the right down this street." Vasquez indicated to both Luke and Connor. We'll clear the area, house by house if necessary. I'll call in some air support to give us assistance as we go. Jackson, prep the men. Connor, pop smoke."
The Lieutenant lobbed the Smoke Grenade over their heads, and it landed a few metres down, while Vasquez spoke frantically into his radio headset, kneeling down behind a wrecked car.
"Roger that…I understand…OK, Dragon-One-One, roger." Just as he spoke, a SuperHornet roared overhead, firing a salvo of sixty-millimetre rockets and cannonfire. The ordnance tore through the buildings down the street, taking out many enemy sniper positions. A few survivors tried to fire RPG's, but to no avail, and they were cut down having revealed their positions to fire. Vasquez gave a thumbs up to the gunship that was rapidly moving away from them. "Thanks for the assist Dragon-One-One, we owe you. Red Dog out."
"Alright, let's move out Marines. Griggs is waiting for us." Luke waved his hand above his head, and leapt over their cover, breaking right down the alleyway as soon as possible, Vasquez and the rest of Second in tow.
They twisted and turned down alleyways, being given a little guidance by aircraft in the area, but for the most part, they were on their own, Vasquez guiding their route with his Garmin GPS. Luke wasn't afraid to admit that, for the most part, he was absolutely terrified. Enemy fire could come from any angle, and a single RPG or trip-mine could take them out in seconds, rendering the assault force down an entire squad.
"Griggs, this is Vasquez. What's the situation?" The Team Leader spoke over the mic in a whisper. The tones of their second-in-command, Staff-Sergeant Griggs, who was currently on the other side of the city with the second half of First Squad.
"We're movin' in on the target building, sir. We'll wait for you before we go in."
"Red Dog this is Command, are you the callsign moving East down an alleyway, over?" Vasquez didn't bother stopping as command interrupted, just thumbing his pressel.
"Roger that Command, Red Dog is moving East." Only gunfire for a moment. Then…
"Red Dog, be advised, possible spotters tracking you, we have multiple enemy contacts moving parallel to your position and establishing ambush points along the way."
"Sparrow, hold up." Vasquez stopped the Commander, who nodded, and pressed himself into a doorway as far as he could go.
"Say again, Command."
"Red Dog, you have multiple contacts moving parallel of your position in the street over to your left, in preparation to ambush."
"Roger that command, please advise, over." Luke listened to his Lieutenant as another Warbird flew over, and sand swarmed around them for a second.
"Red Dog, there is a small shanty town approximately one hundred metres in the direction you are heading, you should be able to sweep through and eliminate the ambush from there. If we can we'll get some air support over to you but don't hold your breath as a lot of other units are bogged down worse than you, over."
"Roger that command. What's the ETA on our armour?"
"We're having some trouble off-loading the tanks right now, apparently Captain Carr and his Commandoes are taking a lot of fire."
Vasquez called a quick huddle with Luke.
"Command says the tanks are going to be a little while longer, and there's a possible ambush site up ahead. We're going to move in and take up firing positions along the edge of the shanty town, and press through from there. With luck we should be reinforced by members of Second Platoon after that, and then we'll press on to the TV Station."
"Roger that. Actions on reaching the shanty town?"
"Hold your ground, and three-by-three advance once I give the order. Move 'em out, Commander Sparrow."
"Yes sir." Luke turned, and pointed at two Marines, before waving his hand in the air, signalling for them to follow. The fireteam quickly sloped off further down the street, stopping at the corner. Luke could see a mass of corrugated iron walls surrounded by more permanent looking buildings. Anderson moved up another few metres and knelt down, aiming through a tear in the iron, as the rest of Fireteam Alpha got ready, narrowing their eyes, reacting to every little movement or sound across from them. Vasquez checked his M203, before sliding the barrel shut again, and getting the rifle comfortable in his shoulder.
There was nothing. Not a sound, save for the crackle of gunfire around them, and the occasional yell. Luke's face was twisted into an expression of readiness and determination, his fire-retardent finger gently stroking the trigger on his weapon, pushing it tighter into his shoulder with every passing second. He caught a glimpse of a boot in a doorway, before it disappeared back into the darkness.
"Possible hotspot. Doorway on the right."
"I see it." Anderson nodded, but didn't look. He was busy covering his own arcs.
The first rattle of blaster fire came from a balcony above them. Luke cried out, turning to his left, and aiming up, pushing the safety of his M203, and hammering the grenade through the window. It exploded, sending a huge cloud of dust out, followed swiftly by the remains of an Blaster.
There was a huge cry of "FOR FALLEEN!", and insurgents came flooding from doorways to their front and rear.
