Chapter 38

 THIRTY-EIGHT

Trigger watched through the FLIR pod as the massive helicopter hovered over the target building. A wavering jet of exhaust from the turbines glowed white in the image before being thrashed around in the rotor wash. Almost immediately, Trigger could see the small grey blobs of Basilisk descend onto the roof and go about their mission, and as quickly as the helicopter arrived, it took off over the stadium across the street. He took a look at his watch and quickly jotted down the time.

“Lifting, five personnel inserted. Returning to holding area.” Lauren reported over the radio.

 

Even without the aid of the sensors, he could see the flood of people evacuating the building.

 

His job from this point was now more overwatch than close air support, and while important, was boring as hell to him.

 

He looked across the bay. He’d been to Anchorhead twice prior. First time was with the LRSSG to disrupt an Erusean staging area to prepare for the Farbanti invasion, and the following time was the ultimately fruitless escort of an Erusean General.

Intel screwed the pooch with that one.

 

The city looked different, now nearing a year since the fighting had subsided. No longer was the sky filled with anti-air shells and the ground being shaken by poorly aimed explosives. Trigger turned his attention to his radio; As far as the local air traffic control was concerned, the Longsword was no more than one of the dozens of survey flights that flew along the bay constantly. In the water, he could see the red lights of the navigation buoys outlining the sunken vessels. He couldn’t help but draw his own comparisons to his own experience years prior.

***
The air raid sirens blared in the distance below. Black smoke belched from the bay as hundreds of contrails filled the skies.

He looked through binoculars at the burning hulls, most of the ships didn’t even leave port before they were hit. Others had crewmen evacuating as their fuel bunkers lit aflame and exploded. One lone aircraft carrier, tucked away in the furthest portion of the harbor started to trudge its way forward, sidestepping her fallen comrades.

 

There was a deafening roar above him. A Tomcat shot past going impossibly fast, followed by another three smaller, sleeker F-5 Tigers.

 

He looked in vain to see the tail markings, possibly for any squadron of the Barbet, but the fighters were long out of sight. Taking a sigh, he set the binoculars down to watch the chaos unfold from a distance.

***

Trigger shook his head and checked his watch. Should be wrapping up soon. He thought to himself. The gunfire over the radio had subsided quickly, there was one minor injury but none of the Oseans were seriously hurt or worse. Trigger could see from all over the city as flashing lights descended on the entertainment district.

 

“Archer 15, Lancer. Do you have visual on the LZ?” The CH-53 pilot asked.

Trigger quickly slewed the pod over across the bay to the park. The small empty spot along the water in the industrial zone of the city. As expected, the minor police presence that patrolled the region had been called away across the bridge which would allow the CH-53 to land relatively unnoticed.

“Lancer, Archer, LZ is Ice, you should be the only ones.” Trigger reported.

“Copy Archer, will be nice to be able to stretch our legs for a moment or two.” Lauren replied.

 

There was the sound of squealing tires that filled the radio, “Magus has linked up with Assassin, we’re oscar mike.”  Fick replied.

“Copy Magus.” Trigger replied.

The plan was to fight their way onto the highway, and from there, head through the financial and industrial districts and exfil at Grunder Park. Triggers entire job was to harass anyone following the Marine’s vehicle. He frowned at the irony of the situation. Trigger tapped on the Longswords SA display until it highlighted their BLUFOR tracker, a small blue diamond appeared in his display as the FLIR locked onto their vehicle.

“Magus, Archer, be advised, two vehicles on your six, closing.” Trigger reported.

“Archer, Rider 1-3, Vehicles are local law enforcement. Will need a show of force pass. Inbound from the west” Morgans voice crackled over the radio. It wasn’t a proper nine-line but it was close enough for Trigger to get the idea.

“Understood. Archer inbound.” Trigger reported.

With the stick, he selected the GAU-19 gunpod on the right wing; rolling the plane abeam the fleeing Marines, he advanced the throttle. Building up speed he started a climbing right turn over the bay, before rolling the Longsword over to the left and descending towards the city. Swinging the Air Tractor wide, he set himself up two miles ahead of the Marines. The helmet display showed a small reticle for the gun target.

