Nagant could see the first S-300 the moment she arrived. It rested atop a small hill, with around a dozen infantry standing by, with the other three being a good few meters away from each other. She also spotted some BMPs, patrolling the nearby area. None of this, however, was an actual danger to her objective. What was, was the seven L-16 mortars spotted alongside the S-300s.
Taking quick note of their positions, Nagant quickly went over to a secluded hill, after hiding her JLTV. Once there her forearm bent back, as the barrel of her quirk came out. Moving carefully, she ripped a small tuft of hair from her head, before reshaping it into a bullet. From this distance, she could see she had two options. One was to maximize the power in her shots, which would ultimately destroy the S-300s like a bullet through paper.
But that would give away her position quite quickly, so there was option two. A more precise, albeit tedious shot to break the machine's. The decision was made as she checked her watch, finding only two hours until the C-17s would be in range. While it was likely the planes would make it through, that didn't mean all of them would. And with every piece of equipment being in desperate need, that meant time was of the essence.
So she looked back over the hill as she overcharged her quirk. Then aiming at one system, she fired. The gunshot sounded like a tank had fired, and it was only superseded as the first S-300 exploded. A large flaming hole was soon spotted where one of the AA missiles would have been located. With little time, Nagant began to crawl away from her previous position.
It was as she reached the other hill, that the first round of mortars hit the other hill. In a matter of moments, it was completely flattened. Not letting herself get distracted, Nagant turned back over to her second target. With the enemy focused on her last position, she set up her rifle quirk again, overcharging it. Then just like the first, she fired. A second S-300 exploded as its missiles were struck.
Quickly Nagant crawled out of the way again, right as the mortars hit the hill. It was worrying, the bombardment had arrived much faster than the last time. And she could hear the BMPs moving on her position. Having little time, she backtracked to the first hill, ensuring she wasn't spotted. But just as she finished setting up and prepared to fire, the S-300 she was aiming at came to life.
Its large tubes began to lift back before several missiles were launched into the air. Fearing she had been too late, Nagant looked down at her watch, only to become confused. She still had another hour before the C-17s came into detection range. Looking back over she found that whatever the S-300s were shooting at, had used all their missiles, with the crews around them rapidly reloading the systems.
It made her pause for a second, as she considered her next move. What were they trying to shoot down, if not the C-17s? As the question entered her mind, a call came from her codec. Quickly making sure the area around her was secluded, she answered.
"Mam?" the officer on the other end asked.
"I'm here, something come up?" she asked him, all the while keeping a lookout across the surrounding hill.
"Affirmative mam. A force of heroes was reported to have entered the sector. Reports suggest at least four divisions worth."
Heroes? All the way out here? It did answer one question though, but it left another.
"Where are they heading?"
"It's unknown, but hundreds of transport aircraft were spotted across the sector. I'd assume parachuting into the field."
"With no form of support?" Nagant muttered incredulously. It made her wonder if leaving the last S-300s intact was a smart idea. For one they would waste ammo on a different enemy, while the MSF's C-17s could slip by. And it could divert the hero's attention away from the MSF. However, that was if the Remnant forces were their only targets. Something that seemed more unlikely, as the call dragged on.
"Did the aircraft carrier arrive yet?"
"It has. It's currently circling Nigeria's coastline."
"Good, call them and order for jets to intercept those transports," Nagant ordered, before slowly making her way back to the hidden JLTV. She would come back for the surviving S-300s, but right now they seemed to be more than needed.
After what felt like an eternity, Grizzly sat down. He was caked in sweat and felt every inch of his body ache. In a pained fashion, he took off one of his shoes. See, back when he was a hero, there were many things he had previously taken for granted. Some he had expected to have lost. Air conditioning, Wifi, and a nearby store were things he expected to lose.
What he didn't expect, was not being able to shower for a week after being covered in sweat, mud, and just about every bug in the African wilderness. He didn't expect to have to go a full week on nothing but a half-empty MRE kit. And he most definitely did not expect, going without clean socks being the worst of all.
Especially as he looked down at his foot. The pair of socks were filthy, and it was only by some miracle that Grizzly hadn't gotten trench foot. Yet he was close, the pain he felt standing up told him that at every moment. So slowly he pulled off the first sock, before cleaning his foot with a disinfectant spray. It was a miserable process, as he did the same with his other foot.
This entire ordeal was miserable. The mud, the endless shelling, the lack of food, the low ammunition, the desperation. And yet, a part of him was willing to go through it again. After all this, he'd probably be the first one charging in. It was strange to look back on, how he went from the abomination of a hero costume to basic camo fatigues. Eventually, Eagle came over to join him.