"Shit! Return fire! Head to the centre, find some cover!" Vasquez yelled. He put a powerful boot into the nearest bit of corrugated, and it flew from it's post on the ground. The officer leapt into the centre of the shanty town, find a bit of cover near a mound of sand there, also protected by the rest of the sheet-metal.
"You heard the man!" Luke yelled. "Get to the centre, find some cover! Anderson, GO!" Luke grabbed Hex's Weesatch, and sprinted off as fast as he could, favouring his M1911 over the M416 so as to fire accurately. He missed most of his shots, but a single plasma round ricocheted through the cheek of one of his targets. He dragged the confused Hex over to Lieutenant Vasquez, and put her down behind a wrecked car, even pointing out the targets to him, before going around and ensuring everyone else was in a good angle to begin their defence. Luke had to admit, it wasn't looking good right now. Six men versus they didn't know how many. He scanned the rooftops for hotspots, and exit positions.
"What now, sir?!" Luke shouted. Vasquez didn't reply. "SIR?!" Luke turned to yell again at his CO, before realising that the Lieutenant was deep in conversation with someone on the radio, once again. Which was exactly what they needed right now. Some support. Preferably not "Broken Arrow", but some more CAS would be good.
Luke left Vasquez alone for the moment, instead focusing on his own problem; remaining alive, and keeping his squad alive. He fired his M416 until the bolt rang out with a satisfying "clink" as his magazine emptied, and he quickly swapped it, stuffing the empty in the drop-leg pouch on his thigh. He slapped the bolt home and resumed shooting.
"RPG!" Someone yelled out, and Luke instinctively turned to look. Sure enough, on the rooftop, was a man dressed in brown fatigues, kneepads, and Arktis tactical vest and a Shemagh scarf. "Get down!" the man launched the rocket, and it whooshed down towards them. Luke ducked down, curling up into as small a target as he could as the missile burrowed into the sand in front of him, before exploding, sending the grit all over them. Luke suddenly wished he still had his goggles on as it sprayed into his eyes, and then down the front of his jacket and up his sleeves.
"Fuck!" someone yelled out, and Luke hurriedly shook himself down. He forced himself back up onto one knee, and he and one other Marine fired relentlessly at the RPG man. His chest convulsed and was sent back and forth, before he fell forward, off the roof, and onto the ground.
"Sir, we can't sit here much longer!" Hex yelled over at her Lieutenant. "We're takin' a beating!"
"I hear you, Sergeant!" Vasquez pointed down towards an alleyway, through the centre of the shantytown. "Everyone, follow me! Break for cover and occupy that building!"
Vasquez got to his feet, and patted Luke on the shoulder, before hurrying down the thin corridor of iron. Luke ensured that all the other men got to their feet, and he sent them down the right direction, following their officer closely. Bullets impacted into the metal with high-pitched whines and sparks, but none made contact with any of the Marines as they forced their way down their perilous cover, holding their own against their enemy with accurate, well-placed rounds.
"C'mon Hex!" Luke yelled. Hex was struggling, he could see. "C'mon, we gotta be less than two-hundred metres now, we gotta keep moving!"
"I hear ya sir."
"Don't call me sir, Goddamit!" Luke screamed.
That earned a laugh. It was important for them to remain as at ease as possible in the combat situation. Luke ran towards a doorway, and planted his foot against the wooden door, before piling straight in. There was no-one inside, luckily enough, so there was no need to shout and plasticuff civilians, or shoot anyone else.
"Inventory." Vasquez commanded. "How are we doing for ordnance?"
They sounded off their ammunition statuses, and redistributed as necessary, before heading outside to the end of the houses, back into the blinding sunlight. The dust swirled in the air, and Warbirds and Starfighters soared over the rooftops, barely clipping the tiles and bricks. The squad spread out into a line, before going prone in a dip just behind a tarmac road. They could see the top of the TV station off in the near-distance, but between them and it was a myriad of other buildings, no doubt filled to the brim with enemy contacts.
The sound of a MG firing made them all look off to the right, and a flatbed truck came haring towards them, crewed by three men; driver, passenger, and gunner. The passenger was leant out of the window with a blaster pistol, firing wildly and with abandon.
"Incoming technical!" Hex yelled out, ducking down just as one of the massive rounds shattered a mud brick just to the left of her head.
"Sparrow, let's get him!" Vasquez raised himself up on one knee, and fired his 203, with Luke following moments after. The first grenade hit the vehicle as it went to turn a corner, and the gunner was blown from his perch, flying forwards from the blast, and in front of the vehicle. Before he could get run over, Luke's explosive nailed it right through the back window, into the inside, and exploded as it made contact with the dashboard, peeling back the roof and sending it across down the main street.
