“As we have been here for four days now, there has been a dramatic increase in the suspects’ hired mercenaries. There used to only be one Egyptian sniper and an Iranian survival expert. Now there are three ex-Navy Seals, two former KBGs and a man who, as far as we’ve gathered, can shoot a snake’s eye from three hundred paces away with a pistol. With our radio interception equipment, we’ve found that in two days there will be a Black Bird helicopter coming down and picking them up. Therefore, we must stop them tomorrow at the latest.”
Finishing his briefing, the commanding officer huffed, a little out of breath, and told the men to get some rest. Tomorrow, they would be storming the suspects’ camp. Victor bid Francis good night and went to hit the hay. The next morning he awoke bright and early, packed his field bag, and borrowed a spare Winchester .357. At exactly 0450 hours, they set off into the brush to apprehend some criminals.
At the head of the procession was the commander (Who, as it turned out, was a colonel), after him were two soldiers, Francis, Victor, and the rest of the soldiers, numbering 12 in all. As they marched, snuck, and crawled to the suspects’ camp, they heard footsteps and quickly darted behind cover. The smart ones ducked behind rocks and trees, while the rest scrambled behind bushes and tall grass.
They saw the two ex-KBGs being led by the Iranian expert on patrol. As they stepped into the clearing, the soldiers opened fire with tranquilisers. The three men hit the ground with a thud. Two soldiers rushed over and tied them up. They propped them up against a tree and continued their mission. As they got near the camp, their luck ran out. The Egyptian sniper took out one of the soldiers before they found out what hit them.
Some confused yells and scrambling later, the eleven survivors began to return fire from behind cover. It was a shame they never thought to bring a sniper with them, otherwise, they would have saved themselves some casualties. The sniper had a semi-automatic sniper rifle with a suppressor and tripod.
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Therefore, to land a hit would mean more luck than the lot of them combined. Francis suddenly had an epiphany.
“What is,” he thought “I threw two grenades. One a smoke grenade and the other Nova Gas.” With that, he made up his mind. He made eye contact with the colonel, showed him the grenades, and the colonel signalled for everyone to put on their gas masks and charge at the signal. Once the masks were on, Francis threw the grenades. First, a white cloud of smoke billowed out. Mere milliseconds later, it was tinged in vomit coloured green.
The colonel uttered a single word: “Charge!” and an eleven-man group of exhausted soldiers mustered their strength, pulled out pistols and batons, and charged into the smoke.
Two words: Chaos Ensued. A bullet whizzed past Victor and he fired tranquilisers into the fog. By his side, Francis did the same, and they heard the grunt of someone surprised to find themselves suddenly drowsy, with a bit dart sticking out of their leg.
Suddenly, a baton caught Victor in the back of the knee. Victor crumpled like a napkin and saw the baton coming down for a follow-up swing. He pulled out his own baton and deflected the blow, rolled back, and faced the man like two fencers. The man swung for his’s head, but Victor blocked it and thrust the baton at the man’s stomach. The man barely dodged it and opted for an upwards slash as the riposte. Victor dodged back, pulled out his tranquillizer gun and fired at the man, the man blocked with his baton and aimed a kick at Victor. Victor threw his baton at the man, distracting him, while he fired with his other hand. The dart buried itself in the man’s shoulder and the man sank to the ground.
Panting, Victor turned to see Francis is a similar predicament, but with the slight caveat that his gun was lying on the ground next to him, broken in half by the force of a baton. Francis was a good fighter, but he was slowly giving ground, each block was sloppier than the last. Victor fired a couple of rounds in the man’s vicinity, but to his surprise, the man deflected them all. After the magazine clicked empty, he jumped in with his baton to support his friend. Much to their chagrin, the man had no trouble dealing with both of them and seemed to be enjoying himself. Seeing how they were in a pickle, the colonel jumped in, to no avail, the man could hold them all off, but now the two sides were at a standstill. It all came down to who had the most stamina. All of a sudden, a man’s voice rang out: “Stop!” It cried. Everyone halted and turned to see the speaker. When Victor saw him, he could hardly believe his eyes.