CHAPTER TWELVE: ENTER THE FLAGG

Somewhere in Borovia

Snake-Eyes crouched on the sand, weapon in hand, trying as hard as he could to hear the silent tank start up inside the cargo box. Had it not been so quiet along the beach, he knew that he actually might have missed the fact that it started up. Definitely not an Army tank… at least not an Army tank that I've seen. Those suckers are LOUD, and you know they're coming from a mile away.

The tank pulled forward out of the cargo container with the greatest of ease. It surged forward with the speed of a cheetah, but it barely made a sound. Even the way it looked was remarkable. Considering the tank was only about twenty feet away from him… even though it was the dead of night, it was still almost impossible to see with the naked eye. And what Snake-Eyes could see from it, the armor design looked similar to the F-22 Raptor. I never thought I'd see the day when they'd make a stealth tank, let alone one that is truly as quiet as this one.

Remembering General Hawks briefing, Snake recalled some of the points of the M155 Flagg Tank – only three in existence, all under ownership of their unit – that stood out. Of course the General only gave Echo Team the basic briefing on the Flagg; the tank operators were the ones with the full briefing, not to mention hands-on experience.

It had a stealth mode that made it nearly undetectable by radar and practically invisible to anyone outside one-hundred yards; it was covered in armor plating of a titanium/adamantium mix, making it nearly invulnerable; it could carry three times the amount of ammunition as its predecessors; its flexible tracks allowed it to climb the steepest of terrain. It even had an underwater capability.

While General Hawk didn't get into specifics regarding the engine, Snake-Eyes knew that whatever was powering the silent M155 Flagg, it had to have been an engine (or two) of technology that he wasn't familiar with. The Prius would be jealous. I just hope the brakes work on this tank.

This was the ultimate land-based vehicle created with the element of surprise as the driving force behind the idea – strike and recoil… they'll never know what hit'em.

I hope the Flagg is as good as advertised. But let's face it – a weapon is only as good as the operator behind it. Snake had fought in enough wars and conflicts to know that. And it was clear to him that out of its five-man crew, or "Tango Team", dubbed by General Hawk, one job was by far the most important.

Steeler, the commander of the tank, had the second-most important job. At least in Snake-Eyes opinion. The funny thing was, when Snake-Eyes first joined the unit, Steeler, Grand Slam, and Clutch made up a small handful of the original members. It had been a while since he had done any operations with any of the three, but here he was, once again – fighting side-by-side with them. Those three guys in particular also made up something of a three-member fraternity; they were a close nit bunch. Always teasing, joking and hazing each other. The harder the pain caused and the more destructive the joke, the funnier it was. It was as simple as that.

Times change, though… and people change with it. Sometimes by their own will, and sometimes because they simply have to. It was the latter for Steeler. Steeler was the commander of the Flagg tank – the leader of the multi-billion dollar vehicle. Snake knew that he would be left out of the banter and trash-talking between Clutch and Grand Slam. He had to be, whether he liked it or not. Chain of Command was a funny thing, that way. Nonetheless, Steeler was a born leader, and would make a perfect leader for Tango.

Of course, Cover Girl was the driver… clearly also an important position on any tank crew, and it wouldn't go anywhere without one. Still, the tank driver was not thee number one position on the tank. Nonetheless, Cover Girl had an interesting background, as Snake-Eyes recalled.

She had at one time had aspired to be a famous supermodel; in fact, she had achieved practically every dream she had in the supermodel industry… gracing the cover of every major fashion magazine from Victoria's Secret to Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Edition. For some reason, unbeknownst to most, she gave up that life in order to join the Army. Seemingly with no regrets. To an even greater surprise… at least, a surprise to practically all of the men in her unit, she was a complete natural at any job she took up in her Armored Division. Snake-Eyes never did figure out her attraction to the iron cavalry, but it was clear that her skills helped her gain access to her current elite unit far more than her status as a supermodel ever could have.

Grand Slam had a similar… yet very different story. He had given up a multi-million dollar contract in order to join the military and fight overseas in Afghanistan after playing with the Seattle Mariners for a couple seasons. He had played side by side with some of the greats such as Griffey and Ichiro, just to name a few. Every single one of his teammates… both on the baseball field and the battle field, thought he was crazy for doing so; nonetheless, his same teammates that thought he was insane for doing so had an even deeper respect for him because he did just exactly that. That's the kind of honor and call to duty that can't be paid for.

Grand Slam and Cover Girl were often found side by side. They found it naturally easy to relate with each other, of course because of their similar backgrounds. They understood each other better than anyone else possibly could have. Ever since Cover Girl joined the unit a few years back, the two of them instantly became close and spent most of their time together. Both were role models of successful, famous individuals that had climbed the celebrity ladder as far as some can only dream of – only to make a decision that would change and alter their lives forever: Joining an elite United States military unit. And, whether it was to give back to their country or whether it was to fulfill self achievement, it didn't matter; the fact was they were here, as a part of the most elite team in the world... even if the very existence of the team was classified. Yet here they were, doing things that were more important than anything they had ever done in their lives... even if they had slipped out of their celebrity status and faded away from the eyes of the cameras.

