The Sins of the Father *Latest Novel (Incomplete)

[Naijinaxx]

Author's Rating - "R" -Violence, language, and suggestive content

[Naijinaxx]

“We try not to remember what happened… what happened back then…”

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“But without the beginning, there can never be an end, can there?”

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Humanity…
Life…

Forever, it has been the beholder of questions, our life-long experiment, the true critique of questions better left unanswered. Humanity has been searching for the answer to these questions: who are we? –What are we? –What’s our purpose?
For thousands of years, we have been left on our own, taking over where the dinosaurs left off. But the true question remains… where did we come from? Many believe we came from the sea, some believe we were forged by the hands of gods, while some believe we were here the whole time… but somehow, somewhere, a spark had to have ignited, and started this entire expedition in which we have thus called life. –Our birth, our endless voyage through time, and our most unfortunate end.

But, how does humanity end? –Furthermore, how did it begin? Why is Earth the only planet that seems to be able to inhabit life? But little did we know, it was a chamber of secrets… a chamber of secrets that had been waiting to be opened, waiting for some lost and educated soul to pour his clammy hands upon its crevices…

The year is 2319…

Earth… forever, it had been our home… it was forged by the guiding hands of physics, formed into one, sentient being. Growing, experiencing dramatic clashes with forces beyond our own; it’s been polluted, decimated upon by man, excavated of all it’s resources. For countless generations, it was the subject to religious being, the true holder of power, and the realm of man. Where we were born, where we lived, and where we died. Where we made the greatest discoveries of all time. It has been worshiped by many, believed to be the true icon in religious faith… a symbol of peace, and preservation. But it has also been feared. It was on earth, that we solved our greatest problems, where we contributed to our most renown discoveries. It is said to be both, our beginning, and our most likely end. -And now? –Our most beautiful home is dying.

A force from the shadows…

Something happened… storms suddenly began to grow more violent, forces beyond that of nature’s strength began to emerge, static electricity storms, hurricanes that would never disappear, earthquakes that leveled entire countries –not just cities. It became evident that something was happening to our world. -Something that we never deemed possible.

Armageddon… it has been foretold that it would come by fire, by water, by snow, and ice. That it would come with furious anger, and vengeance upon thee… but we never expected it to come when it did. The year was 2319, and humanity, as we saw it, was changing… the fear of extinction was a constant ongoing thought.

NASA began to explore, it began to search far and wide for anything that could be found, anything that could mark itself as a potential for a new home. It was a combined effort from all countries. And we launched ten space craft into the final frontier in all directions, expanding through space as though it were a large clock. But we received nothing, and eventually, the project was soon forgotten.

A world hiding beyond the shadows…

In the year 2329… we could do nothing but watch as the largest storm in history raged over Europe, engulfing the entire western coast of England with 900 foot waves, winds that flattened the country with a defying roar as it tore buildings apart with the force of an atomic bomb, sending cars rolling through the streets, the people starve as they were forced to endure the storm as it continued to progress, watching as refugees held onto their dear loved ones with everything they had… for once, we could do nothing… do nothing but watch as others suffered, as others were killed; tormented by their own planet, cast aside to die… it was apparent that the space mission at hand was humanities last; -our last hope. There would be no second chance with earth, it was doomed from the beginning, and it would only be a matter of time before the world itself would die, and along with everything left behind.

And that’s when the new data came in from Andromada7, deployed from Houston nearly ten years ago. And we had watched with wide eyes at the screens that had lit up the Operations Control Room, watching as what any space research team could ever dream of looking upon. –An Alien planet… a planet much like earth. And through photographs sent through the data stream, we were able to make out the presence of water, trees, and continents… a world like our own, beyond our solar system. Immediately, we boosted the signal, and received an exact location, and with our new trans-warp drive enablers, and hydrogen fueled engines, we had a new space craft in less then ten years, and by the year 2347, we were looking down at the planet’s surface with our own eyes. It was a combined operation, help from the Russians, the Chinese, British, America… it had been the largest co-operation in the world, and we soon found ourselves living on this world.

The Excavation of the Unknown

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It was all a routine drilling session, it showed up on our thermal imaging of the area, a large mass buried beneath the surface as it radiated with unknown signals… and we began to dig, coming in contact with an unknown metal as our diamond-coated drills were crushed as though they were made of bread.

It can be foretold that what the first colonists discovered under the ground was something that many would consider being that in a science fiction novel, but nonetheless, what they were seeing was clear as day, and it was an alien ship, buried beneath hundreds of feet of ice, snow, and rock. We knew not where the ship had come from, or where it still was yet to come from, but what we knew was that we had made discovery of an alien ship, and that it had been there for over a thousands of billions of years. No crew… technology abandoned for us to find…

“From the grasps of the Unknown, a creature in darkness…”

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Any who say they’re not afraid of the Mustelidei are true liars… creatures who were about 5’7” on all fours, and when standing, towered over eight feet tall. They were wolf-like creatures, with claws that were cutting through steel… with fangs the size of a human skull… skin that was resilient to our bullets, and a roar that tore through your chest like machine gun fire, stunning you… f-forcing you to your knees as though there were a rocket going off next to your ear… and even then, they looked nothing more than that of animals… animals who had been on the world longer than us, yet, they had technology, technology of their own that they had built, and used to their own advantage. And even to this day, we still are yet to know much about them, other than the fact that they exist. They are the perfect killer… senses and skill that go beyond our own, their claws drove into the surface of any wall, any tree, and they clung to them, even with their weight of over 500 pounds, they could cling to the walls of anything, including cities when they were built.

“Humanity is a curse… a plague that continues to spread like that of wild-fire. Where ever they go, their wars follow closely in their footsteps.”

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In the future, war has become the bases of the global economy. Forgotten were the times when we’ve worked so hard together to live here. Forgotten were the times when humanity was struggling to survive back on earth. Aurelia is our new home… our only home. Our last hope, our last chance. By the year 5000, we have gained back most of what we had in Earth. Split and divided into numerous countries throughout the world, there are two military superpowers… two organizations that remain, to this day, in secrecy.

The IMSOCOM (Independent Military Special Operations Command) –it was founded in the year 5265, during the outbreak of the Great War, where the actions so deemed forth by the Principality of Belka, who occupied the land as the New Germany, had literally engulfed the entire super continent in war. The IMSOCOM was an underground weapons manufacturing and military organization, an alliance with the countries of Yuctobonia, ISAF (Independent State Allied Forces), The Osean Federation (Area now claimed as the New United States), and Anea (pronounced Ah-nee-uh). The four military powers of the world, together, crushed the former empire that had, for so long, plagued the world in fear.

The Grosnygrat Empire, a military born through the successes in science, specifically in human bio-engineering, which was sponsored heavily by the country of Rezuul -who had claimed its land in the middle east. They had featured a new soldier program, one deemed the Fox Hound Super Soldier Program, one that allowed the generals of the military to build their own army with whatever traits they desired, by only combining a few strands of DNA.

But, the IMSOCOM ended that dark page in our history… but a coup detah had formed… and once more, plunged the world into a state of fear.

“Those who continue to hide behind their boundaries, are no more than cowards!”

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His name was Jonathon Proskei, a former Belkan General of their legendary Air Force, a soldier who was deep-hearted, and strong with words, and how to influence those who served beneath him. He had leadership, he had will, determination, and endurance, but furthermore, he had a belief that in order to make the world a more peaceful place, he felt that the world would need to adopt a philosophy that had been whipped since 1945, A World Without Boundaries. –A united global-country, where the entire world was all a single country. Where there would be no wars, no armies, no economic crises, but with the means he had intended to do so, was by far –the closest man kind had ever been to an all-out nuclear holocaust. And with the supreme forces of the IMSOCOM, they were able to cut the head off the viper, before it truly had a chance to strike, and with it, the root to all fear throughout the world, tearing out the dark page in our history, and hoping further more, that such a recap of what happened during those times would never happen again.

And thus, the IMSOCOM remained operational, operating underground, hidden away from the public. Aurelia marks the beginning a new generation of soldiers, fitted with the most devastating of weapons and equipment available, a soldier can do much more on the battlefield. He is not a soldier, he has no name, no past, no social security number. He is an icon of war, a tool to be used and to be operated by those deemed above him. He is a servant, a player in the novelties of politics, apart of the ongoing struggle where war becomes business. He is a Cobra. –The fighting men and women in the world, who both, know nothing of what it means to be defeated, or to surrender; who will not leave their own behind in the field of combat, who will do anything, and everything to stop the growing mobilization of an enemy long feared in the shadows.

“The Hammer of the Gods”

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The asteroids, they hit hard. –Harder than anything we have ever encountered before. We watched as Belka was hammered with these foreign objects from the final frontier. We watched on our televisions as the smoke rose to the heavens, as the fires continued to burn, their entire city… utterly destroyed in a mere flash of moments. Their infrastructure –greatly damaged… their economy… -collapsed.
It was truly a depraving moment in our history, watching as one of the greatest military strengths in the world was suddenly reduced to what many would consider the stone age. Their economy collapsed fast, and it wasn’t long before the unemployment rate skyrocketed, while the IMSO did nothing to help them, leaving Belka to fend for themselves.

This was root to their anger, the cause of their hatred, the true meaning to the war that seemed to derive from that of the Belkan War, a continued operation. Now under the rule of a Military Parliamentary Government, allowing the generals to run the country. And with detest, the citizens of the country began to rebel its own government, perhaps they alone, were the only ones who saw what was going to happen, and in turn, the Belkan military made a pact, that fears of total collapse had become certain, and that Belka needed a war to save the country.

And in turn, they resurrected the Fox Hound Project, mobilized their military, watching as their genome soldiers, so they had been called, all born in a lab, began to awaken once more. Fox Hound was a sleeper unit, one that did not surface until they were needed, and even then, that wasn’t a guaranteed promise.

The years is now 5321… and the world of Aurelia is a very dangerous place. Fragments of the Grosnygrat Empire came together as one, and through the course of ten days, launched the largest synchronized assault in the history of man. The rules of war had changed… and warfare is now the bases of the global economy. –Where technology has created a new kind of military. A system that is able to locate, and observe all troops on the battlefield. -Where the thoughts, the actions, and the emotions that can be felt are at the tips of one’s fingers, with no one truly in control. –When war becomes business… when armies can be bought and sold, when technology is on its highest peak, and when evil becomes powerful; there is no hiding, there is no talks of peace, and there is no biding. The rules of war have changed… thus, has the human race.

CHAPTER i

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The Fires of Deception

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We all saw it coming…
We all saw the Belkans struggling, watching as they collapsed to unthinkable struggles, to the point where they couldn’t feed their own people, and yet, we did nothing to help them, shunning them when they called for help, leaving the country to fend for itself and its most imperious situation.
We all watched the swear in oath of the Generals as they rose their right hands, pledging themselves to repair the country of Belka, an ally with Osea since the end of the Belkan War in the year 5288. And that’s why they did what they did…. They went so far as to declare war on the entire world, rebuilding the feared Grosnygrat Empire in the process, building up their economy to amazing heights, producing devastating weaponry, and creatures that could tear a man to pieces in mere seconds.

“A state of War…”

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We all watched in shock as the news broadcasts flashed through our televisions, the mobilizing of the military emplacing strongholds around the capital city. We only cried as our husbands, our wives, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters reported to their posts to take up arms against the impending attack that we feared was to come. And although the Generals of Belka continued to coax us into saying that we were not the targets; the allies stood prepared,

“A Homeland will be lost…”

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We watched helplessly as our neighbors struggled with the attacks from the POB, but our anti-war president, continued to negotiate with the Belkan Generals, and they continued to laugh in his face. Pressures were high, and it then became decided, that if the Belkan Military drew any closer to the Osean border, that Osea would retaliate. It was on April 20th, that the Generals met in the city of Luman, along with representatives of the Federal Republic of Estovachia, and the Federation of Erusia, and all had agreed that a frontline assault on the countries of Yuctobonia, South Anea (Ameria), and Osea would mean full victory for the resurrection of the empire they had so forth dreamed of. And on April 22nd, at 0730 hours, by word of the Belkan Council, war was declared.

“In the sky, the wings of warfare embrace those who are innocent…”

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Though prepared, the Osean military was no match for the superior military of the Grosnygrat Empire, they came with everything, from bombers, to fighters, to ground troops and armor. And from the fires of deception, from the ash covered earth as the tanks poured through without stopping, as the shadows projected from the waves of bombers that had taken off from Forte’ Norden Air Force Base –located within the heart of the Belkan Military Center; the first day of the war took a bloody toll. And with the battle cry of those smeared in ash, soaked in the blood of the dead, a unit returned from the shadows… a unit run by the IMSOCOM, a unit that remained in sleeping since the end of the Sapinese Revolution… a unit known only as COBRA.

“War Has Changed”

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Systems all over the world, I can tell you that’s where it all began, the war, the struggling, the suffering. It began with money, then it progressed to nations, the opening of businesses, contracts, and then moved to mercenaries. Private Military Contractors (PMC), as they are called. And with a new age of data processing, and signal information and the use of NANO cell technologies, it became apparent that a system was needed to regulate the activities of these PMC’s. They've implemented a system that monitors in real-time every single soldier engaged in combat action. Whether he's state army or PMC. Each individual soldier has been fully ID-tagged with NANO machines injected into their bodies for that purpose. And at the head of this PMC war-economy, is a single contractor that acts as a “dummy” mother company, one calling themselves the IMSOCOM (Independent Military Special Operations Command) –one that controls them all through a highly advanced AI network that links all systems as one, the SOP (Son’s of the Patriots) System.
With the accelerated use of technology on all fronts, thanks to the network established by the PMC corporations, the use of NANO machines have become a military-must. Artificial cells that receive and transmit signals within the body -that can regenerate and reproduce on their own. The NANO machines keep track of the soldiers and their real-time personal data 24 hours a day. They monitor each man's position, movement, speed, reserve ammo, firing accuracy. Wounds, rations, water intake and supply. Sweat secreted, heart rate, blood pressure and sugar levels, oxygen... All the data gathered on body condition, on sensory organ data showing pain and fear... Data on every internal response within the body, and all of it is collected and stored in an AI network within the IMSO’s combat observation headquarters, Arsenal. Only it’s most elite soldiers know it’s location, and even then, they have been sworn to secrecy, and are observed more heavily than anyone on the battlefield today. Living their lives as civilians, they operate on a separate network that binds them as one. These elite operatives are what many consider the most dangerous soldiers in the world, a soldier who truly has no commander, and no country, independent, ready for hire, the private military of the corporation itself, these soldiers are called COBRA. Secret soldiers to match the oppression of other armies, theorized to be the Spartan Warriors in their time, they operate and live their lives as normal citizens. They are your bakers, your cooks, your waitresses, your bankers. They are your janitors, your stock brokers, and your managers. They pick up your trash, they run your businesses, they clean your streets. Every job that a normal person would do to earn a living, until they, as one, are needed.