A flash of blaster fire caught Luke's eye on top of a small building, topped with some sort of fuel container. More contacts were now visible, and the squad was spoilt for targets. The choice was made them for quickly enough, however, as a SuperHornet sprayed the road with it's cannon and rockets, taking out a large proportion of enemies, leaving the route reasonably clear for the Marines to proceed. Vasquez got onto his feet.
"On me, Ladies!" he waved his hand, and ran across the road towards one of the buildings.
"C'mon kids, hustle, let's go let's go let's go!" Luke watched each man go across the road, before following, his M416 up in his shoulder, fumbling to reload his 203 as he went. Arriving on the other side of the road, they saw clouds of dust approaching from what was now the left-most side of the road. "Hell is that?"
"HQ this is Red Dog. We have visual on approaching vehicles, possibly armoured, down the road advancing on our position, please identify, over."
"Copy that Red Dog, we have ID'd them as Charlie Squadron QDG, that is British Forces inbound to your position." They breathed a sigh of relief. Friendly armour, with Bushmaster cannons and more infantry.
They twisted and turned through the back alleys of the buildings, before the rest of the squad came across two Marines holding down the edge of an alley, weapons pointed up at the TV Station. Luke dashed towards them, and tapped one on the shoulder, leaning behind him, and aiming his own carbine.
"We got the whole place locked down. Wilhuf Tarkinis inside."
"Roger that. We have armour moving in as we speak. Republic and OAG."
"Orders?" Luke asked.
"The rest of you will stay out here. First Squad will move in and link up with team two."
"Alright, stack up." Luke voice suddenly lowered secretively, and he hunched himself over, moving from cover to cover towards a small side-door on the edge of the building. The TV station was the only modern looking building he had seen so far, made of concrete and glass instead of simply brick. It was grey instead of sandy and sun-bleached, and the cars were different colours other than white and rusty orange outside. The rest of the men followed him, and stacked up on the left hand side of the door.
"Standby, Standby…" Vasquez gave a hand-signal, and a Marine from another squad shifted forward, quickly moulding the C17 charge to the doorway, before tucking himself back in amongst the squad. "Go. Breaching!"
The familiar procedure, drilled and rehearsed countless times, was carried out again. The charge detonated, the squad moved in, and the corridor into the TV station was clear. Luke gave a quick hand signal. Move up. He and the rest of the group moved forward, slowly and steadily. This was different to the buildings they had cleared before; this one had been fortified and prepared specifically for an assault of this kind, and would no doubt be mined and booby-trapped to hell. A certainty that was demonstrated barely moments after they had entered.
"Hold up." Vasquez whispered. "Eyes-on. IED. Microwave, left of doorway." Luke moved across so he could get a better look. Sure enough, a hastily prepared IED had been slapped down on the side of the door. Anyone who would approached it from the left would surely have missed, and thus tripped it, setting off the explosives.
"We can skirt around." Luke indicated another door about halfway down the corridor that Hex was near. They opened the door slowly and carefully, moving through.
"It's too quiet." Luke whispered over the squad net as they headed through another door, and went into what appeared to be the main, central area of the building; a vast open room, dotted with tables and cubicles which would normally no doubt be busy with journalists and news staff collating news reports and filing them, ready to be broadcast on a Falleen Network.
"Spread out." Vasquez gave a couple of hand-gestures, and the Marines spread themselves across the wall of the office, aiming directly ahead. "Move forward, clear out anything you come across."
"Roger that El-Tee."
Luke moved forward slowly, keeping an eye on the ground in front of him for tripwires and microwave emitters, as well as an enemy that had almost as many hiding places inside this room than he had outside. He absent-mindedly checked his safety catch, before doing a running total of ammunition in his mind. He couldn't have had more than three magazines left, and a couple of forty-millimetre grenades.
"Shhh…" a voice whispered over the net, the entire section stopped. Luke looked around, to see West holding up a clenched fist. "I hear something."
Over the noise of the incoming vehicles and sporadic gunfire outside, they listened.
"I hear nothin'…" one Marine complained, turning around, his shotgun scanning the adjacent rooms for targets. "Just stuff that's outside."
"RPG!"
"RPG!"
Like the buildings they had cleared before it, the entire news centre exploded into a hail of blinding light and deafening sounds the Marines saw the three men on the upper balconies armed with RPG's.
"Motherfucker!" Luke cursed loudly as one the RPG men fired directly at him. The Commander yelled out, and ducked down, instinctively dropping his weapon, and curling up into a ball on the floor of the newsroom, inbetween two of the cubicles. "Fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!"