To both of them, it was well worth it.

Snake scratched his head, thinking of the irony. As celebrities, they were loved and adored for providing entertainment; but as true heroes who actually made a difference in the world, not a single person knew how much they had truly given to their country. Something more than they ever could have, had they not joined the unit.

Maybe that was something they should have been paid millions of dollars for… or, at least, should have been worshiped and adored for.

But, just as Cover Girl was a natural tank driver, Grand Slam was the best gunner that the team had ever found, and earned some of the highest marks in gunnery competition ever seen in the United States Army. The two of them had very different roles, but were both born – perhaps destined – for the tank.

And Clutch. His job was important – especially because he was dual-hatted. He served as both maintenance and loader for the Flagg. With his maintenance background, he would be the one to keep the Flagg in tip-top shape. If something was broke, from a toaster to a tank, he could fix it. In addition, someone had to load the guns for Grand Slam. That would be Clutch, also. He served as an excellent combat soldier and his skills as a loader were top of the line – his speed was truly unparalleled. His former days as a hard-nosed, edge-of-the-seat racecar driver... excluding all of the glitz and glamour that they could do without… brought a lot to the team. Even his chauvinistic tendencies and swelling pride carried over from the race track to the military lifestyle. Fortunately, Snake hadn't seen him act this way to Shana, even though he had heard he often found a way to harass some of the other girls. Especially Cover Girl. He figured he specifically harassed her the most just to get to Grand Slam.

Still, Clutch didn't have the most important role among the crewmembers. Of all the positions on the M155 Flagg, Snake-Eyes believed that Flash had the most important.

This was for several reasons. The first and perhaps the most important was because Flash was actually one of the braniac designers of the Flagg. Snake-Eyes rarely saw Flash over the last couple of years because he had been working on building the tank, even though the unit leaders claimed he was away on a long duration contingency. But Snake knew. Snake-Eyes wasn't supposed to know this… no one was, really, but he knew anyway.

With all the advanced electronics and communication systems on board… not to mention the fact that he was the one who could activate the stealth mode, Flash would keep the tank clear from the enemy and allow a quick strike/rescue/retreat operation. This was, after all, what made the Flagg stand out from any other tank in the United States military.

The six members of Whisky Team would have to hoof it on their own once they were recovered, but if they could find Dr. Bennett, they could protect him inside the tank safely and get him to the United States. The Flagg wasn't exactly a cargo tank, nor did it have the capacity to hold numerous individuals (especially since it was armed to the teeth), but if all went well, that wouldn't matter.

All the others comprising up "Echo Team" – Snake-Eyes, Recondo, Low-Light, Barbecue, and Blowtorch, were all expendable infantry. Even Snake new just how expendable he was. But he didn't mind… least of all on this mission where his fellow brothers-in-arms were in dire jeopardy.

Expendable or not… Snake knew he was in good company. As the Flagg prepared to move out, Snake-Eyes took a quick look at each of his teammates standing outside the tank. He did this before each mission, as a way to remember each individual in their respective position. Not that he had trouble remembering who was on the team, but it was and old meditation mind trick he had learned some time ago which served to not just recall which members were in which position, but how they might react in a given situation. Some might even call it a character study. But the reason for it was simple: When the firefight started, he wanted to know exactly what each person on his team would do, where they would be at, and how they would respond.

Low-Light he had already worked with, back in Chicago. Snake-Eyes probably knew him better than any of the others on Echo Team. In fact, Low-Lights talent as a sniper was probably one of the reasons Snake-Eyes was still walking around today.

Recondo. Snake hadn't personally worked with him before like he had with Low Light, but everything he heard about the man was top of the line. No one ever said anything bad about him, unlike some of the other team members with massive egos. Recondo was known for his expert ability to survive anywhere in the world… in particular, the deepest, darkest jungles of South America. Man vs. Wild was a cartoon compared to the missions Recondo had been on.

The word was before he joined the team, he had spent a good three years undercover with the NSA working counterdrug operations. Supposedly, he helped take out one of the more well known cartels, recovering millions and millions of dollars worth of cocaine. Anyone that can accomplish that feat, especially getting that shit off of the streets, is welcome on any team I'm on, any day, Snake thought.

Barbecue. Barbecue had a side duty of being the fire guard for the tank – putting out any major fires or damage it might sustain should they enter combat. While a firefighter may have seemed out of place, Barbecue was also one of the best infantrymen that the team had. As a former smokejumper, his parachuting skills were some of the best Snake-Eyes had seen. Supposedly Barbecue had seen a lot of action before he had joined the unit – the kind of action in the middle of a ring of fire in the blazing wilderness of California. Barbecue didn't talk much about his life as a smokejumper; originally, Snake-Eyes didn't think much of that fact until he had later learned that Barbecue had lost two buddies on one of his smoke-jumping missions after the fire took an unexpected and very unpredictable turn for the worse.

Snake-Eyes had never had a close heart-to-heart talk with Barbecue… well, assuming Snake actually had heart-to-heart talks with anyone, but after Snakes loss of his own buddies in Afghanistan he realized that he had a lot more in common with Barbecue than he initially realized.