Acting against the IMSO’s war economy, is one entitled to as the Grosnygrat Empire, a unity of four military-strengths who have refused to implement into the SOP system, and instead, created their own, one known as the FOX HOUND Program, a system on the same bases, but only beneficiary to those in the Empire itself. Founded by Belka –who is sponsored heavily by Rezuul in the middle east; and combined with the countries of Erussia, Estovachia, and Nordenavich. Each posing a potential threat against the IMSO’s Patriot SOP, who have raged small proxy wars with one another since the year 5288, - the end of the Belkan Conflict. And now, enraged with the decline to send aid to their country when the asteroids fell, they plan to unleash their final insurrection.

War has changed. It's no longer about nations, ideologies, or ethnicity. It's an endless series of proxy battles fought by mercenaries and machines. War - and its consumption of life - has become a well-oiled machine.

War has changed. ID-tagged soldiers carry ID-tagged weapons, use ID-tagged gear. NANO machines inside their bodies enhance and regulate their abilities. Genetic control. Information control… Emotion control… Battlefield control… Everything is monitored and kept under control…

War has changed. The age of deterrence has become the age of control... All in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass destruction. And he who controls the battlefield... Controls history.

War has changed. When the battlefield is under total control... -War becomes routine.

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?

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-Mahatma Gandhi (1869 - 1948),"Non-Violence in Peace and War"

3 Years Ago

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August 19, 5318; 1724 hrs PCT
Ponjelai, Kingdom of Sapin…[/size]

A young women, blond hair, blue eyes gazed at the men before her, a faint red light illuminating the inside of the drop ship as they held their weapons in place by their knees, some grinning as the whites of their teeth could easily be made through the deep red darkness, smudges of face paint lined along their cheeks as they continued to whisper amongst each other in dispute over their mission orders. However, what stood out between the darkness was not the faces of the men in here, it was the patch they wore, an emblem well-known to all military, despite the fact that they were kept in secrecy. A patch that made it evidently clear that it was a desperate operation in the making, a unit called upon to do the jobs that the military couldn’t for the risk of controversy… it was the COBRA patch, a reptilian snake piercing through a human skull, which clenched a dagger between it’s faint gray teeth.

“This is recon 2-4, target vehicle moving north-north east along the Ponjelai plaza, over…” one of the pilots, black flight goggles descended over his eyes as he glanced down at a black and white screen on his control panel.
“Roger that 2-4, maintain current flight path, over.” The radio chimed as the pilot nodded.
“Confirmed, resuming observation, 2-4, out.” The pilot nodded as he pressed an arrow key below the screen, the picture zooming in on the vehicle.

In the back, the young women remained seated, clad in a black and grey combat armor, rifle secured firmly between her knees as she leaned back with eager anticipation, her name tag reading “S. M. Newt” both cheeks smudged with black face paint, which revealed itself beneath the red-illuminated hold of the drop-ship as the engines continued to hum around them, glancing at her men as she could make out the whites of their teeth beneath the darkness.
“Think we might see some action today, Boss?” one of the men asked, boney individual with a tattoo on his neck, a skull clenching a dagger between it’s teeth.
Newt looked up without a smile in her face, only glaring into the eyes of the soldier who continued to wait for her response.
“Just keep a cool head, Swafford,” –she replied without further delay.
“Yes, Boss.” Swafford answered without hesitation, lowering his eyes to the black flooring, the others grunting and snarling their eager anticipation for the seizure of a pronounced terrorist.

“Target vehicle is stopping in the Ponjelai Market, two alien vehicles making their way to the building aswell, over.” The pilot’s voice could be heard over the radio.
“Confirmed, is the package with them, over?” The radio chimed.
“Hold for confirmation, Arsenal…” the pilot muttered as he zoomed in on one of the vehicles, watching as a blurry silhouette of a man opened the door, clad in a black business suite, a brief case in his hand.
“Civy spotted with the crowd, holding a black briefcase… wait…” he watched as two others approached the trunk, which was popped open, two men with rifles approaching the rear of the vehicle.
“Looks like they’re pulling something from the trunk over…” he said as he continued to glance at the screen.

“So, who do these guys think they are? –Purchasing a nuke ready-to-use kit, Boss?” one of Newt’s soldiers asked as he glanced at her.
“Mindless fools if you ask me.” She stated, glancing at her left arm, which contained a compact computer LCD monitor, watching as a menu popped up with a rotating logo, the letters IMSOCOM displaying in a 3-dimensional view as the menu began to display.
“Target is Jeremhia Adhid, dark skin, black hair. Leader of the Gemini Sword Ultranationalist Brotherhood (GSUB) terrorist organization. Orders are to take him alive, but use of deadly force is authorized. Expect the threat assessment to be substantial. The GSUB have this area designated as their base of operations.” She stated as she reviewed the file on her text.
“Operation Iron Fang demands the arrest of all involved in the auction, including the arms dealer himself. Expect all suspects to be armed, and dangerous.” She stated.
“Anything else?” One of her men asked.
“Quite asking questions, and just do your d**n job, COBRA.” She growled, frustrated at his ignorance.
“Gotcha…” he said with a grin.
“Hey Boss? –Did anyone ever tell you, you look hot when you’re ready to kick some ***?” one of her men asked.
Sierra looked up with eyes that could kill, however, placed the commit to the side as she swiped a hand through her moist hair, which was tied back in a tail.
“How ‘bout instead of focusing on your male genatilia, you work on the mission at hand, COBRA?” she growled as she let out a masculine grin, the others smiling in as they struck the soldier on the shoulder.

“Package confirmed.” The pilot said as he made out the bio-hazard symbol on the side.
“Counting nine tangos in the vicinity, god only knows how many are inside…” the pilot stated.
”2-4, are you sure it’s the package?” the radio chimed.
“Definite, sir. Weapon’s grade Red-Mercury. WOMD necessity.” He stated.
“We’re receiving your data, -now, over… standby.” The radio beeped.
“Roger, standing-bye.” The pilot confirmed with a nod as he glanced at his co-pilot, who nodded, watching the recon screen with a firm and observing eye.
“Alright, 2-4, give the order, package has been confirmed, you have a go on Operation Iron Fang, I say again, you have a green light.” Arsenal stated.
“Roger that, Arsenal.” The pilot said, switching channels with haste.
“All units! –This is 2-4, be advised that we have a green light on Operation Iron Fang, begin lockdown, over!” the pilot said as he brought his gloved hand over his flight helmet and descended a cylindrical combat optic, which illuminated the area before him with a bright green cross-hair.
“Roger that 2-4, transferring precious cargo.” the radio chimed.
“Black Phoenix, 15 seconds!” The co-pilot said as the engines suddenly grew louder, and the COBRAs in the back suddenly forgot the none-stop harassing, and prepared to work, removing their harnesses and brought up their rifles, raising their left hands and inserted a device over their left eye, a steady blue light flashing three or four times before burning with a steady blue hue, watching in awe as the ramp descended downward, sunlight pouring into the dark pit of the drop ship; a panel moving forward as the upper portion rose, shadows coursing along the inside of the craft as a red light continued to flash, the winds raging against the soldiers pants.
“Black Phoenix, ready for dust-off, over.” Sierra spoke into the radio as she brought her rifle chest-level, the amber coated lens reflecting the sunlight as sand continued to swarm around the vehicle, the city casting a blurred aurora from the desert heat.
“This is Devil Fox, we’re in position at the streets, over.” A deep African American voice whispered into the radio.
“Roger that, Devil Dog!” Sierra screamed over the roar of the engines as the roof of the building came in view.
“Turning-bound! –Hang on!” the pilots screamed as the craft descended along the roof, the troops inside grunting as they reacted sharply, but smoothly to the g-forces that acted against them.
“Your clear! –MOVE! –MOVE! –MOVE!” The pilot shouted as he glanced over his shoulder, perspiration reflecting the light of the sun along his cheeks as he screamed at the soldiers in the back, who nodded, five soldiers using their left hands to grasp the designated overhanging bars beyond the ramp of the aircraft; twisting it to the left, and leaped out of the craft, cords revealing themselves amongst the panel as they descended to the roof with a loud “thud”, releasing the handles upon impact as they began to rewind upward, where they locked in the “ready” position for the next drop, the remaining doing so as the others scrambled to cover.
“This is 2-4, precious cargo has been deployed, dusting off, over!” the pilot muttered into the radio as they gave a firm two fingered salute to the crew outside of the male genatilia-pit.
“male genatiliaens, you’re up!” Sierra ordered as she pointed to the power house, two of her men nodding, releasing their weapons which dropped to the chest, and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters, stacking up along the door.
“Move out!” she ordered as she approached a door on the roof, labeled “STAIRS” glancing over her shoulder as one of the soldiers opened the door to the powerhouse with haste, aiming his rifle inside, “Clear!” he shouted, male genatiliaens moving in with haste, pulling open the circuit box, and flipped off the primary feeds, watching as the generators lights began to beep, in which he used the bolt cutters to sever the multi-cord bundle with a piercing snap, the lights fading.
“All units, power’s out, move in!” Sierra stated as she watched the light bulb above her fade out.
“Devil Dog here, placing breaching charges…” the familiar African American voice stated.
“Black Phoenix, ready to breach on mark…” She muttered as her men placed two plastic explosives on the hinges of the doors, pulling out the detonator with haste.
“Two… one… mark!” Sierra shouted.
“Breaching! –Breaching!” one of her men shouted as they pulled the detonating switch out, then forward, twisting it to the right as sparks flew back, white smoke levitating upwards against the lamp as the door crashed forward with a resounding thunder, the teaming moving in with weapons raised as they descended down the stairs with haste.
“GO! –GO! –GO!” the radio screamed with Devil Dog’s actions as screams in the ambient could clearly be heard, gun fire…
“Shot’s fired!” Sierra called out as they formed along the second door, stacking up in preparation.
“Flash and clear!” she ordered as one of her men pulled out a flash-bang grenade from their vest and pulled the pin, keeping the priming lever in place by holding the device tight, another member opening the door slightly as the soldier released the grenade with haste, the door closing in time to allow the grenade to go off.
“GO!” Sierra shouted as she shouldered her weapon the door open, her men storming in one-by-one as they screamed at the insurgents inside, who were covering their ears, her men shoving them down one handed to the floor as they aimed their weapons at the back of their head while they were placed in zip-tie restraints; another door was blown open far to the other side of the room, weapons shouldered, moving in a blitz formation as they proceeded forward, keeping a sharp eye for any hostile threats.

“Foley, Hanks, Shirley, keep an eye on our guests!” Sierra ordered as they nodded, kicking away their weapons and began to search them for anything else that may impose a threat.
“Movement, right!” Gaz whispered harshly as he adjusted his aim to the corridor on their left, a single head peaking out through the door.
“Tango! –Right side!” he shouted.
“Confirmed!” Sierra shouted as she squatted on his three-o’clock, watching as the tango whirled around with an AK-47 assault rifle.
Don’t do it… don’t do it! She pleaded as she aimed down the amber-coated lens of her optic, watching as his fingers crossed the trigger as he leaped to the right, firing a stream of rounds in their direction as the flash lit up the hall with a flare.
“Take ‘em!” she shouted as she removed the safety with a single move, Gaz firing two rounds with rapid succession as the brass casings landed along the clay-flooring with a clanking thud, the insurgent landing on the floor with blood running down his white shirt, silenced, and immobilized.
“Tango down!” he shouted.
“Roger, tango down…” Sierra stated as half of her team advanced forward down the corridor, kicking away the weapon as they cleared the rooms, while she moved forward along the long balcony with sweeping steps, converging on the meeting room.
“Orders are to take him alive, fire only when fired upon…” Sierra stated as she crouched behind the door, pulling out a fiber-optic camera and slid it under the door, where she could make out pure chaos, moving it to the right she made out the boots of an insurgent, moving it to the left, she made out a flipped table, with two men behind, locating the package in the far right, the target surrounded by insurgents as they continued to aim the weapons at the door.
“Seven tangos, breach and clear…” She ordered as another team converged on her position, turning around to cover them from behind.
“Roger, breach and clear…” her combat engineer stated as he placed two plastic explosives along the door, and pulled out the detonator, wiring it to frequency 2, pulling the plunger up, then down, nodding to his leader that he was ready.
She nodded, shouldering her rifle in preparation.
“Breaching! –BREACHING!” he sounded off as he twisted the plunger to the right, a red light flashing on the detonator as a resounding beep ignited the explosives, blowing the wooden door into thousands of dagger-like splinters, dust pouring into the room as sunlight converged inward, the screams of the insurgents full-mouthed as the team poured in, using close quarters tactics to subdue two of the insurgents with ease.
“ON THE FLOOR! –NOW!” her men screamed as they thrusted their weapons forward, more pouring in to secure the room, it was useless, they had been manipulated by their follower to deny reason, and in response, they opened fire, rounds tearing along the clay walls, sending flakes against the ESS storm goggles, and without further hesitation, the team fired back, weapons ablaze as rounds ripped at high velocity, sending the insurgents back with blood splattered against the walls, weapons ablaze as rounds continued to tear forward, missing the team by mere inches as they used swift movements, and cool-reflective calculations, knowing full-well where their bullets were going to hit, and how they were going to hit, -Shell casings landing against the floor with rolling “pings”.
However, Jeremhia, himself, wasn’t so easily convinced, reaching into his chest holster and pulled out a large magnum, the sun reflecting off of it’s stainless steel plating, thumbing the hammer with a single swift move as it clicked throughout the room.
“Drop the gun!” Sierra shouted as she adjusted her aim, the leader grinned.
“Drop the f**kING GUN!” one of her team screamed, his saliva raining forward as he aimed his weapon.
“You don’t know what you’re doing! –COBRA!” he shouted as he stepped towards the casings.
“It doesn’t have to end this way! – Jeremhia!” Sierra screamed.
“I’ve made my choice, COBRA, just as you made yours!” he shouted as he opened the case, revealing the nuclear device.
“All units, this is Black Phoenix, we have a confirmed nuclear threat… evacuate immediately!” she shouted.
“Roger that, bugging out!” Devil Dog’s voice could be made out clearly on the radio.
“Step away from the device, Jeremhia! –You don’t want to do this!” she attempted to coax him, waiting for a single moment for him to drop his guard, removing the safety off her rifle as she aimed down the site, the red dot projecting along the center of his forehead.
“This is king-pin-2, I have a shot, sites are hot…”
“Negative, King-Pin-2, hold fire!” Sierra shouted to the sniper over the radio.
“There’s now way out, Jeremhia! –Step away from the bomb, lay your weapon on the floor, and give up! –NOW!” she screamed.
“Just as you’re loyal to your cause, I’m loyal to mine…” he stated as he glanced at the keypad, pressing several buttons.
“King-Pin-2, take the shot!” she screamed as she ducked to her knees, running out of the door as Jeremhia glanced forward, and before he could react, he froze, a single bullet hole torn through the front of his skull, his handgun dropping out of his hand, and clattering to the clay floor; dropping to his knees as the report of the rifle was finally heard, landing on his side where he met his grave.
“King-pin-2, target has been neutralized, over.” The radio chimed.
“Check the devise!” Sierra shouted as her specialist ran into the room, weapon level with his chest as he froze, gazing over the panels and LCD screens of the large bomb.
“Is it armed?” She asked.
“We have a serious f**king problem here!” he shouted as he watched an illuminated face animate over the screen, the flesh disappear to reveal a skull.
“It’s f**kin’ armed!” he screamed.
“Fifteen minutes!” he shouted.
“Can you disarm it!” she asked.
“Not in fifteen minutes!” he screamed.
“f**k!” she shouted.
“Arsenal, this is Black Phoenix, we have a confirmed live nuclear threat on the scene, it is live! –I say again, the device is LIVE!” she shouted.
“Anyway you can disarm the device, Black Phoenix?” the radio asked.
“Negative, it’s a SHIVA, 15 minute detonator, 70 megaton Red-Mercury Payload, with a microwave detonator, encased in a burst shield package, with tamper-proof shielding… we can’t disarm this bomb in time!” the specialist stated.
“Roger that, all units, evacuate! –I say again, evacuate, now!” the commander stated over the radio.
“All units! –Move to extraction zone! –NOW!” she screamed as she lowered her rifle and turned tail to the door, her men sprinting back up the stairs, Devil Dog moving on the other side as they stormed up the stairs as well.
“DOUBLE TIME! –MOVE IT!” she screamed as the view before her passed in a blur, Shirley, Hanks, and Foley scrambling up the stairs with their prisoners as they rounded the corner.
“Two-Four, do you read?” Sierra shouted into the radio as the wind continued to blow through her hair.
“Two-four here, loud and clear…”
“Requesting immediate priority extraction, roof-top, over!” Sierra screamed as she activated her beacon.
“Got your beacon, prepare for pick up, 2-4, out!” the radio chimed.
“Twelve minutes, thirty four seconds!” the specialist sounded off as he glanced at his synchronizer.
“Confirmed.” Sierra said as she watched numerous drop-ships descend with their ramps down, hovering over the building, two marines per craft signaling them forward.
“Fall in! –MOVE! –MOVE! –MOVE!” Sierra screamed as she moved forward, pausing at the boarding ramp, her men storming on the craft with haste, ducking their heads beneath the drop panel, taking a seat along the sides of the craft as they placed their weapons on safe, and secured them between their legs, strapping themselves in, before Sierra, herself, boarded, taking a seat at the front, the ramps remaining open.
“Two-four, dusting off!” The drop-ship pilot stated as he hit the throttle to a hundred, and moved out, the other drop ships joining the side as they rushed at full speed.
“Eleven minutes!” the specialist sounded off.
“What’s going to happen when it goes off?” one of her men asked.
“That’s not our concern… we all took an oath of silence on this mission… it never happened…” She lowered her head as she removed her cap, whipping her hair with a gloved hand as the drop ships moved forward.
“We just execute the orders were given… we’re trained not to ask questions… we never ask questions….” She ended as she gazed up, her heart pounding as the sounds around her began to blare, an overwhelming heat condensed her flesh as a white flash poured through the opening in the ramp, her soldiers covering their eyes with their arms as the flash blotted out the son, a massive blast wave of dust, dirt, and debris rushing along the surface as it consumed the middle-eastern city as the fiery mushroom cloud rose to the heavens, the horizon faded to a deep orange flare.
“All those people… dead…” Sierra muttered as the flash wore off, her men removing their arms as the nuclear explosion continued to spread.