"Fire your weapon Sparrow!" Vasquez deep, commanding voice screamed out of nowhere. Luke quickly pushed himself back onto his feet, covered in foam and bits of plastic, and regained his composure, bringing his weapon back to bear on the nearest enemy. "I have multiple contacts to the right!" he yelled, as more targets appeared, flooding from the doors on the outside of the room. He stood as high as he dared behind his flimsy cover, somewhere in-between crouching and standing, so that just his head and weapon was pointed over the top. He half wished that he wasn't carrying the M203 so he could get even lower, but no such luck. Within moments, he had a two people either side of him, firing their own weapons in support of one another. Glass shattered all over, and the previously cool interior of the building was now stiflingly warm, filled with smoke and flame as the carpeting caught fire.
"Not good." Someone murmured as the flames began to spread, the enemy fire slowly becoming less and less constant. The militia fighters were simply outclassed by the OAG Marines, and they were once again back on track, heading towards the upper levels of the TV station.
"Get that door down." Vasquez ordered, and Luke dashed towards the double set of doors, and slammed his foot against it. It opened easily, banging across on the wall that it was bolted to, and Jackson was through, almost running, rifle at the ready, as aggressive as he possibly could be. They came out into an open reception area, well-lit and almost entirely glass.
"Those are our boys!" West yelled out in jubilation, looking out of the windows as three Titan MBT ploughed into view. Their heavy armour and size belied their speed, and they tore across the car park, crushing and pushing other cars out of their way. They were followed on soon behind by a pair of Marine LAV's, and six Trojan Armoured vehicles, which stopped in a combat line, and released their cargo of Royal Marines. The twelve or so men from each IFV took up their own defensive positions, as Luke and the others move on across the reception area.
"Hold up." A dark, African-American sounding voice ordered through their headsets. Griggs. "Friendlies comin' out, hold your fire." Luke and Vasquez looked around the room.
"There." Hex indicated with her hands, and a door next to the front desk opened. Eight more men, dressed in desert MARPAT, moved through, led by a well-built black man carrying an M249.
"Staff-Sergeant." Vasquez nodded in greeting as Staff-Sergeant Griggs moved towards him. Griggs was a relatively young Staff-Sergeant, and as such, still retained a lot of the rebellious traits that he had had when going through basic training. His moustache was untidy and thick, adorning his upper lip, and he wore no shirt underneath his body armour, completely bare skin, with his pilot gloves covering his hands. He had aspirations of becoming a rap artist, and would often subject the almost always unwilling members of Second Squad to his lyrics.
"Situation Report?" Griggs asked, coming to kneel down next to his officer.
"Nothing in the rooms back there, we think he's upstairs. Armour has the entire area outside locked down, we're gonna move in and take the position upstairs."
"Roger that. Team two, fall in with team one." Griggs waved a hand in the air as if to illustrate his command. "We'll follow you on sir."
He turned, and he seemed to notice Luke for the first time. "Hey, Paul, you alright man?"
"Always, braw." Luke slapped Griggs' helmet playfully as they passed each other to move into position. "You watch my back, oo-rah?"
"Oo-rah." They formed up in a line again, with Hex taking point up the stairs, and clearing the route forward. They met little resistance as they hit the upper levels, though a few remaining bad guys had tried their luck with the Royal Marines outside. It had not gone well. Luke paused for a moment to watch as seven soldiers had charged the British soldier's position, and had been met with a hail of machine gun fire from two GPMG's, what the OAG's would have called LMG-5's. He gave a slightly morbid smile, before continuing. Zeros screeched overhead, leaving vapour trails in the sky, on their way to bombing runs elsewhere in the city.
"We're getting close." Vasquez informed them as they headed onto the roof. "Intel says that the transmission is coming from this corridor here."
There was only one door as they went inside, and instantly, every one of them fell completely silent. Luke and Vasquez took point, with one of Griggs' team with them acting as their shotgun man.
"This room." Vasquez barely whispered. "I can hear 'em."
"Copy that." Luke replied, shifting forwards. "OK, stack up and standby." Hex darted to the other side of the doorway, her weapon in her shoulder. "OK, one my command, you're gonna hit the door. Hinges and the lock. Hex, Flashbangs. We'll break left and right as we go in. I'll grab the bastard and flex-tie him, get him on the ground while the rest of you keep me covered. Oo-rah?"
"Oo-rah, Sergeant." The Marine with the Shotgun nodded, and gingerly stepped in front of the door. He was particularly exposed now; if the enemy heard them and opened up, then the poor guy would be screwed. Luke hoped he was quick with reloading his shotgun. "Go."
