Hi everybody. I'm back from the dead!
Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. As I said in the last one, we were having some issues with our internet provider, however it appears to be resolved.
I made the chapter nice and long (Nearly 4000 words! A new record...I think) so there's plenty to enjoy until the next one, and hopefully I'll get a schedule going again soon.
So, as Fallout 4's Codsworth once said: "Enough feeling sorry for myself!"
Enjoy!
Ten Minutes Later
SHD Safehouse Codename: LAST STOP
E St and 6th
A somewhat eerie silence has fallen over the group since the Arena raid. Faye quietly reports on our success, and everything we found, to Manny over the radio. Dima stands with her, cradling his AK and slowly pacing back and forth. Jay is in place near the entrance we came through, in case any Hyenas tried to follow us. Sarah sits on a pile of sandbags stacked in front of a cargo train car, resting her chin on her knuckles.
I find myself feeling differently to how I did at the White house. In President Ellis' office, I felt like I was among giants. Like I didn't belong with a group of the finest Agents in the entire Division. They seemed so much bigger back there, as well as back in New York. They are Agents of the Strategic Homeland Division. Elite, top secret sleeper agents, armed with the finest weapons and gear, the best training the armed forces has to offer, and the best battlefield intelligence. It's easy to assume that they are larger than life, especially knowing the amazing things they do. Rescuing civilians and JTF officers, like myself.
But at the end of the day, they're still just regular people. Even Roxwell, who some might see as a homicidal maniac.
I wander in Sarah's direction and lean next to her SAW, letting my M16 hang by its strap.
"That is what D.C. has been up against?" She asks after a moment, her voice echoing off of the brick walls and concrete floor. "All that time?"
"That and more." I reply. "According to Manny."
"How? Those Hyenas weren't even people. How have they fought back alone for two years?"
"Maybe it wasn't always this bad?" I suggest. "Though there wasn't much talk between Washington and the rest of the country, like Captain Benitez said…"
"If so," Sarah begins. "then why did it all fall to shit now? How did they keep the peace until now?" The Agent looks up at me. "How, Kelly?"
For the first time, I'm at a loss for words. I've never been asked something like that, especially from someone like Sarah, whom I've often looked to for leadership and guidance. Minus the weapons and carrier vest, she resembles a civilian looking to me, a JTF soldier, to guide her.
And seeing that in someone like Sarah would likely scare anyone.
"I...I don't know."
"D.C. definitely had better security and armed forces presence that anywhere else." Faye comments. "I'm sure that contributed to it."
"But these Hyenas are like the Rikers back home." Sarah says. "Only there's more of them and their all on drugs."
"From what Alani and Thomas said, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Bio-terrorist Outcasts, True Sons rebels, and a group of freaks just called 'The Underground'."
"What's their beef, you think?" the troubled Agent at my side asks.
"No idea. Probably just a group of conspiracy nuts who were already planning for something like this to happen. They live in the sewers and subways, clinging to that Cold War-style paranoia. Lot's of subway stations, sewer substations and basements here were modified to double as fallout shelters back in the '50s and '60s."
Silence descends once again as Sarah nervously eyes the blocked off subway tunnel behind us. I stand from my leaning position and begin to wander around the small safehouse, eventually finding myself standing next to Jay at the door. She has relaxed a bit, her rifle low, but she still periodically looks out the doorway and up the flight of stairs leading to the outside.
"It's been over ten minutes, Jay." I say quietly. She looks down at the floor, then at me. "I doubt they'll find us, even if they followed."
Jay nods, but doesn't say anything.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How much this reminds me of a mission I was on a while back." Jay finally responds. "Back in Afghanistan. I'm sure you know the one, Sarah."
The Agent in question nods, still in the same spot where I left her.
"That I do." She replies grimmly.
Camp Dwyer Marine Base
Helmand River Valley, southern Afghanistan
Cpl. Jaylene Roberts
March 2007
11:35 hrs
"Hey! Roberts!" I'm awakened by the voice followed by the impact of a paper object landing in my lap. I lift the brim of my cover to see Sgt. Terry Hawthorne standing over me. Rubbing my eyes, I look around for a brief moment.
I'm in the rec room of Camp Dwyer, at the table in the center. My boot-clad feet still rest on the table, my boots themselves unlaced. I glance down at the magazine I was reading before I dozed off. Other than the two of us, the room is empty.
"What's up, Sarge?"
"A briefing. Got a tip from a local about something going on in the nearby village." I sit up slightly and lean towards my boots to tie them. "You'll hear the rest later. Where's Green?" He asks after looking around.
"Probably in the barracks." I say with a small yawn and stretch. "I'll go find her."