“In other news, Sapin has released a statement pertaining to a nuclear test over a decommissioned industrial complex, and has pronounced that the test safely fell in standards with the Nuclear Physics and Testing Corporation, and that the test itself, was executed with safety in mind.”

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“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope”

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-Unanimous

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They say that we, we as COBRAs are the best fighting men and women in the world, -believed to be descended from Spartan Warriors from their time, heros in every sense of the word. That when a darkness creeps from the world of shadow, that a light will always shine through, wielding a sword of fire on a stallion that walks a noble road. But then again, we COBRAs were never set to be interviewed by any media, never seen by the public, or never named, therefore, no one knows just who or what we are, only that we exist, and that we live out our lives as civilians until we’re needed.

Heroes. –That’s what they call us, but we hero’s are nothing more than pawns, pawns that are involved in a much bigger game of chess, where everyone is expendable, and to be captured would mean the denial of the IMSO’s involvement, -and you? –They could care less about your sorry ***. When captured, there will be no search party, there will be no rescue, -no second chance, no shot at freedom. When a Cobra is captured, he is on his own, he is trained through the most grueling of exercises, beaten to a pulp to endure torture, and interrogation, trained to be the most pain-tolerant warrior in the history of men. He has no serial number, no name, no date of birth. From that point on, he is property of the IMSO, the most powerful corporation in the world to date, he is a machine, trained to fight as one with the team, to make split-second decisions, -equipped with the latest in technological advances far beyond the human clock.. He has no feelings, no pity, no mercy. He is willing to engage in any and all conflicts that will crush the moral of the enemy. A COBRA is an icon of war, a device that brings in money, a soldier capable of starting, or ending a war. And with a global economy that strongly revolves around war, to have the IMSO as one of your contracts would be a very good idea.
The IMSO is the largest weapons and PMC contractor in the world, living in secrecy, they seek contracts by the military, and government of every country, a corporate entity arisen in the years of the Belkan War, founded by business men and women who thrive under the dollar, they have ties to every government secret project, every weapon, every bullet, and every man currently fighting on the battlefield. Developing a system that allows them to monitor every living soldier in combat, they can observe, and learn from the behaviors exhibited by their micro NANO machines. –Like rats in a lab, we are subjects of a much larger experiment.
-And yet, people still have the courage to call us –heroes? –Hero’s don’t start wars to make another country money… hero’s don’t look into the eyes of civilian innocents, and tell them that their going to die as a sacrifice for their country… -Hero’s don’t allow nuclear devices to go off for the sake of a mission that was never supposed to happen… and hero’s… hero’s don’t have to kill. –We can never go back to what we once were, civilians, bakers, and stock brokers, to lawn services, that life now, is simply a rouse, a mirage on a hot day, making over eighty-thousand a year, we do the dirty work of the government. Cleaning up their mistakes, whether it be assassinations, or witness protection, to full-blown military assaults with no flag on our shoulder to designate country. Training to start, fight, and end a war on a moments notice, we stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy all enemies, both foreign and domestic; or –to help them.

A COBRA is on nobody’s side, he is a spectator, a neutral soldier that only serves the orders of his contractor, an elite mercenary for hire. A Special Forces group that specializes in illegal operations with jurisdiction world-wide; a military without a country, without a home. In the end of five years, a COBRA will have seen more action than a marine has his entire career. And by the time he is ready to retire, even if there is such thing, war is all he ever knows. No matter what he chooses to do with his hands, whether it be to love a women, change his child’s diaper, or press his church clothes, his hands, those hands that have so long been the property of a greater organization, will remember the killing they had done, the lives they had taken, or the number of rounds that had been dispensed. –All in all, A COBRA never forgets… A COBRA will never forget…

Ourad, Osean Federation
April 22nd, 5321
08:30:22 AM
Trivoli Apartment Complex, FBI Field Head-Quarters[/size]

Blue lights flashed around the streets in the lockdown zone as numerous media coverage vehicles relayed the event on a live camera feed from beyond the perimeter barriers, where numerous police officers controlled the crowd. Beyond the uproar, a polished black car with government plates -flashing blue and red lights on the both sides of the front and back license plate making it evident that the driver was important business.
Another day at the office… she thought to herself as she watched the police officer remove the barrier and let her through, driving at a slow 5 MPH through the mobile command post, easing her way forward where all the other vehicles were parked. The door opened, and a middle-aged women stepped out with medium length blond hair, flashing her badge to the officers as she stepped up to the FBI Field HQ.
“Good morning, guys?” Sierra asked as she stepped inside, removing her long coat as she stepped up to the brewer.
“Mornin’ to you, too, Newt.” They replied as they continued to organize the papers on the desk.
“We got a sitrep?” She asked as she took a white foam cup, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Husband finds out wife’s having an affair, decides not to show up for work, loads a .223 rifle, and a shotgun, starts shooting. We got two dead, three wounded, they’re at the hospital right now-“
“Who were they?” Sierra asked as she placed her heavy coat on the rack, her side holster bulging with a hefty .45.
“Roberto Menindiaz, age 27, employed at Smith Security, lives at Trivoli Apartments, room number B26, pronounced “DOA” by paramedics at eight-twelve AM. Another one, Janiqua King, African American, age 32, waitress at Benny’s Breakfast Dinner, was one her way to work when she took a rifle bullet to the throat, she died at the hospital…” he paused.
“The wounded, any relationship?” Sierra asked.
“We believe he was just shooting out of rage, Sierra, he has no relationship to these people, neighbors say they never come out, all they do is fight. For Christ sakes, one of them was a d**ned newspaper delivery boy.” A Chinese behavioral analyst said.
“Happened to be a the wrong place, at the wrong time…” Sierra said as she sat down at the table where the others were working.
“Another was a Kyle Hendricks, age 23, he was found next to a bag of trash, believed to be taking out his trash when he was shot by the rifle.
“Another was a kid walking to school.” He looked up from the paper.
“So, was he just running around the campus shooting, or was he shooting from a fixed position?” Sierra asked as she set her coffee down.
“On site-witnesses said they heard shots from here, here, and here.” The Director stated as he pointed to numerous red ‘X’s.
“They reliable?” she asked.
“Scared Sh*tless, but trusted.” He nodded as he rubbed his chin.
“Alright, continue with the brief.” Sierra said as she leaned back, crossing her arms.
“After the shots were fired, neighbor called the police –that was an hour ago, Officer Shirley and Gregson first on the scene, suspect barricaded himself in his apartment. Neighbor says they had a 12 year old girl spending the night with their 13 year old daughter Sarah; wife left with Sarah-“
“Why didn’t she take the other girl with her?” Sierra asked as she narrowed her eyes in confusion.
“Why would she leave the guest there, but take her own daughter?” Sierra asked.
“Our biggest guess is that there was probably another fight, and there was no time.” The director stated.
“Still doesn’t make any sense.” Sierra added, “alright, who’s our guy?” Sierra asked as she picked up her coffee once more, taking another sip.
“ Suspect is John Bellows, age 43, two hundred and twenty-seven pounds, height 6’1”, brown hair, dark eyes; white skin with farmer’s tan; former marine, under psychiatric treatment for about three years now for an alcohol problem.” The Director of Operations stated, an elderly man with brown hair, a jacket with his badge on the front, on the back, it boldly stated FBI.
“Let’s get his psychiatrist here, maybe she can tell us something useful.” Sierra said as she took a look at the file.
“What do we got for eyes?” She asked the HRT (Hostage Rescue Team) Director, a middle-aged man wearing an assault uniform with MP5 submachine gun slung to his chest, who stretched out a blue print of the campus.
“I currently got snipers here…” He landed his finger on a red “x” on a building across the street, “here…” he moved his finger to the other side of the print, a building directly in-front of the target, which was circled by a red marker to highlight potential hot-zone, “and here.” He indicated the balcony of a building on the eastern room.
“Suspect is barricaded on the second floor, room number G34.” He stated firmly.
“Does he have any warrants?” Sierra asked the director.
“We ran his name through the system, he’s got nothing serious on him other than an unpaid traffic ticket. However, he did do five years in Ballgate Prison for a DUI that resulted in the death of a Nancy Rose, age 56; released…” he glanced down at the paper, “five years ago.”
“Must be eating his pathetic heart out.” Sierra said, radios chattering away as they continued to talk about vehicles approaching the lock-down scene, Sierra looked up without further delay, “This little girl, who is she?” she asked as she took a sip of her coffee.
“We have reason to believe it’s their niece, 12 year old Veronica Earnheart, mother is Jazman Earnheart –age 34, father –David Jacobs Earnheart, age 36. They live about a block away, she was spending the night when this whole ordeal took place.” He said.
“Well, so much for pancakes and waffles for breakfast…” Sierra said as she wrote down some notes on the paper.
“Has anyone made any contact with the suspect?” She asked.
“No, we wanted you to be the first.” He said.
“Good.” She nodded.
“We got the phone number to the room?” she asked.
“Right here, ma’am.” He said as he pointed to a post-it-note.
“Any demands? –Requests?” she asked.
“Well, he wants his wife, we spoke to her, and she’s refusing to come. Says he’s out of control.”
The director of investigations stated.
“Her name?” Sierra asked.
“Kristen Bellows, age 41.” The Director stated.
“Any pets? –Animals?” she asked.
“Neighbor said they have a dog, a…” he paused, looking away for a minute, “A 3 year old lab.” He answered.
She glanced to the radio-charger shelf and pulled out a walkie-talkie and hitched it onto her belt, pulling on a bullet resistant vest with the words, FBI SPECIALIST imprinted on the back, placing her badge on the front, pulling her hair back and tying it into a tail in the back.
She picked up the phone and dialed the number on the post-it-note, the HRT officer, Behavior Analysts, and Director picking up a set of headphones, it rang five times when there was a click:
‘Hello?’
“John Bellows, is it?” Sierra asked.
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
“My name is Special Agent Sierra Neut with the Special Operations Team (SOT), how’re you doing today?” she asked.
‘Everything’s gone to hell! –My wife’s a very *friendly* person! –She f**kin’ left me!’
Sierra glanced to her note pad, beginning to scratch down some notes at his slurred voice, and anger to the wife.
“You want to tell me what happened? –What went down between you two?” she asked.
‘It’s been going on, for five f**kin’ years we’ve been fighting over and over. When I found out she was cheatin’ on me last week, we got in a big fight, threw some antiques at me, and now, she refused to come home. She’s telling me I need to go back to rehab, -I just got out of that d**n loony bin! –I ain’t going back!
“Do you admit you have a drinking problem, Mr. Bellows?” Sierra asked as she continued to scratch down some notes.
‘I know I drink more than I’m supposed t’a, but who wouldn’t when everything’s gone down the Sh*tter!?’
“And Veronica? –What does she have to do with this?” Sierra asked.
‘Kristy loves her more than anything’, maybe if I got rid of her, she’ll know the true meaning of how I feel! –Angry! –Betrayed!’
“Is there more to just this going on? –Stress at work? –Arguments with friends maybe? –What do you do for a living?” Sierra asked.
‘I’m a security guard at a mall, the guys always hate on me about my weight, it’s been getting real personal lately… I had a shoplifter escape the other day, and the others said if I wasn’t so fat, I would’ve stopped him.’
“Really hurts your self-esteem, don’t it?” she said as she jotted down her first note –lacks self-pride, victim to others by teasing about weight issues.
‘d**n straight it does.’
“I understand how it must feel to be criticized at work, Mr. Bellow’s, some people just don’t have a life, and choose to get their fun out on others. Sometimes, it can be okay, and you can just brush it off your shoulder, get them back later, but then there are those who egg on, and on, and they can say some pretty mean things. You have a right to be angry, your wife betrayed you, and left you. You have a right to feel hurt, a troublesome relationship can build up stress like an atom bomb, and you have every right to express these feelings, as long as you do it in a safe and harmless way.” She spoke softly.
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right, there, miss.’
“So, regarding today, what would you like us to do, Mr. Bellows?” she asked politely, and calmly.
‘Well, first off, anyone one of your boys comes through that door, I’ll pop the girl, then ‘im! –Two, I want my wife here! –And three, I want guaranteed security!’
“We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Bellows, we’re working on getting hold of her as we speak, you know where she might be staying?” Sierra asked.
‘Try her sister down in Apito.’
Sierra could hear sounds in the background, a dog barking.
“That a dog barking back there, Mr. Bellows?” she asked.
d**n ***! –Shut the f**k up!
“What’s his name?” she with little regard to his harsh language or his yelling..
Dog’s name’s Henry.
“What kind of dog is he?” she asked.
A d**n lab, why?
“Ah, a lab… yeah, I remember, when I was young, I had a lab, Kiesier was his name. The most playful dog you’d ever see. When I would come home from school, he’d jump up on you like you were gone forever.” she wrote down a notes -easily distracted.
Well, not this mother-f**ker, he’s nothing but a noisy son-of-a-*****! He barks none-stop! –Sh*ts and pisses everywhere! I’ve just about had it with him!
Sierra couldn’t help but grin with satisfaction, adding another note to her list –hates dog.
“Alright, Mr. Bellows, this is what we’re looking, I’m your friend here. If you ever need anything, food, cigarettes, water, you let me know, and we can talk. We’re going to give you all the time you need, we want this thing to end quietly, with no one hurt, so we can all go home, and put this incident behind us.” she said as she sighed.
There were tears on the other side, Sierra immediately adjusted her mood.
“Mr. Bellows? Are you okay?” she asked as she wrote down the following note: -suicide risk?
I… I just want to go home… I want my wife… -I want things to be the way they used to be… I never meant things to go as far as they did… I never meant for anyone to get hurt… I’m sorry… the voice, he was crying.
“Mr. Bellows, no one else has to get hurt, we can end this slowly, but all in all, you have the power here. You’re the one in charge, if you need anything, you call this number…” she glanced at the Director, who gave her a white card with written numbers on it.
“555-3578” she said.
Five-five-five… three-five-seven-eight? He confirmed.
“Correct, Sir. Is there anything you need? –Water? –Food? –Anyone hurt in there? How many people are in there?” she asked.
Just me, the dog, and the girl.
“Is Veronica hurt?” Sierra asked.
No.
“What about you, are you hurt in anyway?” she asked.
No, no injuries here, miss.
“That’s good to hear. “ She paused with a smile, looking up at the director.
“We’re going to contact your wife again, we’ll give you a call back soon, alright Mr. Bellows?” She asked.
Well… al-alright. His heavy breathing was more than apparent.
“Alright, then, you go ahead and hang up first.” She said smoothly and effectively.
Okay… there was a click on the other end, and the line went dead.

