Ghost Recon: Wildlands

by AliceNWonder137

This is a collab story with my good friend, Tara, whom this is dedicated to. We played the game and thought it would be fun to write a story about with us as some of the characters. So, a bit of a self insert. We'll be selecting some of the more interesting scenarios for chapters. The Ghost Recon team operates in Bolivia to dismantle the Santa Blanca Cartel.

1. Going Downrange

Notes - This one was percolating for a while and is dedicated to my good friend, Tara. We played this and thought it would be interesting to write a collab, based on some of our real life experiences so definitely some self inserts here. Next, we'll introduce her character. We'll be picking some of the more interesting game scenarios for the chapters. I actually have black hair, but I went blonde for a time.

Ghost Recon – Wildlands

Itacua Province, Bolivia, January 10, 2019

They said it was going to be an easy gig. She was recruited just to fly the team around Bolivia in a covert capacity. Pick up PAX and gear, shuttle them around to do their spook stuff and then fly them to the next place. A spook who called himself Paul Mitchell had her pulled out of the end of fighter lead in training at Sheppard AFB, Texas where she was voluntold for this cushy assignment. "It would be great for her career," they said. "It would show loyalty to the team," they said. And yes, 21 year old, 2nd LT Alice Ryan thought that would be a great idea. She went through weeks of firearms and hand to hand combat training along with lessons in Spanish and Russian. And, instead of an F-35A, she got saddled with a Gulfstream G550. Still, she would serve her country like her father and grandfather had. The final briefing in CONUS by Bolivia Chief of Station Mitchell told her that she would ferry in Major Anthony Perryman, callsign Nomad, who's cover would be that of a businessman. She was handed a civilian pilot's uniform that looked far too skimpy to be anything professional.

"You have to look the part," Mitchell said as he brushed her blonde hair back around her ear. The urge to step back and grab his arm was strong, but she was just a butter bar and he was a Chief of Station with the Agency. She had no idea what he could do to her career so she just stood still, her gut churning. What did she get herself into? He patted her on the cheek. "There, that looks better. Now go and change. The aircraft is fueling up." He straightened his red polo shirt over his khaki 5.11 cargo pants.

The blouse and the skirt were way too tight, but she slithered into them dutifully, barely able to button her top. Then, she put on an absolutely dopey hat that looked like something a stewardess would have worn in the 60s. She looked into he mirror and sighed. She had graduated from the USAFA and was fourth in her class at SUPT at Vance AFB, having flown the T-6A and the T-38 with the Spittin' Kittens and then on to the 88th FTS at Sheppard, still with Air Education and Training Command, AETC, also known as Air Etcetera to insiders.

"So, I'm just flying eye candy," she said, almost wishing she had turned Mitchell down. In a couple of weeks she would have been heading to Luke AFB to join the 308th FS, the Emerald Knights.

She came back out to see another man talking to Mitchell. He wore a business suit with a gray tie and had a thick brown beard. Dark shades covered his eyes even though they were indoors. Alice could tell that he was well built, his jacket perfectly cut and filled out in all of the right places.

"Alice, come here, dear," Mitchell said, motioning her over. "This is Major Perryman."

She instinctively moved to salute him, but Perryman waved her off. "No saluting, Alice. From the moment we board the aircraft, I'm Tony Stark, arms dealer."

She wrinkled her nose. "Ironman?"

Mitchell laughed. "See, I told you she was a smart one. And a looker too. You guys will totally fit the part." He grasped her by the chin and moved her head around as if he were examining a pet. Perryman gave Mitchell a look and the spook released her right away. Then Mitchell handed her paperwork, a thick wad of Bolivian and US cash and a passport. "No ranks, no true names. You've already been trained on your cover, Alice Kennedy."

Perryman gave Mitchell another stern look and then nodded. "Alice, you've received a lot of training, but this should be a milk run. You just need to get me to Itacua Province in Bolivia. I'll get off there and meet the rest of the team. All we need from you is help with air transportation to bolster my cover. There's a sidearm for you in the cockpit already, a Sig Three Twenty, which you've already been trained in. The biggest threat to you is going to be the food. By the way, what's your callsign?"