He took a breath and exhaled resting his finger on the trigger.

The Basilisk van shot past the reticle, then he squeezed the trigger for less than a heartbeat. A handful of rounds belched from the pod, erupting the asphalt between the police and the Oseans. Trigger pulled up on the stick and away from the city below.

“Archer, Rider, we have broken contact. Getting onto the expressway now.” Morgan reported.

It took them a moment before the car made the turn north into the towering financial district of the city.

 

“Magus, this is Lancer, be advised, we’re seeing a lot of movement around the LZ, all of it heading your way.” Lauren reported.

“Understood, if it’s too hot, depart and wait for our signal.” Fick ordered.

“Wilco.” Lauren responded.

Trigger keyed up his radio “If its OK with you, I can break off and take a look.” He offered.

There was a brief pause. “Archer your cleared off.”  Fick replied.

 

It was less than a minute before he closed the distance towards the industrial district. Like the Helicopters crew had indicated, there was a convoy inbound towards the Marines. Trigger locked the pod on one of the vehicles. It was a pickup truck, and a group of men piled hap hazard in the rear. Slewing to the second vehicle, he could see something mounted within the bed.

“Magus, Archer, have sight on unknowns. Look to be half a dozen technical. Do not appear to be law enforcement.” Trigger reported.

“Archer, you are -“ The radio clicked to static.

Trigger called over the radio “Archer did not copy, say again?”

 

Silence.

 

Trigger blinked. All markers in his helmet had vanished.

 

ECM? Trigger thought to himself as he tried to troubleshoot his equipment, all the while his eyes scoured the sky for any hint of the culprit.

 

Something glittering in a passing skyscraper window caught his eye. Turning over his shoulder he could see the long tail on an afterburner high above the city.

Throwing the throttle forward he nosed the Longsword into a dive towards the deck, levelling off at less than two hundred feet, racing past the small yachts and sail boats that filled the shallower edges of the harbor.

 

Hesitantly, he switched his MFD to the stores display. To his chagrin, the large X across his few weapons confirmed his suspicions. It was exactly the signature of the Colibris fighters that he had encountered in his escape from Farbanti, and who had costed dozens of pilots their lives.   

 

He sighed in frustrating as he flipped his kneeboard to the checklist, gently tucked into a plastic sheet, however ‘checklist’ was too deserving of a title for what Trigger had. It was a Post-it note that some mechanic had hastily scribbled the activation sequence for the Air Tractors direct fire control system. Using a small pen light around his neck, he found and pulled the breaker for the FCS, flipped the power switch to the box next to his knee and his MFD blinked, before entirely blacking out.

 

“Fuck!” Trigger hissed, as he hastily checked his engine gauges and controls, as he did, the Aircrafts avionics glowed with the Garmin logo, and slowly data repopulated across the display. Trigger laughed in astonishment. Banking the Air tractor into the man-made canyon of the financial district, he checked his weapons stores page.

 

Most of the engineering of the DFCS went over Triggers head, however he was able to understand the basics. By design it was a ‘dumb’ system, which meant that all he had full access to was the gun and any self-guided munitions. He would have to go without his FLIR, HUD or the CCIP for ordinance, as well as losing any of the aircrafts onboard support equipment for the weapons; However, he was not left entirely blind. Leaning forward he hit a button on the side of the HUD. Slowly a green circle with a dot appeared in the center of the display. He grinned as he dived towards the Marines vehicle racing down the expressway.

 

“Archer, Engaging bandits” Trigger called out onto the jammed frequency.

He squinted down to his Airspeed indicator; he was reading close to 210 knots. Screaming past the Marines, he started to close the distance on his target. Up ahead, starting a blockade, was the unknown technicals. To give the Marines fair warning, Trigger pickled off a few flares to the road below.  

