Story Bravo Objective: pt 2: Deployment

Bravo Objective: Pt 2: Deployment


Bravo Team FOB Wraith, Nome, Alaska.


The hall FOB Wraith was dark, lit only by dim bulbs attached to the ceiling. Soon, Bravo Team One reached a door with the illuminated words ARMORY over the doorway.

Bacca strolled into the armory with a purpose, with Maf, Light, and Evil right on his heels. He swiftly removed his Glock 17 9mm handgun from his leg holster and set it on the table in the center of the room, then went to work strapping on digital winter camouflage combat armor made of a plasteel and kevlar combination. Maf retrieved his Spas 12 from the wall, loaded its ammunition tube, and popped open a crate of shotgun shells, taking buckshot and slugs. Light grabbed his AK-47 and activated its acog sight, adjusting the reticle. Evil popped open a titanium weapons case, and produced his energy railgun, and hooked it up to a console to begin running diagnostics.

“What have we got?” Bacca called, shoving magazines for his Glock handgun into his chest harness. He then retrieved his P90 from the wall of the armory, slid a magazine into its top, and strapped it to his back. Evil ripped the wires out of their socket in his railgun, and pressed a button on the side, causing it to whir and hum. With Light strapped the AK-47 through the webbing on his back, and began assembling his Barret .50 Cal rifle.

“Russian Special Forces Command called in at 0145 hours this morning, requesting assistance at one of their Siberian radar stations. Spetsnaz has taken heavy losses there, and it’s looking grim.”

“Can’t believe the Russians came calling for help.” Light muttered crossly.

“Friend or foe, the politicians want to increase friendly relations with Russia. This is our opportunity.”

Light checked the scope on his Barrett .50 Caliber rifle, slid a magazine into its magwell, and chambered a round. “Spetsnaz won’t exactly be thrilled at our involvement.”

“I know. Let’s hope we don’t run into them.”

Maf finished prepping his Spas, and retrieved a UMP 45 from the wall. He inserted the magazine, cycled the bolt, flicked on the safety, and strapped it to his chest. He then drew his M9, kicked out the magazine, cycled the slide to eject its loaded round, and began screwing a suppressor into its threaded barrel. Bacca did the same with his Glock 17.

“Okay. We’re taking one of the transports in to the radar station. There is a storm coming, so we have to be fast, else we be knocked clean out of the air. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, and headed out of the armory towards the assigned transport.


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The team comm frequency clicked, and the pilot’s voice called out to Team One. “Coming over the drop zone now. Prepare for fast rope.”

“Roger. Prepping.”

The cargo bay doors slid open to reveal a winter wonderland in every sense of the term. Air whipped at Light’s face as he clipped into a line. Before he started down, he drew his Sig Sauer P226 automatic handgun, favored by the Navy SEALS, and started roping down.

Before he hit the ground, he spotted a man wearing winter camouflage, who was raising an AK-47 towards Light, and he dropped him with a single round to the head, painting the snow and tree behind the man red. He then clipped out of his line, and once Maf had started down with his UMP 45 dangling from a strap, he holstered the P226 and began removing his Barrett from his back where is was strapped next to his AK. Flicking on the scope, he activated thermals and instantaneously spotted a sniper and his spotter. With one swift movement, he cycled the charging bolt for the large rifle, and cracked off two shots, removing the two hostiles from the drop zone.

Maf landed next, UMP raised and ready to open fire. Then Bacca, Glock 17 drawn and

raised in his hand as he uncoiled from the line. Last was Evil, Desert Eagle holstered and plasma rifle strapped to his chest.

“Comms check.” Bacca said. The only means of communication they would have in the

middle of the blizzard would be their comm channel. Everyone gave a quick thumbs up, and then they spread out throughout the snowstorm, slowly moving in the direction of the dead snipers as Light kept scanning for enemies using the thermal setting on his scope.

Evil reached the bodies first. They were half-buried under snow at that point.

“Outdated Dragunov and AK, comms, winter camp Kevlar, definitely not Spetsnaz.” He

reported.

“Great. Terrorists who had a general idea of where we were dropping. Cross calling in

support off of the list.” Bacca grumbled. He checked that his P90 was securely on his back and that it was ready to go. He had foregone the suppressor on it and instead had one mounted on his Glock. Light had a suppressor on his Barrett in place of the muzzle brake.

The team moved forward, Light switching over to his AK-47 just for safety. It wasn’t long

before they spotted the first sentries for the radar station.

“Contacts, front right.” Maf hissed as he dove behind a small snowdrift. Bacca and Evil

rolled behind large trees, and Light slipped to prone on the hill he had been keeping watch from.

“Six men, dressed like those two snipers. All have AKs, one with an RPG.” Light

informed. “No way I can take six men that fast.”

“Wasn’t asking you to.” Bacca replied. “Which direction are they heading?”

“Directly between the two trees that you and Evil are hiding behind.”

“Oh, this is too good. Evil, rotate around the trees as they pass through. Knives out. Maf,

you take the other four with your UMP. Light, watch for runners.”

Everyone voiced their approval, and as the sentry team strolled between the trees

carelessly, Bacca and Evil slid out from behind and swung their knives down through the back of the two rear sentries’ necks. Then, to the great surprise of the remaining terrorists with the exception of one who dove over a snowdrift, Maf popped up and unloaded his UMP’s magazine into the frozen terrorists.