The funny thing about Barbecue was that he often head-butted with Blowtorch, who seemed to be a natural arson. Barbecue wasn't above scolding and chastising Blowtorch on how to "properly" use his flamethrower without setting unnecessary fires, even though he himself wasn't qualified on the weapon. Because Barbecue had been dropped into one too many hot spots, surrounded by blazing forest fires, and lost some of his closest friends, he had grown a respectful hate for the burning flames.

Quite the opposite of Blowtorch, who loved fire so much he accidentally set his house on fire as a young teenager.

Twice.

At least the second time he did it he had learned what to do from setting his house ablaze the first time, and before it could spread he put the fire out quicker than possibly any firefighter might have.

Snake-Eyes smiled, recalling those stories Blowtorch would tell the unit over and over. Probably why he started smoking, too, Snake thought. Yes… such a complete opposite of Barbecue.

Blowtorch even named his flamethrower Bridgette, after some Celtic fire goddess, supposedly; Barbecue suspected Blowtorch did that specifically to spite him. Snake, however, realized that Blowtorch treated his flamethrower better than anyone else treated their own weapons. Except for Snake himself, perhaps.

"…can't possibly tell me you'd prefer Bridgette," Barbecue once had said on a training mission, uttering the name of the flamethrower with mock and disgust wrapped into one, "over Cover Girl? Are you seriously telling me this?"

"You heard me," Blowtorch said without batting an eye, gently stroking the side of his flamethrower. "Cover Girl might keep ya warm, but not as warm as Bridgette. Isn't that right, girl?"

"You're insane. You've been inhaling too much of your fumes."

"Which fumes? My cigarette smoke, or the fuel from Bridgette?"

"Both."

Their banter went on like that constantly, both at home in the warzone. The only difference was they were just a little bit quieter in the warzone.

Strangely enough, however, for as many fights as the two of them had with each other, once you got enough alcohol in both of their veins they suddenly became the best of friends; they'd slap each other on the back and share war stories... they looked like two completely different people.

Snake-Eyes recalled that Blowtorch, like Clutch and Barbecue, had something of two roles on the team. First of all, he was an infantryman with a flamethrower. It didn't get any more simple than that. Snake-Eyes was always amazed at how something as simple as a flamethrower was devastating to enemy morale, even if it didn't work so well and had limited range. In general, a blowtorch could be much more than common rifles and grenades; seeing an enemy on fire proved to be absolutely frightening to his comrades even though rifles and grenades were typically deadlier.

Except for, possibly, a flamethrower in the hands of Blowtorch himself.

The second role that Blowtorch had was the clean-up man, or the "Incinerator." If anything needed to be destroyed and erased, his high-powered blowtorch would take care of that, leaving nothing behind. Nothing.

As Snake-Eyes studied each of his teammates, one of them walked up to the cargo box that the tank came out of.

"Light'm up, Bridgette," Blowtorch whispered with a crooked smile and a devious look in his eye. Blowtorch had calibrated his flamethrower at such a high temperature that he completely incinerated the cargo box, leaving no evidence behind.

I don't know what Blowtorch uses, but I need to look into that kind of stuff for myself. Snake-Eyes realized that the burning cargo box incinerated so rapidly that it barely left a smoke trail. And the smoke that did rise from the smoldering ashes was actually clear – not black. Military dollars well spent, Snake thought, realizing that a black smoke could easily attract enemy forces, even at night. Whatever kind of juice he had in his blowtorch, it was far from regular propane.

Standing over Blowtorch's shoulder, Low-Light quietly murmured, with just a hint of a smile, "Nice work, Incinerator."

Blowtorch chuckled. "I told you before, it's Blowtorch. BLOW - TORCH." Nonetheless, he couldn't help but add, "Well, Incinerator is kind of a cool name. Maybe I should have chosen that name instead. Well, too late for that now. Maybe I'll change Bridgette's name to Incinerator. No… you just can't change the name of one you care about so deeply, just like that; true love doesn't work that way. We'll stick with Bridgette…"

Barbecue rolled his eyes.

Steeler popped open the hatch of the tank and tapped the side of his helmet, indicating that Flash was ready to communicate with them. The soldiers outside the tank hooked up their earpieces.

After getting their initial radio checks, Flash told Steeler, "Ok, the Flagg is ready. All checklists complete."

With a thumbs-up from all four crewmembers, Steeler spoke to both Tango and Echo Teams on the intercom: "Tango Team is ready. Time to move out."

Easy for you to say, Steeler. We're going to a rendezvous point in an enemy country in order to sit and wait for our contact like sitting ducks. While Snake-Eyes was leery of this mission, he was willing to do whatever it took to find his missing teammates, and hopefully the scientist as well.

Quietly, Echo Team took up their positions around the Flagg surrounding the tank and marched forward with weapons in hand; the M155 Flagg silently moved forward in the middle of their formation. Both teams vanished under the night sky as they pressed ahead, deep into a foreign country where they were far from welcome.