"Rookie," he greeted, before slumping down in a foldable chair he was carrying, "feels good to finally relax, doesn't it?"
"Heh, that it does. Another week out in the field and I think my damn legs would have fallen off." Grizzly replied, the now clean socks covering his feet. He would never again take this luxury for granted.
"How long are we even supposed to be out here?" Grizzly asked him.
"Beats me, but the way I see it we have two possibilities. The first is us being stuck here for another few months on reconstruction efforts." Eagle replied before taking a sip from his canteen.
"And the other?"
"The other possibility is us getting flown out with a large batch of reinforcements coming to replace us."
"Doesn't sound all that bad."
"Well, I hate to rain on your parade," Ape began, the two noticing him walk over, "but I'm afraid neither is happening for the time being."
"It's always something new, isn't it," Eagle muttered, the once positive mood now bashed.
"What's the problem this time sir?" Grizzly asked him.
"From what I've learned, a large contingent of heroes has entered the sector."
"And that's a problem because?" Grizzly inquired, the ex-hero not entirely sure what the Lieutenant was referring to.
"Because the boys down in Intel believe the HPSC has labeled us as enemy combatants." Ape calmly answered as Eagle passed over his canteen.
"Now based on simple logic, command assumes the HPSC is targeting this airport. However, they aren't entirely sure. So for the time being, the entire area is on alert."
"Well then," Grizzly began, as he began putting his boots back on, "so much for a break. What're we doing?"
"As of right now, simple security detail. But I want eyes to the sky. Any and all sightings of a parachute are to be called in."
"Understood," Eagle replied, "Alright Rookie, let's get to work."
And just as they stepped outside, the first C-17 came in for a landing. Grizzly watched as it rolled across the runway slowing down, before it began turning to a different area. Once fully stopped and out of the way, a second C-17 came in. The massive planes' crews started unloading them then. Efficiently, the support team staff wheeled out the large pauldrons of supplies.
Grizzly let out a low whistle as an Apache was soon pulled out of the C-17s hangar bay.
"Damn those things are big," he commented, still walking aside the others.
"You can gawk later Rookie, we got work to do."
Silently Grizzly agreed, even if the sight was impressive. More aircraft would land and unload their cargo, all in orderly chaos. Large construction equipment was brought in once the last C-17 landed. And with it the Base Development team got to work building up the runway, ensuring other planes could land. The medical team loaded up a convoy of FMTVs and drove off to a camp of refugees.
As the music rang out over the radio, Cunning Ox tried his best to relax in his seat. All the while the soldier driving couldn't help but hum along. The fighting seemed to have died down, at least temporarily from what they could see. They drove down a long-abandoned road, covered in the occasional crater or destroyed vehicle. It made Ox slightly worried about mines, but the MRAP at the front of the convoy should hopefully alert them if anything arose.
"Gotta say," the driver started, attempting to have a friendly conversation, "It's nice to be out in the field again."
"I'll have to disagree with you on that one. I'm not entirely interested in getting shot at," Ox replied as he turned to look out the window. Outside he could see a pack of wild dogs feeding on the carcass of an elephant. Made him wonder if the MSF had any preservation contracts in the region.
"I'm not in the mood to get shot either. I just meant it's nice to be surrounded by plant life, rather than the dull concrete and steel back at the base." the driver replied.
"Eh, true. Can't go wrong with a bit of grass." Ox agreed.
"You know, I heard they started building mini forests back on Mother Base." the driver told him, as the truck turned to the right.
"Seriously?" Ox asked.
"That's what I heard, although my buddy might have been exaggerating. Still, wonder if the FOB over here is gonna get something like it." the driver replied, as Ox felt the truck shift. It turned slightly to avoid a burnt-out vehicle while staying on the word.
"If it did what would they put there?"
"Hmmm, maybe something from the region. I mean what better than something local."
"I guess that's true. Maybe they could bring some plants from Venezuela. I remember they had this really cool flower I saw in the jungle once."
"You remember the name?" the driver asked.
"I never learned it. But it was a bright pink with some splotches of white."
"Huh, it sounds pretty. Might be nice for a park."
"That's what I was thinking," Ox told him, as he kept gazing out the truck's window.
"That actually reminds me, you know anywhere I can get a bouquet?"
"A bouquet… all the way out here…" Ox replied, looking back at the driver.
"I know it's a long shot, maybe I could find some in a field or something."
"You got a girlfriend?" Ox asked.
"I'm engaged actually." the driver replied.
"The hell are you doing in the field while engaged. I swear this is the moment you say I can't wait to go home and see my family and then an AT round hits our truck… shit I'm sitting right next to you, I'm fucked."
