Operation: Vengence (Closed)

Gamina

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We are playing as a group of soldiers on dangerous off the books mission. If you want to join is, jump by the OOC thread to see how to best go about it. http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=1490650

{will keep a synopsis/storyline of the story so far here}

GM: milkmaiden38 (While the story is a co-operative effort, she will be guiding the story in terms of objectives and progression.


Characters:
Commander Codi Banner : played by milkmaiden38
"APC" Tygun Waxnor : played by milkmaiden38
Corporal Alexandria Trask : played by Gamina
CIA "Prisoner/Intern" Flic : played by Gamina
Luke ‘Doc’ Marten : played by Curl E
Sean Hastings : played by Nevyn_Black
Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš : played by LupusDei
 
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Commander Codi Banner DAY1

Commander Codi Banner

The ruined temple stood on bank of a small tributary which flowed lazily to the White Nile river. To reach this temple, Codi had hiked through the jungles of the Bandingilo National Park, in South Sudan. The jungle and the country’s civil war had made that no easy task, but what she had to do next was far worse.

She had found some high ground and was in a prone position among the jungle’s tall yellow grasses. Through the scope of her custom 50 cal “noiseless” barrett sniper rifle she saw the two Chinese Mi-24 attack helicopters and the numerous Chinese soldiers walking around the temple.

“Another fucking suicide mission” she grumbled to herself. She had been ordered to investigate why the Chinese were setting up a base near this temple. If the investigation showed the base threatened the stability of the area, terminate the problem. All of course in secret, with no trace back to the US.

Codi had done her homework on the C-17 flight over. South Sudan’s only true income was from oil. China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) was a major investor in that oil and provided technical assistance for drilling and transport. The attack helicopters and soldiers might be from the Chinese government, or they might be mercenaries hired by CNPC.

She had watched their operations for a week now. The bottomline was these people were up to no good. This secret base was for seeded trouble and civil war in the neighboring states. Plenty of ethnic hatred in Africa, it was easy to start civil wars. Why the CNPC wanted to start wars… she had no idea. Maybe to lower the cost of the things they wanted to buy in this region. Wars had a way of driving away other investors.

She pulled her eye away from the scope and adjusted her weapon. The “Ultimate expression of a high-powered small arm.” The manual had stated. The rifle was designed to be a versatile. It used caseless ammunition technology to help reduce the recoil and noise. It featured a laser sight as an aiming aid and had a small microwave radar which measure the distance to the target. With the right ammo, she could set the round to “explode” at a set distance, a very handy feature.

She put her eye back up to the scope when she felt a pistol pressed to the back of her head.

“Your dead if you move” a man said in a Chinese accent. Codi did not move.

“Get up” The man said.

“I thought you said…” Codi replied... but the humor was lost on the man.

“Now” He ordered. Codi got up slowly and turned to face the man. He was dressed like one of the soldiers she had seen surrounding the temple. Codi looked very different. She had on her capri khaki cargo pants with lots of pockets and some stretched suspenders, a white shirt with the top several buttons undone to show off her amazing cleavage, a safari hat that allowed her flowing red hair to spill down her shapely figure, her trade mark round glasses, a hand gun strapped on her right thigh, and a combat knife on her belt.

“Put your weapons on the ground” The man ordered. Codi bit her lip as she thought about her situation. “Damn it,” she thought. “I should have been more careful!!” She dropped her knife and hand gun on the ground. She got angrier and angrier with herself, she did not like to fail, and it sure looked like she was going too.

“Done” She informed the man.

“What are you hiding under that shirt?” the man asked.

“Nothing” Codi replied.

“Too big” Man said pointing at her chest and hiding spots under her chest.

“I got big tits… I’m not hiding anything under my shirt” Codi replied getting angrier.

“Take shirt off… show me” the man ordered in broken english.

“Pervert” Codi grumbled as she undid more buttons on he shirt. But the unusual request gave her an idea. Her suspenders were stretched over her massive tits. The straps were under some nice tension, if she released them from her belt, they would fly out in front of her with significant force. She just hoped they were long enough to reach the man pointing the gun. She reached the last button on her shirt. The man leaned forward to see what was under her shirt. She pulled the shirt open when her hands reached the suspender clips, she released them.

Both straps snapped forward, one struck the man’s gun, corrupting his aim, and the other slapped the side of his face. It was enough of an opening that allowed Codi to strike. Her right hand grabbed the hand gun to ensure it would not re-point at her. Her left hand punched the man’s nose with her open palm. The blow broke his nose and blood sprayed out.

The man was stunned for a second, but recovered. He reached for his combat knife. Codi however was faster. Her knee rammed into his crotch, followed by her body twisting around the hand holding the gun. With her back to the man, she used a powerful elbow to his face to knocked him to the ground. This move also resulted in her being in sole possession of the gun. She pointed the gun at the man.

“Don’t move” She ordered.

He did not follow her orders. He yelled something in Chinese at the top of his lungs. Codi pulled the trigger and shot him in the head. He fell to the ground quite dead.

“Asshole” She said as she returned to her sniper rifle. A quick look through the scope told her what she already knew. The Chinese soldiers were grabbing their guns and getting ready to find out why someone had yelled in the jungle.

“This will not be pretty” Codi said as she aimed her rifle at the gas tank of the first Mi-24 helicopter. The exploding sniper round entered the gas tank and the helicopter blew up. She aimed at the second helicopter and got the same results. It was like she had kicked dirt into an ant’s nest. There were soldiers running around everywhere.

She aimed her third round at the generator gas tank near the ruined temple entrance. The result was a much larger explosion and the collapse of the temple entrance.

“Mission complete” She said as she grabbed her equipment and weapons and disappeared into the jungle.
 
Corporal Alexandria Trask DAY1

Alexandra cursed as she finished replacing the battery on her humvee. They had been ambushed earlier in the day as they entered Nationaal park Garamba, and her vehicel had taken a beating. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were here to extract a member of the Special Forces, she might have just turned around.

“Yo Alex, we are T-15 minutes from pickup, are you done yet?”

Sighing she slid out from under the truck, looking straight up at her escort. The man wasn’t bad looking, but his smug attitude had kind of rubbed her the wrong way the past two days. Standing up and looking into the engine block she cursed. There was a nasty tear in the alternator belt, and she was pretty sure there was no way that it would hold if they had any kind of a hurry.

“Drop the pants, I need your boxers.”

She says, adding a scalding look at the man as he raised an eyebrow. But her reputation must have proceeded her as the man just shrugged his shoulders and started to remove his pants.

“You know usually I’d expect a drink first at the very least”

The man said in a mocking tone as he handed the piece of clothing to her. Giving him a little once over, noting he was indeed well built she gave him a little playful smile as she took over the boxers and started to twist the cotton material around the waistband.

“I don’t know don’t know if I would get value in that exchange”

Chuckling she started to replace the belt with the man’s boxers, hoping it would be enough to get them out of here. She was still planning to check out the rest of the engine, but gunshots broke the silent of the jungle. Without a word needed to be exchanged, she jumped into the driver seat, while Tom took his place behind the 50 cal. Starting the engine she did not like how it sounded, but before she could put too much thought in it, a familiar figure dashed out of the canopy followed by some angry looking rebels. Tom made quick work of the pursuers’ and the Operator jumped in the Humvee next to her as she punched in the gas.

“Hey Sis” The man said with a ear to ear grin.

“Hey Dipshit.” She said to her youngest brother (he is still one year her senior) “Couldn’t get the job done without the extra drama did you?”

“What would be the fun in that?” He said as he reloaded his weapon before leaning out of the window. Alexandria just shook her head and punched down the gas pedal, hoping to make it to their lily pad camp in one piece.
 