 

It was another Show-of-force pass, but he wasn’t willing to tip his hand just yet. As he crossed over the blockade, Trigger pulled up and popped off more countermeasures in the off chance one of the hostiles had a MANPAD.

 

“Come on you bastards, take the bait” Trigger growled to himself as he climbed the Air Tractor higher into the sky.

***
The sound of the turbine engine was deafening as Trigger’s plane screamed over the van.

“What the fuck is he doing!?” Dennings yelled in astonishment as he struggled to keep the van on the road.

Morgan uncomfortably braced himself on the side of the van ripping open the pouch on his vest and retrieving a fresh magazine “Probably figured out we’re being jammed. Might be rolling in on those vehicles himself.” He said calmly as he seated the magazine into his rifle.

“Fuck my ears! He couldn’t do it quieter?” Dennings asked.

“Your fault for not wearing Ear pro.” Adams Chastised as he shuffled towards the back of the van.

“Hold it, he just popped flares right up ahead. Can we get off any sooner?” Fick asked.

Dennings shook his head “No, we just missed our last turn off for another mile or two.”

Morgan could hear the Lieutenant curse under his breath “Alright, we’re going to have to push through this.”

“Because us bypassing the ambush is what they expect us to do, right?” Kyle asked sarcastically.

“Exactly, They’re not professionals, clearly.” Haver replied grinning.

“Morgan, get the signal flare ready.” Fick ordered.

“Sir?” Morgan said hesitantly.  “Worse case scenario we have to rappel from the overpass and hoof it, I want the Helicopter in the air and giving us as much top cover as they can.” Fick explained.

Morgan nodded and quickly produced a bright red flare gun, popping the breech open he tossed in a shell.”

“Here it is! Get ready!” Dennings yelled.

***

Trigger searched the sky for the bandits, cursing the lack of visibility Air Tractor provided. He rolled the plane over and prepared for another pass, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rocket motor screaming towards his plane. Continuing the roll, he pulled back on the stick and released countermeasures, the airframe groaned as the added G forces threatened to rip the various pods from the wings. The missile passed through the flares, overshooting, and exploding on impact with the water below.

“That’s one” Trigger said to no one in particular.

 

Trigger leveled off and started his turn towards the Bandit. He had no hope in taking the Bandit on with BFM alone, but he had a plan. An incredibly stupid plan, but a plan none the less.

 

He watched the bandit’s afterburner roar as they turned in on Triggers aircraft. Screaming towards the merge, Trigger kept the throttle to the firewall and selected his Sidewinder missiles, rapidly warming without the argon agent to cool the seekers. A low growl filled his ears. To his frustration, the seeker’s tone remained steady, unable to lock onto the bandit. Trigger waited until he could see the silhouette of the bandit clearly and then pulled the Longsword into a rolling jink maneuver. The shock cone of the afterburner was blinding in the night as it passed by the windows of his aircraft. Leaning over his shoulder, Trigger could see the bandit had pitched up into a high yo-yo maneuver, putting the less agile Air Tractor onto the defensive.  Trigger grinned. Right where I want you, asshole.

Looking up over the hills that bisected the city, Trigger could see another afterburner trail burning in the night.

“So, your buddy’s staying out of the fight? Too bad.” Trigger remarked.

Trigger turned his attention over his shoulder, feeling blind with the lack of visibility and a disabled missile approach warning system. Losing sight of the bandit, he pulled the fighter into a high bank turning climb towards the city. It was a gamble since it bled off the little excess energy the plane could carry, but it would allow him a chance to return to the fight. A rooster tail of water caught his eye as he could see the bandit dive low to get a missile shot onto his aircraft. Trigger watched as the missile rocket motor flared to life and peeled towards his plane impossibly fast.

Only got one shot at this.

Trigger hit his stores release button, dropping the Sidewinders and few Hellfires he had attached to his hard points. Feeling the weight dissipate from the aircraft, he rolled the plane over and pulled hard towards the city below causing the second missile to overshoot. Trigger pulled up, his landing gear just barely missing the rooftops of the buildings below. He exhaled.

