0830 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 15 AUGUST 2112.
PESHAWAR, PAKISTAN.
Total chaos was spread around the city of Peshawar. The conflict between both major factions had dissolved into total war with no fronts, no sides. As the dust settled from the major firefights and conflicts within the area of operations it was clear that there was no victor, there was no loser. The ground held no value, and now it was a pure run to escape the fiery cityscape without being killed by the many hostile groups that roamed the barren streets.
All communications were cut off. The now eight-man group had confirmed that after making a casualty check immediately after the firefight. Cage was killed by shrapnel that cut his throat open. Jackson was shot through the head. Xavier took a round to an artery and bled out. And Ramirez had his arm blown off dying shortly after. They were unable to report and gain any form of CASEVAC or MEDIVAC, so they wandered the forgotten streets in the hope of making it out alive.
The only option they had was to leave this “dark zone” and return home defeated and weakened.
For the mission they were tasked with, what the Americans aimed to complete by leading the coalition forces, it was clear that this sudden blackout of communications would lead to a mass casualty event of not only allied forces, but civilians caught in the crossfire as well. The kill—capture mission for target “Brutus” had led to sixteen Delta Force commandos being killed in action, four Rangers confirmed KIA, and much of the same to the SSG that were found on site.
Mike took one glance at the boy that had died not five minutes ago. Taking a heavy breath, he wiped away a bead of cold sweat that ran down the side of his face. Managing to catch a glimpse of the other dead Rangers, he spotted the dead bodies of PFC Jackson, Corporal Ramirez, and Specialist Xavier lying next to each other, their arms gently folded over their chests holding an item they valued. Jackson held a picture of his family, Ramirez held a picture of himself and several Marines, and Xavier a small necklace that had unfortunately been broken when he was killed. The sergeant shared a broken and pained filled smile towards the deceased men as he walked out of the hole and back towards his position amongst the remaining Rangers. He stood just behind Sergeant Malkovich, and just in front of Technical Sergeant Baker who was keeping the rear secure. They all waited for Captain Oliver to make his final assessment and order to move on.
“Captain, we need to get a move on. The safehouse is out of the way, but it’ll take some time to get there. And I doubt that they won’t ignore what happened here,” Andrew advised providing a sharp glare towards the deceased separatists still lying in the road alongside the decomposing corpses of the SSG. “Search parties will eventually swing by this area. They’ll send in a cleanup crew once this is all over.”
Oliver looked overwhelmed. The events that had taken place within the last twenty-four hours had weighed heavily on his shoulders, and now he was forced to evacuate his men in a burning city without help from anyone. He had trained for this, but he wasn’t wholly confident in his plan of execution. “If they do.” He cut himself off before he said another word. Biting his tongue and recomposing himself, the captain breathed lightly, “We’ll be walking right alongside them.”
A small smile broke out on the lieutenant’s face. The junior officer nodded at his superior as he grasped his gator and pulled it over his nose. Only his eyes were visible. It seemed the CO of this now ragtag group of riflemen had chosen the right words. Spirits were raised, not by much, but it was more than enough to kick the men into action as the followed his next order, “Move it out!”
The only one he hadn’t truly gotten to was Sergeant Mike Randall. As the eight men moved under the sun’s rays, the captain fell back in the formation seeing that the young sergeant seemed like he was going to snap under the pressure that had all but been hurled at him in a matter of seconds. Placing a gentle hand on Mike’s shoulder, the sergeant almost jumped out of his distant gaze. He collected himself with a short curse under his breath and looked around him before setting his eyes on the captain.
“Captain?” He gently said turning on his AR. The bright noon sun shone over the city skyline and through the polarized glass he saw that the world beyond the man he was speaking to looked eerily like the many post-apocalyptic worlds that had been captured on the silver screen.
“You feeling okay son? Tell me what you’re thinking about.” In a gentle manner, Oliver removed his hand from Mike’s shoulder and nodded his head as he returned it to the pistol grip of his carbine.
“Just my father and sister…”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Oliver seemed surprised.
“Uh, yeah? Her name is Holly, Holly Randall. She’s my older sister,” Mike seemed perplexed speaking about his family in the middle of a warzone. “Something on your mind, sir?” He said returning the question to the captain.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure that out.” Oliver answered cryptically as his gaze fell to one of the formerly empty pouches on his plate carrier.
Mike saw a glint of silver but decided not to press on it.
“We can’t do anything now, this thing that we were suddenly thrown in to, we’re fucked to put it bluntly. The best we can do is make what we can of this mess and report back to command and get them to send a chopper or two.” He said tightening his grip around his weapon.
“I know you can get us out of this, sir.” Mike assured, “Can’t win everything, but you’ll be sure as hell well fight to get out of this place alive.”
“Perhaps. Who knows, I’ll probably be court marshaled for this if HIGHCOM wants to save face.” Oliver said with a self-deprecating laugh, “Don’t worry Randall, I’ll call the shots that’ll get the rest of us out, I’ve learned that much…”
“I’d rather we not get caught in another shit show like that.” Mike said abrasively. Oliver let out a small snicker as he slowly walked to the front of the formation.
