Book Marksman: Chapter 3: Hardships.

Next installment in the Marksman series. Little longer than I wanted it to be, but oh well!

The twins are shot down flying into Afghanistan, and they must, with the help of their pilot, Rock, survive long enough to where help can arrive.

Soulless reaches the FOB of a private military corporation, and must infiltrate it to discover why an operative Hind is marked as shot down.

Meanwhile, Dark and Evil are trapped in their cave by strange enemies who are well armed, and must fight their way out.

Marksman: Chapter 3: Hardships.

Titanium snapped awake, reaching up to push a metal sheet off his chest, groping for his M4 assault rifle, and was dismayed when he discovered it was lost. He swore and drew a Beretta M9, checking that it was loaded.

“Plat, bro, where you at?" He yelled.

There was a groan, and a pile of broken plane pieces shifted. Platinum sat up, and drew a hand across his soot-blackened face. He had surprisingly managed to keep his M4 assault rifle, the sling tangled in his right arm. He untangled it and flicked the safety off, checking that the grenade launcher on the bottom tactical rail was still functional. “I'm good. Where's your rifle?"
“Somewhere over here." Titanium responded. “If we could just find it-"

Someone yelled over on the other side of the wreckage. The twins were instantly alert, crouched low and searching for a target. Then they heard the yell again. It wasn't one of pain, but one of frustration.
Platinum looked at Titanium. “Check it out?" He asked.

“Yep."

The two moved slowly and cautiously. Titanium drew his combat knife to back up his M9, and held them in a cross-grip style, gun hand's wrist steadied by the knife hand's wrist. Platinum edged forward, M4 rifle ready.

Rock was having an amazing day.

He had been put into a C-130 pilot seat on short notice, been criticized by his CO, shot at, blown up, and, now, trapped under a weapon rack. A gash on his right cheek burned like hell, but it was a lot less than how his ribs felt. They weren't broken, but they were probably cracked.

Rock pushed on the rack again, trying to free himself. He tried again and again to no avail. Then, he heard something shift out in the wreckage.

He wasn't alone out here.

Rock tried to shift his arm to his Sig Sauer P226 pistol sitting in its holster, but he couldn't move his arm all the way. He took a deep breath in and forced his arm down as hard as he could, the palm of his hand hitting the grip. He yanked back, and the pistol slid free. He tried to raise it in time, but it was too late.

Rock found himself staring down the barrel of an M4A1 assault rifle, with an under barrel grenade launcher. Rock dropped his handgun, and the rifle was lowered.

The sun was shining down at an angle that hid the operators face, but when he kneeled down, Rock recognized him as Platinum, one of the operators he had been carrying in the C-130. “That you Rock?"
Platinum asked.

Rock nodded, coughing. “This stupid rack has me pinned."

Platinum nodded and waved off to Rock's left. The other operator, Titanium, came running over, M9 in hand. The twins grabbed part of the rack pinning Rock, and heaved. It slowly rolled free.

Rock pushed himself up and gasped, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He picked up his P226 and stuck it back in his holster. Unzipping his flight jacket, he unstrapped his vest, wincing, and looked at his ribs.
They were every shade of blue, black, purple and green. Platinum knelt and took a look, grimacing.

“They aren't broken as far as I can tell. But you've got some amazing bruises."

Rock started to chuckle, then gasped. That hurt. A lot.

Platinum started to reach for his first aid kit sitting in the ground. That was when the first bullet went tearing through the air.

Soulless moved his eye from his AR-15's scope to survey the compound. The whole place was surrounded by a fence topped with razor wire.
Guards patrolled the fence, armed with G36 rifles and black Kevlar. They would be nasty business. Meanwhile, the helipad on top of the building complex itself was busy, helicopters of all sorts came flying in and out all day, refueling and rearming. Soulless hadn't seen the Hind he was tracking yet.

His miniature radar scanner beeped next to him. He glanced at it and saw a ping towards the west. Right where he was facing.

“Perfect." He murmured, and sighted up with his rifle. He could hear the helicopter now. It would come around a mountain bend in a couple moments. Then it appeared.

It was the Hind.