Commander Codi Banner DAY3

“THIS WAS A SHITSHOW IN A DUMPSTER FIRE!!” Brigadier General Gold yelled as he waved around the after-action report (AAR) Codi had written. He ended his statement by slamming the report on the table in front of Codi.

“Don’t sugar coat it, Sir. Tell me what you really think!” Codi replied softly.

“DON’T JOKE WITH ME COMMANDER!!” He yelled back. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF THE CNPC FIGURES OUT THE US DID THIS!! WORLD WAR III… !!! THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS!!!” He screamed. He turned his back on her, trying to get a hold of himself. It took over a minute. In the mean time, Commander Codi just sat still and waited.

General Gold turned back around.

“Normally, I would pull you from field work and put you behind a desk to ROT for this stupidity” He said pointing to the AAR again. “But we have had a small situation come up and need you back in the field tonight.” He said to her.

“Tonight?” Codi asked

“Yes! You’ll be the squad commander. Your team is composed any one we could find. No one has worked together before. Oh and your medic is a pacifist” He explained.

“That rich!” Codi commented in disgust.

“Fuck Off! Can’t be helped. My admin has the background briefing for you. Pick it up on your way out. OH, AND DON’T FUCK UP THIS ASSIGNMENT!” General Gold warned Codi.

She stood up and walked out of the debriefing room. She made her way to the admin’s desk and grabbed the folder. She noted the time she needed to be at the airfield. She had several hours.

“Enough time for a good hard fuck and a shower” she said to herself as she headed out the door.
 
Capt. Fisher, (NPC) DAY3

Capt. Fisher, USN. Burpelson Air Force Base, a secure briefing room, four hours later.

"At ease, please be seated."

"This is an evolving situation, the mission parameters are evolving. Commander Codi will provide additional details and plans while you are en route. This briefing will cover new information."

"As you are aware, this is an infiltration, smash and grab into a hostile South American country. The target is known only by a dragoon tattoo -- yes, I said dragoon, not dragon -- across his or her ass. We do not know the Target's sex, or even whether he or she will be cooperative. All you need to know is that the Target is of vital importance to national security."

"In two days, this person will be transferred by merc convoy along a coastal highway, actually, a one lane goat track, with a heavy escort. Enemy gunboats will be offshore, and the airspace will be covered by their helicopters and drones, with ground attack aircraft on 15 minute standby. Nearest friendlies are several hours away."

"And, uh, the region is home to a large number of jaguars and pumas and the forest is said to be haunted."

"In 18 hours you will be landed by small boat five miles north of the interception point."

"You mission is to snatch the Target, evade enemy forces, and exfiltrate by a submarine which you will summon after the mission succeeds. Failure is not an option, meaning, no Target, no submarine."

"Anyone who wants to back out, now's the time."

"Commander Codi, your communications specialist has disappeared, the records don't show, but who in your group has been cross-trained in comms?"
 
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Luke ‘Doc’ Marten DAY1

Doc watched as the fly batted repeatedly against the window. He’d been watching the fly for quite some time and somehow it’s pointless plight seemed to mirror his own situation as he sat in General Gold’s office.
“Are you even listening to me, Medic?”
The major had been questioning and berating Doc for well over an hour and none of his answers had changed.
“Yes sir! You just asked me again why I didn’t shoot him, sir!”
“Yes! Why? He had a bomb strapped to him damned chest!”
“Didn’t feel the need, sir”
“You didn’t feel the need to shoot a man with a bomb strapped to his chest? A man who was threatening to blow himself up along with the whole damn building?!”
“That’s right, sir!”
Doc could see the veins popping out on the General’s head. He idly wondered if the General was suffering from stress and would have a heart attack before long.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD?!” the General yelled, leaning over the desk, the vein seemingly fit to burst at any moment.
“Honestly, sir?”
“YES! OF COURSE HONESTLY! I’M YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER!”
“Well sir... Firstly, I knew that this was his own house, with his own family. I’d caught him off guard and I didn’t think he’d want to blow his family to smithereens”.
The General, still fuming, replied,
“These idiots don’t care anything about family. They all think they’re heading to Mecca or whatever damned version of the afterlife they believe in. That was a stupid risk!”
“Well sir, casual racism aside, that leads right into my second reason. I didn’t know if he was holding a bomb that would go off if he let go, sir. I know as much about explosives as I do about football, which is to sweet F.A.”
The General paused, but only for a moment.
“Do you realise that the man you set free. The man you let go. He later blew up 3 damn good soldiers?!”
“Well sir. Maybe they shot him in the head and the bomb went off, sir”, Doc replied.

General Gold looked ready to explode; the vein throbbing and pulsating on his tiny looking head.
“THAT’S FUCKING CLASSIFIED INFORMATION YOU IRRITATING BRIT!”

The General took pause. Clearly trying to gain some control over himself.
“Very well. I didn’t really want to do this. You’re a damn fine medic, but I just feel like you need to break this mindless attitude of yours. I’m sending you to keep a squad alive. This mission is kill or be killed, and that’ll just be the Commander, let alone the enemy. Hopefully, if you come out alive from this, you’ll have your first kill. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get a taste for it. I give you two days to get your shit together and say goodbye”.
“Thank you so much, sir. You’re too kind sir”, was the reply as Doc left the office.

“Shut the god damned door!”
 
Sean Hastings DAY???

Undisclosed location in Central America, empty warehouse, time unknown...

The chair was rather comfortable, all things considered. Hastings didn't mind being naked, and the cushion was thick, the back strong and straight. His hands being zip tied behind his back was not the most relaxing, but still. A nice chair, for a nice session of enhanced interrogation. He stifled a small yawn while the two Latin men argued in Spanish a few feet away, near the Acetylene torch.

"You're telling me, this man has no identification, at all??" Cartel man #1 said to #2.

#2; "Not a single thing! No drivers license, passport, nothing. Man, his clothes don't even have labels and he brought no cell phone with him!"

Cartel #1 frowns and rubs his fingers through his van dyke. "It doesn't feel right. He's got to be DEA. But our people in the agency would have told us something!"

"Look, Carlos, I'm telling you. This crazy ass white dude just walked up to the gate and turned himself in, smiling and polite as a...as a fucking Canadian!"

Carlos glances back at the Gringo tied to the chair, his naked body on display. He turns back to his fellow and continues to confer.

"Steffano, doesn't it seem like he has a lot of damned scars for some crazy tourist who just got lost? I mean, my uncle Ruiz did time in La Modelo. Even he doesn't have as many scars as this motherfucker!"

This was true. Hastings had acquired a number of what law enforcement types liked to call 'distinguishing marks'. You don't work 15 years in his field without having some skin taken off. Carlos marched over to him and got in his face, shouting.

"Who the hell are you, puta Pendejo!"

Hastings murmured. Carlos screamed into his ear. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

Hastings whispered. "I said, closer." Then, bit into Carlos's throat, hard.

The Cartel enforcer screamed in fear, surprise and agony as Hastings gnawed and gnashed and clamped down with his sharp teeth, until ripping a large chunk out of the side of his neck. Steffano had hesitated, not expecting this and having never seen it happen in his short and brutal life. A man eating another man was shocking.

Just when Steffano thought to draw his pistol and shoot the gringo, the gringo reared back and kicked Carlos's struggling form right at him. Carlos flailed toward Steffano, spraying blood from a nearly severed Carotid artery, knocking the other enforcer back and causing him to drop his pistol in startlement. Hastings flew backwards.

In the same moment that Hastings had reared back to kick Carlos, he had brought his zip tied wrists down against that strong chair back with the wonderful lumbar curve, snapping the locking mechanism off. As he fell backwards, he lifted his legs further, brought his hands around to the front, gripped the seat edge and gave the chair an upwards twist, ripping his duck taped feet from the chair legs, hurling said chair at the two Cartel enforcers even as he rolled heels over head and to his feet.