"Get yourselves kitted up and to the briefing room." Hawthorne orders before leaving the rec room. As he opens the door, a large gust of wind flies in, carrying with it a cloud of dust and sand. I drop the mag on the table and take up a jog to follow him.
A small sandstorm has entered the area of the camp, greatly reducing visibility. I don my shades and bury my face into the crook of my sleeve before heading in the area of the barracks.
"God, I hate this place." I mutter to myself. Sandstorms are unfortunately common for this area of the Helmand River Valley, or as many veteran Leathernecks have dubbed it, 'Hell Man'. The dust storms pop up out of nowhere, and temperatures often hit 130 degrees. Since it's technically 'spring', today it was only 75. There are almost no native Afghani's around, making the Valley a hotspot for the Taliban. Skirmishes just outside the wire are frequent, and patrols are sometimes deadly, especially at night. It's gotten to the point where the Marines on permanent posting here have built a memorial wall by the entrance to the base. At the moment, despite the base's young age, the number of names has broken 100 and shows no signs of slowing down.
I tug open the door to the barracks and find the woman I'm looking for. My best friend and battle buddy, Sarah. As usual, her nose is buried in her latest copy of the New York Times, dated for the 12th. Sarah looks up from the paper as I enter.
"Honey, I'm home." I say jokingly, shaking the sand out of my hair bun.
"What brings you here?" She asks happily.
"Briefing. There's something going on in one of the villages further south." I reply.
"Sick." Sarah folds up her newspaper and heads towards her locker, taking out her vest, helmet and backpack. I walk up to where she was seated and glance at the paper.
"Market Attacks in Baghdad. At Least 67 Dead" reads the headline.
"Yikes." I comment, following Sarah to my own locker.
"I'd rather be there." My companion says, pulling on her helmet. "No sand storms. What do you think is going on?"
"No idea." I pull my shemagh up and goggles down as we head to the door. Sarah does the same, slinging her SAW over her shoulder.
The sand storm itself appears to have calmed a bit, but it's still quite windy outside. Sarah and I follow the tail end of a group of Marines headed to the briefing room. Briefings are usually held outside, but on days like this, exceptions are made. Our dynamic duo files in towards the back of the room, with twenty or so Marines either standing or seated in front of us.
"Afternoon, boys and girls." Lieutenant Ronald Taylor addresses the platoon. "I'll be quick. We got a tip from some locals in a village to the south. One of them escaped from a trafficking ring, and she's given us some details of their whereabouts." He turns to a map of the valley behind him. "It's located here. We'll mount up and head down to investigate, with medical transport on station. The local says enemy presence is rather substantial, but they're inexperienced with frontline combat. We're heading in to investigate and rescue any captives who are still there, then secure the place and set up a garrison. You're the quick reaction force, Marines. Mount up."
The platoon files out of the room and heads for the motor pool. I take the wheel of one of the humvees, with Sarah taking the passenger seat. LCpl. Douglas and Pfc. Ramos take the back, with Pfc. Dunn on the .50cal. I pull or vehicle into the third slot of our small convoy of five, and we're away.
"Time for a road trip, eh ladies?" Douglas calls out, tapping the top of my helmet."
"That it is." Jay says as we pull away from the base.
Several minutes of bouncing around a giant tin can later, we're approaching the target compound. I begin to fiddle with the radio until some voices can be heard. It appears that somewhere somewhat nearby, there's a search and destroy operation in full swing, as many of the transmissions have audible gunfire in the background.
"One, I don't see any fuckin' smoke. Where's the goddamn houses at?" One voice asks.
"Four, I'm gonna shoot with .50cal tracers now." Comes the reply a moment later. The words are hard to make out over the static.
"Four, One. You see it?"
That's how close the damn house is?!"
"Roger!"
"Move forward a bit. I don't have eyes on right now."
"Four, you ready?"
"Alright, I guess we're gonna blow a hole in this goddamn house. That's all I can see right now."
"Yeah roger. That's where they were bein' engaged from."
"Four, One. Contact. Contact fire."
"Red Four find out where these fuckin' incoming rounds are gonna go to!"
As the lead vehicle of our column appears to slow down, I tune back to our operation frequency.
"-vised a white van just pulled up on the left side of the building." Says one of the gunners.
"Think they saw us?" Someone asks.
"Most likely. All vehicles, all forward. Hold formation and watch your spacing. Gunners, I want eyes on. Report any movement."
The convoy speeds up, our Humvee jostling around rather violently as we hit dips and rocks in the dirt road. A loud thump is heard in the back, followed by an exclamation of discomfort.
"Aow! Jesus!" Ramos calls out. "My fuckin' head!"
"You okay back there?" I ask.