[Naijinaxx]

“So? –What do you think?” The Director asked.
“I’d have to say he’s under a lot of stress, alcohol isn’t making anything better, he’s angry, depressed, lonely and afraid. He feels guilt for what he’s done, so he’s definitely not insane. I’ve noted that he’s very easily distracted, and just wants to speak to his wife.” She stated professionally.
“What are his chances on killing the girl?” he asked her.
“I don’t think he’s stupid enough to do that… that girl is the only thing preventing us from going in there and grabbing him. He destroys that leverage, he’s done. He can kiss his sorry *** good-bye.” She said without hesitation.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked.
“Let’s keep in contact with his wife, maybe she can help fill in the loops… I want her to stay where she’s at… it would only cause everything to blow out into chaos, either give him another hostage, and another brick to his wall –or he’ll just kill himself in front of her.” She stated.
“I agree, Sierra.” The Director said
“You know, for an anti-terrorism specialist, you’re a pretty d**n good negotiator.” They laughed.
“It’s the same stuff… we all study psychology at the academy, you just have to know what to say at the right time.” She grinned.
“So, you think you can talk this guy down, Neut?” The HRT commander asked.
“If anything, I’m guessing I won’t have to, he’ll make the decision on his own, and just surrender.” She said.
“Well, that’s a big guess, Neut.” Commander Hickens grinned.
“I’ve got two teams of 16 men each ready to take this guy out from the front and the back, and three snipers. You give the word, we’ll shock-and-awe him.” He grinned.
“Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t have to come down to that, Commander Hickens.” She said as she reviewed his behavioral analysis while the others made a few phone calls, turning to face the plexy-glass windows.
“Alright, Kristen said she was staying with her sister, down in Apito, she said she’ll be here as fast as she can.” One of the team members said.
‘Field Base, this is bravo sierra two-five, I’ve got movement in the target apartment, over.’ The radio chimed.
“Roger that, Sierra two-five, what’s the twenty on the HT?” The HRT commander asked.
‘Restroom, over, he’s got a shotgun with him.’
“Any snipers have eyes on the hostage?” The Commander asked as he removed his thumb from the button.
‘Falcon-2-3, got eyes on hostage, front living room, about… five feet from the front door.’
“You know, maybe I can go over and talk to him person-to-person.” Sierra suggested as she turned, crossing her arms.
“No, it’s too risky… he’s unstable, he’s drunk, it’d only give him another hostage…” the Director nodded his head.
“Think about, he’s lonely, he just wants someone to talk to.” Sierra said.
“No, what he wants to do is blow his head off in front of his wife!” The director rose his voice, “you think he’ll give a d**n about you? –He sees you as a cop! –Nothing more!” the Director stated with objection.
“f**k it… I’m going up.” She said as she removed her coat, being sure that her vest was strapped in tight.
“Sierra!” The director shouted.
“My call.” She said as she reached for her holster and pulled out her side arm, removing her USP.40 with quick movements, lowering the safety lever, and gently pulled back the slide, reassured with the presence of brace in the chamber, and released, flipping the safety back on.
“Sierra, think about this.” The Director said.
“You go in there, it’ll take our guys five seconds to blow the doors, a lot can happen in five seconds.” The Director said as he laid his palms on the table.
“It’s not stopping me.” She said as she placed her weapon in the holster and buckled the strap.
“Fine… if I can’t stop you, then who will?” he asked her as he whipped the sweat off his brow.
“No one.” She said as she pulled on her light windbreaker, a navy-blue colored jacket, removing her badge from her coat and placing it on the designated holes.
The HRT commander nodded, raising his radio.
“All units, this is field HQ, negotiator is entering hot zone, I say again, negotiator is entering hot zone, over.”
‘Bravo Sierra two-five, roger.’
‘Falcon 2-3, confirmed, negotiator entering hot zone.’
‘Sierra Whisky oh-one, confirmed.’

‘Alpha team ready to provide escort.’ The radio chimed.
“This isn’t by the book, Sierra!” The Director stated.
“When this is done, you can brand the book on my butt, I’m not a negotiator, I’m an Anti-Terrorism Specialist! –The only reason I’m here right now, is because your negotiator got locked up in traffic.” She said as she pulled her tail back behind her neck.
“Be careful, Neut… -I don’t want to have to tell you fiancé that you were killed being the ballsy stubborn women you always are.” He grinned.
“I’ll be fine.” She reassured him with a nod, pulling out a radio.
“Have the teams ready to go in, on my signal.” She informed the HRT commander.
“What’s the plan, Sierra?” he asked.
“I’m going to talk to him a bit more, see if I can get him to calm down, lie to him, tell him his wife’s here, and that I have to inspect the house. What’s the best kill-zone for your sniper?” she asked.
“Bedroom… open view right there.” The HRT commander stated, “But, he’s not there anymore.”
“He’ll be there.” She said.
“When I get him away from the hostage, have alpha team take the girl, tell snipers to hold their fire until I give the signal.” She said.
“Why?” he asked.
“He’s not going to surrender… he’s too depressed. For him, there’s only one way out of here, and he plans on biting the bullet. No question about it.” She stated honestly.
“Why didn’t you say that before?!” he shouted.
“I don’t like this anymore than you do, Hicks, just have your men in place, ready to move on my go.” She ordered swiftly.
“You, you’re coming with me…” She said as she glanced at the profiler, who nodded, gathering his notes, his windbreaker and badge, regrouping with her.
“Let’s go.” She said as she stepped down the corridor, taking one last sip of her coffee before throwing it in the trash bin, unlatching the bar and pushed the door open, where she was greeted to the flashing of cameras, the roars of media, questionnaires, the wind biting against her flesh as she exhaled a plume of frost, the HRT tactics team formed up along the side of the field base-trailer, weapons chest level.
“Alright, take us to him.” She said with a nod as she unfastened her holster and drew her weapon, the profile doing the same, notes shoved into a laptop bag.
“Alpha team here, all units, we are entering hot zone, over.” The team leader said into his radio as he shouldered his submachine gun and rounded the corner, a single operative carrying a ballistic shield and handgun leading the formation as the gates opened, allowing the team to move.
“Keep it tight…” he said as they began to move in a gait that was less than a light jog, eyes scanning the roofs, streets, and other buildings for any potential hazards.
“All clear, move.” The team leader said as they began to round a corner, approaching an entrance, two operative moving up to take cover at the foot of the stairs, one covering the back, the other covering the front, allowing the team to move up slowly.
“Clear left…”
“Clear up.”
Sierra watched the team move with fluid anticipation, though she desperately didn’t want to have to use lethal force on the poor *******, she knew that there would most likely not be a surrender, the fate of that little girl was in her hands, and even though she had been trained not to care, personally, she found it hard on herself not to. She could feel the fear here, the cold breeze as it swept through the evacuated apartment buildings, moving down a dimly lit hall, flashlights from the weapons flashing through the darkness, shadows coursing along the light.
The team leader nodded, bringing up a balled fist to his men, another one, five men down the single file line doing the same, stopping in place, Sierra glancing at the room number… G34.
“Here we are…” She said as she holstered her weapon, the profiler doing the same, Sierra reaching her pocket and pulling out the notes she had written earlier in the field command.

15 Minutes Later

[/font][/size]


The door was open ajar, one HRT member was against the opposite wall, his weapon slightly raised to the door as Sierra was sat propped against the wall next to the open door, inside, she could hear the dog barking nonstop.
“Yeah, I like animals better than people sometimes. ‘Specially dogs.” She grinned.
“Every time you walk in the door, they treat you as if they haven’t seen you in a year.” She said as she glanced to the open door.
“And the good thing about dogs, they got different kinds of dogs for different kinds of people.” She said as she glanced to the profiler with her eyes rolled to the far right.
“Like labs.” She said with a jump of enthusiasm.
“The dog of dogs.” She grinned.
“A good ‘ol lab can be the right man’s best friend, or the wrong man’s worst enemy.” She said as she glanced to the door once more.
“Yeah, you going to get me a dog for a pet, you get me lab.” She said as she glanced down at her list, navigating her pencil over the notes, tapping it under the dogs name.
“Give me Henry.” She laughed.
“Right? John? –Give me Henry!” she laughed.
‘f**kin’ hate Henry! –Shut the f**k up –*** hole!’ John’s voice out-shouting the barking dog.
‘Son of a ***** doesn’t know when to shut up!
Sierra glanced at the profiler, who had sweat pouring down his brow.
“Hates Henry…?” she whispered to the profiler, who shrugged his shoulders.
Sierra glanced at the list she had, a list of likes and dislikes.
“Who made this list?” she said.
“Special Agent Foley.” The profiler said.
“Well, he f**ked up the list.” She sighed as she glided her pencil along it.
She sighed, going to another measure.
“Yeah, I can dig you, John. I had a dog like that! –A poodle! –She didn’t bark though, -she pissed on the floor. Hated that dog.” She glanced to the door.
“But, if I was ever depressed, she’d lay her head in my lap,” she said as she glanced to the profile, who glanced at her with a curious gaze, “look at me with those big ol’ eyes,” the HRT members stretching their necks, “and even though I thought I hated that dog… I loved her.” She smiled.
“Like that, ain’t it, Henry? –That love hate-thing?” she asked.
‘No more god d**ned talk!” the dogs barking got louder.
‘I can’t wait anymore, ya’ hear!? –I want my wife!” Sierra’s eyes got wide, but they showed no fear, instead, she reached into her windbreaker and pulled out a small mirror attached to a stretchable stick, slowly moving into the door to get a view, only to see the girl on her stomach, with a shotgun pressed against the back of her neck.
‘I want her up here!’ he shouted, the mirror shaking in her hand as she could visibly read the fear in the girls eyes.
‘Or, I’ll do this girl right now!’ he shouted.
Sierra swallowed, choosing her next words carefully, “John, listen me-”
‘No more f**king talking! –I want that ***** or I’ll do the girl!’
“John! –I’m doing the best I can!” Sierra raised her voice.
‘I’m not going to hurt her!” the shot gun was firm, his finger on the trigger.
‘Just want her to see me blow my brains out! –I want her to think about that when she’s sucking that fat pricks male genatilia!’ he swallowed, sweat rolling down his brow.

“Sierra’s loosing ‘im…” The HRT commander said as he twirled a pen around his fingers, glancing at the computer screens which showed live camera footage, the dog barking, the shot gun aimed at the girls neck.
“This guy goes, he can take that girl with him. We have get in there, now.” The Commander said as he studied the monitors carefully.
“Give Sierra another minute, notch-yet, she’s pulled out of much worse.” He said.
“Another minute, and that girl will be dead.” The commander nodded as he continued to twirl the pen in his fingers.
The director studied the screens carefully for a moment, nodding in agreement with the commander, raising his radio.
“Unit one, prepare entry, all units, stand by for full breach.”


And that’s when it happened, Sierra heard footsteps, reaching for her holster, she grasped the grip of her weapon, only to have the door shut in her face, the crack pealing in her ears, the rolling “thunk” of the bolt breaking the silence.
‘You lost him, make entry.’ The radio chimed, Sierra glancing at the profiler, who held the radio in his hand.
“What?” she hissed.
The profiler glanced at Sierra, the HRT guys standing up in their fatigues, weapons ready, “Hicks thinks you lost him, Beckner gave the go-ahead.” He said as the HRT operatives lowered their goggles, raising their weapons to aim at the door.
“That’s not the play, John’s tight.” She said, glancing at the profiler.
“He can get a shot off if they breach.” She stated firmly, studying his eyes.
“Look, Chen, I can still talk to him, I just need time.”
The profiler rose his radio, “HRT Team-1, negotiator requests time.”
‘Negative, team’s in position.’ The radio replied.
Sierra looked away, letting out a long and exasperated sigh.
“f**k it, I’m going in.” she said as she stood.
“No! –No-no! –Wait! –Don’t! –God d**nit!” Chen said as he stood as well, holding his hand out to her.
“Don’t pull this Sh*t! You’ll give him another hostage.” He said.
“You know another way to get the gun off the girl’s head?” she asked him as she glared deeply into his eyes, the profiler pausing for a moment, as if to say, touché.
“Negotiator entering kill zone.”


“You got to keep her out of there,” Hicks said a he glanced at Beckner.
“Our men will loose objectivity if he’s in there.” He persuaded.