The Marine fired his first round on the hinge, and blew an entire chunk of the door away. He quickly pumped the action on the bottom of his weapon, and fired again, this time aiming low. Another chunk was blown in, followed swiftly by the lock and handle on the door. Not bothering to reload again, he twisted, pressing his back up against the wall, his shotgun pointing down at the floor. "GO GO GO!" Luke yelled. Griggs tossed his flashbang, and it detonated as he and Hex burst through, scanning their sectors. Hex fired at an enemy as she broke right, Griggs heading left. Luke was third in, followed swiftly by Vasquez, the four of them moving to the corners of the room, firing on fully automatic on anything that moved or possessed a weapon.
"Clear right!"
"Clear left!"
"Room clear!" Vasquez yelled, and Luke sprinted forward, kicking bodies over carefully, keeping his M416 pointing at them at all times. "Anything?" Vasquez asked as he rolled the last one over.
"Nega-" something caught Luke eye, and he looked up at the TV Screens. Every single one of them possessed Wulhuf Tarkin image, speaking in his deep voice, yelling in Falleen. Luke shook his head in disgust, as if he'd suddenly realised what was going on. "It's a fuckin' recording!" he yelled, kicking a discarded helmet across the floor. "Fucking son of a bitch…" he slung his M416, and wiped his face with his hands.
"Motherfucker…" Griggs pulled off his helmet, indicating for his men to do the same. One by the one, the men of First Squad became a little more human as they unclipped their MICH's and strapped them to their belts.
"Command, this is Red Dog." Vasquez muttered into his radio. "We've cleared the TV Station, but no sign of Wulhuf Tarkin. It's a fake. Further orders…Griggs, turn that shit off."
"Roger that. Got something better anyways." Luke watched as Griggs reached into his pocket, before his eyes widened.
"Oh come on Griggs, fuck no man, not now."
"Shut it Sergeant." Griggs ignored him as he placed the CD into one of the players in the room. A moment later, and Wulhuf Tarkin was gone, replaced with Griggs voice, singing one of his rap songs.
"Fuck no…"
"Aww, come on Staff-Sergeant."
"Shut up, all of you!" Vasquez turned, hefting his AC160. "Command wants us to re-arm, reload and then commence foot patrols on the streets. The Commando's are gonna set up in here as our Forward Operating Base for now. JLTVs are en route, Hex, you're back on the SMAW."
"Oo-rah." Hex nodded, leaning back and taking a breath. Luke checked his gear. Four mags left, three two-oh-threes.
"OK, Team One, get out link up with the Brits. Rest of you, reload and rehydrate, we move out in six-zero Mikes."
2623 April 1st Earth Standard Calendar, CDR. Luke Sparrow, Falleen, Assualting the Capital with elements of the 75th Ranger Regiment.
"RPG!"
Darkness surrounded Luke, as his Oshkosh Light Combat Tactical All-Terrain Vehicle (LCTATV) or Joint Light Tactical Vehicle (JLTV), rolls over from the powerful blast of the rocket-propelled launcher. His Delta unit, along with an entire platoon of O.A.G. Army Rangers, were on the outskirts of the Badlands, a dangerous territory that no one dared to enter, unless they wanted to face the wrath of the Fist's of Falleen.
To Luke's credit, he wasn't even afraid of blaster bolts whizzing past his face. And a bunch of insurgents didn't scare him either. After how long he'd been doing this combat had started to become mundane. He still got the rush of adrenaline from the action, but it no longer fazed him.
Gunfire and explosions is what awoke Luke from his knockout slumber. He looked around the JLTV to see that it was on its side. Moving up to the front seat, he noticed the passenger was still there. Luke quickly inspected him... "Dammit." He said. Broken neck. The man was dead.
"Help me!" Someone in the JLTV cried. He turned to see another Ranger next to him, stuck in his seatbelt, crying in pain, as he had a broken arm from the crash.
"Hold on! I'll get you out of here!" Luke told him as he climbs through the wreckage to retrieve his M416, followed by his CO Miller opening the door from the top.
"Sparrow! Get your ass out here! We need to provide some covering fire if we want to get across that bridge!" He yelled, forcing Luke to hurry up. He switches to his KABAR to cut the man loose, then carefully slings him over his shoulder, and carries him to the top. Upon exiting from the JLTV, Luke and the young Ranger hop down from the vehicle, then he gives the man to another Ranger to take him to a medic. Undaunted by the last few minutes of horror he just saw, Luke puts a magazine into his M416, before running up to a set of rocks.