The gunship took a straight line for the compound's helipad. The lights lit up around it. The Hind made it over the fence, the downdraft causing the razor wire to rattle. The Hind tilted backward and lined up with the pad. Then, slowly, it settled down onto the pad, it's engine winding down.
Soulless chuckled. This was perfect. He set his AR-15 onto the ground, and pulled a magazine out of his chest harness and set it next to his rifle. He pulled his Glock and dropped the magazine out of its mag well and checked the clip. Seventeen shots, plus one in the chamber. He had two 9mm clips left, and three 40 round .223 clips. He checked the rest of his equipment. Vortex scope, side mounted red dot, tactical light with strobe and flood function, infrared and regular laser, suppressor for AR and Glock 17, 6-inch KBAR knife mounted on left forearm, karambit sheathed in chest vest. Flashbangs, single C4 charge, grappling hook, and two thermite grenades. He slammed a 40 round magazine into his AR. 41 shots.
All he needed was an entry point.

Something glinted under the sunlight and caught his attention. There was a gate on the eastern side of the complex. It opened to admit several trucks inside the fence.

Soulless grinned. He had his way in.

Footsteps echoed through the tunnel as a team of eight mercenaries made their way through the darkness of the tunnel. They hung left around a corner, G36 assault rifles raised, tactical lights sweeping the walls of the tunnel as they continued.

They approached a right turn and the one in the lead said, “Hold up. This is where the other team lost contact."
One of them flattened themselves against the wall, and leaned around the corner to peek. “Clear." He murmured, and then rounded the corner.

Several metal and plastic crates of ammunition had been pushed to form cover facing towards the exit of the cave. One of the crates was marked with a bloodstain. Another had a body leaning against it. A merc kneeled to check it. “It's one of ours." He reported.

Another one looked deeper into the cave. “More bodies to check."
The team acknowledged and fanned out, weapons raised.

Dark kneeled behind a crate, breathing slow and steady to keep from hyperventilating. He had half a clip of ammunition left in his M4, but couldn't change out for a new one, in case he alerted the second team of enemies sweeping the cave Omega team had been operating out of.
Dark could see Evil, pressed up against a pair of crates double stacked as a tower. He had his Desert Eagle in one hand, a primed flashbang in the other.

Evil looked at Dark, and Dark looked at Evil. Evil raised the flashbang questioningly, and Dark shook his head. He indicated the grenade launcher on the underside of his M4, and communicated using hand signals that Evil could throw the flashbang as soon as Dark fired the grenade. Evil made an “OK" signal.

Dark flicked the safety off the grenade launcher, and edged out to the side of the crate. . .

. . .and found himself face to face with a mercenary, G36 rifle aimed at Dark, just as Dark had his M4 aimed.
He did t hesitate, he yanked the trigger once, planting a round between the merc's eyes. He instantly raised the rifle and fired the grenade launcher into the ceiling of the cave. Evil ducked around the corner of the crates and Dark withdrew quickly. He heard a muffled yell, and then the flashbang detonated.

The cave flashed white, and Dark could hear nothing but a ringing in his ears as hundreds of decibels of noise flooded his ears. He wasn't blinded, though.

He popped up over the crate and pulled the trigger. The burst of fire lasted for about six seconds, the rounds slamming into helmets, Kevlar armor, and exposed flesh. Then the rifle clicked empty, and Dark ducked back down behind his crate as bullets stitched a line of fire past his head. He fumbled with his next magazine.
Evil reached around the edge of the container and fired two shots. Two enemies fell. Those had been the last two shots for his pistol.

Dark banged in his last magazine and popped up over the container to fire again, but his rifle took a bullet in the breach, rendering the weapon inoperable. The merc's were recovering from the flashbang. Dark ducked back down and scrambled to grab a weapon from where it lay on the floor.

Evil drew a knife and threw it, catching one of the last two operatives in the throat. He then threw a nasty right hook, fist catching the last man in the jaw and whiplashing his head around. The man came back, his fist smashing into Evil's left cheek.

Dark finally got his hands on the weapon on the floor and cycled the pump, loading a shell.

The merc spun in a reverse kick, heel smashing into Evil's ribs. He feared his fist back to throw another punch.
Dark yanked the trigger and the Remington 870 12 Gauge shotgun kicked like a mule against his shoulder. The last merc was blown over.

