Well the story's coming along now. Just gotta sort out a couple more chapters, then whole thing is complete. Until then, enjoy chapter 2.
Please R&R people. I want peoples' reactions to the story. Otherwise, I wont know whether I should make it into a machinima or not.
Chapter 2: A World Aflame
An echo with no source was all that John could hear when he entered the warehouse. There were no sentries or guard animals. Just an empty warehouse, if you could call it that. Walkways connected large pillars, each creating large corridors, with other corridors leading off from each other. It was an odd looking lace, but John had no time for curiosity and to determine what the place was used for; he had a mission to complete.
Slowly moving in, he did not notice a figure in the shadows. Dressed in some sort of Battle-Dress uniform, he simply stared at the unknowing John Doe from the shadows, and tightened the grip on his weapon, which was connected to equipment on his back. He watched as John reached the corner of a pillar and knelt down behind it.
"Major, I made it inside the warehouse."
"Excellent. You're making good time. The Pillbox is just beyond the jungle on the other side of this warehouse. Get to the outer door and move through the rest of the jungle."
"Roger. I'm moving out now."
John began to stand up. No sooner was he upright, when a jet of flame rushed down the corridor, missing his back by mere inches. John dived around the corner of the pillar into safety, or so he thought. A couple of clunks told him that a grenade had landed near him. He turned to his left and saw it immediately rushing back round the wall where he originally started. A large explosion, was followed a shower of flames that danced along the walls and covered the entire floor of the corridor for a few seconds before burning out.
"What the hell was that?" John panted. He could hear his blood thumping rapidly in his ears, and felt himself gasping for air as if he had just been moments away from drowning.
"A White Phosphorus grenade."
A chilling, American voice echoed against the walls of the warehouse. John couldn't work out where its source was.
"So they sent someone to retrieve it after all! My, my, I'm impressed. I never thought that the Russians would be so desperate as to request for Western help."
John pulled out his M1911 and popped out from round the wall that he was hiding behind. Aiming his pistol down the corridor, he could hear the weighted footsteps of his attacked moving into view. A KGB soldier armed with a flamethrower walked slowly into the view of John Doe. He was on the opposite end of this, "corridor" in another corridor facing right of John's view. The soldier stopped once he reached the middle and stood still for a few moments. A thick tension filled the air whilst nothing happened. The KGB soldier turned his head sharply to the right to face John.
John knew that the Russians did have some troops armed with flamethrowers, but they usually wore a different uniform so as to protect themselves from the heat. This guy was just wearing normal battle fatigues.
"Identify yourself!" John ordered finally.
"Oh! British!" The soldier seemed quite amused. "Well, well, well. I never thought the British Secret Service would be sending their agents in to take us on. Who do you think you are, James Bond?"
John gave a small grimace behind his balaclava.
"Thanks for the compliment, but unfortunately, it's close but no Cuban. I'm employed by the yanks."
"Ahh, well… I guess it doesn't matter anyway. You're going to have to get through me first."
"I'd love to, but isn't it rude to not introduce yourself?"
"Hahaha. I like you. Very well then, you can call me 'Flare Commando'."
"Flare Commando?"
"That's right. I am one of the few soldiers left in the world who understand the beauty and art of the flamethrower. It is not simply a weapon that spurts fire and burns the surroundings you know. The flamethrower is a deadly force, capable of incapacitating enemies without killing them. The pain of burning is something of an art form to men like me."
John scowled in disgust.
"Hmph. You are nothing but a pyromaniac with a penchant for sadism."
"Hahahaha. I knew that you wouldn't understand, Mr…"
"HOUND."
"Ahh, a codename. Very well, Mr… HOUND."
Flare Commando pulled out a grenade similar looking to the one that had almost killed John moments before. John kept his pistol aimed at Flare Commando, but was certainly starting to worry.
"Do you know what the biggest difference is between the effects of white phosphorus grenade, red phosphorus?"
John remained silent.
"Well… The biggest difference my friend is the fact that red phosphorus can burn when wet. It's quite painful for the victim when if the person treating them doesn't realise it. Sometimes, it can take a while for people to realise the difference."