“Runner!” Snapped Evil.

“Got him.” Replied Light, who already had the running sentry in his crosshairs. He

squeezed the trigger and sent a .50 caliber bullet soaring into the runner’s back and out his front, pitching him forward and onto his stomach. He didn’t get up.

“Great shot Light.” Praised Bacca.

They searched the bodies of the sentries and found nothing of importance. Light

retrieved a combat axe that might come in handy later. It was well balanced, made by Kershaw.

Two hours and another patrol later, they came within view sight of the radar station.

“Light, see anything?”

“Negative. Just guards with mounted M60s. No stealthing our way in unless they’re

removed.”

Bacca sighed. “Take the shots.”

Once the guards were down, Light switched to his AK, and screwed a suppressor onto

his P226. He had buried his Barrett in the snow, and marked where it was. He wouldn’t leave his favorite rifle behind.

Evil slid open a side door, and Bacca followed closely by Maf rushed into the room,

sweeping for any hostiles. They found none. Bacca holstered his Glock and accessed a computer on the far side of the morning. Maf popped open a crate of equipment, and found several charged packs of C4. He yelped and jumped backwards from the crate.

“Uh, guys? We have a major issue.” He called.

Light came over and swore. “C4! They’re planning on blowing the complex.”

Bacca plugged in a thumb drive and stepped away from the terminal. “Timed or remote?”

“Timed. Timer’s set for fifteen minutes.”

“Well, then let’s find the signal source and eliminate it before the timers can be triggered. My guess is that there are more of these crates throughout the building. Let’s move.”

Bacca and Maf stacked on the door, and Evil kicked it open, his railgun lobbing lines of energy as he walked through. Beams of red light spat from the railguns muzzle as he picked off the stations occupying terrorists.

“Three contacts! Move move move!”

“Watch back left Light!”

Light raised his AK-47 and spat a burst of fire into one of the terrorists, causing him to pitch forward and over a railing overlooking a control center. There, a man in a suit was gazing up at them in astonishment.

“Get them!” He roared in a thick Russian accent.

Bacca raised his P90 and sent a burst of fire in Suit’s general direction. Suit ducked and ran out of the room.

“Evil! Maf! Stay here and mop up the remaining hostiles. Light, we’re after the runner.”

“On it.”

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Light charged through a door using his shoulder armor as a ram. He then raised his P226 and sent three rounds through the chest of a terrorist raising a Spas-12. He kicked the magazine out of the handle and slid a new one in as he ran, and blew through the next door.

Bacca shot two hostiles with his Glock and they kept running. He could see Suit making his way across a catwalk now.

“Split up!” He yelled as they came across a fork in the hallway. Light nodded and went right. He grabbed the combat axe he had picked up out of his belt. As he blew through a door at the end of a hallway, he found himself on the other side of a helipad, with a Mi-24 Hind spinning up. Through the cargo area, he could see Suit throw open a door, and gape at Light standing in his white digital camouflage armor on the other side of the helipad. Then, he started a mad dash for the helicopter.

Light began to run too, and as a terrorist stepped out of the heli holding a Desert Eagle, he reared his arm back and threw the combat axe, and watched it flip end over end through the air to plant itself in the skull of the terrorist, almost splitting his helmet in half. He kept running.

The dead terrorist pitched backwards and fell to the floor of the heli. Just before Suit hopped into the Hind, Light jumped and soared through the helicopter, and tackled Suit. He drove him to the ground, and looked up as Bacca rushed through the door that Suit had opened, holding his P90. He proceeded to send a magazine of rounds through the plexiglass around the pilot's, killing them.

Light looked down at Suit and tried very, very, hard to ignore the helicopter crashing to the ground only yards away from them. “Where is the disarming switch for the charges?”

It was a dumb question. Suit laughed. “I vill nevar give them to you.” He stated in his thick Russian accent.

“Okay then. Hardcase, eh?” He drew his P226 from his holster, cycled the slide, and stuck it under Suit’s chin. “Where. Is. The. Switch?”

Suit gulped, suddenly looking much more cooperative. “I-i-in my pocket.”

“Good boy.” Light said, and retrieved the switch from Suits pocket, and then hit Suit right at the base of his chin, knocking him clean out.

“Good job Light.” Bacca praised. “Transport Alpha-two-eight is on the way.”

Light nodded and stood up, flipping Suit over to zip-tie his wrists together.

“And Light?”

“Yeah?”

“That was grade A work out there.”

“Thank you sir.”

Light tossed Suit over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried him through the station to where a transport was setting down. He noticed that he had lost his AK-47 somewhere, and his P226 was out of ammo when he checked it. Suddenly, he remembered his Barrett.

He set Suit down, and ran over to the forest, and dug furiously through the snow. Eventually, he uncovered his trusted rifle.

A soldier had to take care of his weapons. Because they would be the tools that would save his life out on the battlefield.


The End


This was the second installment of the Bravo Objective series. Part three will feature at least one new character. Parts in this story were created by @Glock_Fanatic @Lightwielder @TheMafias and @MR_EVIL_OVERLORD. Part three will be following soon, after a short Wild West story is published.