"Rangers! We gotta protect the demolition crew from getting slaughtered by those Fist's of Assholes, or else we're swimming, hooah?" Lt. Washington explained to the Rangers, as the demolition crew up on top of a bridge was trying to fix the broken down road. Their only option to get across with the tactical vehicles was to blow pieces of the bridge to make it into a makeshift bridge road.
Luke slides across the ground, avoiding gunfire as he rejoins Miller. "You hear that? Either we drive into town or we're swimming across!" Miller said, firing his AC160 with ACOG sights with a burst.
"I ain't swimming with the fishes today!" Luke replied, setting up his sights on the oncoming forces of Tarkin's men, who were trying to fire several shots into the Rangers and the Demo crew up above on their upper right. As soon as one rises to fire an RPG, Luke places the sights on his head, pulling the trigger, sending it across the lake, and into the man's skull, forcing the dead man to turn and fire a rocket at the incoming Fist of Falleen soldiers..
"AH!" An explosion erupted, killing a group of soldiers.
Luke smiled over that shot, before he fires more and more plasma at any of Tarkin's soldiers, before reloading.
"We got hostile's on the bridge!" Washington yelled, forcing them to turn their fire up to the bridge, as a truck arrives, carrying a squad of Tarkin's men. They were determined to make sure Tarkin's land, his home, and his most powerful city, wouldn't fall before O.A.G. feet.
Luke, Miller, and the Rangers changed that. Luke switches his optics by lifting up the scope, allowing a better zoom on the holographic sights. He switched the gun to semi-auto, and fired one shot at a time, either wounding, or blowing the brains and hearts out of the Fist of Falleen troops.
With too much to handle, they began to retreat. "They're retreating! Let's move up men!" Washington cried.
"The battalion is Oscar Mike!" A trooper yelled, before they ran back to the bridge, just as the Demolition crew set up the C17.
"Get back! Get back! We're gonna blow the bridge!" They cried as one pulls out the detonator, presses the switch, and watches a portion of an upper bridge collapses on the missing section of the lower bridge, allowing the Army to advance into the city.
"Yeah! Whoo!" Rangers cried in excitement as they went to their respective vehicles.
"Sparrow, your with me." Miller said as one JLTV with a minigun attached to it drive up to the two. The doors open to show a couple of familiar faces.
"You guys start the party without me?" Said Sgt. Damien "Hound" Carlyle, another member of Team Onyx, older than Luke, but not older than Miller, Caucasian, dressed in a similar uniform to Luke, but instead had a cap on instead of a helmet. He sat in the backseat, chuckling over the sight he just witnessed.
In the driver seat was a Japanese-Reachian, dressed in the same uniform as Miller, had goggles and a scarf covering his face. This man was also a friend of Luke, as they go way back since joining the OAGEF. SSGT. Bryan "Wraith" Lee, with his trusty M14EBR sitting next to him, ushers both Miller and Ocelot to enter. "You gonna stand there or what? We got a job to do!" He asked.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Luke said, climbing into the back and mounting onto the minigun. "Let's rock and roll!"
Wraith immediately pressed the gas pedal, driving all four into the entrance of the Badlands, surrounded by only their allies.
"Yes?" Miller asked while tapping into his comms. "Yes sir. I understand." He looks back at his squad. "Listen up guys. Until we're close to the crash site, we can't fire unless we're fired upon. You understand that?"
"Are you shitting me?" Luke asked.
"The boss is never wrong Sparrow. So keep you finger outside the trigger guard for once." Said Hound.
"...My thumbs are on minigun button triggers you moron." Luke grumbled as they moved into the city. Just before Wraith can advance further, Miller taps him on the shoulder.
"Just got some more orders... we're to link up with a Marine 1st Force Recon unit in the heart of this city. Apparently they're looking for something very important." He said. "Wraith, get a move on."
"Roger that." Wraith said, speeding up a little, then separating from the rest of the Rangers,
Luke kept a good grip on the minigun, scanning each section, corner, and door on the street, scanning for each sign of Tarkin's soldiers. "Let's just get through this, quick, and clean..." He muttered... then caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned the turret to the roof, which showed three armoured looking soldiers standing on top... without guns. "Miller. We got three guys on top, 11 O' clock. Think their Tarkin's men?" He asked.
"Are they armed?" Miller asked.
"No. But their staring at us..."
"Doesn't mean we can't shoot them..."
One top of the roof, the man in the middle pulls out a radio. "Kill them." He uttered.
"Sparrow, keep your eyes focused on the-" But Miller stopped upon a bullet striking the glass, but thankfully they were bulletproof. "CAN YOU SEE THEM?! CAN YOU SEE THEM?!" He yelled.