“That’s two.” He spoke.

***
“Was zum Teufel macht dieser Dummkopf?” What in the hell is that fool doing? Lauren asked rhetorically. From the Helicopters hiding spot in the park, She could see the entire dogfight play out, illuminated by the green glow of her night vision goggles.

“Ich glaube, er versucht aktiv, sich umbringen zu lassen” I think he's actively trying to get himself killed. Her husband remarked.

“wie lange bis zum bingo?” How long until Bingo? Lauren asked changing the subject.

“Zwanzig minutin mein Schatz.” Twenty minutes my darling. Ben replied sweetly, causing her to smirk.

Lauren keyed the radio “Magus, this is Lancer, what is your status?” she asked.

Waiting for a moment, she heard nothing.

“Scheiße! Diese Schwanzlutscher jammen uns immer noch!” Those cocksuckers are still jamming us! She hissed in frustration.

 

Suddenly, her crew chief Erwin rushed into the cockpit. “Shau da!” He yelled pointing out the window. Faintly over the rooftops of the crowded financial district, was a bright red burning flare that was rapidly descending.

It only meant one thing, the Oseans were in trouble.

“Zeit für Revy!” Lauren ordered Erwin. Nodding he rushed to one of the many duffle bags the crew kept behind the cockpit as Ben and Lauren lifted the helicopter off, racing towards the flares location. Over Erwin’s intercom, she could hear the Kerchunk, Kerchunk, Kerchunk, as he loaded the shells into one of the many parting gifts the trio had taken in their unannounced retirement from Belkan military service.

“Revy ist fertig!” Erwin reported as they descended into the financial district.

 

On the main expressway cutting through the heart of the city, Lauren could two blockades erected opposite each other. One one side, was the police, on the other the insurgents who had engaged the Oseans. In between was a shot up white van, and dozens of other cars. Tracers soared through the air as Police and another force dueled in the middle of the city. Lauren frowned as she pushed the thought of those trapped inside the vehicles out of her mind.

“Ich hoffe, wir sind nicht zu spät" I hope we’re not too late. She prayed to herself as she descended onto the scene, staring a pedal turn for the rear Cargo door to face the carnage.

She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to see what happened next.

 

Erwin calmly walked to the open door and took a knee. He shrugged briefly before he shouldered the M41 pump action grenade launcher, affectionately referred to as ‘Revy’ by the Belkans who used her.
He took his time adjusting the leaf sight at the front and gauging if the downwash of the rotor blades would affect the trajectory. Satisfied, he took aim and pulled the trigger, firing with a satisfying sound.

thump.

Too late, the Insurgants had only just taken notice of the helicopter over the gunfire when the first two-pound shell of high explosives hit their position. A large explosion sent shrapnel and debris flying everywhere, damaging the other vehicles in the blockade and killing many of the insurgents unlucky enough to be within the blast radius. Erwin racked the slide and took aim. Another thump and moments later another technical exploded. Seconds later, a group of insurgents exploded as Erwin lobbed a 40mm grenade into their formation. A final grenade sent the last armed technical exploding, fragmenting and shredding the unprotected insurgents. Sparks started to fly as some of the survivors had started to take aim against the helicopter. Calmly, Erwin walked back and returned with another parting gift. He clipped a bungie cord to a ring on the roof of the cargo Bay, he lifted the heavy M60 machine gun into place, Satisfied, he took his time and aimed. In large sweeping motions, Erwin raked the positions of the survivors until the ground fire had stopped. The Armor piercing 7.62 had cut through the aluminum and steel mercilessly.

“Du bist jetzt startklar” Your clear to land now. Erwin reported as he talked Lauren down, hovering just above the cars cluttering the roadway below.

Erwin sat with his feet dangling from the cargo door as he watched heads hesitantly pop up from behind the scattered cars.

“Eins, Zwei, drei, vier… Funf! Ich habe Funf Oseans!” Erwin yelled excitedly, tossing a small rope ladder to the beleaguered force.