Evil leaned against the tower of weapons crates, breathing heavily. Dark cycled the pump on the shotgun and put another round of shot through the last guy's body. Then he dropped the weapon.

“That was close." Evil muttered.

“Yeah." Dark murmured. He picked up his rifle and checked the breech. The bullet had damaged the bolt. It would not move cartridges around anymore. Dark dropped it and picked up the Remington shotgun off the floor again.

Evil grabbed mags of ammo from a crate and stuck them into his harness, and picked up his M4. Dark slung the Remington shotgun across his back and picked up a G36 rifle from the floor. He checked the magazine and noted it was full, and cast around for spares on bodies.
“C'mon." Evil said, turning to leave. “Your brothers need us."

Titanium pulled the pin on his last grenade, but held the handle in place. If he held it live for three seconds, threw it, and it landed how he estimated it would, it would take out the group of enemies he was taking fire from. Over a little ways away, Platinum fired a burst from his M4 and ducked back into cover.
Titanium released the catch on the grenade. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi."
He threw the grenade over his cover , and it detonated a couple seconds later, sending three enemies flying. He raised his M9 and fired two shots into each of the bodies, then, vaulting over his hastily arranged barricade, he ran to pick up a rifle.

Rock was faring well in the battle. He took calm, clean shots with his P226. He set the sights and squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet clean through the face of an enemy. He dropped back down next to Platinum and dropped the empty magazine out of his handgun, and felt for a fresh one, realizing he was out. Platinum pulled one out of his chest harness and handed it to Rock. He nodded his thanks, slammed it into he mag well and dropped the slide, and resumed firing.

Titanium was doing okay until the bullet slammed into his chest. He had been reaching for a new magazine for his G36 when a lucky round from a pistol caught him. His Kevlar chest plate under his gear stopped the bullet, but he couldn't breathe. He lay on his back fighting for air.

A figure came up and kicked the rifle he had been using away from him and drew a pistol from a holster. Titanium found himself staring down the barrel of an H&K VP9 9mm. The safety was flicked off. He could only see his enemies eyes. They glinted with an evil light.

Then, the man standing over Titanium took a round through the head. Another figure wearing the green and tan digital camouflage fatigues and vest of the U.S. Special Forces came running, an M9 aimed. They fired two more shots into the corpse of the mercenary just to ensure they were dead, then they turned towards Titanium, swapping M9 magazines as he did so.

Titanium found he could breathe again, and grinned as his older brother Dark helped him up, handing him the M9 as he did.

Evil spotted two figures wearing Special Forces gear crouched behind a makeshift barricade of sheet metal from the plane and miscellaneous parts and pieces. One of the figures was fiddling with a jam in his M4. The other was popping up and firing a Sig Sauer P226.

Evil dashed and slid the last twelve feet behind the barrier, bumping into Platinum as he did. Drawing a grenade off his harness, he yanked the pin with his teeth and flicked the catch off, and chucked it towards the firing position of the enemy. There was a yell, then an explosion.

It was over.

Three trucks, the last delivery for the day, pulled to a stop outside the fence gate of the compound, their hoods steaming in the cold mountain night. Guards came out and checked the driver's identification and glanced in the back before waving them on. Soulless waited until the guards were back at the gate, and pushed himself up, moving towards the rearmost truck.

He dropped to prone and rolled under it, AR-15 securely strapped across his chest. He reached up and grabbed the support beams holding the cab of the truck, and pulled himself up, situating himself to the left of the driveshaft. The truck lurched, then began to move.

Soulless felt his arms begin to burn, and he took a deep breath, then let go with one arm, shaking it, then did the same with the other, releasing the lactic acid that was building up. He took a deep breath in and then out, praying his arms would not slip.

Finally, the truck rolled to a stop, and Soulless heard the doors open and slam shut, boots crunching to the ground. He settled himself to the ground, then, placing a hand on his AR-15, rolled out from underneath the truck. He rose to a crouch and scanned his surroundings, instantly spotting a guard in his path he had chosen earlier that day. Soulless kicked the rifle up to his shoulder, set his crosshairs, and pulled the trigger, sending a round through the guard's head. He fell to the ground and didn't move.