‘Neut, this is Beckner, stand down.’ The radio chimed, Sierra glanced at Chen, the others nodding.
“John was a marine, right?” she asked as she read the faces of the others around her.
“Yeah.” He answered swiftly.
“We have a shot?” she asked him.
“Bedroom, but he’s no where near there.” Chen answered swiftly.
“He will be. Get Falcon and Sierra Whisky to that window, tell them to wait for my signal, put that mother f**ker on his back.” She said, patting him on his shoulder, Chen raising the radio to his lips and gave the snipers their orders.
“Hellman, Allen, Agento,” she said as she stepped up to the three HRT operative, all nodding and stepping forward.
“When I’m clear, come in there, and get the girl.” They nodded, Sierra turning and began to make her way to the door.
“Ay’, John! –Just got word, your wife’s here!” she shouted as she knocked on the door.
“Wife?!” Chen hissed.
“Shut up…” Sierra hissed back, turning her glance back to the wooden door before her.
“Now, I’ve been authorized to make the trade, but I got to come in, look around, make sure there’s no other hostages, or surprises.” She stated.
‘f**k you!’ Sierra heard him lift the weapon off the girl and place it in his hands.
‘I want to see her first!’
“John, I gotta come look!” Sierra nodded, “-Then I can bring in your wife, and get the girl, alright?” she asked.
‘And what if you’re lying’
“Then shoot me!” Sierra laughed, the others flinching at her words, and even yet, there was a distinct quick laughter on the other side, and she heard footsteps, taking two steps back, and began to raise her hands.
‘Okay! –Fair enough!’ more footsteps, ‘nice and slow! –You look around, and then I get my wife! –Or you f**king die!’

‘All units, ready.’ The radio chimed, Sierra glanced at Chen, who adjusted the volume on the unit, the lock unlatching, and the door slowly opened, Sierra finding the shotgun aimed at her head.
“Move real slow…” The man said as he removed his hand from the door knob and placed it on the pump of the shotgun.
“This ain’t about me or you,” he said as he began to move to the side, allowing Sierra inside, the dog barking up a storm as she set eyes upon the girl, tears in her eyes, “but I’ll take you out just the same.”


“She made it in.” Beckner said with a sigh as he saw Sierra on the monitors, hands raised over her head as she walked inside, a shotgun aimed at the side of her head.
“Looks like we gotta play it out now.” He glanced at the commander, who nodded, raising the radio.
“Unit 1, hold position.” He said with frustration as he lowered the radio, whipping a gloved hand across his scalp in frustration.


She wasn’t going to deny it, frightened, nervous… but then again, this wasn’t the first time she had a gun pointed at her face, this wasn’t the first time she had seen a disorientated man with his finger on the trigger, or where lives were at stake. Images of troops rushing through a rain forest in 115 degree heat, perspiration cascading down the sides of their heads as they navigated their way through the hedge and into a village where a power struggle was under brawl, child soldiers armed with Ak-47s and grenades, children who fought the wars of their fathers, screaming, as the troops fired in response at the incoming fire, explosions tearing through the starving country as they scrambled for cover, only to bite bullets in response. Flashes of death reigned through her mind, the patch that no one knew she wore, the very same patch she still wore… the cobra patch. She collected her senses, landing her eyes on the girl, who gazed up at her, tears wielding in her eyes as Sierra took her glance off, and looked down at the dog, who was tied up against a small entertainment center, the television was on, scrambled picture of a football game going about. The area was a mess, littered about with empty soda cans, paper, pencils, crayons, stains of unknown substances embedded in the carpet, dimly lit area with sunlight pouring through the windows, which were left open, a breeze coming in and swiveling through the curtains.
She heard the door close behind her, feeling the weight of the shotgun lift for a moment, the dog barking even louder, the stress climbing, she could feel her heart rate accelerate, the sweat pour down from the side of her head, her hair tied back in a tail –now moist with perspiration, her blood swimming.
“Lock it.” He instructed, indicating the door with a sideways glance as he once again settled the shotgun on her shoulder, Sierra slowly turning around lowering her right hand and flipped the bolt, immediately raising her hands to show that she meant no harm.
“Nice breeze eh, John?” she asked him as the curtains blew with the wind.
“Great day to be out, you know? Not cold,” she glanced over her left shoulder, hands raised shoulder lever, “kind of brisk.” She ended with haste.
“Too bad we got stuck in here.” She grinned as she watched him finger the trigger.
“You’ve seen everything! –There’s no surprise, now let’s do this.” He jumped straight to the point.
“Hey, I got to look in those rooms down there, make sure there’s no one hiding there.” She gave a toothy grin.
“Alright then, move!” he ordered, nudging her forward with the shotgun.


“Now…” Chen said as the HRT operative stepped up to the door, inserting a lock-picking device into the bolt-lock, fumbling with the unit as he heard the locking pins chime from the inside.

“Football, huh?” she said with a faked smile, glancing forward and proceeded to walk down the hall.
“Perfect day for it.” She said as she slunk into the shadows of the dimly lit hall, the floor creaking under their weight as they continued to walk forward.
“Ain’t missed a Champ’s game since I left the Corps.” She said with a smile, referring to the memorized list in her pocket, his likes and dislikes, remembering that the Champs was his favorite team, and that he especially liked marines.
“Or course, the Corps was the winning team.” She added.
“Oh yeah, you were in?” he asked her as she turned around the corner slowly, entering a bedroom with an open window.


“We’re in…” The HRT operative whispered as the door opened, and the operative aimed his weapon in side, pulling back, and nodding, two others entering with weapons shouldered, a young one with goggles extended over his eyes glancing far to the left, while the other took a crouch and kneel position to the right. The younger one glancing down at the girl and bringing his finger up to his mouth,
“Shhh…” he nonverbally said as he kept his eyes on the front.


“Yeah, did a tour in ‘308.” She said.
“Yeah, Semper Fi, mother f**ker, I did two tours! –‘308 and 309.”
“Sapinese revolution?” She asked him.
“Yeah.” He said.
“Well, hoo-f**king-rah! –John! –Hoorah!” she said with faked excitement, standing before the open window, glancing down at a dark display window with posters stamped on the outside, where he knew the snipers were located.
“Don’t meet many marines these days, everyone joins the navy or the army.”


“Got a visual on the suspect…” the sniper whispered as his spotter placed plastic explosives –the size of a quarter, on the glass, the sniper keeping an eye through the scope.

“See? –Nothing here, Agent Neut, so now we make the trade.” He said as he moved from left to right, uneasy.
“Nah! –Stay cool!” she rose one finger, which was manifested to John as a one minute, the sniper on the other side of the street seeing this signal.
‘We got a one count.’

“Like I told ya, gotta check out everything.” She said as she began to approach the window, making it appear as though she were peaking around the chair in the corner.


The HRT operative helped the little girl to her feet, holding her hand, he shoved her gently to the door, where she was received by Chen, the profiler, the door closing in front of them, the two operatives shouldering their weapons and holding position.


“John, a Marine and a sailor are in the bathroom taking a piss. The marine goes to leave without washing up. Sailor says, “in the navy, they teach us to wash our hands.” She said as she held two finger before her stomach, aiming them to John, who was at her side, the sniper getting note of this.
“The marine turns to him and says,” John knew this side of the joke, and joined.
“In the marines, they teach us not to piss on our hands!” they both said together as Sierra turned her two fingers into three.

There was an explosion of glass as the c-4 detonated, sending glass that reflected the sun into the street at projectile force; the trigger was squeezed, a reverberating report tearing through the sudden silence as the thunder ripped through the street, Sierra leaped clear to the left as the bullet struck John in the shoulder, sending the shotgun out of his hands -and blood splattering on the wall behind him, John uttering a cry of fear as his arms flailed out over his head, sending him back in a slow-blur as he struck the floor with over three hundred pounds of force, sending the room shaking as he grunted his pain.
Immediately, Sierra drew her weapon and aimed it at the incapacitated John, sweat and tears pouring down his face as he gazed up at her with fear, shaking… crying, eyes wide, chin twitching, blood soaking in his gray tank-top as he lay there frozen on the floor,

“MOVE! –MOVE!” the team screamed as they kicked in the door and ran down the hall, ignoring the barking dog as they poured into the bedroom to find Sierra aiming the weapon at the man’s face.
“H.T.’s down.” The operative said into the radio as he surveyed the scene, Chen walking in to confirm.
‘Copy.’ Beckner’s voice chimed through the radio.

Her hands were shaking, covered in sweat as she held the handgun in his face, John’s eyes filled with fear as he gazed into hers, seeing a flare that didn’t come from a marine as she had told him, but something else, something far worse that he had no recollection of. She was definitely a soldier, but as to what kind of soldier, he had no clue, and he gazed up at her with silence, watching as the profiler placed a gentle hand on the black handgun, whispering to this women.
“You alright, Neut?” he asked her, gently beginning to lower the weapon.
“Hmmm?” she grunted as she slowly lifted her head.
“You okay?” he asked her once more, gazing at her through the corner of his eyes.
“Y-yeah…” She said as she retracted her sidearm, and slowly placed it in the holster.
“Thanks…” She said as she slowly stood.
“Sure.” He replied as he shook hands with her, firm hands, hands that you didn’t gain from working with the FBI, but from a rifle, from combat, a truth that these souls would never know.

She inserted her key into the lock and turned, stepping into the dimly lit house, which was cleaned before her arrival, she closed the door behind her, Francis’s dog, a Siberian Husky by the name of Georgia walking up to her with tail wagging, she took off her coat with a sigh, placing it on a hanger in the closet and shut the door, giving the dog a pat on the head as she stepped into the kitchen.
“How was work?” Francis asked her as he glanced away from steaming pots.
“Busy.” She said as she loosened her hair, and allowed it to land on her shoulders, setting the keys on the kitchen counter with a jingle.
“Just started making lunch, should be done soon.” He said as he returned to the pots, using a large sthingy to stir its contents.
She didn’t say anything in response, only made her way to the stair to change into some casual clothing before relaxing, have been given the rest of the day off for today’s incident. She closed the door behind her, removing her holster and placing it on the desk before the bed, removing her blouse with a few snaps of her fingers.
It was all a lie… the badge, the gun, today’s incursion… it wasn’t her real job, and she knew it with plain instinct. She had the NANO machines running through her blood, even as she sat on the bed, thinking about what had procured all in a single day’s work; this was a side-job, a job that gave her something to do while she wasn’t needed. –And she knew it with plain thought. There was no scar, no signs of foreign property, no firm indications that she was something else, nothing that would speak out louder than her words. She seemed normal, looked normal, but like the others, she too, was a member of the PMC Administration, a COBRA.
There were many others like her, many others lurking all around the city, waiting ever so patiently for the calling, waiting for the time when they were needed when they would have to tell their loved ones that there was a business meeting that they had to attend far away. But things had been quite lately, it was almost abnormal, alien to her. Usually she was the first they called due to the fact that she was a team leader, and she was the most available. Not even the FBI could know what it was she did, nor could they ever know where it was that Arsenal was stationed, where it lurked. She couldn’t even tell the one she loved most dearly what it was she really did, where the large amounts of money came from every time she had to mysteriously disappear.
And that’s when France’s came inside, frustrated with his cooking, he leaned against the door frame, whipping a hand through his hair –he sighed, “you want to go out instead?”

“Gave up that easily, huh?” She grinned as she laid out flat on the bed.

An Hour Later

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Michael’s Steak House and Grill
16:27:33 hrs PCT

“You know tomorrow’s our anniversary?” he asked her under the dim lighting of the restaurant, a half-glass of whine before the both of them.
“No kidding?” she said as she leaned back in her chair, frustrated.
“A whole year.” He smiled, the lighting making his tan darker than it usually was.
“Been that long already?” she asked herself as she glanced down at the clear white whine before her, he plate brushed off to the side as she placed her hands on the table/
“Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?” Francis asked her as he gazed deeply into her eyes with compassion.
“Yeah, if we’re ever going to have the time to make our relationship official.” She grinned.
“Between you always having to go on these trips for work, and me having to go to work, who knows?” he joked.
“If we had kids, they’d both hate us…. You being a cop, me being FBI? –They’d be teased for god knows only how long.” She grinned.
“We’d get along just fine, I mean, look? –We’ve been together for a whole year, and we haven’t driven each other nuts yet.” He laughed as he cut into his steak, placing the meat into his mouth proceeding in chewing.
“Key word, there –Francis… yet.” She grinned as she took a sip from her whine as the waitress came by.
“Would we like desert tonight?” she asked as she smiled, Francis glancing at Sierra, who discretely nodded no.
“Nah, I think we’re good to go.” He said as the waitress nodded.
“I’ll be right out with your tab.” She said as she left.
“So, how long did they give you off?” he asked her.
“Three days to recollect myself, and prepare for an interview with the Board.” She sighed, “-Which is always a pain in the ***.” She growled underneath her breath.
It wasn’t long before the waitress came back with the bill, placing it discretely on the table’s edge, and walked away, Francis opening the fold to reveal the organized prices, and then the total, reaching for his wallet, only to find Sierra already with hers out three twenty-dollar bills in her hand, and placed in the fold.
“Is there ever going to be a time when I can take you out to dinner?” he laughed as he pulled back his hand, she shrugged.
“Who knows?” she grinned as the waitress came by five minutes later, taking up the tab and heading to the register to process the cash, returning with their change, walking away once more.
“So, how good was she?” Sierra asked as she counted the cash.
“She was good, worth a good tip.” He nodded.
“Seven bucks should do it.” She said as she placed a five and two ones in the fold, grabbing her coat and purse.
“Meet you at the car, I’ll be back in a minute.” She said as she stood, her heels clicking against the wooden floor as she made her heading to the restroom, passing by the bar on the way, feeling the eyes of those who were no longer themselves gazing upon her back as she brushed down her skirt, rounding a corner and into the restroom, passing by several pay-phones and pushed the door open.

She came out five minutes later, freshened up, the scent of perfume amongst her as she passed by the bar once more, making her way to the exit, she was told thank you by the welcoming committee.
“Thanks, it was fabulous.” She said as she pushed the door open and found Francis by the car, waiting for her, frost blowing from his lips as his coat remained stiff, handing down to his ankles.
“Ready?” he asked her silently as he walked to her side of the vehicle, opening the door for her, the dome light turning on with a beep as the car’s sensors began to sound.
“Ready to go to bed.” She said as he kissed him on the cheek, positioning herself in the passenger seat as he closed the door, walking around the front to get into the driver’s seat.

The Next Morning

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Morning sunlight poured in through the open window, curtains snapping with the wind as it flowed in through the room, giving it a comfortable draft. They lay on their bed, Francis soothing her shoulder with a caressing hand as he continued to set eyes upon her.
“You remember what day it is, or do I have to remind you again?” he asked as he continued to stroke her.
“Our anniversary, one year.” She whispered as she brushed a hand through her blond hair, the rustling of sheets bending the silence.
“And I think now, now… is the perfect.” He said as he turned over and reached into his nightstand, pulling open the drawer with one hand and reached inside, extracting a small, but lengthy box.
“It’s for you.” He said as she revealed it to her with a sparkle in his eyes, the sun casting its light into the room, giving it a dusty-brown appearance.
“You’re kidding?” her face was filled with bewilderment as the examined the box, and then glanced into his eyes
“You wish I was?” he asked her as she unlatched the lock, and opened it, light reflecting upon her face to reveal a golden necklace, words etched into the front, “Always Together,” picking up the necklace, a small object fell out from the side, landing on the bulge of her breasts on top of the blanket. She picked it up, examining the reflection of the ring.
“Oh wow.” She smiled, almost blushing as she turned his way.
“It came to my attention that after a year, we could both say that we love each other, and that we’re committed to one another. So, on this morning, I ask you, Sierra Michelle Newt, will you marry me?” he asked her with solid, and penetrating eyes.
It came as a shock, even though she knew what she held in her hand, was in fact, an engagement ring, it still came to her as a surprise. A single tear fell from her eye as she clenched both, the ring and the necklace in one hand, closed her eyes, and embraced Neil with all she loved.
“Yes! –Yes, I’ll marry you!” she whispered as she continued to embrace him, feeling his heart beat against hers, his warmth despite the wind that blew through the wind, she didn’t mind the five-o’ clock shadow, it would be gone by the morning’s passing, clenching the ring in one hand, the necklace in the other, she held him tight.