"Uh, Wonder, sir…I mean Tony. You know. Alice in Wonderland."

The major nodded. "Okay, Wonder, let's saddle up. The loadmaster has already secured the load, and the PIC is onboard doing the preflight."

Alice cocked her head. "The PIC? I thought that would be me?" This was absolutely not what was promised. It was a classic bait and switch.

Perryman looked at her sideways and then to Mitchell. "Peter, you didn't tell her?"

Mitchell glared at Tony. "The name's Paul…remember, Paul," he said. He gave Alice a patronizing smile. "You're too young still, my girl. We just needed you to look good and you do, really, you do. Just smile and look good for Tony and it'll be a job well done."

There was nothing she could do about it now and she would see the job done for king and country. She looked over the flight plan. They would be flying into the airport near Buena Vida, Viru Viru International, SLVR. At least there was a decent ILS approach to the hard surface runway. Then she nodded dutifully to "Peter". "Yes, sir. Understood."

Perryman snapped his fingers. "Okay, saddle up. I have the time now as Fourteen Hundred and Seven Zulu. I want to be wheels up by Fourteen Forty Five. See yah, Peter." They walked out of the terminal to the waiting G550. Alice had gotten stick time on the T-1A and other twin turbines to prepare for this gig.

As they headed for the boarding ramp, Tony looked over to her and pushed his shades down his nose so that she could see his eyes. "Just stay cool and let the team do their job. That guy's real name is Peter Miles, CIA Chief of Station in La Paz. Sorry about that. Yeah, he's a real ass, but he does the job well so pay him no mind. I wasn't going to let him get handsy with you. That is kind of his MO. Well, you've had the briefing, but I need you to know that we're up against the Santa Blanca Cartel. Real animals. The DNI wants them taken down and we are the hammer of the US Intel Community. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you…Tony." They reached the boarding ramp and Perryman motioned for her to go first and she walked up where a flight attendant welcomed them aboard. The woman was a cute twenty something in a similar tight outfit. She pointed Alice to the cockpit and Tony to the cabin. It was quite the lap of luxury, fit for an international arms dealer: dark leather seats, a wet bar, a lounge with games and televisions, all paneled in rich oak wood. Even the smell exuded luxury. Alice gave Tony a quick smile. "So, this is how the other half lives, huh?"

He straightened his tie and grinned. "Rank has its privileges," he quipped as the flight attendant gave him a beer. He stowed his bag and sat in one of the plush seats, kicking his feet up on an ottoman and pulled out a rolled-up magazine from his coat pocket.

Alice had to snicker. This was the real world now, not the school house. She poked her head into the cockpit and a middle-aged, balding man sat in the left seat, going through a checklist. "Good morning, sir," she said as she set her bag down behind the seat in a bin. She climbed over the engine throttle quadrant and took her seat. "Alice…Kennedy. I'll be your copilot for the mission."

The PIC looked over and gave her a warm smile, something that she was both surprised at and happy with after the greeting she got from Miles. He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you. Colin Chadwick…I think." He leaned over and put his hand to the side of his mouth as if revealing a secret. "This is all new to me, really. Well, all we're supposed to do is fly, so we shouldn't be too worried, right?"

That made her feel so much better. "Oh good. I was really kind of worried."

He nodded in a fatherly way. "I could tell. Just between us, I'm Chad Collingsworth. Apparently, I had some skills that they thought would work for this. So, what got you involved?"

"Well, I speak French and Japanese and I had some proficiency in Russian. They crammed Spanish and Russian down my throat for the training. Other than that, I guess we just fly. Oh, and Alice Ryan."

"That seems to be the plan and nice to meet you," he said and then handed her a laminated checklist. "Ready?"

She looked it over and started at the top. "Beacon, on."

"On," he said and flipped a switch.

"Parking break, press and set Three Thousand PSI."

"Set."

"Power levers, idle."

"Idle." He pulled the power to idle.

"Engine bleed air, off."

He pushed a couple of buttons on the overhead panel. "Off."