 

Moments later, the Osean Marine Lieutenants head popped into the cockpit. “Damn, I never thought I’d be happy to see a Belkan!” He said smiling.

“Well don’t be happy just yet, we’re still being jammed, and we still have to get out of here.”

Fick nodded. “We have everything we came for, just get us out of here.” He replied.

 

“Fünf an Bord, bereit zum Abheben” Five on board, ready to take off Erwin reported.

 

As the CH-53 took off towards the North and out of the city, Lauren looked to the dogfight still raging overhead.

“Viel glück du verrückter Mistweib.” Lauren said quietly as they departed to safety.

***

Captain Samantha Harrison sat in the Gardos Air Base command post as the overnight officer on duty. It was a deathly boring assignment, but even those on the fast track in the Air Defense Force had to pay their dues occasionally. Absent mindedly scrolling through her emails, one of the bases phones rang. She hesitated in picking up, just incase it was another drunk looking for a pizza delivery and getting a military installation instead.

The Airman on duty sighed, put his magazine down and answered the phone.

“Gardos Air Base Command Post, Senior Airman Wilkerson speaking, how may I help you?” He asked annoyed.

Harrison noticed his demeanor changed as he heard the caller.

“Uh-huh… Yeah… Ok.” He muttered in response as he quickly jotted down notes on a piece of paper.

“Do you mind if I put you on a brief hold sir?” Wilkerson asked hesitantly before muting the phone.

“What is it?” Samantha asked.

Wilkersons facial expression was that of confusion “Ma’am, are you aware of any sorties tonight around Anchorhead?”

Samantha thought for a moment and shook her head. “None off hand. Why?”

“Well, that was the Anchorhead Police Department. They’re calling for Air Support.”

Samantha chuckled “They know we can’t get involved in a foreign civil matter.”

“Yeah… that’s the thing… he said theres a Dogfight happening right now.” Wilkerson said hesitantly.

“The fuck? Are you sure this isn’t a prank call?” Samantha asked.

“Didn’t sound like it ma’am.” Wilkerson replied.

 

Samantha sighed and pulled up the phone directory. She dialed out to one of the few people who would know what was happening.

A tinny voice came over the line “Fourth Fighter Squadron, Lieutenant May speaking, how may I help you?”

Samantha gulped “This is Captain Harrison at the Command post; I need to speak with the ops officer now.”

“Well Ma’am, Major Lehto has left for the evening-”

“Then fucking wake him up!” Samantha yelled.

There was a pause before another voice got on the line

“This is Colonel Hayden. What can I help you with?”

Without pausing, Samantha explained the situation that was passed through. The Colonel listened intently, only interrupting to clarify information.

“-So that’s the situation Sir.” Samantha reported.

 

There was a pause on the line.

 

“Let him know we’re enroute.” The Colonel replied before hanging up.

***

Based on the intel that Bandog had provided him, He was reasonably certain the unknown jets were limited on their ordinance, with the prevailing theory being that they only carried two missiles, but like with everything else on the jet, it was largely uncharted territory in fighting them. Starting a turn towards the waterfront of the city, he took inventory on what he had left. One gun pod and the FLIR pod.  Not great, not terrible.

He weaved through the buildings until he was over the freeway. Flying over he could only see billowing black plumes of smoke from burning cars that littered the roadway. He didn’t see any movement or gunfire.

Gotta get the jamming to stop. Trigger thought to himself as he pushed the other questions out of his mind. He climbed over the rooftops and searched for the bandits jets. A swift movement caught his eye as he watched one of the jets Diving down to position themselves for a shot at his airplane.

Now you join the fight. Trigger smirked, gently adding power he started to weave when tracer rounds danced across his canopy.

“Fuck!” Trigger yelled as he rolled the Air Tractor onto its side and yanked the stick back to jink away from the cannon fire, the nose pitched back then slumped forward, the stick vibrated as the plane stalled from the violent motion. Rapidly, he cut his throttle to idle and slammed the stick to the forward stop. After what felt like an eternity, the nose dropped, and he watched his airspeed indicator wind back up. “I needed a fucking AoA sensor Bandog!” Trigger hissed as he dived the Longsword away from the oncoming fighters. Doing the only thing he could think of, he got low to the ground, the top of the smokestacks of the industrial district passing above his plane.