"Yeah. The inside of these things is too cramped."
"They weren't built for tall ass freaks like you, Ramos!" I jeer at him.
"Easy for you to say, Sarah. What are you, four foot two?"
"Very funny."
Our banter is cut short by a volley of bullets cracking over our heads.
"Woah!" Dunn shouts. "They're shootin' at us!"
"Well shoot back, dammit!" Jay orders, following the second vehicle's lead by turning off the road and directly towards the compound.
"All vehicles, push towards the compound. Return fire!" Taylor orders simultaneously, Dunn nearly drowning him out with a long burst.
Jay puts the pedal to the metal, overtaking the other vehicles and quickly taking the lead.
"RPG!" Dunn cries helplessly as a rocket sails towards us.
Our driver tugs the wheel sharply to the left, but she was too late.
The RPG rocket digs into the ground in front of us and detonates, making our humvee pole vault over the blast and land on it's side, the roof facing the compound.
Dunn scrambles back into the vehicle, since by some miracle he wasn't thrown out of his seat, as the roof gets peppered by incoming rounds. Through the cracked and half buried windshield, I see one of the other vehicles stop and the Marines dive out towards us.
"One-Three took a hit." I say shakily into the radio, silencing the hails directed at us. "RPG. We're overturned, but okay." One of our comrades jumps onto the drivers side and tugs open Jay's door. Rounds whizz over his head as he reaches in and takes my partner's hand, pulling her out of her seat. He reaches in again for me, but takes a hit and falls off of the truck, the door nearly slamming on my fingers.
I can hear the chaos of battle all around as I fumble around for my SAW, still slightly dazed from the crash. Weapon in hand, I watch Ramos and Douglas climb out of their seats, the back door closing behind them. I stand awkwardly on the inside of the passenger door and push on the drivers. It squeaks open and I pull myself up, taking a moment to look around.
The attack has definitely hit a rut, now that we have a vehicle and at least one man down. One-Two has taken a defensive position next to our wreck, the gunner squeezing off long bursts at the compound. Several rounds crack over our heads as I pull myself out of the Humvee and down onto the ground. The wounded Marine who tried to help us is being attended to by the Corpsman, Lt. Taylor and 1stSgt. Lee scream out orders, only adding to the deafening cacophony of the firefight, and Jay appears to be the only level-headed one in the whole place as she jogs towards me.
"Sarah! You okay, Sista?!"
"Just fantastic! Why aren't we pushing up?!"
"Waiting for you!" She turns to Taylor.
"One-Three is accounted for, Sir!" She shouts at him.
"Outstanding! Spread out and pick a Humvee! Use them for cover as they advance!"
I follow Jay to one of the vehicles beginning to advance. Incoming rounds whistle over our heads and hit the sand and rocks around our feet. The humvee speeds up, and the Marines with us take up a jogging pace to keep up.
After what feels like ages, the humvee stops at the entrance to the compound. I take the lead and lay down suppressing fire, hosing the immediate area with gunfire. Two or three Taliban soldiers take several rounds and fall.
"Okay, you got 'em all!" Douglas shouts at me. "Quit shootin' that fuckin' thing! I'm going deaf over here!"
I rest my SAW on its folded bipod and begin reloading it, careful not to touch the now super heated barrel. Jay stays by my side as the others file past and into the compound. Finishing up, our group fights its way past more enemies as we head towards the prison area.
"Mushat albahriat al'amrikiat!" (American Marines!) A thick Arabic voice calls out. " 'Atlaq alnaar ealayhim!" (Shoot them!)
Several gunshots ring out as we enter the prison. Some cells are empty, others have dead and dying prisoners inside. I switch to my M800 for close quarters, half pumping it to check the chamber. Jay slides a full magazine into her M16 and nods at me when she's ready. The two of us enter the corridor simultaneously.
"They better not shoot any of the prisoners." Ramos growls.
"I saw Guzzo loading explosives before we left." Dunn replies. "Either way, it won't be a wasted trip. This place'll be a smoking crater when we're done."
"Oorah." Jay says simply. "Let's get it done."
"Hadinh satamut min ajl allah." (These ones will die for God.) A voice echoes from a room at the end of the hall, followed by the sound of several weapons being loaded.
"One-One to all units." Our radio crackles. "Say status, over."
"One-Four, we've cleared the crows nest."
"One-Two. Inner courtyard is clear."
"One-Five, picking up rear security. We'll mop up the stragglers."
"One-Three." I say. "We've breached the prison block. Possible hostages. Moving to secure."
"One-One copies all. Four, keep an eye out for reinforcements. Three, continue as planned. Two, move inside and support Three. Head for the prison. One is sweeping the barracks and control center. Over and out."