"Well, I haven't said those words yet, so no jinx."
"Doesn't pointing out the jinx create a jinx."
"I think you're overthinking things now."
"Maybe, but who's to say," Ox replied, as the refugee camp finally came into view. It was honestly smaller than he expected, but he chalked that up to how spread out the battle was.
"Seems were here. You start unloading the truck, I've got paperwork to go sort out." the driver ordered, as the truck parked at a nearby tent. Giving the man a small nod, Ox hopped out and went over to the end of the truck. Opening up the back, he pulled out the first box of supplies. If he had to guess it was mostly full of disinfectants, if the sloshing liquid sounds were anything to go by.
Looking around he carried it off to a large pile the support team members were slowly building up. It had crates of bandages, coolers for blood and organs, electrical generators, x-rays, and a lot of other equipment. Making sure not to damage the nearby box of vaccines, Ox set the box down and went back over to the truck. As he did so, he could hear the sound of something…
He couldn't tell what it was, but it sounded like it was above him. Looking up, he thought he saw something. But the sun made it hard to look, and then he felt pain cover his entire left body. The world went black for a solid few moments as he passed out. When he woke back up, every part of him felt like he was hit by a semi-truck. He was lying on… something sharp? It was pressing into his back and made it hard to lean back up. Just as he was about to stand, something shoved him back to the ground, pressing the sharp object deeper into his back.
Ox let out a small cry in pain then, his eyes finally surveying the area. A large boot rested on top of him, and he could narrowly hear the sounds of gunfire around him. The boot had an odd pair of wings on the side, along with an infinity symbol plastered on the ankle. Its light blue hue stood out, as white trimmings laced up it, up to a more complex costume with a long flowing cape.
"There will be none of that villain! Fear not citizens, for the heroes have arrived!" the hero proclaimed, as Ox slowly turned his head to the side. There he saw what he was on top of, that box of vaccines now shattered. Struggling to stay awake, Ox finally fell unconscious, as the hero kicked him in the face.
The gunfire echoed around Bison as he ducked behind a concrete barricade. He peeked back over it quickly, before firing at a lone hero with his M4. The 5.56 rounds easily punctured the costume as the hero fell back dead. With one hero eliminated, he was forced back behind cover as another hero threw a ball of energy at him. It soared by, scorching the concrete before dissipating completely. What he wouldn't give to be back in his tank by now.
"CP this is Delta four! We need reinforcements!" Bison called out over the radio, as more soldiers around him fired into the crowd of heroes.
"Affirmative Delta four, backup is now on route!" CP replied as Bison looked back over the wall. The refugee camp was a cluster fuck. The convoy of arrived trucks was all but destroyed, and Bison didn't know what happened to the supplies. Even worse was the fighting itself. The main skirmishes had left the outskirts of the camp and were now in the middle of refugee tents.
Looking back over, Bison found another four heroes trying to approach the barricade. Not giving them the chance, he chucked a grenade over and watched as the heroes scrambled. Two were caught in the main blast and were killed instantly. The other two were wounded by shrapnel before another hero began to drag them to cover. But more heroes arrived to replace them.
The first one that arrived possessed a telekinetic quirk and lifted the barricade away. With his cover gone, Bison rolled out of the way before a large wrecking ball slammed into his previous position. Aiming his rifle back up, he fired at the hero with the wrecking ball, before falling back completely.
He could hear the chaos around him as he ran. Refugees fled alongside soldiers, with some heroes mistaking it as hostages being taken. Eventually, Bison met up with a small squad of soldiers, the men setting up an M249 in the patchwork of tents. Taking cover next to one he turned and asked, "Where's your CO?"
"Not sure, haven't seen him since the shooting started." the soldier replied, just as the next wave of heroes arrived. The machine gunner held down the trigger to the M249, the bullets tearing through the lightly armored heroes. In response one hero held up their hand, creating a translucent shield. The M249's rounds bounced off it as the heroes slowly got closer. It cracked the longer they shot it, but Bison wasn't sure if it would break.
It didn't in the end, as several heroes attacked once close enough. Bison attempted to shoot them with his M4, only for it to be slapped away by a hero with boxing gloves. The costume gave away his quirk, with Bison figuring out it was strength-based. But that didn't help him, as the hero threw a punch, and launched Bison fifteen feet away. The tanker landed on the ground hard, before passing out in pain.
What the HPSC was doing, could only be called art to the President. There was no better word to describe it. With the Tyrant's nukes no longer in play, a good majority of the villains they had released were sent back to prison. Those that weren't were shipped over to Africa. For one sole purpose. The heroes had captured the abandoned factory quite quickly, overrunning what forces had occupied the area.