"SNIPER! 3 O' clock!"
Hound looks up to Luke, yelling "LIGHT IT UP!"
Instantly, the minigun spools up, then releases a chain of Plasma bullets, which hail down on the small building containing the sniper. He attempts to keep his scope trained on the Delta Force using the minigun, hoping to kill them for Tarkin... but quickly, the room, his gun, and his face became mangled over the shots.
With the sniper's death, Fist of Falleen forces instantly pop into the streets, firing blasters at the JLTV. Luke quickly turns and fires, killing four before they take cover. Wraith steps on the gas pedal, sending the JLTV down the street. Luke turns the minigun down an alley, where several contacts await to fire their guns at him. But they don't have a chance to pull the trigger as Luke guns them down first.
"We gotta get off the streets! Their's too many of them!" Hound cried.
"I'm trying!" Wraith shouted, swerving the vehicle to the left, before coming across a group of Tarkin's men. "Shit!" He doesn't stop, and instead of letting Luke handling them, he runs them over, but causes the JLTV to bump into a light post, knocking it over.
"Shit! Wraith, you suck at driving!" Luke yelled, exiting from the gun and kicking the doors open, before taking his M416.
"Oh go suck someone's dick asshole!" Wraith replied, before exiting from the driver's side.
"Get a grip, both of you! We have to get to those Marines. Get your gear and move your ass's." Miller ordered, forcing them to shut their traps and move into the streets... until Hound points to the road.
"Uh, guys..." He said, as all four look to see several of Tarkin's men, guns ready, fingers on triggers, ready to kill... and started to rain fire... on TArkin's men. "Whoa! What the hell?!"
The sudden gunfire drops Tarkin's men on the ground, dead... leaving the group of Onyx confused. "Who's doing the shooting? Who's doing the shooting?" Luke asked. His answers were about to be met, as several Marines step out from an alley.
"You guys alright?" The head of the unit, tall, African, walks up to Miller.
"Yeah, thanks for that." Miller replied. "Master Sergeant Miller. Delta Team Onyx squad leader." He said giving the man a handshake.
"Staff Sergeant Sharp of the 1st Force Recon unit." He said, accepting the handshake. "What brings you guys out here?"
"Here to aid you. Though we have no clue on what you guys need help with. Care to fill us in?"
"Well, General Cunningham has tried to get his hands on this city for days, since it's a gold mine for intel he needs on finding Tarkin. One of our own from our unit got separated and caught by those Fist of Bitches." Sharp explained.
"So, this is a rescue mission?" Luke asked, walking up next to them.
"Yes. And we could use some help." We've heard about your unit Master Sergeant, and we could use your team's talents to help rescue our comrade."
"Where do you think the Marine is?"
"Somewhere next to town hall... or what's left of it."
"Alright... let's get a move on. Sparrow, Hound, Wraith, up front. Sharp, you're on our six. And don't worry, we'll get your man out."
"Words won't cover it. Actions will. Let's move."
2623 April 1st Earth Standard Calendar, General Cunningham, Falleen.
Somewhere close to the edge of the battlegrounds near the city, an extraction Warbird was making its way into the city, with a medic crew and more Rangers set inside, with one mounted on a Mk. II grenade launcher.
"Sir, we just got word that Team Onyx has linked up with SSGT. Sharp's Recon unit. E.T.A. 20 minutes." The Pilot called.
"Good. Let's light the place up and get those men out of here. They've gotten this city under control, and all they have left to do is rescue one of my men..." The man replied, smoking a cigar. 'And see if this Commander is worth it for Honour Team...' He thought.
2623 April 1st Earth Standard Calendar, CDR. Luke Sparrow, Falleen.
Near the centre of the city, close to city hall, Luke and Wraith quickly inspect their scopes to scan the streets. "All clear. No sign of those Fist pricks." Said Wraith.
"Something's off. Why are there no sentry's or nothing out here? This city is that important to the Fist of Falleen. Why does this feel easy all of a sudden?" Miller asked.
Wraith, however, was about to find out the truth. "RPG!" He cried, firing a shot.
The Fist of Falleen trooper, looking through the scope of his rocket launcher, fired the rocket at the Delta's and Marines... then was met with a bullet striking through the glass into his eye, forcing him to fall off the building.
"MOVE!" Sharp screamed, forcing them to make a sprint for the centre of town. The rocket impacts behind the squad, but luckily, no one was caught within the blast radius. But a bigger problem emerged for the joint team: an ambush.
"TARGETS! LEFT SIDE! LEFT SIDE!" Miller cried.