"You're sick."
"No. I'm just adapting to war."
John remained silent. He didn't like the conversation one bit, but hesitated to shoot, just in case he missed and hi the tank on the back of Flare Commando. Although FOXHOUND members had to be extremely proficient with all forms of weapons, he dared not risk the shot at twenty metres. The tone of Flare Commando suddenly changed.
"Well then Mr. HOUND, did you know that roasted dog is quite popular in Korea and China? LET ME SHOW YOU!"
A jet of flame shot towards John, giving him mere seconds to duck back behind the wall. The fire singed his uniform, but he thankfully avoided the full wrath of the flame jet. Immediately, he hit the transmission button on his radio.
"Major, do you read me?" John growled down the radio.
"I'm here. What's wrong?"
"I found out the reason that there aren't any sentries. They got some pyromaniac with a flamethrower and Phosphorus Grenades guarding the inside of the warehouse."
"Must be Flare Commando." Jacobsen had been listening in.
"You know this guy?" John was suddenly interested in what Jacobsen had to say. It was difficult for John to concentrate however, as he was unsure of where Flare Commando would appear next.
"Well I know OF him. He was the leader of the Russian GRU flame units. I don't really know much about him, but reports say he and his team were disbanded a few years ago after the issues regarding flame and chemical warfare in Vietnam. The Russians didn't want the same thing that happened in the US to happen in streets of Moscow. Of course the group was top-secret so there wasn't any problem for backlash, except from the soldiers themselves."
A jet of flame just missed John as it shot down the corridor and passed where he was hiding. He dived over to the next column and flattened himself against the wall, trying to avoid the view of Flare Commando.
"Ok, thanks for the info Jacobsen."
"Just remember, don't hit the tank on his back. The tiniest spark could set off a huge explosion that could take out that entire building."
"Yeah just like I thought. Guess I'm gonna have to get a bit closer."
It was a game of cat and mouse for both. John Doe was trying to get to Flare Commando without alerting him, and Flare Commando was simply hunting down John Doe. As the battle drew on, John began to become more and more tired. He wasn't going to be able to dodge the flames for much longer, let alone sneak u on the guy. How could he get close to him?
A cardboard box was lying in the corner of the warehouse. John stared at it for a few moments, contemplating his decision. Should he? If Flare Commando let of a blast of flame, John would be screwed. Then again, if it worked… He'd made his decision.
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
Flare Commando's voice boomed and echoed around the walls of the abandoned warehouse. He trudged along the corridors, becoming more and more infuriated at losing track of this 'HOUND' agent. He passed a cardboard box and realised he'd gone in a circle without finding him.
"Show yourself coward!" He roared with fury.
"Guess who?"
Flare Commando turned around. John Doe was a mere 5 metres away.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna miss."
He double-tapped straight at the chest. Flare Commando hid the ground with a loud thud, the flame unit pack crunching under his weight. He wasn't dead, but he was certainly dying. An expression of confusion and shock appeared on his face behind the covering. John Doe slowly moved towards him, and through blurry eyes Flare Commando stared back.
"I… I must know the name of the person who has defeated me."
"It's John. John Doe. That's my real name."
Flare Commando roared with laughter, as if finally realising the punch line to a sick joke.
"I see… Killed by an insignificant soldier; Oh, the irony of being killed by a soldier with a name such as yours. Oh well. I'm sure that the fires of hell shall accept me as I am."
He spluttered for a moment, before lying motionless. John simply turned away from the body and without so much as looking back, walked towards the exit of the warehouse, allowing the fires of the battle to burn away.
"John, are you there?" Natalie had finally been able to reach him on the radio. John knely down to take the call.
"I'm here. Everything's been taken care of. What is it?"
"As soon as you exit the warehouse, you should have a clear path towards the Pillbox. I don't think there will be any issues with you coming under contact from the enemy."
"Understood. I'm making my way outside now."
"Ok. Good luck."
The battle was difficult, but John had survived. He prayed that he wouldn't have to do anything like that again in the mission.
Next Chapter:
Chapter 3: The Pillbox Stronghold