That was the way the day was supposed to go... peaceful, full of happiness, a normal Tuesday morning in Ourad. –Wake up, make breakfast, walk the dog, get the newspaper, go to the park, play a game of fetch, and then go home, enjoy the rest of her few days off. They knew nothing of what was procuring in the east, no one did, no one ever could. It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a cloak that manifested itself as nothing that would gain the notice of the public. And it was expressed in the shower, where steam fogged the transparent glass door as two figures stood, caressing one another as the water poured from their chins. She stroked his muscular body, while he stroked her shoulders, kissing her neck, while she rose his hand to his upper back.
Love, for so long she had been lost... for so long, she had been disorientated, and now, dating for a year, she found love with Francis, who had just proposed to her moments before.

She pulled on a gray sweater, and a pair of sweat pants as Neil pulled up a pair of athletic shorts, and a tight under-armor sports shirt.
"It's cold out there today, Francis." Sierra warned, her hair still damp and stringy from the shower, watching as he pulled up his socks.
"Face it, it's always cold here." he said as he put on a pair of tennis shows, tying the laces and then put on his watch.
Meet you downstairs." he said as he called out Georgia, who stood up with a jolt, trotting out the door. She smiled, cringing her teeth as the dog swung his tail too hard to the left, slamming it against the wall with a crack. She laughed as she heard the dog whimper in pain, and then continued tying her shoes, slipping on her new ring, and her new pendant.
She then glanced to the door, noting that Neil was no where in site, and slid out the drawer, taking a key and inserted it into the lock and opened the small black case, pulling out a .45 auto custom, given to her by her master, Elliot.
Francis didn't know anything about her being in the COBRAs, nor did he need to know. It was hard keeping the secret, hard living a lie. Living in denial your whole life until you're called into action. Faced with the responsibility to make sacrifices that your country's military can't afford to make, or, a job paid for by someone else’s money. But none the less, she was a COBRA, and she was doing her job. Though, it was quite stressful, lying to him. Lying to the one who just proposed to you, but the facts were facts, he couldn't know anything about what she did. For his safety, and her own.
She placed the pistol in her coat, where a concealed holster lay enthreaded within the lining, and pulled it on, taking a scarf off the wall and wrapped it around her neck.
When she got down stairs, she entered the kitchen, stopping at the door as Francis and the dog continued to eat an English muffin.
"You know that'll make him sick." she said as she grabbed a grapefruit, and some yogurt.
"Oh, he's enjoying himself. Would you want to eat the same thing every day for the rest of your life?" he asked as he smirked.
Well, she had already done that, she had survived off of rations and MRE's back in Wielvaka for eleven months... until she came.
She took a knife, and began carving out the flesh of the fruit, watching as Neil continued to break off pieces of the other muffin, tossing it to the dog, who snapped his muzzle in return.
"Georgie could eat the whole thing in one bite if he wanted too." Francis said as he glanced at her.
"That's because you give him so much crap, his mouth's big enough to handle it." she replied as she pealed off a slice from her breakfast.
Francis didn't wait, he tossed the entire muffin in the air, which Georgia, kneeled back on his hind legs and leaped in the air, catching it, and eating the whole thing in five chews.
"You're a pig, Georgie." Francis said as he finished his breakfast, grabbing the leash off the counter and began walking to the door, Sierra following him.


The wind bit at them hard as they stepped out of the door, the brisk wind blowing through her hair tied-hair as she stuck close to the side, the dog on the leash performing his normal routine as they walked along the sidewalk, cars driving slowly by as other pedestrians continued to walk by, going for a cup of coffee, or a bite to eat, fetching their mail down at the mailboxes at the street corner, or talking to their clients on the phone. A simple day, that’s all it would start as, in a story, it would start as a cold, and regular Tuesday morning, not thoughts, no opinions, no actions.
Reaching the park, they sat on the benches with one another, watching the tennis match between a friend of hers and another stranger. David was his name, he too, was one of them. A COBRA like her, she knew him, she had worked with him, and knew, that somewhere in the gym bag, was a loaded submachine gun waiting to come out, like a ticking bomb.
No one saw it coming, no one heard the screech of the air raid siren as it went off, all they could do was look up as two air craft screamed overheard, engines thundering as they broke off from formation, catching the attention as everything seemed to freeze… no sound… no breath… just the still pound of their own heart beat at the shock that procured high above, the scream of two missiles descend and lurch forward with white trails behind them as they coursed along their path and straight into the King’s Bridge, that connected the two portions of the city as one… the boom…. The smoke as it piled high to the heavens, the wave of heat as it shattered the silence like the hiss of a knife, the blast of wind… from an explosion.
She watched with disbelief as everything procured before her in a manner of mere seconds, watching as life, before her eyes end with a triumphant scream as the screech of tires ripped through the streets, more alarms… more screaming, more panic. Forgotten was the early Tuesday morning, forgotten was Francis’s proposal. She recognized the rumble in the streets, the thunder in the ground, glancing up at the sky as it filled with waves and waves of bombers… fighters cruising at low altitude to engage the Osean Civil Air Patrol. But the sound of an engine broke her concentration, it wasn’t the sound of a car, or a truck, it was a tank.
“What the hell is going on!?” Francis asked Sierra as he stood in shock.
“Get down!” She shouted as she forced him downward with a jolt, taking cover behind the bench as jeeps continued to move forward through the streets, tanks leading the convey as they pushed the parked vehicles out of the way as though it were moving through a junkyard.
Instinctively, she reached for her handgun, unbuckling the clip that held it in it’s holster, Francis, being a cop, reaching for his revolver on his ankle pulling it out with haste, male genatiliaing back the hammer with a swift click. The dog was barking, filled with fear as the scene procured before his eyes, failing to read both the fear and the hesitation that embarked in his master’s eyes. And nor did it matter.
“Keep your head down…” She said as she pulled out the .45 with haste, Francis comparing the size of her gun to his, that’s not FBI issued…
They watched in utter silence as a single troop transport slowed down to a halt, the insignia of the Belkan Marine Corpse; a painted white Ram head on the side of the trucks engine compartment; the ramp slam forward in the back and troops pour out, raising their rifles to the side at the civilians as they moved in formation.
Belkan troops, in Osea? Sierra asked herself as she surveyed the area around her, removing the safety lever with a click, bringing her thumb at the base of the hammer, beginning to gently pull it back with a slow and cautious movement.
“It’s an invasion…” she said as she glanced around, watching as tanks moved through the area, helicopters roaring above as they scanned the streets.
“I…” Francis glanced to Sierra with fear visible in his eyes, swallowing hard as he turned to face her.
“I have to get to the station…” he said with shock.
“You stand up, they’ll see the gun, and they’ll target you, just stand in cover!” she ordered.
“It’s my job, Sierra!” he shouted.
“Fine! –I’ll cover you!” she shouted as she finished male genatiliaing the hammer, a resounding click ensuring the weapon was ready.
He took in a deep breath, Sierra placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t stop, just keep running!” she shouted as she shoved him to the side as he scrambled to his feet, just as the soldiers began to shout, glancing in their direction as he began to run, the dog running at his side as they screamed for him to stop in a German dialogue.
It was without hesitation, that when they began to raise their weapons, that Sierra rolled over her cover and aimed her weapon at the nearest soldier, and fired numerous rounds, squeeze after squeeze, watching in utter disappointment as the rounds made contact, but did very little to stop the threat. She whirled back when they began to return fire, their automatic weapons far exceeding the strength of her handgun, assuming cover behind the bench once more.
It was then that she saw David, reaching into his sports bag, and pulled out an MP5N submachine gun, pulling back the stock as it locked in place, throwing on a light-weight assault vest over his gym clothes and shouldered the weapon, moving out of the tennis court as the soldiers began to focus their attention on him.
“I can’t do much! –They’re body armor’s too strong!” she shouted over the fire.
“That ain’t stoppin’ me!” he shouted as he removed the safety, the soldiers aiming their weapons at him, laser dots dancing along the trees and his chest.
She watched him move, despite how the Belkan soldiers continued to assume positions along the swaying grass, the thunder of attack helicopters ripping through the city as the wind surged through their hair, watching as David moved with quick pace and pre-thought on the manner, holding his SMG with one hand, he opened fire, dodging incoming rounds as the Belkans returned, watching in vivid and blurred detail as the rounds struck trees, dirt, flesh, body armor, the flash of the small weapon shaking in his arms as he leaped to cover behind a stone trash can, bullets striking the device with a resounding hiss.
“Cover me!” he shouted as he glanced at his weapon, flipping a dial over the rail of the weapon, activating a small reflex site.
With that, Sierra nodded, placing her handgun in her left hand, and kept it steady with her right, not aiming for the chest –where the body armor was the thickest, but aimed for the legs, firing numerous shots as the slide glided over her left hand, shell casings ejecting to the right as she watched a powder of blood spray from the chine, the soldier halting his fire and landing on his back, grasping his leg at the same time as he rolled about the grass in agony, the civilians taking the confusion to their advantage and running away from the scene.
“Cover!” she shouted as she turned over, David rolling from the trash can and shouldered the SMG once more, firing in short controlled bursts, aiming for the head down the red dot projected onto the tinted screen, watching as blood exploded in the back of the target’s skull, sending him on his back with two shots, selected another target, and fired, allowing Sierra to readjust her aim for another, and fired again, two shots, one missing, but the other striking the target in the ear, where a spray of blood was all that could be seen, the soldier writhing in agony as he dropped his rifle, uttering his scream with a full-mouthed roar.
She returned her sight to Francis as he continued to run, leaving the park to return to his station, where he believed he would be going to work that day, where he thought he was needed. He continued to swerve left and right, cars skidding to a halt as stray bullets struck their plating, cars slamming into one another with a resounding crash, glass shattering in all directions, the wind surging around him as he continued to run, helicopters roaring overhead as they swarmed the skies above, smoke, steam, fire –all blurring his vision as he ran blindly with a revolver in hand. He was covered in sweat, his eyes jetting with tears as two fighters swarmed overhead with a deafening roar, machine gun fire striking the building on his left as fragments and chunks of brick rained down on the streets below, covering his head as he ran.
And that was when he let…. It was when he lost control of the situation, being a cop, he was never trained to fight a war, never trained to reason with a military that had automatic weapons, he never heard the shot… never heard the pop of the rifle, just the ringing of his ears, and the impact of the bullet he never felt as it struck him in the back, his shirt rippling as it broke through his chest, his arms flailing like that of a banner as he dropped to his knees and then on his side, Francis yanking forth on the leash.

He felt his heart pound, the wind around him surge through his ears, the explosions, the anti-aircraft fire, the helicopters as they hovered above, throwing ropes down from their sides to drop more troops on the ground. And Georgia continued to bark, continued to snarl at the soldiers as the streets continued to shake... and Francis looked on... eyes open, faint... blood forming around his chest, swallowing hard at the fate that he had been succumbed to, the revolver in his hand, slipping from his grasp as he felt his strength fade, blood forming at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed hard again, his vision a daze… nothing… everything fading.

"NIEL!!!!!!" Newt's scream broke through the gunfire as tears erupted from her eyes. She curled over the bench, pushing off it with her left arm and fired a single shot, the flash ripping through the darkness of the smoke, the projectile spinning through the distance as it landed center mass in one of the many soldier's head, an explosion out of the back of his skull that sent a cloud of blood in a cone to the soldier behind him, striking him in the jaw, which caused him to keel over, clenching the wound with his left gloved hand.
She continued to fire blindly, not caring who, or what the rounds hit, until her slide locked, and ceased firing.
"d**nit!" she hissed as she took cover behind an overturned car, pressing the button on the side of the pistol, dropping the empty magazine, and reached into one of the many satuals of her coat, pulling out another fourteen round clip and slapped it inside, striking the lever on the left, and returned the slide to normal position.
With Dave covering her sudden leap, she glanced forward with wide eyes, aiming her hand gun before her with both hands and fired at the movement beyond the trees, allowing Dave to finish them off the with the buzz of his SMG.
“Francis…” She exhaled as he laid the weapon on it’s side in the road, dropping to her knees in the process as she felt the tear run through her eyes and descend down her cheeks.
“Ne… Newt…” he shook in her arms as he elevated his hand to her shoulders, blood pouring out from the side of his mouth as he did so, his hair damp with blood.
“Don’t talk…” she said as she embraced him, Francis placing an weak grip on her shoulder.
“I…. I… I love… you… Newt… always have….. since we met a year ago, I wanted to be with you forever…” he swallowed as he gazed up into her eyes.
“Don’t forget… I’m sorry…” he said as his head began to strafe off to the left.
“Francis!” She screamed as she felt his strength fading from her shoulder.
“FRANCIS!” she screamed as more tears streamed in her eyes, watching as his eyes faded from, his head landing cold and solid in the street pavement, his blood thick in the road.
She pounded his chest, attempting to wake him in his sleep, trying everything she could, CPR, everything… he was gone… his eyes lifeless and frozen, life had fled.
“FRANCIS!!!!” she screamed once more, spotting movement to her far right, she immediately retrieved the hand gun, aimed, and fired, a single bullet striking a stalking soldier in the throat, the soldier landing back against a parked fan, his weapon slung to his shoulder as he emplaced a hand on his throat, gazing at her with shock, and with that, she fired another shot, striking him in the head, his skull popping with a crack as blood sprayed along the back door.
She made notion of a blur moving on her with haste, turning, she brought up her weapon and aimed, finding a civilian with a military bolt action sniper rifle in his arms.
“It’s me!” he shouted as he lowered the rifle.
“Alex! –What are you doing here!?” she shouted as she lowered her weapon, taking cover behind the van.
“I dropped my daughter off at her grandma’s house, stopped to get a cup of coffee, next thing I know, all chaos broke loose!” he shouted as he flipped up the bolt on the rifle, reassured with the presence of a round, and snapped it closed, lowering the lever with a click.
“What’s going on?!” he asked her.
“Looks like an invasion… looks like Belka just declared war on Osea…” she hissed as she stood, extracting her magazine and checking the number of rounds, and slapped it back in.
“How many?” he asked.
“Too many!” she shouted as she leaned out of her cover and fired numerous rounds at the advancing troops.
“We need to fall back! –Regroup with the others!” she shouted.
“King’s Bridge is completely destroyed! –It’s up in flames!” he shouted as he whirled over, and bolt action rifle shouldered and fire into the chest of one of the advancing shoulders, the report resounding off of every wall.
“We’ll just have to take the tunnel then! –We need to get to Arsenal!” she shouted.
“You think they’ll let us in?” he asked her.
“A national emergency… they’re not going to ask questions…” she glared at him as Dave ran up to them, pulling out an empty magazine and throwing it to the road, reaching into his light vest and pulled out another.
“Hate to break up the reunion, but we need to leave!” he shouted as he slapped it in with haste, pulling back the male genatiliaing knob with a hastened pull, switching hands and placing the butt of the stock against his left shoulder to get an advantage at the corner.
Sierra glanced around, anything, anything would do…. Spotting an SUV parked along the side of the road, she nodded.
“Now! –Boss!” he shouted as he rounded the corner, and fired a short burst.
“Get in!” She shouted as she made her advanced to the truck, holding her hand gun out before her as she moved to the truck with haste, Dave walking backwards as he covered the group from the rear, aiming his SMG with quick movements, allowing Sierra to open the door and climb inside, reaching into her pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife, removing the base of the steering wheel, stripping two wires, and tied them together, the engine starting.
“GET IN!” she shouted as she buckled the seatbelt, Alex getting in the passenger, Dave –shooting and running as shell casing erupted from the right of his weapon, opening the back door with one hand, weapon firing in the other, and leaped inside as Sierra slammed the gear into reverse, and floored the peddle, whipping the steering wheel to the left, the truck zooming back, slamming on the brake, she put it into drive, and began to make swift movement to the right, the tires skidding as she floored the peddle once more, initiating a rapid turn as she accelerated, watching in the rear view mirror as the soldiers lined up in a single line, aiming their weapons.
“HEAD’S DOWN!” she shouted as she grabbed Alex and forced his head down with hers, Dave ducking as well as the shots ripped through the back window, glass shattering as she could hear the screech of brakes, the slamming of cars as they collided into one another.
When the shooting subsided, she looked up, turning out of the way of traffic and into the passing lane, watching as police sirens, and national guard attempted to control a situation in which they had no power over.
“Why didn’t the Army see this coming?!” Alex asked.
“Good question…” she asked as she slowed down, watching as tanks rolled down the main roads, soldiers jogging at the sides as a large convey moved down the road.
“I don’t think anyone saw this coming…” she said as her gaze followed the view of dead civilians along the side of the road, their eyes open in fear.
“How horrible…” Dave said as he glanced out the window, his eyes landing on the dead people curled up in the street, their hands clenched with blood.
“There’s nothing we can do here… not equipped as we are.” She said as she passed them.
“Just get us to the PMC Combat Observation HQ, we’ll move on from there…” Dave said as he leaned back.
“Arsenal…” She paraphrased.
“Yeah…” he said with a hushed whisper.