Continuing forward, Mike fought the urge to place the casualties sustained all on Oliver. The captain thought he had made the right call. Trying to confirm the death of the target and attempting to dig anyone out alive was something even Mike himself would consider doing. It was just the cards at hand, and the lack of luck that got his fellow Rangers killed. The more and more he thought about it, the sergeant came to reason, and it was easier to remove all blame from the captain. He felt like a complete asshole for feeling this way, but thus, his humanity was both evil and blessed. He was no different than any other human.
They walked for some time in silence. The ambient noise of gunfire grew quieter and quieter as they slowly navigated their way through the destroyed streets and garbage filled alleyways. Most of the tension that had been captured by the squad-sized element had simply faded away and been replaced by a melancholy and somber atmosphere. Over the time span of fifteen minutes, they had come across several dead bodies, both civilian and American GI alike. Lieutenant Andrew was the one keeping track of the location of each dead American. He had been constantly marking up his map working alongside Sergeant Malkovich to determine the exact location they were at each time they found a body.
“Captain!” Anthony called out during one of their investigations of a destroyed American LAV. “There seems to be a water pump over here, why don’t we take five?”
Walking past the corporal, Oliver placed his hand on the valve and turned it gently. His eyes lit up as a small stream of water dripped onto the dirt below, and a medium sized bucket that seemed clean was laid next to the pipe. “Alright everyone, let’s stop inside the building and take five.” He said withdrawing his rifle and moving to the door nearby.
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Turning in silence, Lieutenant Andrew was the only one to notice the wavering gaze that shone in Oliver’s eyes. The junior officer narrowed his eyes as he held his breath. As he walked alongside the others, he couldn’t help his gaze as it kept drifting to the captain.
Moving alongside each other, the men stormed the small house that was isolated amongst the tall apartment buildings. Within two minutes the house and its four rooms were cleared. Sergeant Malkovich, Anthony, Jacob and Simon took up a defensive perimeter. Oliver walked alongside Technical Sergeant Baker as he knelt at the small pipe and turning it on. He used a small plastic container with an unknown chemical sitting at the bottom. After capturing some water, Baker clamped the object shut and shook it fiercely.
Observing the light-colored liquid within, Baker gained a cheeky smile as he stood up and turned around. “The water’s good. Just remember people, the first part of SERE is, survive!”
Rotating on three-minute shifts, the Rangers followed Baker’s instructions as he helped them resupply their water reserves and assist them in decompressing. In total, thirteen minutes had passed since they broke off on duty. Mike remained silent as he fell back from his post outside the building. Captain Oliver had called everyone inside, he had wanted to remove their immediate visible presence, and he had delegated the task of making a simple soup to Malkovich.
By this time, the dreary thought of not escaping Peshawar alive had crept into his mind. It provided a great distraction as he fought to keep his mind clear, to keep it alert for any hostiles that might have been tracking them since their last engagement at the target building. He was party thankful that Oliver had called off the current watch. It was nearing the fifteen-minute mark, and the blaring daylight heat still was disorienting even with a refresh of lukewarm water. As he looked around the main living room the squadron had turned into a temporary bivouac, he silently watched as the Rangers conversed amongst themselves sharing quiet words.
Slowly breathing, Mike turned his attention to the soup that Malkovich was cooking in a large pout he had found. Along with three MREs, some meat, vegetables, and spices he had raided from the pantry, the aroma that filled the room was quite appetizing, and due to that, Baker found himself voicing his concerns over being compromised due to the smell.
After some time, Malkovich dished out medium sized servings to the men he was cooking for. Each one ate in silence only saying a sparingly rare number of words usually directed towards the sergeant that cooked for them.
“Fuck.” Andrew had kicked a rock sitting by his boot. His curse had drawn the attention of the PFC next to him, Jacob.
“LT?” Blowing on the hot soup, the nineteen-year-old leaned against a wall.
“Did we make a mistake? Going to the ruble?” The junior officer lamented, trying to understand and logically compartmentalize what had happened and why they did.
“What kind of question is that?” Jacob said arching an eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
Turning his gaze away from the two as they returned to silence trying to finish their meals, Mike found himself staring at the untouched soup in his own bowl. Much to Malkovich’s teasing and chagrin, the sergeant had taken a smaller portion of the stew and now found himself staring at the mix of meat, vegetables, garlic, salt, and pepper filling a fourth of the bowl. Taking a small silver spoon that he was provided, Mike gently scooped up some of the stew and hastily placed it in his mouth. The complex tastes filled his mouth but wasn’t quite enough to distract him from the dust and dried blood covering his hands. Earlier, he had handed his hydration pack to Jacob. The young PFC had filled it up for him, thus he never even grew near the water while he pulled guard duty.
Snapping himself out of the haze he had wandered into, Mike began to scan the area out the window that he sat next to. Within seconds he spotted a brown-haired dog strolling onto the property. The mut had reached the center and lifted its nose towards the sky, then quickly returned it to the ground. Mike placed his bowl down as he kept watch of the street nearby. The dog had no doubt been attracted by the smell of the stew, and it was very well a possibility that the dog was being watched or even commanded by hostile forces.
Their position was compromised.