Hastings really loved that so many would-be torturers left sharp instruments lying around carelessly. He took up knives in either hand, sending them flying through the air at Steffano, who yelped much like a scared dog and used Carlos to intercept the blades. Carlos gurgled and stared at his friend in bewildered hurt as he finally died.

Hastings had in the meantime, taken up a handy scalpel and jumped across the room at Steffano. The other man had time only to raise his hands in a staying gesture, before Hastings plunged the scalpel into his side, right between the ribs, with the full force of his arm and weight of his body. Steffano froze, cradled almost gently by Hastingsm staring up into his face, confusion almost overwriting pain.

"W-wh-?" Steffano sputtered, blood flooding over his tongue and bottom lip, dripping down his chin.

"Ssshh. Who I am isn't important. Just know that you have been judged, and found wanting. This is payment for your sins."

Steffano died without understanding what he had done that was so wrong.

Two days later, Hotel Mirador, San Salvador..

Hastings sighed in pleasure as he sipped his Mojito beside the pool, enjoying the heat on his clean skin, fresh from a nights sleep in a luxuriant bed and a long, cool shower. IN the background of the Poolside bar, a small television showed the burning husk of what Police believed to be a Cartel storage warehouse. It had been burning for about 48 hours and the amount of cocaine being destroyed was estimated in the tens of millions. Hastings paid the news no mind. He already knew the story.

Hastings heard a beeping in his ear, and tapped his bluetooth to answer the call.

"Have a nice vacation?"

"Why yes! I simply love it down here, it's so rich and nuanced, a mix of spice and sweetness, just like the food, just like the women."

"Good, then you wont mind staying a little longer. I've a job for you."

Sean Hastings smiled brightly at a pretty woman passing by, blue eyes twinkling.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind staying at all. Tell me more."
 
Commander Codi Banner and APC DAY3

Commander Codi Banner

Armel Pope was one of Codi’s few friends. Friend is use loose term, as she did not like him very much. However, she did like his big cock. She knew he had a big cock as it was being pumped in and out of her mouth at this moment. She pulled his hips forward and his big black cock disappeared completely into her mouth. She managed to get her tongue around the throbbing shaft and lick his balls. He loved it. Armel knew excellent cock suckers; and Codi was one. He had given her the nickname of “hoover”!

His cock quivered in joy as Codi felt his climax approaching. She wanted to hold him at this peak pleasure spot for a little while, so she slowed down on her sucking. He moaned like crazy, but she did not give him enough pleasure to cum. It was frustrating to him. He wanted to pump so much cum into her hungry mouth, she’d gag on it. But Codi would not allow him to get that excited.

Codi was being a naughty, little shit as she also wanted his cum too. But by delaying Armel, he would produce a bigger load. Finally, after a minute of teasing him, she sucked on his mighty rod with fury. She felt Armel’s pleasure peaking… and then she added her signature tongue licking to his sensitive cock head. He erupted like a volcano in her mouth. His tip surged into her throat again and again, splatting red-hot jets of semen against the sides of her throat. She kept swallowing and sucking on his cock until he was completely drained.

Swallowing the last mouthful, Codi got up from between his legs.

“MMMM, that was nice” She told him.

“My fuckin pleasure beotch” Armel replied as he lay back and relaxed.

“I have to go again, a few weeks this time. Keep an eye on my place.” Codi asked Armel as she started to put her cloth back on again.

“Ok” Armel said as he lay on his side and closed his eyes.

30 Minutes later

Commander Codi was in the secure Burpelson Air Force Base briefing room. She smelled of smoke (cigars), alcohol (gin martinis), and sex (Armel). Capt. Fisher had said nothing to her, when she arrived for the briefing. He knew she had just come from a mission in Africa. He had cut her some slack, but that was the exception. The staff Psychiatrist had warned her many times that such behavior would get her confined to a desk… or discharged from the service. She had a “classic case of self-abuse” the doctor had told her. She knew her behavior was counter-productive... but she did not care.

She scanned the room, and saw people she did not know. It was only part of her team, but it was the first set of her team to meet her. She was sure she was making a BAD first impression.

The man seated in the first row was in his mid-thirties. Blonde hair and blue eyes, muscles everywhere, handsome. She had heard of him. The guy went by the name of APC. He was a spook. Worked for some three letter agency CIA, DIA, NSA, … some place like that. She’d need to keep an eye on him… maybe even have a little fun with him. Best way to keep an eye on him.

Next to him was a very fit soldier. Brown hair and eyes. Had to be the Brit medic. Now that she saw him, she definitely wanted to fuck him. She had some trouble believing he was a pacifist. That would make her the aggressor in the bedroom. She liked being in charge, so she was looking forward to it.

The next two people, she had at least heard about. It was Corporal Alexandria Trask and her brother. They had a great record of successful missions. Codi had never worked with either of them, but thought Alexandria would drive her nuts. She had heard that Alexandria had a bubbly personality. Codi fucking hated people like that!

The rest of her team would join her when they reached the aircraft carrier.

After Capt comments, she was expected to say something. She stood up and looked at everyone. Then she spoke.

"I'll brief more about the mission once we are in the air. Plane is leaving in one hour..."

That was when the Latvian Special Unit guy walked in and interrupted.
 
Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš DAY3

Halfway through the presentation a not-so-young slightly heavy set man silently entered the room. He gad massive shoulders, rugged features, at least a week old partially grayed beard and darkened bronze and gold hair set in long ponytail, and was wearing brown-gray "digital" texture field uniform.

He stood without movement near the door until Capt. Fisher ended his speech, then interrupted:

"Sorry for being late, but it's fucking hard to get Uber drive out from Siberia nowadays. Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš, callsign 'Johnny' Armed forces of Latvia special tasks unit, reporting to your services. I believe you have no need to repeat anything for me, but a pair of questions If I may:

Do we have diplomatic relations with whomever "haunt" that forest? I mean, you're seem to be successful at finding hole on earth I haven't yet fallen into, it wouldn't hurt to sniff tails with some local dogs.

And, do we happen to know the real affiliation of those Russian units involved, I mean, as opposed to the declared? That may or may not become relevant, shortly.

Yes, and I'm sorry about emptiness of my file you're all got. They had no time to build a good legend, and, we are supposed to be allies, I believe. So. That's all.
 
Captn Fisher DAY 3

"Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš, welcome to the team" The senior Navy officer replied. "The US has very little intell on the area. You'll need to figure who "haunts" the forest during RECON. We have a man near the area, Sean Hastings. He might know something."

"As for the affiliation of the Russian units, we are unsure. We believe all units are merks, mercenaries, that is all we know."

He turned to the group and was silent for a moment. He looked at them as if it was the last time he would see them all alive again.

"Commander Banner, can tell you more once you are en route. Good Luck" He said.
 
Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš DAY2

Villa of Alexander Newzamenhof, owner of asbestos mines and prominent figure in the mercenary business, was deep in forest near Yekaterinburg, next to a partially man-made lake. It was a vast complex of buildings with four metres high fences somehow reminding classical palace and a concentration camp at the same time, or maybe a small army base it indeed was in a sense, it's fences intended to keep unwanted visitors out, not prisoners in.

“Today it will fail at both,” Johnny smirked by himself, carefully crawling through the freshly cut hole, not more than twelve yards behind a pair of assault rifles carrying guards patrolling the perimeter. If the lone guy in the control room had watched his comrades on patrol, he would see a path of grass fluidly flowing under the fence.

Dash over the patrol road was reckless, but the only way to not alarm motion detection was to do it while guards in the scene forced it to be ignored. Crunching behind the wild roses by the side of a low building he mentally reviewed schematic of the complex for yet another time, waiting for the alarm to sound, but it didn't.