They continued down for more items until Alice called, "Right engine start. Right fuel control."

One after the other, the engines whirred and then roared to life. For the crew, it was like being on autopilot at this point even as they got, "Night Train Five-One, cleared for takeoff, Runway 21 Left." Alice rechecked the Flight Management System as Chad advanced the power levers to full. She would be the PM or pilot monitoring, which was fine. Takeoff and climbout was nice and smooth up to FL330 or 33,000 feet. On autopilot, the flight was pretty routine. A fake flight plan and manifest was given to the Bolivian government, and everything had been approved. Alice read her limited briefing about the Santa Blanca cartel and the violence and horror that they spread and how the government was failing at containing this threat. Even General Juan Pablo Baro Rebolledo, head of La Unidad, the military's police, made a deal with cartel head, El Sueño to stop the bloodshed.

"This is horrific," she said to Nomad, who was now in the jump seat behind them.

He nodded sadly. "I've seen it all around the world. Life doesn't have the same meaning in many places as it does to us. And I don't mean us as Americans because, let me tell you, many Americans are just as crappy. I meant us, who swore an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution. I'd like to believe that we accepted a higher calling."

Alice thought for a moment and liked his comment. At 21, she still felt the fervor of patriotism and feeling of being part of something bigger than herself.

The radio crackled. "Night Train Five-One, switch to Viru Viru Approach on 119.7."

Alice keyed her mic. "Night Train Five-One, switch to Viru Viru Approach on 119.7." She dialed in the next frequency. "Viru Viru Approach, Night Train Five-One, Trinidad VOR, Flight Level Two Zero Zero, requesting vectors for the ILS Victor Three Four Approach with Information Whiskey."

"Night Train Five-One, descend five thousand, reduce speed, not above two-one-zero knots."

She repeated that and dialed in the altitude, then pressed the Vertical Speed button for a 500 fpm descent. Chad reduced the power. "Program and brief the approach, please," he said. She punched commands into her iPad and pushed the approach into the aircraft's flight management system or FMS. "ILS Victor 34, SLVR, airport elevation 1224, localizer on 110.9, inbound course 337 set on the green needles, 3000 until KIDEL where we'll be configured for landing and intercept the glideslope, Decision Altitude is 1424. If we don't meet the parameters for landing, we'll call the Missed Approach, a climbing left turn on the 330 radial to 5000 feet to CHOBE, 15 DME and hold, left teardrop entry, await further clearance."

Chad nodded. "I concur."

Like clockwork, they descended and deployed speed brakes, taking vectors to the localizer. The controller called out, "Night Train Five-One, right 320, maintain 5000 until established on the localizer, cleared for the ILS Victor 34. Contact Tower on 118.6." Alice repeated that back, set the heading and activated Approach Mode. The rest of the flight and landing were a no brainer and they taxied into a secured terminal where Nomad would meet the rest of the team and the flight crew would be off to a swanky hotel to await further orders.

"I normally stay at a Hilton for the points, but the Los Tajibos, looks really hip," Alice announced. "Fitness center, spa, pool, dining and dancing, five stars at $108 a night! I love per diem."

Chad nodded emphatically. "Ahhh, that's how we pilots roll. I'll finish up the post flight checks. You can escort our guest to the terminal."

"You got it, PIC." She rose from her seat and gathered her gear into her flight bag. "Okay, Tony Stark, follow me."

He put his sunglasses back on, his expression firm and set. "Stay in cover from this point on. There is no room for errors now. I mean it. These people are ruthless."

"Got it…Tony," she said seriously as she lowered the stairs to the ground. She went out first and fixed her hair and that ridiculous hat.

They walked partway and Tony stopped. "Hey, I forgot something on the aircraft. I'll be right back. You go on ahead and meet the team."

Alice nodded and continued on. Her heart was filled with both excitement and dread. She was completely out of her element. She walked into the terminal where four people were waiting, three men and a woman. One man, African American, with a scar down his forehead and cheek, approached her. "Weaver. Nice to meet you," he said with a curt bow. His voice and manner were scholarly, almost professorial.

