05-13-2014, 11:34 AM
Corporal Contee's orders from the lead car took over theirs. "LW's on and loaded with target's signal. This is as far as we're driving, lads."
Jay slid the old Oakleys on his face. His eyes went straight the top corner. Natalie's dot blinked two blocks to the south. She was still inside the hospital.
The driver of each car was going to stay behind ready to either extract or escape at a moment's notice. That meant Jay and Smitty rolled out of shotgun and the back seat almost in unison. Picard's voice stopped him as he was about to slam the door behind him. Jay turned as Picard nodded. "Legio Patria Nostra.”
Jay dipped his head and returned the sentiment far more calmly than Picard expected for the new guy. "Legio Patria Nostra."
On that send off, four men, two from alpha and two from beta, were left to navigate the city blocks between the Escalades and the hospital.
And it was a clusterfuck of people. Those that weren't standing off against one another were running the opposite way. Jay couldn't say he blamed them. The four Legionnaires were like salmon swimming upstream.
The violence within the hospital had largely spilled out into the parking lot and dirt walkways surrounding the building. Stampeding feet had kicked up a cloud of red clay, and Jay was glad the Oakley’s sat close to his face. There was nothing more painful than grains of sand gouging around under your eyelids.
He and Smitty proceeded side by side, keeping an eye out for each other. CPL Contee and his partner led the group, and at the corporal's signal, a raised hand, the foursome broke off sprinting.
They came around the side of the hospital building, which looked more of a size of a Super 8 back in the states than one would expect for a hospital. It was several floors high, at the most. The windows, once tinted and covered by shade slats, were broken bits on the grass that crunched underfoot. Jay wasn't concerned about the noise, or his boots, there was enough gunfire popping up and down the street to drown the sounds of their approach. Besides, stealth wasn’t the name of the game, efficiency was.
At the main entrance, Jay and Smitty rounded to the opposite side for approach, firearms held at the ready. The target's location was two floors up and to the right according to the LW’s. There was a stairwell not far from her that they would make their way toward, and Jay briefly hoped the reason the woman hadn't moved for some minutes was because she was trapped, and not already dead. Smoke was wafting from the windows on either side her known location.
Pressed against the wall, Jay was the first to sight the diagonal across the interior, but rather than plow ahead, he held up his hand. "Hold,"
he spoke into the microphone angled across his cheek. The reason for the halt became apparent a moment later. It was a woman in scrubs. Her scalp was covered by a scrub hat untied on one side and flapping in the swiftness of her flight. She didn't see the men flanking the doors, only the blue sky of freedom that was so close. The reason for her desperation also made itself apparent: a Temne bitch barreling after her. The violence of his bloodlust - and regular lust - was more than obvious to Jay. He’d seen it a million times. He calmly waited for the nurse to clear the path and the man to square himself up. Just another step or two. There.
His forefinger moved half an inch and the man collapsed behind the pair of rounds planted in his chest. The woman screamed as the sound barreled by, unaware that she was being saved rather than targeted. She snapped her head behind her, and her eyes flared white and wide when she realized what happened. She recovered quickly and ran by him.
Jay raised his eyes long enough from his sights to meet her's, though she could see nothing of those sympathetic baby blues behind the lenses of his LW's. He cocked his head to the side, signaling that she keep running, and returned to work. "All clear,"
he motioned, and proceeded indoors. The LW’s adjusted with the change from direct light to shade, and his pupils never missed a beat. Sweat trickled down his temple, and the interior provided no relief to the sweltering temperatures. The air was stifling and still. The four Legionnaires passed over Jay’s kill, barely looking down.
The mission was to get in and get their target out. Since the first part was accomplished, Jay, and the others, focused on the second phase of extraction. That involved traversing upward and down what was likely a bottleneck of firefight upstairs. But every man was at the ready, and they took turns proceeding, covering and clearing the path for the next in the deadly convoy of men. Until they were forced to pause about fifteen meters from the stairwell to assess the situation that led to about six Presidential Guards lying massacred in their path. It was then the building shook around them. All of their LW's flashed warnings, but none of the four men so much as flinched when instinct said to throw oneself to the floor for cover. Although Jay did share a glance with Smitty. They both knew exactly what it was, although neither had a guess as to how an RPG managed to arm itself in such close quarters.
More concerning than the explosion, the target's signal suddenly wavered. While her Wallet was transmitting the signal - the security to follow her was provided in the terms of the Contract to extract her from danger - she must have been near the explosion where the resulting smoke and debris from pulverized drywall disrupted the GPS transmissions.
CPL Contee's orders sounded in Jay's ears. "Proceed to target’s last known location."
----
What they found was impossible to believe. The corridor was scorched as though painted black by old flames. Bodies were crumpled, dead, twisted and littered with benign objects-turned shrapnel. The remains of what was once a nurse’s station were scattered in a perfect radius as though it was the epicenter of destruction. Everywhere but one small corner, which was perfectly untouched, as though a bowl of steel deflected the combustion everywhere but there.
Jay and Smitty shared another look when they walked by the RPG skewered doctor. Undetonated.
He gestured at the weapon, and asked what they were all thinking, “If that’s still there, what was the explosion?”