[Naijinaxx]

“Yeah…” he said with a hushed whisper as her eyes continued to scan the road for any threats, watching as hostile forces and friendlies ran across the road, firing their weapons at one another, Sierra gaining in speed as she forced her way through.
“We being followed?” She asked David, who glanced over his shoulder to the shattered window behind him, spotting nothing.
“Nah, we’re clear.” He said as he returned to the front, reaching into his vest pockets and pulled out three magazines for his submachine gun, laying them next to him, pulling out the one in use, and checked the number of rounds, doing the same.
Sierra did this as well, pulling out four more magazines to her hand gun and placed them in the drink holder, Alex glancing at her as she placed the handgun in her lap, hoisting up his M24 sniper rifle and worked the bolt he hadn’t male genatiliaed before, lifting the lever and then pulling it back, a single used cartridge popping out of the side and in his lap, then plunged the bolt forward, locking it by lowering the lever.
“Is Allison going to be safe with her grandmother?” she asked.
“I hope so…” Alex said as he lowered his handgun, whipping a hand along his forehead.
“You know, if we go to Arsenal, there’ll be little chance of us coming back here… they’ll probably deploy.” She said as she glanced at him with narrow eyes, slowing down to turn a corner, navigating under an over-pass, shadows coursing along the inside as the light dimmed.
“You did the right thing…” Sierra said as she reassured him by placing her hand on his knee, her ring gleaming with the reflection of sunlight as sunlight became visible again, flooding the vehicle with light once more,
“Doesn’t feel like it… feels like I left her…” he sighed as he lowered his head to the weapon.
“It’s instinct to protect the ones we love the most. But, no matter how hard you trained her, she’s not a COBRA… she’s a civilian.” She paused as she gazed into his eyes, using her peripheral to watch the road.
“You can’t bring her with you.” She stated firmly.
“How long have you been in, Boss?” David asked her as he leaned forward.
“COBRA, that is.” He added, she was silent for a moment, as if trying to do the math herself, the truth was, it wasn’t long, but it was long enough, more than most could ever endure.
“Since ‘308.” She admitted as she glanced in the rear view mirror, where Dave could see her eyes.
“Sapinese Revolution?” he asked her.
“It was the most violence I had seen in my life… I keep trying to tell myself it was a nightmare… a country, whose children has to fight the wars that their father’s started.” She said as she remembered the battles fought with vivid detail, the humidity of the rain forests, the heat of the desert, the waterfalls that split the jungles.
“Child soldiers…” she said as after a moment of silence.
“Orphans of war…” she remembered everything… the memory that continued to plague her… she remembered seeing the dark silhouette rushing her with an AK-47 assault rifle hoisted in his arms, screaming his fury as he knocked her down, sending her rifle rolling across the mud as he hoisted himself on top of her chest, from where she drew her knife from behind, whirling it in her fingers and jammed it into the soldier’s back, his eyes transforming from fury, to pain, his head jerking back with the recoil of the blade, from where Sierra pushed the soldier off of her, and into the light, making out small hands, removing the hood, she identified the target she believed to be a full-grown, to actually be a 14 year old native child, the lightning flashing through his eyes.
“I was an orphan of war myself… Wielvakia, in the Independent State Allied Forces, they were attacked by a group of terrorists who were supporters of a religious radical organization… and because our country didn’t believe in their god… we were targeted as the enemy.” She said a she faded from reality and went through another flashback…

The flickering of lights flooding the bedroom window, the pounding of rain as it crashed against the glass, eyes adjusting through the darkness, clenching her stuffed dog with everything she held deadly… the screaming, the gun fire… the booms of bombs as they went off… her own parents running to her, and she not responding, frozen from fear, frozen fear, or from instincts.
She knew not what was occurring around her, or if it was some sort of response from her fear, only that there was screaming, yelling, and killing. And as her mother’s cries grew louder, so did the desperation of things, and she held her stuffed toy with life’s intent, watching through the impenetrable darkness as the lightning flashed through her mother’s tears. And before things could be made clear, three armed insurgents raided the room, religious radicals armed with assault rifles, watching as they abused her parents as though they were worthless minorities, watching as hell broke loose from the so-deemed forth safety of their own home, leaving the little girl, a young Sierra Michelle Newt, in the closet, where she continued to cry herself to sleep, watching in utter silence, and melancholy as they instructed both her parents down to the living room, -and her seven-year-old brother, Henry; down to the living room, where, from a long moment of silence, and the sudden screams of fear broke the silence, three shots shattered her world into a million shards of bemoan.
The rifle, it was the first, and it was the last thing she saw that night, the memory, the movement, the sound of her own heart beat as it pounded against her chest, her tears were none but distant memories, memories that had long been forged through denial, through war, and terrorism. She had become a child soldier, one who fought the wars started by her fathers. A child soldier, it was what she had become, slowing down the advance of the radicals until they had forged her as a legend, a soldier who single handedly halted their operations until the PMC’s were hired by the fallen government to do away with their problem. And that’s how she met her. One who would eventually become her foster mother, who would teach her the ways of the warrior, who would educate her in techniques, perfect her skills, give her weapons, endow her with knowledge. Where, until she was old enough, to become a COBRA herself.

She remained silent as the image faded from her mind, all was silent, every COBRA had memories in which they never wanted to remember, never wanted to recollect, to relive the life they once had, to remember the sins in which they had been burdened to bare. It was a weight that couldn’t be lifted, a brand that had been burned into their flesh. And her she was, a soldier, no longer was she the lone, war-orphan who managed to gain hands on a gun, but she was a PMC, a COBRA. –Hired to do some wet work for a fallen government once again, only this time, it was her own country, in the heartland of Osea, and she had been charged with transporting these two others –just like her, to war. To send them on a crusade that would either wipe the planet of humanities one true sin, or to end it completely. All in all, power rested in the system, and he who controls the system, controls everything.

Chapter 2

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The Escape

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“FASTER NEUT! –DRIVE FASTER!” David shouted as he aimed his submachine gun out the back of the shattered window, firing in full auto as screeching tires continued to rip through the city, infantry of all types running with guns blazing as jets screamed overhead, missiles screeching through air, following their targets and striking them once they broke through their hull.
“I’m going as fast as I can! –Hang on!” she shouted as she glanced at the cracked rear-view mirror, while watching the roof tops with her peripheral vision, watching as troops with rocket launchers ran along the edge.
Alex glanced to the roofs, picking up his sniper rifle and bringing it up out of the run roof, placing it against his shoulder and peering through the scope, watching the crosshairs move with the vehicle, engines roaring as they continued to accelerate.
He held his breath with a slight detest, removing the safety by pushing the switch next to the bolt, and placed his finger on the trigger, gently applying pressure as he landed the crosshairs on the enemy soldier’s chest.
His ears began to ring, and he felt the rifle jolt in his arms, pounding against his shoulder as the shot ripped through the narrow streets, the bullet striking the enemy soldier in the chest, a spray of blood ensuring the hit.
“Tango down!” he shouted as he leaned slightly to the left, working the bolt with haste, a single spent cartridge ejecting off the side, locking it forward with a snap, he looked through the scope once more, landing his crosshairs on another soldier, the scope moving left and right as the car moved, placing his finger on the trigger.
“Keep it steady!” he called out as he aligned his shot.
When the SUV resumed a more calm path, he took his shot, his ears ringing once more as the bullet struck the soldier in the throat, causing him to keel back, aim the rocket launcher to the air, and fire, sending the rocket into the sky as it screamed with a white flare and smoke at it’s tail.
“Got ‘em!” he said as he leaned to the left once more, working the bolt with a resounding ‘ka-chink’ the shell casing falling to the right, and returned to his position in the front seat.
“I’m half out!” David shouted as he glanced at his full and empty magazines, slapping one in with a tap on the bottom, and released his bolt, aiming the MP5 once more down to the pursuing vehicles.
“They’re getting closer!” he shouted as he began to aim for the driver, aligning the red dot with silhouette of a soldier in the front seat, one of them struggling to get to the turret machine gun.
“Hang on!’ Sierra shouted as she turned the wheel rapidly, tapping the break as she did so, the tires squealing, David surging to the left and landing on his side in the back seat as Sierra straightened the vehicle out; entering an underpass, flooring the pedal, the engines echoing under the bridge as they continued to exchange fire at one another, David watching in horror as one of the soldiers cocked back the charging handle to the machine gun. He immediately adjusted his aim to the soldier, and fired rapidly, six maybe ten rounds, watching as three, one after the other struck the soldier in the head, sending him flying back with a spray of blood.
Light began to appear at the other side, and Sierra gritted her teeth, hearing the trucks closing in on their vehicle at rapid height, helicopter engines thundering high above as they began to circle over the bridges, waiting for the rebel vehicle to appear.
Sierra floored the gas pedal as they began to ascend the ramp, and when she did, her eyes were widened with horror… a soldier with a rocket launcher waiting for her, pulled the trigger, sending a jet of white smoke in the reverse and the projectile forward.
“HANG ON!” she screamed as she turned the vehicle to the left, only for her eyes to land on another rocket-trooper, who jumped from cover, launcher on his shoulder and fired his rocket in their direction…
Things moved slowly, she watched as the blinding flash engulfed her field of view, the glass shatter into a million pieces as Alex screamed, the g-force shake her field of view, the seat belt jerking against her chest as the SUV began to roll, cracking, shattering, rolling, a reign of sparks bouncing along the sidewalk as they made their halt at a bank. David screaming as he struck his head against the ceiling, landing on his back, Alex crashing against her as the scene froze, and her vision faded.


Hazel eyes opened to the light, her hair was dampened from blood, air bag had deployed, the SUV was one it’s back, smoke jetting from the engine compartment, Alex groaning as he brought up his hand to his eyes.
“Everyone alright?” she asked as she located her handgun, placing the magazines in her coat.
“Fine, Newt.” Alex said as he brought up his sniper rifle, and glanced at the door, fiddling with the handle however the door was jammed.
The brakes of vehicles could be heard outside, she watched as Alex thrusted his leg out, and struck the door, sending it open with force, sparks flying as cut wires hung from dashboard. Newt unbuckled her seatbelt, falling to the ceiling, which now portrayed itself as a flooring; and began to crawl forward, her hands scratched and bleeding from the crash as she crawled out from the windshield, glass grinding beneath her shoulders as she felt it dig into her flesh, hearing the movement of troops envelope around the vehicle, weapons cocking.
“Can you move, Dave!?” she asked as she got on her knees, vision still blurred from the crash as she assumed a position, aiming her weapon.
“Yeah!” he groaned as he crawled out of the side window, throwing his SMG out, a few magazines and crawled forward, blood running down the side of his head as he exhaled heavily, reaching for his SMG with haste and pulled it to his front. Alex crawled forward with his rifle at his side, watching in shock as twenty-odd troops began to jump out thundering helicopters, striking the pavement with their boots, bringing their weapons up with haste and took cover behind anything they could find.
“We-we’re surrounded!” he shouted as he jumped to his feet, shouldering his rifle and peering through the scope, taking several steps back to rejoin the others, Sierra pressing her back against him, Dave shouldering his SMG, widely scanning the scene around them as the Belkan troops began to slowly move up, rifles shouldered, laser dots dancing along their chest.
“You know? –I didn’t think it would end like this…” She said as she aimed her handgun before her.
“Either did I…” Alex said as he lowered his sniper rifle and extracted a sidearm, removing the safety and cocking the hammer with a resounding click.
“Dave… Alex… you were my best friends…” She said as her vision began to blur once more.
“Boss… not now…” Dave said as he maintained his aim on the targets, the three of them forming a perfect triangle.
“But, it’s our job…” she said as she glared deeply into the eyes of the advancing troops, another formation moving in from the left flank, taking a knee amongst the destruction, covering the advance of the frontal squad.
“Looks like we’re in some deep shit…” Alex said as he glanced at Sierra, sweat pouring down his brow.
“Yeah, I guess so…” She said as she placed her finger on the trigger, the others doing the same.
“So, what’s it going to be?” Dave asked as he placed his finger on the trigger.
She exhaled slowly, her heart pounding, her hands soaking in blood, her hair moist with perspiration and blood as well.
“We never surrender…” she coaxed them, the others nodding, placing their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.

“LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS! –YOU’RE SURROUNDED!” –More troops poured from the allies on the right, kneeling behind cover as they set up a machine gun on a road barrier, pulling back the charging handle, a belt of ammunition reflecting the sunlight as the others propped their weapons against the concrete.
“YOUR LIVEs WILL BE SPARED! –I SAY AGAIN! THERE IS NO NEED FOR THIS FIGHTING! LOWER YOUR WEAPONS, AND SURRENDER YOURSELVES!”