Another man stepped up and extended his hand. He had light brown hair and a couple of days of scruff on his face. "Holt," he said in a slight Cajun accent. He gave her a wry half smile. "Welcome to this fine collection of misfits." This guy had to be the mischievous one.

The woman stepped forward while the last man stayed back. She looked to be in her mid 40s with short, straight brown hair and had this air of 'been there, done that.' "International aid worker, Karen Bowman. I'll be your guide for this expedition. Come, let's get Tony and I'll take you to your hotel." She pointed outside. "Oh, here he comes," she said when a loud shriek sounded from above.

Weaver shouted, "Incoming!" as Holt grabbed Alice and took her to the floor. In another moment, the aircraft exploded, erupting into flames, knocking Nomad forward, flat on his face.

Alice looked up. Her heart stopped. "Oh my God. The crew! Chad! We have to…"

Weaver and the other men rushed out to Nomad while Karen helped Alice up. "Oh my God," Karen said, her mouth now hanging open. "How did they know? We have to relocate and regroup. This is… Okay, think think." She ran to the door. "Weaver, get him in here! How is he?"

They carried Nomad into the small terminal. His suit was torn and bloody and it was obvious that he had a broken leg. "Set him down," Weaver said. "Gently. Gently! He's out cold. We need to go before Unidad shows up."

Alice pointed back to the burning Gulfstream. "What about…what about the crew?"

Karen grabbed her hand. "They're gone. Nobody survived that. Weaver's right. We need to go now." They piled into Karen's Range Rover and she sped off. "I have a helo waiting for us to take us into Itacua. I have to…I have to rethink our cover. How did they know?" she asked breathlessly. "That was a mortar attack. They knew just where to hit."

In the passenger seat, Weaver shook his head. "We don't know that for sure. We need to regroup and reassess," he said calmly as if nothing were wrong. "Nomad's going to be out of play for the near future so we need a new plan and we need it fast."

Karen bit her lower lip. "Okay, okay. We're not going to the hotel. We need to get to the helo and meet with Pac Katari. We'll reassess there. In the meantime, can you do this with three?" she asked Weaver.

He sucked on his teeth and shook his head. "Can we? Yeah, in a pinch, sure, but we're more effective with four. I mean, don't we have another shooter here," he said, pointing to Alice.

Karen shook her head aggressively. "You can't be serious. She's…she's…look at her. She's a kid."

"Who's a fixed and rotary wing pilot and has had the intensive, in country training." He looked at Alice. "How many rounds you put downrange at the course?"

Alice made a face that was part horror, part pride. "About twelve thousand. Pistol, rifle, shotgun. I was pretty good."

He nodded. "I seen the report. You are. And, you'll do for now. Karen, I need a good spotter. I'm bringing her along until we get a replacement for Nomad or he's back in action. He's stable for now, but he ain't walking anywhere for a bit."

Karen blew out a long breath and shrugged. "Yeah, fine, fine. I get it. Fine. I don't even know how long it'll be before I can get word out so who knows when we'll get a replacement. I'll work on getting Nomad out of country back to a real hospital. We can't leave him here."

Weaver touched Alice on the arm. "Okay lieutenant, this isn't ideal, but we make due. You're the ranking officer now, but you do what I say, when I say it. Understood?"

She nodded. "Yes, master sergeant."

"Then we'll get along just fine. We just need you to fill in while Karen works on getting Tony back in action…or we get a replacement. Then, you're back to just flying us around. And we need to get you out of those ridiculous clothes. I'll bet freaking Peter Miles gave that to you? That lowlife clown."

Karen growled. "Don't say that name around me. Freaking pervert."

There was a look of understanding in their eyes when Alice made eye contact with Karen. Alice's mouth opened. "He…he was a bit…"

Karen's sour expression said it all. "Yeah, Alice, yeah, I know. I was young once too."

The Range Rover pulled into a patch of dirt where a squad of green clad men waited, holding AK-47s. They were dirty and disheveled and looked like they were in the field for far too long. Karen pointed at their leader. "That's Pac Katari. Let's figure this out before it ends in disaster. This is already out of control."