He filtered over the possible sources, but none of them made sense.
He put it out of his mind. The target’s location was still off-line as CPL Contee returned from exploring the fiery end of the corridor, pulling his scarf from his nose. “Not here. She must have-- Wait.”
They all fell silent as her location returned to the corners of their LW’s.
“Target’s outside! MOVE.”
Jay was already two paces off when the Corporal barked the orders.
---
They emerged from the hospital from the same path they took to enter it. The sun sparked his lenses darker, and the lip of his beret provided a sickle of shade from the searing light. Unlike the masses swarming on the dirt roads, flailing about weapons and running in sandals, these four were professional soldiers moving like knives through butter. They were a foursome of desert sand camouflage, adapted for African terrain, combat uniform, armament, and appearance of camo, and moved as such. Men wielding their egos as foolishly as their weapons leaped from their path.
The target blinked in the corner of Jay’s vision. One hundred meters. Fifty meters. Twenty meters. Ten.
And then he saw her. Her gold spun hair, otherwise plastered to the side of her face by sweat, was wet dark on the back of her scalp. Her clothes were scorched with filth, and her expression tight with dogged determination. He knew her immediately as Natalie Grey, from the many minutes he stared at her picture. She was the woman they were sent to extract; a well-connected woman, that despite her political ties, was presently held captive and wrenching her arm free from the grip of a captor. It was hard to tell which side of the native ancestry the man hailed, but Jay’s gut twisted with that familiar sense of animosity nonetheless.
He was not alone in recognition. CPL Contee gave the order and within seconds there were four armed and dangerous Legionnaires surrounding them. Jay did not speak, but he watched like a hawk diving for the mouse in the field. A single flicker of a threat and the man was forefinger’s movement from death.
He wisely relinquished Natalie, and the CPL gave the order to let him escape. They weren’t there to police, only extract.
He, Smitty, Contee and his partner lowered their weapons, but not their situational awareness. They were still surrounded by hostiles on the brink of savagery. The Corporal introduced himself, and offered Natalie a hand.
Jay’s gaze meanwhile scanned the perimeter, surveying everything from the patterns of movement to identifying marks on men's persons. Ten meters away a shoving-match broke out, one that would quickly escalate as surrounding individuals took sides.
“We should move,”
Jay said as movement whisked across the corner of his eye.
A heat needled the back of his leg that immediately buckled his knee. He cringed with the sensation of a cord of tendon snapped up the length of his hamstring.
“Hollywood!”
Smitty yelled and slammed into something behind him. Jay dropped to the other knee, jaw clenched tight.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 13 2014, 11:44 AM.
Jay slid the old Oakleys on his face. His eyes went straight the top corner. Natalie's dot blinked two blocks to the south. She was still inside the hospital.
The driver of each car was going to stay behind ready to either extract or escape at a moment's notice. That meant Jay and Smitty rolled out of shotgun and the back seat almost in unison. Picard's voice stopped him as he was about to slam the door behind him. Jay turned as Picard nodded. "Legio Patria Nostra.”
Jay dipped his head and returned the sentiment far more calmly than Picard expected for the new guy. "Legio Patria Nostra."
On that send off, four men, two from alpha and two from beta, were left to navigate the city blocks between the Escalades and the hospital.
And it was a clusterfuck of people. Those that weren't standing off against one another were running the opposite way. Jay couldn't say he blamed them. The four Legionnaires were like salmon swimming upstream.
The violence within the hospital had largely spilled out into the parking lot and dirt walkways surrounding the building. Stampeding feet had kicked up a cloud of red clay, and Jay was glad the Oakley’s sat close to his face. There was nothing more painful than grains of sand gouging around under your eyelids.
He and Smitty proceeded side by side, keeping an eye out for each other. CPL Contee and his partner led the group, and at the corporal's signal, a raised hand, the foursome broke off sprinting.
They came around the side of the hospital building, which looked more of a size of a Super 8 back in the states than one would expect for a hospital. It was several floors high, at the most. The windows, once tinted and covered by shade slats, were broken bits on the grass that crunched underfoot. Jay wasn't concerned about the noise, or his boots, there was enough gunfire popping up and down the street to drown the sounds of their approach. Besides, stealth wasn’t the name of the game, efficiency was.
At the main entrance, Jay and Smitty rounded to the opposite side for approach, firearms held at the ready. The target's location was two floors up and to the right according to the LW’s. There was a stairwell not far from her that they would make their way toward, and Jay briefly hoped the reason the woman hadn't moved for some minutes was because she was trapped, and not already dead. Smoke was wafting from the windows on either side her known location.
Pressed against the wall, Jay was the first to sight the diagonal across the interior, but rather than plow ahead, he held up his hand. "Hold,"
he spoke into the microphone angled across his cheek. The reason for the halt became apparent a moment later. It was a woman in scrubs. Her scalp was covered by a scrub hat untied on one side and flapping in the swiftness of her flight. She didn't see the men flanking the doors, only the blue sky of freedom that was so close. The reason for her desperation also made itself apparent: a Temne bitch barreling after her. The violence of his bloodlust - and regular lust - was more than obvious to Jay. He’d seen it a million times. He calmly waited for the nurse to clear the path and the man to square himself up. Just another step or two. There.