Bypassing alarm on one of the few windows of the main building out of visual oversight with help of a special tool he slid in the second floor corridor as a massive shadow. Only light there come from half open doors to one of the bedrooms by the side, accompanied by unmistakable sounds of fucking, bodies slapping together in dull rhythm. Another man was standing right next to the doorway, his figure partially illuminated by his phone screen. Was he filming the action? Anyway, a combat knife sinking in his throat was first he knew of a trouble, and the last.

After sitting that dead body down in the hallway, Johnny looked over in the doorway himself. The room was bare. Few days ago it was converted into a prison cell, removing everything that wasn't absolutely necessary or unmovable. Even the mattress was bare, without any covers, as was the pair of humans copulating on it: a very large massive man covered only with vast tattoos had a petite girl under him. She didn't enjoy his thrusts, by the sight of it not at all, but didn't fight against or anything, just passively tried to ignore her rapist, enduring the ordeal by going elsewhere mentally. It clearly want the first time for them. Johnny slipped away from the doorway when her head fall to the side and eyes opened, he didn't want to be seen, even by her, yet, and there was no time to stay and watch -- he still had work to do.

Doors to the control room was open too, a glaring breach of the security protocol, but with more than two dozen armed guards currently on the compound, what they had to fear? Heh. Johnny used garrote this time, he didn't want blood on the keyboard. In no time at all he had complete control over the system. It couldn't have been easier, apparently guards used account with elevated permissions already, so there even was no need to open the cases for physical access. Still he had a little addition to install for remote control later, along with small explosive charge. While at it, he copied a bunch of files over as well, then grabbed a set of keys and headed back.

Now the scene on the bed wasn't as dull, betrayed by her own body the girl was panting in forced pleasure; man was perspiring amply, his shaved head glistening in the overhead light, powerful thrusts blurring in ever increasing rhythm accented by animalistic grunts. Clearly he was about to reach the climax.

Even close to cuming herself, girl noticed the newcomer approaching, her eyes fall wide. Johnny smiled at her while grabbed man’s forehead with one had, sinking two fingers deep in his eye sockets, planting the other palm firmly at the base of the neck on his back at the same time. A sharp jerk followed almost instantly, throwing the head back against spine in an impossible angle. Girl didn't scream. Frozen she watched how Johnny lifted the huge man's body off of her.

“Hush,” Johnny motioned when she stirred under his investigating gaze, moving her legs together and looked likely to attempt to speak. “Прости,” he said pressing a piece of scotch over her lips, forgive me. With a sad look she offered her arms to be bound too. “Behind,” Johnny corrected her, and when she hesitated reached and pulled her to sit upright. She complied then.

“You're pretty,” he commented running his fingers lightly down her side, over the hip and the length of her leng. “This I will take,” he tugged the law enforcement type tracking device fastened around her ankle. He selected the right key, turned it off and opened, then snapped it around leg of the dead man and turned back on, all as fast as he could.

“Let's go,” he reached for the girl to help her up, but she declined his help standing herself. Then Johnny lifted the naked man's body up and dropped over shoulder in fireman's carry. That seemed to surprise the girl. “Follow right behind me and don't be stupid.”

They went down the side staircase. In the staff lobby behind the kitchen three guards sipped coffee and watched TV. Still from the hallway Johnny called out, “hey guys, help me!”

“What the hell?!” they jumped up. Sure they recognised tattoos of their boss.

“I will get Gregory,” one of them moved towards the outside doors, other two come to meet Johnny.

Pah, pah, pah, pah, pah.

Silenced glock fired from hip wasn't very accurate, but the distance was minimal and it get the job done before anyone understood what was happening. The guy at the doors turned to look back and so missed his slight chance to escape or call help.

Johnny turned right, down to the garage. He unlocked the armored limousine and dropped it owner’s dead body on the back. “No!” He stopped the naked girl when she tried to crawl in too. He himself moved to driver's seat however, and started the car. Using security codes acquired earlier from the control room he accessed the autopilot, it required a little upgrade.

“Fucking whores!” Loud cursing sounded from the lobby, someone else had come in. “Motherfuckers!”

“Just a little bit too soon,” Johnny sighed. He ordered garage doors and main gates to open, jumped out of the car, unceremoniously grabbed the girl and tugged her in a storage room, no bigger than an oversized walk-in closet.

On a button press the limo take a rubber burning start, smashing the bottom of the door too slow to get up in time.

“That whore is trying to run!” Someone yelled.

Almost immediately they opened fire, bursts and single shots from various weapons aimed at the speeding limo.

“Don't shoot! Sasha with her! Don't shoot! She captured him!”

“I told that idiot not to fuck with the spy slut!”

“Sorry dickhead he is!”

“Call the headquarters someone!”

“По машинам!” Get in your vehicles!

“Hush, hush, they're too busy chasing you to look in here,” Johnny whispered in girl's ear, shamelessly fondling her slowly.

“Look out! She may have had helpers here!” Someone in that crowd wasn't completely stupid.

Shortly the frantic activity died down. More than half had left in the chase of the empty car. Others however, they were setting up teams to go through thorough search of the whole site. Johnny had to move out, waiting for darkness wasn't an option anymore. At least they could not worry about cameras, currently, with the control still in place, they were invisible to the security system.

Soon, Johnny helped the girl to crawl under the fence, then unfastened her hands. “Беги моя булочка, беги сладкая!” he waved towards the forest, run my little bun, run sweetie! It hasn't to be said twice, naked and barefoot, but she ran, not that she had much choice. Johnny moved away over the clearing too, but more slowly, looking back once now and then. It happened when the girl was almost at the bushes already.

“Hey, look at that! What the-” that guy didn't get to continue, Johnny was firing already. Then he dashed sideways, to where his own sniper rifle was left between two large boulders under the bushes.

“They cut the fence! Here!” One of the guards had spot the hole, and waved another to come look. Johnny was unsure why, there was nothing to see. Anyway, he was more concerned with another two who was approaching firing short bursts in the general direction the escapees had disappeared. Two shots, two kills. The pair near the fence had squatted down, shouting between them they decided who will lay cover fire and who run. Johnny ignored the shooter, and shortly scanning the runner's figure as soon he get up choose the hip bone. Man fell rolling right in the middle of the patrol road screaming in pain. Next bullet silenced the gunner, his bursts had come dangerously close. Several others ran towards the wounded man, presumably to tow him away, firing their weapons chaotically in all directions. People are so predictable, the ages old wounded bait was still working. Target practice time.

First who comprehend the situation was the wounded man himself. “Неродходи!” He yelled, do not come close. “Snipers! From the forest! There!” Johnny ignored him waiting for another to try and peek, but the man's head suddenly exploded. Much lauder shot echoed over the clearing. Then another, this one throwing splinters out of the brick wall under a window; agonising scream confirmed that was a hit too, right through the wall. Johnny detonated the control room, it was as good time for that as any. With more than sixty degree wide crossfire almost no cover was good enough. Almost too easy.

Something did catch Johnny’s attention on the main building's roof. “Good choice for a position girl”, he thought, somehow he was sure the sniper was a female. He zoomed in to her face and was looking right down her barrel. For a split second they watched each other perfectly aligned in each other's sights. Her finger trembled slightly, pulling the trigger. Johnny pushed too, but the last moment his aim flew from the eye down to the side stopping on her collarbone right between the stock of her rifle and the edge of her tactical bulletproof vest. At least at part that was forced by the start of a roll out of the way of her bullet. He didn't see confirmation of the hit, when he looked again he saw fifty caliber bullets blowing craters in the concrete parapet she was fallen behind.

“Leave her Vik!” Johnny said in the team com.

“She's the last of them we know about!” A young male voice responded.

“I know. And she's incapacitated. Let's go,” he was already standing up.