Running out of energy, Trigger made a climbing rolling turn over his right shoulder. Rapidly losing their chance to shoot at him, a slurry of gun rounds flew towards Trigger from the closest bandit. Trigger looked up and watched the second bandit rolling in behind the first. Unlike last time, he wouldn’t have the chance to correct with a turn that easily.

 

It was the perfect shot, and the bandit took it.

The Missile ignited and raced towards the diminutive Air Tractor. Trigger slammed his throttle forward, pulling the stick to its rear stop. Straining with the sudden onset of G-forces he flipped open the red safety switch cover and depressed the button.

 

For a moment, the sky of Anchor Bay was illuminated as bright as the day when fifty decoy flares and glittering chaff rained from the sky. The dazzling sight was immediately interrupted by the sound of an explosion in the middle of the display.

 

The Longsword fell end over end towards the ground. Remembering his training, Trigger idled the throttle and kept the stick forward, praying he still had enough of an airplane left to fly. Within a second and a few thousand feet, the Plane arrested its cartwheel and returned to controlled flight.

 

Trigger did a quick control check before breaking out into jubilant laughter.

Can’t pull that trick off twice!

By his best guess, the Missile had only detonated just under his aircraft.

He looked out towards his wing and switched on his remaining weapon. He caught sight of one of the Bandits.

“Ok, you’ve had your fun. Now its my turn.” He said grimly. 

 

The Missile Bandit was pulling away at full afterburner, too fast for Trigger to catch up. He turned his attention to the first jet. He was in perfect position for what Trigger wanted.

Making a wide sweeping turn, He could see the Bandit roll in for his attack. Trigger knew that this time, the Bandit would wait until he was certain Trigger was in a position that he would not be able to jink away from. Trigger was counting on this reaction as he pulled the fighter over the water.

 

He grinned wildly in anticipation.

 

It didn’t take long before he saw the first tracer graze his Wing. He pulled the throttle back to the stop, then sliding it sideways, he threw the prop into beta range. With the rapidly decreasing airspeed, he yanked back on the stick; The nose of the aircraft lifted to almost straight up climbing slight. He pushed the throttle to full thrust and slammed hard on the right rudder pedal. Violently the plane snap-rolled over the right wing.  

He held down on the gun trigger as the planes nose arced towards the ground. The pipper’s dot resting on the nose of the enemy bandit.

While the 50 BMG lacked the generalized aircraft stopping power the 20mm Trigger was used to, the few hundred exploding armor piercing rounds the Longsword delivered made quick work of the bandit as the bullets detonated along the cockpit, wing spar and engine of the enemy fighter. The Fuel captured in the tanks engulfed the twisted and torn wreckage as it plunged towards the water below.

 

Trigger recovered from the dive and turned towards the second bandit, who had already turned back towards Trigger’s aircraft.

 

Trigger rested his pipper’s marker on the nose of the rapidly approaching airplane. It was a high aspect shot for both pilots.

 

Slowly, the radio crackled to life “Yokai Flight, Leads in. Two, cover.” A voice said over the radio.

Triggers determination rapidly fell into confusion as the Bandit broke off into a high climb. The Missile flew out from the belly of the aircraft before the jet exploded.

Trigger looked up over his left shoulder where bandit had fired towards and saw two silhouetted fighters. Trigger wasn’t sure what their type was but was glad for the help. He rocked his wings in thanks.

 

“Splash One, Two, engage second bandit.” The voice ordered.

Second bandit? Is there another one?

He was answered when one of the silhouettes dived on him.  

“You Schwanzlutscher!” Trigger yelled in frustration as he dived towards the city.