With it, she had flown in hundreds of reporters to document the scene. Not as the disaster of a madman with WMDs, but as the defeat of a dangerous villain with a radiation quirk. It was quite easy to do. Have some of the heroes pose with the Nigerian flag, write off some minuscule death number, and document a hundred photos for every member partaking in the "battle".
Truly, it was art. Even better, was the possible prestige of the MSF's downfall. The best of her agents confidently informed her that the battle would last only a day. And with the reports she was given, it seemed more and more likely. The President could already see the headlines. Army of villains defeated by a coalition of heroes, citizens of Nigeria forever grateful. She could almost taste the profit.
And then Night Owl walked in, ruining her good mood. With a sigh, she looked over to the scientist as he closer her office doors.
"Night Owl," she greeted, "this better be important."
"I believe it is. See, someone had the bright idea to cut my funding, and I must say. Doing so after I gave you your saboteur, you really know how to break my heart."
"You still haven't brought us any progress on your research. Be glad I didn't cancel it entirely." the President retorted. Six years now, and the best Night Owl had managed to report, was that he had discovered Hell dimensions. Something that got them nowhere, aside from explaining why the project's casualty numbers were so high.
"I will get you results. Science just takes time."
"Then I suggest you stop wasting mine." the President stated dryly, "Is that all?"
She could see Night Owl mulling over his words, before walking out of the office. Unaware of the man's true thoughts, she went back to reading over combat reports. For you see, contrary to the President's beliefs, Night Owl had made progress. But of course, why would he ever share that with her?
Snake glanced at the maps quietly as Midoriya sat in a nearby chair. Miller accompanied them along with Ocelot, the two currently bickering over their next action.
"Look, I know how the HPSC thinks and acts. Their main goal is going to be large-encompassing attacks with their heavy hitters. That's why we need to pull back and use those B-52s you bought up."
"That risks blowing up thousands of innocent civilians. I agree we need to pull back, but it needs methodical. From your own report, the heroes have no current logistics. So let's focus on keeping it that way. Well starve them out, and force a surrender."
Midoriya could only watch as the two bickered, trying to determine who was correct. Eventually, he turned over to Snake, confusion covering his face.
"So, I don't mean to be rude, but why am I here?" he asked Snake. Looking back over, Snake pushed a map over to him as he smoked a cigar.
"Well, you wanted me to train you. And training is not just physical, but mental."
He held the cigar with his wounded arm, as his free one pointed out at several points on the map. For Midoriya, they made no sense. Snake pointed at a river, a hill, a flat plains, and a beach.
"Now, looking at those areas, what can you tell me?"
"That they're all different landmarks?"
"True, but what about in a military sense?"
Midoriya thought about it carefully. In a military sense? The question was so vague to him. Did he mean in combat? Or maybe he meant logistics-wise? He couldn't tell, but he focused on the map intently. Deciding to start simply he looked at the hill. It was common logic that the high ground won, whether it be in heroics or the military. However, he stopped when he noticed something else.
The hill was positioned behind a red line, as was the beach. Enemy territory maybe? He couldn't tell, but it seemed likely. So that meant the hill was not an advantage, but instead a disadvantage. Not entirely sure, he looked back over to Snake.
"Well… the hill is a priority target as the enemy could position artillery or some missile systems, and have the area be well protected with the high ground," Midoriya answered, with Snake giving him a small nod to carry on.
"The river is a good defensive area as the enemy has to waste time and resources to cross it. The beach is a terrible position to be in, as the enemy is exposed on wide open ground with sand limiting their movement. And the same can be said for the field, only without the sand."
"Good. Now what you're seeing, is a map of the current battle in Nigeria." Snake told him, "This specific hill was used exactly as you said, with the local forces setting up MRLS systems in that area."
"What about the beach?"
"It's like you said, it's a terrible position. As such the entire coastline is pretty much empty." Snake answered, before taking a puff from his cigar.
"Which is why this spot," Snake stated pointing at a lone section of beach, "is perfect for a naval landing."
"But I thought it was a terrible position to be in?"
"It is, but that's why the main objective is to get off the beach," Snake told him, before looking over to Miller and Ocelot. The two were still busy bickering, and Osprey looked ready to restrain the both of them.
"Ocelot, we're going with Miller's plan. But if it comes to it, I want those B-52s ready," he ordered. It seemed to appease them before he turned back over to Midoriya, the boy again focused on the map. He scribbled away, as he went over every inch of it, bringing a small smile to Snake's face.
"Alright Izuku, what do you know about logistics?"