The girl he was extracted earlier was sitting cross-legged in a small depression on relatively sparsely overgrown hilltop. She was now wearing a grey-green t-shirt large enough to be a dress for her. She looked up at Johnny with mixed emotions, perhaps she had hoped to never see that man ever again.

“Drint vai kociņ Jānīt, piekāst tevi un tavas spēlītes!” Said a dense bush to the right of the girl, fuck a three Johnny, I would dump you and your little games (Latvian slang approx).

“What part of ‘extract silently’ in our orders you didn't understand? We aren't here to start a war.”

“Wasn't possible captain, sorry.”

“Getting her some clothing wasn't possible either?” Like a dryad, a muscular woman materialised out of a group of closely growing trees.

“No! What for? It's less security risk this way. There could be tracking, or worse.”

“Yeah, sure,” chuckled a nearly seven feet tall redhead, the huge rifle in his hands looking ideally proportioned, “and what you had with that cute sniper, won't say you just missed!”

“And if I did?” Johnny challenged. “But it's even better this way. Someone has to tell the horror story, and it's always better by a miraculous survivor. Piles of corpses are just boring.”

“You're incorrigible!” The female warrior laughed.

“Anyway, who's she?”

“Above your clearance, Johnny,” captain said, catching a small drone out of midair and packing away.

“Right, like I wouldn't figure out anyway.”

“Yeah, you would.” He packed away another drone. Third one dropped itself at his feet. “Officially, I don't know myself, but by the breadcrumbs they left all over the place…”

Captain turned to the girl herself with a friendly smile and switched to English, “Reese O’Riley aka Minnie Flemingston, operative of Secret Intelligence Services of her majesty, MI6, right?”

“An actual Bond girl!” Warrior woman squeal teasingly. “Cute!”

“Don't worry, you're not recorded,” Johnny added.

“And who the hell you guys are?” She answered with a question.

“Hell, yes. Werewolves, rhrrrhr” Vik smiled down at her.

Her face fell in hidden terror. Probably because in Russia, corrupted or otherwise out of control law enforcement elements are sometimes referred as werewolves.

Johnny was first to catch that, “not that kind, to the hell and back kind.”

“Latvians,” captain ended the charade. “Special forces. Consider yourself home.”

“Alright lovers, we just received confirmation for the extraction point beta,” the woman reported. “Let's move out.”
 
Corporal Alexandria Trask DAY1

Arriving at the lily pad base, Alexandria gave the mechanics a little apologetic smile, while they had made it to base, the make shift belt had snapped resulting in the motor overheating. She would have stopped to fix it normally but in these conditions that was simply not an option. As her brother jumped out of the truck she heard one of his team mate shout to him something about “Hot Thunder” having an operation go haywire in South Sudan, where upon her brother just said to put $50 in the Ryan Renolds pool for this not being it. When she asked him about it later that day, he told her some commander chick who had pissed off command more often than he can count, keeps getting shitty operations, so the team started a dead pool for her, until now she had made him a good amount of money as he was one of the few betting on her surviving.

Day 2

Alexandria had gotten too little sleep last night, but after having drinks with Tom and her brother, she had given Tom a chance to proof it really was cold outside in the jungle. So when the suits walked up to her she was a little too slow in hiding her annoyance.

“Corporal Trask, you are to escort this asset to your next assignment. She is not to touch electronic devices without explicit orders from an officer. Oh and you have to be there by tomorrow, so you will need to catch tonights flight out of Egypt.” The man said.

“Wait what? Are you insane, I haven’t had my coffee yet!” She said knowing the suit probably wouldn’t care that the drive was near impossible to make in the time given. Looking over the ‘asset’ Alex raised an eyebrow, as in front of her was what looked to be a 18-19 year old redhead, dressed in some hipster garb. But as the girl tossed her a tumbler of coffee she just shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s go shall we”





CIA "Prisoner/Intern" Flic Later that day

“So how did you become an asset? And how should I call you?” Her driver asked her.

“Remember two years ago, when a couple of senator’s browsing history was put online? “ As the blond started to laugh out loud she figured she had heard of the incident. “Well that was me. My official codename is SwipeRight, but friends call me Flic. Let’s say that because the CIA aren’t as retarded as they often seem to be I got caught and here we are. “

Flic was surprised as the young corporal handed over her case with her laptop and gear in it. “If you tell me the story about the codename, I order you to get your gear ready for work” She said. For a second she was going to point out that her handler meant that only the commander could order her, but figured the woman was on purpose taking the wording literally. Blushing a little at remembering the situation, she did explained how the CIA had lured her out of hiding through the use of Tinder. All in all while the woman seemed to be more outgoing than she was, she figured they would be good friends, moving forward.
 
“Hot Thunder” AKA Commander Codi Banner

Codi stepped/climbed aboard the C-130 transport aircraft in full shade of green camouflaged fatigues. She was carrying her sniper rifle in one hand and the SEALS' standard-issue weapon-of-choice, the Colt M4A1 Carbine Assault Rifle, with optional grenade launcher in the other hand.

The M4A1 Carbine Assault Rifle was capable of firing as a semiautomatic or full automatic weapon (700 to 950 rounds per minute). The scope was a holographic display sight, infrared vision, aiming lasers. She also carried an M11 Sig Sauer P-228 hand gun on her belt with her heavy combat knife.

In her backpack, besides basic food, tent, and harsh weather gear was 4 anti-personnel mines. She was also equipped with a standard head-set radio with throat mic, as was the rest of the team. She flicked on the radio.

The door to the C-130 closed and the aircraft engines revved higher. Codi tore open the large manila envelop with additional detailed on the mission. She sure hoped there was more information, because so far they have been given very little.

“Listen up squad.” Codi said to everyone. Then she started to read from the material she was provided. “Our squad’s code name is The Rattle Crew.” She stopped reading and took a deep breath. “That name sucks... Sounds like we are a bunch of babies. I’m changing the name to The Seppuku Squad. Sounds more appropriate.” She said.

“My code name is Hot Thunder, please tell me your code names when you get a chance.” She explained. She looked at the material again “You all know the drill, this is a covert op. No tracing it back to our home countries. Cover story is we have been hired by a rich Dutch hotel magnet last name Jan Van Tol, living on Aruba. He has sent us into the jungle to find a nice place to build a resort. Our mission area is near the border of Venezuela and Colombia. In other words… a jungle shit hole. We’ll meet up with our local contact man in the city of Maracaibo. His name is Hastings”

“The group holding our target is called The Crimson Vultures. A colorful name” Codi joked. No one on the plane laughed “You folks are a tough audience." She commented.

APC replied "No... just discerning"

"Ouch!" Codi answer and continued "They are basically a crime organization involved in drugs, human trafficking, etc. A man named Max Diablos is their leader. Their main HQ is a abandoned psychiatric ward near the Natural Catatumbo Barí National Park” Codi explained. She flipped through the rest of the papers and sighed “There is just no information on the target. I have been on poorly planned missions, but this one takes the cake.” She said then she held up the last page of the briefing to show everyone. “There is a cute note here on the last page giving us complete freedom to adjust this plan as we see fit. I guess that is helpful! Questions?”
 
"Wild Dog" Johnny aka Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš

"It's useful to know limits of our knowledge," Johnny said slowly in the silence that had lasted for a moment.

"Provision of operational freedom eliminates many questions." He added after another short pause.

He appeared to be talking to none other than this beauty:
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DSR Precision DRS-1-Subsonic integrally silenced compact sniper rifle with several unique features consistently ensuring extreme sub-0.2 MOA accuracy that had earned prise and popularity for it among law enforcement services and other users. Weapon he had unpacked from its hard transport case looked to be brand new although probably wasn't.

In contrast, his main weapon had clearly been on the field more than once, perhaps little surprisingly as it was HK433 modular assault rifle,
csm_HK433_li_Zub_e9b3c33bb6.png

in production only since 2017 and marketed as next-gen Bundeswehr weapon, direct replacement for the successful and popular G36 rifle by the same manufacturer but yet to be officially adopted for service anywhere.