Sweeping the area, Soulless made his way over to the guards body, and grabbed the corpse by the shoulders, letting his rifle swing in its sling. He threw the body in a dumpster and shut the lid. He then he grabbed his grappling hook. Looping part of it through his arm, he threw the hook up over the roof and then pulled, causing the hook to bite in to the 3 foot concrete wall ringing the top of the two story building.
Soulless grabbed the rope with both hands and began to climb up the two-story building. He adjusted his path upwards so he could avoid stepping on a window, and eventually reached the top. He pulled himself up and over the wall, and noted a guard standing in the center of the roof. Soulless quickly drew his Glock and whistled. The guard turned and took the bullet full on in the face.

Re-holstering his Glock, he retrieved his grappling hook, then moved over to a stairway, AR-15 tilted so he could utilize his canted red dot sight. He kicked open the door and moved down the stairs. He leaned around a corner and peeked down a hallway, then stepped out, AR raised.

Soulless made it to the end of the hallway, and glanced into a room. It was filled with computer terminals manned by black armored members of the military corporation. This room was exactly the one Soulless was looking for.

Slowly, he pulled a flashbang off his harness and pulled the pin. Stepping around the corner, he whistled again, and the five guards turned their heads in surprise. Soulless threw his flashbang underhand, letting the safety catch fly off, and he ducked back through he doorway and around the corner, grabbing his AR. As soon as the flashbang went off, he was back through the doorway, sending a round through one guard's head, and pumping two more rounds into another's. He turned and double tapped another two guards, who were wiping their eyes, and headshot the final one.

Soulless turned to what looked like the main terminal. Out of a pocket on his combat vest, he drew a thumb drive and inserted it into a USB port on the terminal. A window popped up, and the program loaded on the drive began to crack the encryption guarding the files.

Then, everything went wrong.

First, the alarm began blaring. Soulless whipped around and saw one of the guards he had taken down earlier with a double tap was still alive, and holding himself up with one hand by the alarm box, the other clutched against his stomach. Soulless drew his Glock, since his AR was sitting on the terminal desk, and fired six rounds into the guard's chest, dropping him instantly. Soulless dropped the pistol magazine, now empty, and replaced it with his final magazine, cycling the slide.

He then heard a clanging outside the computer room, and ran over to slam the door shut. He rotated the locking bolt, then removed a thermite grenade off his vest. Twisting if, it split into two halves and a detonator. He stuck it above and below the bolt on the door, and stepped away, activating the charges. There was a pop, then they began to burn, fusing the door together.

Something slammed into the door from the outside, and then again. There was more clanging, and someone yelled, “It's locked!"

“Then unlock it you dimwit!"

A key rotated in the lock, and then something slammed against the door again. “No good!"

Soulless glanced at the computer and started typing in commands. Soon, the program was making copies of the entire database.

There was a new, really loud bang at the door, and Soulless muttered “C'mon. Any day now."

More yelling. Soulless holstered his pistol and grabbed his AR-15, and swung the stock against the window next to the terminal. It shattered. He reached for his grappling hook.

The download finished. Soulless grabbed the drive and stuck it into his vest.

The door blew open. Several figures clad in black armor rushed in, G36 rifles raised. They had been forced to blow the door open with C4.

They swept the room and checked it was clear. One inspected the grappling hook attached to the windowsill and swore. Then they started to click at the computer.

The mercenary got to the file history and swore, smashing his fist onto the table. Something fell off the underside, and he looked to see what it was.

It was six rectangular C4 charges stuck together with electrical tape attached to a remote. It had been stuck to the underside of the table with an adhesive square. The red arming light was lit. The merc went to yell a warning, but it was too late. There was a flash and he felt nothing.

Soulless watched the fireball consume the top of the building. There had been a lot of C4 in the bomb he made himself. He stuck the detonator in his pocket next to the drive and, holding his AR-15 with one hand, walked away into the night.

The End.

Thanks for reading!

Tags:
@MR_EVIL_OVERLORD
@rocktomb34
@DarkTitan_
@TheTitaniumTitan @ThePlatinumTitan

 

I'm hoping to do more of a combat scene with the whole team next chapter. Still considering what I'm going to do. Maybe raid that compound again