Blinking several times, Mike noticed a white haze growing in the distance. A light pain grew at the front of his head, and he backed away from the window caressing his forehead trying to nurse the pain. Hallucinations would be a major indicator of dehydration, so he took his hydration pack and drank from it slowly as he gently closed the blinds of the window, he was next to.
“So, what now?” Anthony asked finishing the bowl of stew he had. “How long till we reach one of the infantry platoons guarding the city exits?”
“If I remember correctly, there were fifteen platoons at each major exit and entrance to the city. Had some support units as well, so if we’re going to find our way out, we’d be risking friendly fire due to them being stationed there to stop any fleeing insurgents.” Malkovich said as he poured a bowl for the captain.
“Big Red One was handling that, right?” Simon asked as he took of his glasses.
“That’s what the report and briefing said.” Randall quietly interjected.
Conversing to each other trying to find a solution to this sudden problem, the Rangers gathered around in a small circle to discuss their options and try to conclude what their next move should be. The pot of stew was slowly emptied into the stomachs of each man, and to the side, Oliver at his fill alone as he stared aimlessly at the group. Within the 75th Ranger Regiment, Oliver was one of the few captains who allowed this type of engagement from his troops. Sure, he was hard-boiled, but the other captains within the regiment leaned towards the “balls hard” approach when dealing with their immediate subordinates.
He had always hated those types since he was a dainty and naive Second Lieutenant.
All he wanted was a beer, not this mess.
“Do you think this is happening in every city? The whole nation?” Malkovich wondered aloud as he gently set the cover on the pot.
“Nah—can’t be,” Jacob followed up, “Satellite communications should still be up. A third party would’ve had to step in to set up jamming rigs on each and every city.”
“The Russians?”
“No.” Mike said forcing his way into the conversation. “President Volodin has been working closely with the U.S. and I doubt that they would pull as stunt like this after joining us in training exercises with one of the infantry battalions a few months back.”
As Mike tried to get comfortable in his seat, a bright light suddenly flashed him in the window making him flinch and fall to the ground. The men were alarmed by their sergeant collapsing to the ground in a panic, and only after two seconds they spring into action as they spread out in the main foyer trying to grab a piece of cover.
“Keep your head down!” Baker barked as he and the others waited for the moment of a hail of bullets to penetrate the walls and windows.
“What’s the SITREP?” Andrew asked moving beside Mike as he scrambled to the wooden table that was now overturned.
“I don’t know.” Mike answered with a grim expression.
“I don’t see anything!” Jacob said as he kept his rifle aligned on the window that was once behind Mike. “Could it be a gunship?”
“Then where the fuck is the helicopter? I don’t hear jack!”
“Settle down!” Captain Oliver bellowed taking control of the erratic men that were completely blindsided by the light. “Randall, get out the door!” He ordered withdrawing a smoke grenade from his vest.
“Yessir, cover me.” Mike said as he removed himself from behind the table and moved towards the door with his rifle raised. He gently placed his left hand on the doorknob and twisted it. The others anxiously waited in positions to provide fire support. Opening the door, sure that he was going to die, Mike steadied his heart and mind as he stepped outside.
Placing his boots on the ground, the sergeant slowly scanned the area.
Slowly lowering his rifle, Mike stared at nothing but a void of white.
Gone were the streets of Peshawar, and all that remained was an infinite white haze that stretched as far as his eyes could see. “It’s clear! You’re going to want to see this!” Mike called out as he pinched his arm trying to make sure he was awake. One-by-one, each riflemen stepped outside, many amazed by the fact that the sergeant wasn’t full of bullet holes and that he had completely lowered his guard in this new environment.
“I’m sure sunlight tends to be yellow, orange, or some other shit, not white.” Simon let out as he stared at the sky.
“Did a nuke go off?” Malkovich questioned wishing he had a Geiger counter on hand.
“Sergeant, I’m pretty sure a nuke would’ve eviscerated us all. Our retinas would be fucked anyways, so we wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing.” Andrew answered.
PFC Jacob remained silent until he noticed Captain Oliver seemingly wandering in circles. He was distressed and something was clearly on his mind as he pranced around behind the squadron.
“Captain?”
“Where the fuck is the building!?”
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Publicly Available Information: Intercepted Messages 1 — SITREP:
Mr. President, I can confirm that the mission to capture the high-value-target “Brutus” in Peshawar Pakistan has failed. All troops on ground were taken off guard by the communications blackout and were either wiped our or significantly weakened within the city. Russian QRF remains on standby, but I cannot say they will be of use considering the possible threat of a nuclear device. NEST teams are on standby, but they need full support to enter the city and confirm the threat.
I am already aware of the Spetsnaz units that have been deployed alongside Jacob Beret ODAs in the region, but I cannot say that they will be enough to locate the Pakistani President’s daughter. Worse enough, mercenaries under the Afghani payroll have entered Pakistan and have begun to engage all coalition forces within the region. They are supplying munitions and training to the insurgents which places the U.S. and Russia in a hot zone where over 3000 nukes could be at stake.
There are many objectives that the mission in the middle east aims to complete. This is just one of five sub-set objectives that current status is, unknown.