In a large holster low on his tight he had another oddity for the sidearm: HK MP7A2
csm_MP7A2_re_MicroT1G28_01_61bf98519d.png

one of those weird PDW class guns that never truly lost moniker "experimental," practically recoil-free and firing proprietary 4.6 mm x 30 cartridge specifically designed to defeat body armour.

"As to code names, I run as Wild Dog, but actually prefer Johnny with friends," he finally turned towards commander Codi.

"Going after a captive only identified by rendezvous point and a superficial detail sounds very much like a classic setup of course. Even if it's supposedly permanent thing like a tattoo. Then, I have went on a hunt knowing less."

He fumbled with streamlined but mean looking high-tech targeting computer, apparently intending to install it on his DSR.

"But if you asked me what kind of asshole would be tattooing an actual dragoon over the bakside of his tranny girlfriend, I would pick someone from Holy Hussaria, Polish nazi 'freedom fighters' who see EU as ongoing German occupation, but still hate Russians more. That's of course a random inconsistent thought and probably very misleading."

"In case you're wondering, they're fanboys of the Winged Hussars. You know, guys on horseback with lances and ridiculous feathered wings on the back just for show. Best cavalry in the world ever, and they lost no battle. Even when going against German light armour in 1939. Talk about being obsolete," Johnny glared on commander's Codi M4A1, "but they actually won the first charge, they were just that good. Of course, they won no war, not then not ever. Due to inept politics they were useless."

"Well, when you're going against tanks on horseback at least learn to fly."

It didn't seem he cared had anyone listened to his random recounting of an absurd legend.
 

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Questions?

Doc eyed the Commander.
He’d been careful not to speak out as he knew that his British accent would stand out. He also knew that his reputation was bound to have preceded him.
He cleared his throat.
“Good evening Commander. My callsign is Gandhi. I know that you’ve all probably heard that I’m some kind of hippy pacifist, but actually I just don’t like taking unnecessary lives. I’m pretty good at stopping people dying so I leave the ending of them to people more willing.
I only have one question and one request.
My question is: does anybody have anything they need to tell me? Is anyone asthmatic or have some congenital condition or an untreated case of pubic lice they haven’t declared?
My request: be honest when you get shot or injured. I know that you’re all so big and brave, but I have no intention of getting killed because some dumbass decides to be brave and hide a missing limb.
Other than that, I’m good to go”.

Doc sat back to observe his other teammates, waiting to see if the almost inevitable death would include any of this squad.
He picked up his rifle and started to check and clean all of the components, making sure he was ready for the mission ahead.
 
SwipeRight & Alexandria

From the second they had gotten their briefing, Flic had been on her rig trying to get as much information on the op as she could. As per usual the head honcho’s had not really looked too much out of the box as she found something interesting on the satellite coverage over the area. “Commander, Code name is SwipeRight, but feel free to call me Flic. I have the floor plans from the clinic, and the bills for raw materials used to alter it in the past few years, I am sure someone with some tactical insight will be able to give you a rough guess at what we can encounter inside. I also noticed two dark spots in the satellite coverage of the area. First one is obvious over the area. No way for me to switch it on without tripping up alarms, although I am pretty sure I can redirect a Brazilian TV sat to take over. But more interesting is the twice weekly loss of coverage on the road. The back door on the sat network is a bit less carefully hidden, so I could make sure we keep an eye open, should they go dark again.”

Then as the Eastern European guy started to talk she stopped listening, mostly because her attention was grabbed by his tech. When he was done talking, she stepped up to the man. “ Any chance I can have a looksy at the software you are running?


---


From the second they had gotten their briefing, Flic had been on her rig trying to get as much information on the op as she could. As per usual the head honcho’s had not really looked too much out of the box as she found something interesting on the satellite coverage over the area. “Commander, Code name is SwipeRight, but feel free to call me Flic. I have the floor plans from the clinic, and the bills for raw materials used to alter it in the past few years, I am sure someone with some tactical insight will be able to give you a rough guess at what we can encounter inside. I also noticed two dark spots in the satellite coverage of the area. First one is obvious over the area. No way for me to switch it on without tripping up alarms, although I am pretty sure I can redirect a Brazilian TV sat to take over. But more interesting is the twice weekly loss of coverage on the road. The back door on the sat network is a bit less carefully hidden, so I could make sure we keep an eye open, should they go dark again.”

Then as the Eastern European guy started to talk she stopped listening, mostly because her attention was grabbed by his tech. When he was done talking, she stepped up to the man. “ Any chance I can have a looksy at the software you are running? “

--

Alexandria was dozing off in the plain, she didn’t much care for the briefing, after all, someone would tell her where to drive and the rest would work itself out. “Nobody ever gave me a code name Ma’am. “ She said as that was technically true, while her Officers did have a nickname for her, she was pretty sure nobody ever filed “pain in the ass” as her official call sign. Then as the cute doc gave his codename and question, she did perk up and made her way towards him. “Yeah Doc, might not be in my file as I only found that one out a couple of weeks ago during down time, but I am totally allergic to latex unfortunately”
 
"Wild Dog" Johnny aka Lieutenant Jānis Kalniņš

I only have one question and one request.
My question is: does anybody have anything they need to tell me? Is anyone asthmatic or have some congenital condition or an untreated case of pubic lice they haven’t declared?
My request: be honest when you get shot or injured. I know that you’re all so big and brave, but I have no intention of getting killed because some dumbass decides to be brave and hide a missing limb.

Johnny was thinking is it worth the joke to claim lycanthropy, the standard issue allergy against stupidity felt lame and didn't have necessary context. Doc was serious and his concerns understandable, but he was British and could get the joke. That pubic lice was actually a joke, as was hiding a missing limb. Fun guy. He vaguely recalled Monty Python episode, there was something about a tiger and a leg, extra leg or missing or misplaced, it was fun, although he couldn't reconstruct the details. He laughed mentally, with no outer clue of it. Now he only had to compose a counter joke, something silly enough to be obvious.

Any chance I can have a looksy at the software you are running?

That question took him slightly off guard.

"You mean, on this?" He held up the smart scope he was working with:
77374810001_1697584796001_ari-origin06-arc-139-1340146846102.jpg

"Frankly, I don't know. Never had need to modify it. It's Israeli. Not a TrackingPoint you could hack through WiFi," he smiled. "But it does have video output and a hardware access point to upload ballistic tables, so in principle..."

"Or did you mean the rest of my gear?"

He looked the girl up and down with measuring glance. Then slightly leaned forward looking her in the eyes.

"Can I see you naked?"
 
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Then as the cute doc gave his codename and question, she did perk up and made her way towards him. “Yeah Doc, might not be in my file as I only found that one out a couple of weeks ago during down time, but I am totally allergic to latex unfortunately”

Doc smiled.
“I’m prepared for all sorts of medical emergencies and these days it pays to pack for every eventuality, including a latex allergy. You should be fine unless we come up against a crazy band of gimps intent on rubbing themselves against you. If that’s the case I prescribe a distinct lack of hand-to-hand combat”. Doc gave her another grin and a wink before continuing with his preparations.
 
Flic

"No I assumed it was not your standard off the shelf TrackPoint, but I am curious to see if the Israely just took the TP software and just took out the Wifi antenna."

As the man asked to see her naked for a second she blushed but then quickly recovered.

"Well I do not doubt your abilities to do so, after all, my visibility is not tied to my cloths, but lets keep this Hypophysis shelfed for a moment. You see I requested to see the software, to determin how much of a liability it will be to the mission."

She paused for dramatic effect.