“Well, they want us to drop our weapons… that, we cannot do…” She said as she watched the unit before her begin to advance, watching with sharp eyes as they elevated their thumbs to remove their safeties.
“Not to mention, we never surrender…” Dave added to her explanation.
“**** it…” She hissed.
“Alright, boys… you know your role…” she said as she began to slow her breathing, the pound of her heart thundering in her chest.
“Gotcha your back, Boss…” Alex said as he began to gently squeeze the trigger.
“When they start shooting, get your *** into the bank… we’re going to hold our ground…” she whispered as she placed her right leg behind her left, getting ready to leap.
“Yes, Boss…” Alex nodded.
“Check.” David said as he closed one eye, setting his sites on the machine gunner.
“On mark…” she whispered…
“Two…”
The troops held their breath, rifles at the ready, fingers on the trigger, watching them with steady and controlled breathes, sites centered on their chests.
“One…”
The machine gunner peered through the iron sites, finger on the trigger, his bi-pod keeping the weapon steady as he aimed at the three-man triangle, awaiting for the order…
“MARK!” Sierra screamed as she opened fire with her handgun, spitting rounds in forward direction, watching as they struck her target in the eyes, sending him sprawling on the pavement with a spray of blood in the opposite direction, Dave firing his SMG in burst fire, watching as the rounds blurred past the machine gunner as he leaped into the window of the bank, the machine gunner’s ear blowing off with a liquid explosion of blood as he released the gun, and brought his hands up to his ear, screaming his agony as he wailed forth in pain, grasping his gaping hole as the others watched him in confusion, splattering blood on their uniforms as Alex opened fire with haste, watching every single one of his rounds strike their target in the head, the .45 M1911 recoiling in his hands, as he adjusted his aim, turning and running as he began to push through the doors in what Sierra saw to be in slow motion, his heart pounding as the troops opened fire, Alex whirling around with his weapon and fired with one hand, watching as the rounds struck his target in the throat, the soldier ceasing fire and bringing his hand up the wound, only to have blood jet forth from his throat at high velocity.
“GO!” Sierra screamed as she pushed through the door, rounds dancing off the tiled flooring, the columns, sparks flying at her sides as they dented the metal, firearms blazing as she strayed off, taking cover behind a service desk, Alex joining her, his weapon locked as David ran in reverse, switching targets rapidly, firing nonstop, spent cartridges rolling at the movement of his feet as rounds veered around him as he turned, holding his SMG elevated in the air, placing his hand along the desk and slid over it, rounds missing him by mere inches as they moved through his hair, feeling the friction of the table against his fingertips as he slid off, landing on the floor of his sneakers, and rolled, the scrape of his flesh could be heard as he struck the marble flooring with a crash, scrambling to his feet and pressed his back against the bank desk.
“You’re insane! –Sierra!” Dave shouted as he pulled out his empty magazine, throwing it to the floor and reached into his vest, pulling out another.
“Desperate times!” She shouted over the gunfire, dropping an empty clip from her pistol, “-call for desperate measures!” she shouted as she slapped another in, using her left thumb to depress the slide-catch, watching as Alex did the same.
“Alright, need I say, that we have no support?” she glanced at them.
“No one knows who we are, or what we are! –There will be no support!” she shouted as she glanced at the others, who returned her glance with a firm nod, eyes that were visibly strained.
“We are on our own! –Conserve your ammo! –Make every shot count!” she shouted, watching as David flipped his fire selector to single, hearing the pops of smoke grenades rolling along the flooring as they began to flush a gray cloud forward, Alex working the bolt on his sniper rifle, exhaling heavily as he prepared to fire back.
“There will be no falling back after this… this is our last stand…” she warned.
“Yes, Boss!” they both shouted as they prepared to fight back with everything they had.
“Alright, good luck!” she said as she stood on the toes of her feet, spinning around to face the back of the desk, where she could make out the shattered glass before her, shadows coursing along the white smoke as they began to move in.
“NOW!” she screamed as she watched the shadows flinch, all three of them jumping to their feet, Alex with his sniper rifle, aligning the shadows with his crosshair, and fired, working the bolt, acquired another target, and fired again; Sierra squeezing the trigger easily, round after round firing, the flash of their guns landing on their face as the entire bank service lobby filled with gun fire, tracer rounds whining past their field of view as the roar of a machine gun could be heard in the distance. The wind surge from the helicopters blowing the smoke in their direction as the three COBRA soldiers continued to fire, watching without mercy, without a thought on the manner as the Belkan soldiers dropped to the ground, weapons clattering as their advanced infiltration tactics failed miserably.
Alex continued to fire, working the bolt with that of a blur, shell casings accumulating around him as his rifle suddenly locked, glancing down at the empty magazine, he threw the weapon to the floor, and reached for his leg holster with a blur, extracting his M1911 handgun, cocked-and-locked, and proceeded in firing rapidly, the flash from the handgun blinding his vision, his ears ringing as a flash bang diversionary device went off from his left, David adjusting his aim, switching his SMG to full auto, and unloading in their direction, shell casings ejecting to the right as they rolled along the flooring at his feet, Sierra maintaining fire as Alex covered his eyes with his right hand, rounds whining past their heads.
“LOADING!” Alex shouted as he ducked behind the service desk, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a ten round sniper magazine, inserting it into his rifle, and closed the bolt, lowering the lever with a click, then pulled out his pistol, depressing the magazine catch with his right thumb, leaned to his left, and pulled out another, inserting it rapidly, raising his left hand and depressed the slide-release lever with his left thumb.
“LOADED!” he screamed as he whirled up with his rifle in hand, acquiring his target and fired, watching as the round struck through the soldier’s neck guard, sending him flying on his back with a thud, blood spraying out of his throat.
“COVER!” Sierra shouted as she ducked under the desk, dropping an empty pistol mag, and inserted another, depressing the locking lever as Alex finished working his bolt, firing again, Sierra jumping up and firing again, two shots for every soldier she spotted.
“LOADING!” David shouted as he ducked behind the desk, pulling back the knob on the front of his gun, and flipping it up, the chamber open, pulling out the empty magazine and inserted another, using his left thumb to depress the knob, the internal spring forcing it forward, closing the chamber with a resounding snap.
“Loaded!” he screamed as he returned fire, switching his fire selector to single as he continued to shoot, the flash of his weapon landing on his face as he aimed dead on for the head, watching as the 10mm round pierced through the Belkan soldier’s helmets with ease, blood pouring down their forehead as they dropped to their knees, sliding along the floor as they came to a halt at the desk.
David glanced forward, landing his eyes upon one of the assault vests of the dead soldiers, keeping his eyes on the grenades secured in his quick release satchel.
“COVER ME!” he shouted as he propped himself, getting ready to leap out of cover, Sierra nodding.
“Their weapons are useless to us! –THEY’RE ID-TAGGED!” she screamed as she fired more rounds at the soldiers who continued to pour in.
“It’s not his gun I want!” he screamed as he grabbed the dead soldier by his boots, holding his sub machine gun with one hand, and fired, watching as rounds struck the soldier in the lower pelvic area, sending the soldier to his knees, allowing Sierra to finish him off with a shot to the head.
David proceeded in dragging the soldier around the desk, when he grimaced in pain, hissing loudly as a round glazed his shoulder, sending blood pouring down his arm.
“****!’ he screamed as he swung the soldier around, taking cover behind the desk as more rounds veered past with a high-pitched whistle, laying his SMG on the side, and pulled out several grenades.
“FRAG OUT!” he shouted as he pulled the pin on the round M67 fragmentation grenade, and threw it over the desk, the others ducking as they watched it roll, more soldiers pouring inside, aiming their weapons, as the three COBRAs covered their ears, the resounding explosion ripping through the bank, sending papers, glass, pamphlets in all directions, David peeking over to see the immobilized soldiers grasping their chests with their hands, blood seeping through their fingers as they attempted to stop the arterial bleeding.
“Nice!” Sierra shouted as she rolled over her cover, and resumed firing, adjusting her aim with each shot, her slide locking, ejecting the last round.
“I’m out! –Reloading!” she screamed as Alex nodded, peering down range through his scope as he took in a breath, letting it half-out, and squeezed the trigger, watching the round pierce right through the machine gunners head, popping it like a tomato, falling back. –Sierra, having loaded a fresh magazine, depressed the slide-release, returning the slide to it’s normal position.
“Red neutralized!” he shouted as he worked the bolt, a single cartridge ejecting, locking the bolt with haste.
“You won’t be needing that anymore…” David hissed as he unhitched the soldier’s CQB knife from his belt, searching him for other equipment, extracting the soldier’s hand gun, a .45… just like they were using.
“His weapons may be useless, but his ammo isn’t!” he shouted as he extracted the magazine, and pulled pack the slide with a click, inserting it into the clip, and laid it at his side, pulling out his spares.
“Here!” he shouted as he handed two to Sierra, and another two to Alex.
“Thanks!” they shouted as David continued to search him for anything else that could be used, binoculars, battle field dressings.
He glanced at the soldier’s back up weapon, an MP5, 10mm… the same weapon that he was using, and began pulling magazines from his battle vest, laying them at his side.
“KEEP UP THE FIRE!” Sierra shouted leant over her right hand, Dave handing her a grenade, glancing at it, she noted it to be a fragmentation.
“FRAG OUT!” she screamed as she pulled the pin, feeling the priming lever move against her fingers, she cocking back her arm, and curled back her fingers, allowing the lever to fly off, “cooking” it.
She waited two seconds, and threw the grenade over the desk, getting down on the floor as a storm of eight soldiers jumped in simultaneously, the grenade going off in their face, sending the explosive shock, shards of shrapnel, and debris in all direction, glancing over, she noted nothing but blood dripping from the ceiling, their bodies landing in the street by the overturned SUV they had crashed.
And it ended… Sierra standing, weapon held out before her, the others doing the same.
Alex acquiring a single target, taking in a breath, letting it half out, and fired, the report of the rifle ripping through the silence, and striking the enemy soldier in the head, sending his helmet flying off, the soldier falling to his side with a distant thud.
“Clear front!” she sounded off.
“Clear left!” Alex replied as he shouldered his sniper rifle, handgun in his holster.
“We did it?” David asked as he leaned back against the desk, relaxing, glancing at his grazed shoulder, blood pouring down his arm.
“You hit?” Sierra asked him as she placed the weapon on the desk, glancing at his shoulder.
“Grazed when I was pulling shit-head here around…” he indicated the dead soldier with a thrust of his thumb.
“Can you put this battle dressing on?” he asked as he gave it to her, Sierra nodding as she twisted it sharply, hearing the pop of the medicinal capsule, tearing open the wrapper slowly, and pulled it out, unwrapping the folds to reveal the sterile white padding, taking care as to not touch the white padding, she gently placed it over the wound.
“Awl… shit!” David hissed as he looked away, grinding his teeth as he felt the stinging of the styptic and anti-bacterial disinfectant against the open flesh.
“It’s a flesh wound, Dave… relax.” Sierra said as she began to wrap the gray flaps around the dress, the Velcro straps sticking together.
“Stings like a *****!” he said as he tapped it, making sure that it was secure, Sierra handing him his weapon.
“Let’s not abuse the time we got…” she said as she picked up the dead soldiers weapon, gently pulling back the knob on the MP5, assured to the presence of a round, and closed it, aiming it downrange, she depressed the trigger, nothing happened.
“Yeah, ID-weapons…” she said as she threw it down with a clatter.
“They’re useless to us.” She said.
“Gather the ammo you can use, get some grenades, something tells me that this is just beginning.” She said as she untied her shoes, removing them.
“What size you wear, Boss?” David asked.
“Eight and a half wide.” She said as she glanced at the boots.
“This guy’s nine… here.” He said as he pulled off his boots, unsnapping his belt and pulled off his pants, handing them to her, Sierra pulling off her sweats before the two men and slipped into the military-grade utility pants, grabbing the dead soldiers shirt and zipped it up to her collar, tucking in the tails of the shirt into the pants and fastened the lock, snapping the belt together with a click.
“Little tight, but it’ll do.” She said as she took her hand gun, ejecting the current magazine by depressing the magazine catch, checked the number of rounds, and slapped it back in, slipping it into her holster.
She pulled off his IBA (Individual Body Armor) and slipped it on, clipping the sides together until it was snug around her.
“It ain’t no MK1V, but it’ll do…” (MK IV – Official COBRA combat armor, a micro-fiber optic muscle suit) She said as she began to pull on the boots, using the soldiers leggings to secure the pants over the top of the flaps, and began to tie them.
“Better than nothing…” Dave said as Alex began to do the same.
“**** it, let’s all do it…” Alex said as he grabbed a soldier that appeared to be his size, and began to undress, pulling on the uniform articles as well.


Ten Minutes Later

In the military, they say that the impersonation of an enemy soldier can be a life-and-death situation, one, soldiers from your own country could mistaken you for the enemy, but the life saver was the fact that they were now able to get through where the enemy checkpoints emplace around the city.

“Remember, nothing suspicious, their weapons won’t work on us…” she said as she grabbed the assault rifle, slinging it across her chest.
“Alex, how are you on German?” she asked him, pulling on the soldier’s helmet.
“Bi-lingual, Boss.” He said as he slung his sniper rifle across his shoulder, picking up an assault rifle, pulling back the charging handle.
“You’re driving then.” She said as she indicated the troop transport vehicle beyond the bank parking lot, her boots crunching amongst the broken and shattered glass, debris, stepping over the bodies.
“What happens if we get compromised?” David asked as he slipped his MP5 into his back-up pack, which was positioned on the front of the vest.
“Pray to God that doesn’t happen.” Sierra said as she peaked out of the broken glass display windows, reassured to the presence of no remaining soldiers, lifting her hand up, she waved them forward, Dave, even though the weapon didn’t work, used it as though it did, keeping it braced against his shoulder.
“We’re going in that…” She said as he glanced at the AT Stryker (All Terrain – an eight wheeled armored troop transport)
Alex stepped up to the vehicle, Dave taking a knee at the two steps at the vehicles side, while Sierra creped around the engine compartment, leaning over to the left, with pressed against her left shoulder, assured to no enemy soldiers.
“I’m going on channel nine…” she said as she pulled out the radio from the shoulder pocket, and turned the dial to 9.0 megahertz, David doing the same, the LCD screen stating 9.0, proceeding to the dead bodies and extracted all the pistol mags he could find.
Still works! Alex’s voice chimed through the walkie-talkie, Sierra depressing the button on the radio’s side.
“Keep a sharp eye… -We’ll be bugging out of here in a minute…” releasing the pad, she kneeled down at the side of an enemy soldier, rolling him on his side to reveal a gaping wound at the side of his head, his eyes still open, covered in blood. She ignored the view, and lowered her hands to his secondary compartment, flipping up the covers and plucked out the magazines one-by-one, inserting them into her “barrowed” vest.
“It just has to be a coincidence that these guys use the same side-arms as us…” David said as he pulled out more, placing them into a reserve pouch.
“Before the Belkan War broke out, Belka and Osea were good friends, we supplied them with military weapons. Now? –Looks like their returning back the favor.” Sierra said as she plucked out a series of grenades, inserting them into their designated pouches, and then stood, right hand over the pistol grip of her assault rifle.

TO BE CONTINUED

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