His forefinger moved half an inch and the man collapsed behind the pair of rounds planted in his chest. The woman screamed as the sound barreled by, unaware that she was being saved rather than targeted. She snapped her head behind her, and her eyes flared white and wide when she realized what happened. She recovered quickly and ran by him.
Jay raised his eyes long enough from his sights to meet her's, though she could see nothing of those sympathetic baby blues behind the lenses of his LW's. He cocked his head to the side, signaling that she keep running, and returned to work. "All clear,"
he motioned, and proceeded indoors. The LW’s adjusted with the change from direct light to shade, and his pupils never missed a beat. Sweat trickled down his temple, and the interior provided no relief to the sweltering temperatures. The air was stifling and still. The four Legionnaires passed over Jay’s kill, barely looking down.
The mission was to get in and get their target out. Since the first part was accomplished, Jay, and the others, focused on the second phase of extraction. That involved traversing upward and down what was likely a bottleneck of firefight upstairs. But every man was at the ready, and they took turns proceeding, covering and clearing the path for the next in the deadly convoy of men. Until they were forced to pause about fifteen meters from the stairwell to assess the situation that led to about six Presidential Guards lying massacred in their path. It was then the building shook around them. All of their LW's flashed warnings, but none of the four men so much as flinched when instinct said to throw oneself to the floor for cover. Although Jay did share a glance with Smitty. They both knew exactly what it was, although neither had a guess as to how an RPG managed to arm itself in such close quarters.
More concerning than the explosion, the target's signal suddenly wavered. While her Wallet was transmitting the signal - the security to follow her was provided in the terms of the Contract to extract her from danger - she must have been near the explosion where the resulting smoke and debris from pulverized drywall disrupted the GPS transmissions.
CPL Contee's orders sounded in Jay's ears. "Proceed to target’s last known location."
----
What they found was impossible to believe. The corridor was scorched as though painted black by old flames. Bodies were crumpled, dead, twisted and littered with benign objects-turned shrapnel. The remains of what was once a nurse’s station were scattered in a perfect radius as though it was the epicenter of destruction. Everywhere but one small corner, which was perfectly untouched, as though a bowl of steel deflected the combustion everywhere but there.
Jay and Smitty shared another look when they walked by the RPG skewered doctor. Undetonated.
He gestured at the weapon, and asked what they were all thinking, “If that’s still there, what was the explosion?”
He filtered over the possible sources, but none of them made sense.
He put it out of his mind. The target’s location was still off-line as CPL Contee returned from exploring the fiery end of the corridor, pulling his scarf from his nose. “Not here. She must have-- Wait.”
They all fell silent as her location returned to the corners of their LW’s.
“Target’s outside! MOVE.”
Jay was already two paces off when the Corporal barked the orders.
---
They emerged from the hospital from the same path they took to enter it. The sun sparked his lenses darker, and the lip of his beret provided a sickle of shade from the searing light. Unlike the masses swarming on the dirt roads, flailing about weapons and running in sandals, these four were professional soldiers moving like knives through butter. They were a foursome of desert sand camouflage, adapted for African terrain, combat uniform, armament, and appearance of camo, and moved as such. Men wielding their egos as foolishly as their weapons leaped from their path.
The target blinked in the corner of Jay’s vision. One hundred meters. Fifty meters. Twenty meters. Ten.
And then he saw her. Her gold spun hair, otherwise plastered to the side of her face by sweat, was wet dark on the back of her scalp. Her clothes were scorched with filth, and her expression tight with dogged determination. He knew her immediately as Natalie Grey, from the many minutes he stared at her picture. She was the woman they were sent to extract; a well-connected woman, that despite her political ties, was presently held captive and wrenching her arm free from the grip of a captor. It was hard to tell which side of the native ancestry the man hailed, but Jay’s gut twisted with that familiar sense of animosity nonetheless.
He was not alone in recognition. CPL Contee gave the order and within seconds there were four armed and dangerous Legionnaires surrounding them. Jay did not speak, but he watched like a hawk diving for the mouse in the field. A single flicker of a threat and the man was forefinger’s movement from death.
He wisely relinquished Natalie, and the CPL gave the order to let him escape. They weren’t there to police, only extract.
He, Smitty, Contee and his partner lowered their weapons, but not their situational awareness. They were still surrounded by hostiles on the brink of savagery. The Corporal introduced himself, and offered Natalie a hand.
Jay’s gaze meanwhile scanned the perimeter, surveying everything from the patterns of movement to identifying marks on men's persons. Ten meters away a shoving-match broke out, one that would quickly escalate as surrounding individuals took sides.
“We should move,”
Jay said as movement whisked across the corner of his eye.
A heat needled the back of his leg that immediately buckled his knee. He cringed with the sensation of a cord of tendon snapped up the length of his hamstring.
“Hollywood!”
Smitty yelled and slammed into something behind him. Jay dropped to the other knee, jaw clenched tight.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 13 2014, 11:44 AM.
Only darkness shows you the light.