"You see since now every hillbilly with a guiding systems fancies himself a sniper, paranoid people have started taking counter measures for them. And if the Isrealy just disabled wifi but the softeware still just take 11 variables into account for your shots, or they did not give it an EMP counter measure, not only could a paranoid and well funded individual have counters in place to "hack"the calculations the scope makes, but they could also be able to pin point you if they scan for electronic devices around the compound. That is if there are no EMP shielding in the scope itself."

She tried not to go to deep in the rabbit hole that is wat if's when it came to counter measures, but since she had literally done nothing else but build and break security plans for the last two years, it was kind of hard.
 
Corporal Alexandria Trask

Alexandria laughed at the doc's joke, while she wasn't to keen on people who activly tried to be a pacifist in warzones, she thought they would get on well enough.

"Don't worry Doc, I am more of a "I'll run you over with my truck"kind of girl."

With that said she moved over to the Commander.

"So Commander with all due respect. But how to we go about finding that person. Because if your luck has anything to do with it, that tattoo will be in some weird hidden place."

She said having figured out that she must be the hot thunder from her brothers stories.
 
APC

APC had changed into jungle fatigues. He looked just like a US soldier, except his hair was too long. He had a backpack with gear same as Hot Thunder, but there was one difference. A metal tube was secured to the side of the pack. He had also brought what looked like a metal “hat” box on the plane. It was just a little bigger than a bread box. If anyone remember how big those were…

As the others talked, he pulled out an Iphone from one of his pockets and started to play a video game. He did not seem worried or concerned about the mission at all.

Hot Thunder


Codi was leaning back in her uncomfortable C-130 seat. She was thinking about the mission. Nothing seemed to add up about their orders. They just seemed weird. The rush to get to South America with a team which had never worked together was asking for failure. The somber look on Capt Fisher’s face before they left, why was there a Brit and a Latvian on the mission? What was the deal with the spooky guy and his weird metal box? Finally, the lack of information on the target was bizarre.

She needed to figure out what was going on, or they all would be very dead very soon. The most important part was the target. Who was it? The words of Capt Fisher replayed in her head.

"As you are aware, this is an infiltration, smash and grab into a hostile South American country.

That part was easy. Venezuela was pretty hostile, particularly to the US.

“The target is known only by a dragoon tattoo -- yes, I said dragoon, not dragon -- across his or her ass. We do not know the Target's sex, or even whether he or she will be cooperative. All you need to know is that the Target is of vital importance to national security.”

Vitally important to US national security… but with a Brit and a Latvian on the team… must have been important to Europe as well. Maybe NATO. But they had no idea “who” the person was. Not even their sex. It sounded like a double agent. Someone that had important information about NATO or someone that had critical information NATO wanted.

"In two days, this person will be transferred by merc convoy along a coastal highway, actually, a one lane goat track, with a heavy escort. Enemy gunboats will be offshore, and the airspace will be covered by their helicopters and drones, with ground attack aircraft on 15 minutes standby. Nearest friendlies are several hours away."

No drug dealer had that kind of firepower. The Venezuela government had to be involved. Also, when there are that many assets assembled… they were not hiding this transfer. A double agent normally would be moved quietly, not with this kind of open display of security. Unless…

Codi had a sudden horrible thought. What if the whole transfer was a decoy? A trap to see if NATO would attempt to grab the target… Then Cod had a another even more disturbing thought. What if this “rushed” team with no information was a feint? A fake attempt to get the target. Once the attempt fails, a second, more put together team would be the real rescue team. The enemy would have lowered their guard having foiled the first attempt and be caught off guard.

Was her team just a decoy… attacking a decoy transfer?

That was when Corporal Alexandria Trask sat next to her and asked about finding a hidden tattoo.

“Corporal… Before I answer your question… I have a few things for you. You need a code name. Please pick one. If you can’t think of one… just throw two words together which don’t normally go together. Like Peaceful Tsunami, or Grim Panda Bear.” Codi told her. Then she reached in her pocket and handed her a 100 dollar bill. “Tell your brother, I’ll put $100 dollars on me dying on this mission. If I win donate the winning to some worthy charity” Codi said with a big smile on her face.

“This is a weird mission. But finding the tattoo is the least of our worries. I’ll enjoy a nice gangbang from all the Crimson Vultures’ thugs to find the guy or gal. But I’m trying to figure out who the person is first. A tattoo of the word “dragoon” is different. The word has three meanings. Normally it means a type of dismounted horse soldier. But it can also mean a carrier of a dragon musket or it is a variety of pigeon.” Codi explained.

“It has another meaning” APC said while still looking at his video game. “To force (someone) into doing something; to coerce. Like… she had been dragooned into helping with the housework”

“Thanks for listening in on a PRIVATE conversation!!” Codi said back to APC.

Then she whispered back to Alexandria “I fucking hate spooks. They spy on everyone.” Codi took a deep breath and then said “I’d like you advise on something… I think this mission is designed to fail. 1) They put me in charge, the last mission I was in charge… my SEAL unit almost killed me. 2) This team was pulled together at the last second with no training, and we don’t know each other. 3) We have almost no information on the target. 4) Our cover story is shit… and we are using weapon which will tie us directly back to special ops units.

What do you think? And if we are being set up to fail what should we do about it?”
 
"Wild Dog" Johnny

Johnny smiled, he liked how the girl - Flic - deflected his little attack. Could he have reworded it in a way to deny her this easy escape route, 'may I look at your nudity,' perhaps? Even closer to her original question he was countering, but who would talk like that. It was mostly rhetorical question anyway, and made desired effect, he believed. He sit back and smiled even wider when she went on her little tirade about security.

"See, I only wanted to point out how intimate your request was, for someone like me perhaps more than questioning your visibility without any adorments. Not that I wouldn't like chance to test it, and you will certainly get yours: we will have to run some team integration at some point ."

"This," he returned his attention to the scope, "should be least of your worries. Actually it predates TrackingPoint by several years and never was on civilian market, so if there any cross influence, it'd be the other way around. But good grief about hillbilly snipers, ballistic computer can only be as good as the data you feed to it, and I would rather have good spotter anytime. In any case it's me who have to make the actual shot. Well, unless you indeed go full TrackingPoint and take control away firing electric trigger when you happen to have aligned the rifle with calculated impact point more or less randomly. That's why hacking is such a huge problem for that system, you can do lots of interesting things.

"This only gives me one more clue. Useful, very of course, especially with subsonic ammunition at extreme ranges, that's almost archery already. Even if the comp is dead it still is completely fine scope, however. And it does have military grade EMP shielding of course. Also, the rangefinder laser has very short pulse and specific wavelength to minimise detection. Still it's probably worst security risk it has, but there's no need to pulse that before every shot either."

He was done speaking, it had been a lot of speaking, but a little girl interested in technology can do that to a man. Then he remembered something else Flic had said.

"You really could reroute a satellite, could you? But do you know kid, they're shoot up from earth with very limited fuel they need to counter atmospheric drag, however minimal still present at LEO? Rapid orbit adjustment can take years out of service life. That's so fucking wasteful. But that's not why you shouldn't do it."

"I bet the next blackout on the road coincide with our scheduled rendezvous, isn't it? Don't you see how nicely it is done, lights out and two cats in the room, but who is ambushing whom? And why?"

He took a deep breath.

"Then they're sitting in a fucking blind spot. I know for a fact pompous assholes pay good bucks to have their homes redacted out of Google maps and stuff, but an actual blind spot? How is that even possible?

"There's dozens of commercial cube sats scanning everything once every two days each, well their resolution is shit. There's a whole constellation of keyhole telescopes, well they have to waddle to look around, actual field of sight is tiny; but then there's all the other stuff including Russian, as few they're left with, some are cool. Guys in the desert fuck, live and die by the schedule of satellite flybys, and then there's motherfuckers nobody ever looking at. For how long? Unbelievable.