"AMBUSH!" A Marine cried, forcing the squad to duck for cover, as the Fist of Falleen begin their assault, as automatic gunfire rain over the squad, with one unlucky Marine getting struck a few times. "AH!"
Quickly, Sharp pulls the bleeding man close to him. "Man down! You! Keep a good pressure on those wounds! Everyone! Return fire!" The squad begins to retaliate, firing back at the number of Fist of Allah troopers.
As the fighting intensified Sharp knew that unless they had immediate air support, they could be overpowered. "Command this is Staff Sergeant Sharp." Sharp yelled over the comms.
"Go ahead Staff Sergeant."
"We have been ambushed and are under threat of being over powered, I request immediate air support!" Sharp yelled.
"Roger that a chopper is already in the vicinity, ETA 2 minutes." was the response he got. Knowing that in two minutes everything would hopefully take a better turn, Sharp reloaded his SAW and opened fire upon any enemy combatant he could see. After what seemed like an eternity they heard the familiar thump thump thump sound of a Warbirds grenade launcher, followed by an explosion from where the enemy troops had been positioned. If that wasn't good enough, extra backup, in the form of additional Rangers had arrived to help clear out enemy troops.
"Sharp were is this captured Marine supposed to be?" Luke asked Sharp.
"Somewhere within the west wing of the building. She is a Sergeant, and her name is Kelly Burns."
was the response that Sharp gave him. At that being said Miller and the other Deltas moved cautiously into the west wing. Sharp and his Marines had been ordered to help secure the area, so they were having to move down the hallway cautiously, that was until they found a door that appeared to have people on the other side.
"Hound, place a charge on that door!"
"Roger that." Placing C17 on the door, Hound steps back from the wall and places himself against the wall. "Sparrow. You ready?"
M416 ready, Luke nods. "Ready."
"3. 2. 1. Ka-Boom."
BOOM!
The walls send debris crashing into a contact, before they were met with heavy force from the two Delta Force operatives, dying before they could get a shot.
"Clear!" Lukw called, checking the room for any sign of Fist of Falleen.
"Clear!" Hound repeated, spotting nothing... except for what they're looking for.
Luke immediately went up to the objective. Sitting in the middle of a room on a broken chair, tied, cut, and beaten, was a woman, wearing Marine tactical pants, combat boots, and a tan shirt. She had a messy black hair with a front bang, nearly covering her eyes. Her blue crystal eyes were mesmerizing, but it looked strong inside of her. Even though there was bruises, her face was adorable.
Luke already knew who this was. Sgt. Kelly Burns. And he wasted no time in cutting her loose. "Can you hear me?" He asked with concern in his voice.
Kelly, though dazed and confused, nodded.
"It's okay, you're gonna be alright. We're getting you out of here..." He placed her arm around his shoulder, then helped her up to her feet.
"Who are you?" Kelly asked, since the sun from outside blinded her for a second.
"CDR. Sparrow. Delta Force Team Onyx... we're getting you out of here." He said, just before the sounds of Warbird's engines filled their ears. "What the hell?" He wondered as he carefully helped Kelly exit from the building. Suddenly, her legs gave out, but Luke quickly keeps her standing, then lifts her legs into his arms, carrying her in his arms, while watching the Warbird land before them, along with more and more Rangers filling in the area, covering, and securing the LZ.
Stepping out the doors was the man everyone knew well. The same man who would not stop until Tarkin's head was on his desk.
"General Cunningham?" Luke wondered.
Quickly, he walked up to the two, before waving his hands to two Rangers. "Get her on board with a medic ready!" He said, as the two Rangers appear, taking her from Luke's arms before heading to the VTOL.
The General, on the other hand, walks up to Luke. "Gentlemen, good work on taking the town." Then he turns and looks straight at Luke. "CDR. Sparrow. You'll be taking orders from me from now on. I'll brief you in the Warbird. Let's go." He said, with a silent and surprised Luke following him.
"The battalion is Oscar Mike!" A Ranger called.
CODEX UPDATE
Joint Light Tactical Vehicle (JLTV)
JLTV traces back to 2615 but publicly emerged in January 2616, with early government requests for information noting: "In response to an operational need and an ageing fleet of light tactical wheeled vehicles, the joint services have developed a requirement for a new tactical wheeled vehicle platform that will provide increased force protection, survivability, and improved capacity over the current Up-Armored High-Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (UAH) while balancing mobility and transportability requirements with total ownership costs." The joint service nature of the effort was assured through Congressional language in the Fiscal Year 2616 (FY16) Authorization Act, which mandated that any future tactical wheeled vehicle program would be a joint program.