"Min fadlik la tafeal hadha!" (Please don't do this!) A young sounding voice pleads. "Sanafeal 'aya shay' turiduh!" (We will do anything you want!)
"Laqad faqadt hadhih alfursat eindama harab sadiquk wa'akhbir al'amrikiiyn eanaa." (You lost that chance when your friend escaped and told the Americans about us.) Another voice declares. "Ta'akad min 'iilqa' allawm ealayha fi tariqik 'iilaa aljana." (Be sure to blame her on your way to Heaven.)
"We gotta get in there." I hiss to my comrades as we reach the door. "After you, Jay."
My partner nods and looks to everyone for a moment, then delivers a heave kick to the metal door. The soldiers and prisoners inside jump in surprise.
"US Marines!" She screams at them. "Drop your weapons!" I file in next to her, followed by Douglas, Dunn and Ramos.
"Drop it!" I shout at the first soldier I see, who looks frantically around at his compatriots. "Qatara! 'Iisqat albunduqia!"
This screaming match continues for several tense seconds until one of the soldiers finally replies.
"Nastaslim!" He shouts at us and his men. "Nastaslim!" He raises his rifle over his head, and the others do the same shortly after. I lower my gun and look to one of the hostages, a girl who looks to be in her late teens, and wave her towards us. She pushes herself up hesitantly and somewhat awkwardly, her hands still bound. More prisoners from around the room chance an approach as Dunn moves to confiscate the insurgents' weapons.
"I didn't know you spoke Arabic, Green." Douglas remarks.
"It helps to be prepared, I guess." I reply, turning to my radio. "One-Three to all units, hostages secure. Two, care to lend a hand?"
"10-4. We're comin' to ya."
Ramos and Douglas begin leading the hostages out of the room, while Jay and I stay with Dunn.
"Hey, woah. What's this?" Dunn asks as he reaches one of the soldiers. "What's attached to your gun, man?"
"Watcha got, Dunn?" Jay asks.
"Dunno. There's a wire coming out of this guy's sleeve and leading to his hand."
"Oh...fuck." I whisper to myself. "Get away from him, dude!"
Before Dunn can react, the soldier grabs ahold of him. The several hostages still in the room try to flee at the commotion.
"ALLAH HU AKBAR!" Someone bellows.
"Get the fuck ou-!"
*BOOM!*
Meanwhile...
Sgt. Terry Hawthorne
Diamond One-Two
Down the hall from One-Three's location
"What the hell was that?!" All of us shout in one variation or another as a massive explosion rocks the entire compound. The blast sent a large cloud of dust our way and civilians can be heard screaming in terror as they run past. We push forward through the dust and debris cloud towards the prison.
A.K.A. ground zero.
"Diamond One-Three!" I shout. "Roberts! Green! Douglas! Anyone here?"
"Ramos is here." A voice replies. "Over here guys!" McCord turns on his flashlight, eventually finding Ramos. He's leaning against a column, covered head to toe in dust.
"You good, bro?" I find myself pleading to him. "Where's everyone else?"
"Douglas and I were out here." Ramos explains. "Green, Roberts and Dunn were...in there." He points to the doorway behind him, which appears to be where the blast came from.
Pennington finds Douglas and helps him into a sitting position against the wall. Other than some bruises and a bad headache from the explosion, he seems to be uninjured. McCord, Drinkwater and I continue into the next room, unsure of what we'll find.
Carnage. That's the only word that comes to mind. It looks as if somebody set of a bomb inside a busy department store. Dead civilians are scattered everywhere, but Dunn and the captors Green mentioned are nowhere to be seen.
Green and Roberts themselves are found rather easily. Sarah is propped up against a wall, likely thrown across the room by the blast, seated as if she had just plopped down for a nap. Her legs are partially buried by rubble, and Drinkwater gets to work digging her out and trying to wake her.
Jaylene is a similar story. She's on her side facing away from us. One of the civilian hostages landed on her and he is already doing his best to help.
"Diamond One-One." I begin after gathering myself for a moment. "We've reached the prison. An IED was likely the cause of the blast. All but Pfc. Dunn are accounted for. Beginning search."
"Green?" I hear Drinkwater say, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Green can you hear me? You okay?"
"Yeah." She replies after a long moment, sounding very groggy. "Wha...what the fuck just happened?"
A/N-
This chapter actually took a surprising amount of research to complete, at least about actual stuff and not game lore. Camp Dwyer is in fact a real U.S. Military outpost in the Helmand River Valley of Afghanistan. Aside from the raid completely going to hell, missions like this are somewhat common for the Marines on station there.
Thanks for staying tuned, folks. More chapters to come soon. Thanks for reading and see you next time!