While talking he was tapping away on a small keyboard strapped inside of his right forearm, left handed and never looking at it.

"They must have so many tails in so many high places and spill so much grease around just to pull this little trick it's almost scary."

"Anyway, you only could see that much. For tactical visual I have Huginn and Muninn." Johnny flipped open his backpack, revealing two neatly folded minidrones.

"AirDog 5M. I bet you didn't know AirDog guys are Latvians. "M" was there for "mini" now stands for "military." Sorry, there won't be civilian version anytime soon. If you want to audit security on something may try them."
 
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Sean Hastings Venezuela, Day 3

While Hastings preferred to work alone, he had proven that he was capable of integrating into a team, even following a chain of command. He also preferred to stay in luxury hotels with poolside bars, but he could also slink through the brush with the best of them. He had spent the last day driving an old jeep through the jungle, carefully circling, but never entering within a kilometer of a certain location.

Which meant a lot of dirt tracks, washed out creek crossings, and simply getting out and walking. HE was doing things the old fashioned way, no laptops with topological overlays, no sat uplinks or wifi signals. Just a set of maps and a calculator. A notebook full of notes and a couple gigs worth of digital photos.

It was just after sunset, Sean was camped behind a low bluff, out of sight of the road, his jeep parked underneath the hanging bough of a Kapok tree. He sat with his back to the front tire, a small fire warming him, a hand rolled cigarette clamped between his teeth as he used a small flashlight to make longitude and latitude calculations. He sat back and inhaled a drag, letting it stream out in a liquid pool of blue smoke. This was quite frankly-

"Ridiculous." He said aloud to himself.

Who the hell could afford to create a blackout area this large? The resources and organization of such a thing were astronomical, like something out of a Bond movie.
While it was true that inhospitable terrain often defeated technology, these days there just were not many places on earth that could not be spied on. Maybe a lead mine or something. This was a compound in a jungle, not a cave complex.

There really were only two ways to get this intel. Three if he were willing to get himself captured, but that was off the table this time, as he had less than 17 hours before he had to met the rest of the team.

Option one: Make contact with someone who had an in with the merc companies hired by Diablos and the Crimson Vultures.

Option two: Make contact with the local guerrilla freedom fighters. They were reclusive in the extreme and psychotically paranoid, but knew the jungle like the back of their own eyelids. If anyone could tell him what was up, they could.

Either way, there was really only one man to talk to; Jack Cauten, Australian facilitator extraordinaire. A man who had tried his best to kill Hastings five years ago.

Hastings looked at his Casio G-shock Rangeman, setting the timer. 16:39 and counting. Time to head back to town and talk to a man at gunpoint.
 
Wild Dog Johnny

Even while talking with Flick, and working using augmented reality display built in what appeared to be almost clear and frameless tactical goggles (he wondered will Flick notice the minimal glow or reflections in his eyes), Johnny paid attention to everyone on board, listening in, as much as was possible over the leveled rumble of uninsulated aircraft's engines. His upbringing, instincts and trained senses couldn't be helped, he could only honour privacy by conscious silence, not wilful ignorance as some westerners seemed to be able.

“Tell your brother, I’ll put $100 dollars on me dying on this mission. If I win donate the winning to some worthy charity” Codi said with a big smile on her face.

That really draw Johnny’s attention. Was it just some ongoing joke, honest expression of despair or was she honouring superstition, old ritual, betting against her own life to amuse gods and earn protection? The later wasn't something he would expect from American captain with daredevil reputation, but perhaps there was more depth to this warrior woman, or she acted on instinct faced with a mission that was… some kind of a practical joke, wasn't it potentially deadly.

Indeed: daredevil commander, check; big bad wolf, check; smug intelligence suit pretending to be soldier, check; teenage hacker, check; pacifist doctor, check; random green soldier girl falling asleep on her feet, check.

That's a team for a Hollywood movie. Smart guy with the polished nails will get the green soldier girl at the end,miraculously averting the end of the world. Everyone else die one by one on the way, in expression of inhuman heroism and self deprecation. Starting with him.

Not a script he wanted to play out in the real world. Maybe he should kidnap a girl himself and go away out in the jungle, join a local tribe of savages and never wear clothes again. At this point in his life it might be the smart choice. However he could not, bound to his land and his loyalties, trapped by a myth.

The world wouldn't end and chase him down, and then he would end up fighting the whole world on behalf of a tribe of naked savages. Actually, there couldn't be a more noble cause, even if that was bound to fail, no matter how mighty god of war one could be. While that might be what he WAS fighting for, he did need all the crazy crap, layers upon layers of crazy crap.

APC got couple of points for suggesting meaning of “dragoon” Johnny wasn't aware of, nor the commander had think about. Symbolism it carried for their situation made a grim sense. Someone was playing fucked up game, and that guy was either indeed smart, or knew more than everyone else on board. His metal cake box and pipe piece was certainly among the strangest implements Johnny had ever seen someone to bring to battle intentionally, and he was dying in curiosity how those will be used. He made decision to stay alive at least long enough to witnesses that.

“I’d like you advise on something… I think this mission is designed to fail. 1) They put me in charge, the last mission I was in charge… my SEAL unit almost killed me. 2) This team was pulled together at the last second with no training, and we don’t know each other. 3) We have almost no information on the target. 4) Our cover story is shit… and we are using weapon which will tie us directly back to special ops units." Codi analysis was good, at least the commander wasn't dumb, whatever her reputation might be.

Johnny instinctively revised his gear. His impersonation of a wealthy member of the once again emerging caste of quasi independent knights had flaws, sure, but only thing really ringing directly back to home was drones, and those he won't allow to be captured.

Rather commander was talking about her own artillery, that indeed looked to be something interesting. In the ongoing hype of big guns even he was losing track, every small gunnery in the world, even armouries of individual services sometimes, everyone seemed to be determined to build the ultimate point-fifty calibre rifle. Samurai swords all over again.

What would he think observing from afar or finding deceased remains of this team? There was a classic spec-ops quad of soldiers, even if one was a brit, reinforced by himself, whomever he was, an unarmed girl and a guide he had yet to meet. Quite obvious infiltration mission indeed.

"What do you think? And if we are being set up to fail what should we do about it?”

Even while the question wasn't addressed to him, Johnny was losing his determination to not make any conclusions about the mission before opportunity to talk with the local guide awaiting them; he hoped that will be someone competent and knowing the area.

It wasn't at all first time he was going right into a trap, actually it was his default assumption every time, but this was… something else.

Colonel Veczemnieks wasn't joking promising to send Johnny on the worst assignment available.
 
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Corporal Alexandria Trask

Laughing as she pocketed the bill, she wondered if the commander realized there was no way to put that bet in, in their current situation. When she commented about hating spooks, the corporal snickered. “I kind of like them, you can never be sure if they are chocking you for your pleasure, or if they are on the job.” With that the young officer bounced away, looking for something to entertain her during the flight.

Flic

“Well being waistfull is not really a concern in this situation.” She said as she started the hack on the Brazilian telecom sat. It would be in position shortly after they touch down so hopefully they would learn more. Deciding not to press the matter of the scope at the moment, as the man seemed to have other plans, Flic gave him a little smile and walked away, at the same time she installed a little hud overlay in his AR that placed censor bars on the womans breasts and groin area to mess with him.

“Commander, we should have eyes on the compound once on the ground. Also haven driven with “Baby Driver” over there, I think that if you are sure it is an ambush, we could intercept the convoy shortly after they leave the compound. The guncarriers wouldn’t be an issue yet. I might very well be able to deal with the drones. And with eyes on the compound we would have an advantage. Or at least a heads up for when the get the hell out. “

Flic didn’t have much experience with following chain of command and such but one thing she had learned from working CIA ops is that the agents always liked it if they could accomplish their missions with out of the box means.
 
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