***

It was early in the morning when the two pilots of the 4^th Tactical Fighter Squadron “Raging Oni’s” had received the scramble orders. Led by Captain Daniel “Bear” Polarski with Captain Rick “Pickle” Lehman following in trail, the two men clambered into their lightly armed F-2A ‘Viper Zero’s and took off across the bay for the quick flight to the Anchorhead region. Once at altitude, it didn’t take them long before they could see the lights of the city along the shore. The Bay Tunnel twinkling as the lone strand connecting the halves of the city together.

“Local police forces reported three aircraft in the area, all who had fired on them. According to Air Traffic control, there’s no friendly fixed wing assets in the area, however there are some Police helicopters. Let’s bracket them for the ID.” Bear ordered.

“Two Copies” Pickle replied.

Bear turned on the Zero’s Air-to-air search radar, to his surprise, it showed nothing in the city.

Moments later Pickles voice was heard over the radio. “Lead, I’m unable to get a lock on anything in the area.”

“I’m seeing the same thing. Well, no matter, we’re only loaded with Sidewinders anyways. We’ll just have to get closer and-“Bear was cut off by a bright ball of light over the bay.

“Holy Shit!” Pickle exclaimed. “Focus! We need to get in there and secure that airspace!” Bear reprimanded his wingman.

“Two!” Pickle replied quickly.

Bear eased the throttle forward into afterburner. He could see the city in detail when the second fireball shot out from the sky.

“Yokai One-one, I have a fireball.” Bear reported

“Lead, I have two bandits, looks to be going for a merge.” Pickle reported.

“Yeah, I got it.” Bear replied.

Momentarily, the radar picked up the targets. “Ok I got one fast mover and one slow mover, I’ll engage the first one, and you get the second.” Bear ordered.

“Two!” Pickle acknowledged.

As he crossed over the Anchor Bay bridge he rolled into the merge on top of the fast mover, who had broke off towards the Viper. A dull growl turned into a high-pitched screech as the Sidewinders seekers locked onto the Bandit.

“Yokai Flight, Leads in. Two, cover.” Bear ordered.

“Smoke in the air!” Pickle yelled.

Bear hit the pickle button on his stick and dispensed counter measures. “Fox two!” he yelled.

Bear watched as the enemy fighter exploded. “Splash One, Two, engage second bandit.” He ordered calmly.

He watched Pickle roll in for a guns strafe onto the second slower target. He watched a quick belch of fire from the shoulder of the Zero as tracers descended on the Bandit. The slower target jinked away and flew towards the city.

“Let’s not let our quarry get away. Form up on me and we’ll re-engage.” Bear spoke.

***
Trigger swerved the Longsword between the buildings, attempting to terrain cover his aircraft from the unknown interlopers.

Lieutenant Fick’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Archer to Magus. Respond if you can hear this.”

Trigger chuckled “glad to hear your voice, what’s your status?”

“Fine, linked up with Lancer and have exfil’d out of the AO.”

One of the Interlopers voices crackled over the radio “Gardos, appears bandits are on secure channels, Switch to Cardinel Three.”

“No Fun.” Fick remarked “Archer, Disengage and rendezvous at the fragged location.” Fick ordered.

Trigger didn’t acknowledge but was aware of the next steps.

With the threat of the Cartel’s jets at bay, he turned his Fire control system back on. To his dismay, he was down almost all of his munitions. He had thrown away all his countermeasures his last-ditch attempt. Regardless, Trigger was painfully aware that his only chance was to break off his contact with the professional fighters.  

As Trigger flew through the city, he could see the jets shoot across the sky. They had followed him and were trying to box him in for an easy kill. From the tactics he narrowed it down to either the FCU or Osean fighters, with his money leaning on them being his countrymen.

As the tall glass skyscrapers passed by, dozens of feet from his Wingtips. Trigger got another idea.

 

He punched 243 mhz into the radio and called out.

 

“Hey, you guys wanna see what a dumbass is capable of?” He taunted as he climbed the Longsword over the safety of the buildings. One of the jets passed within a hundred feet of him and quickly engaged its afterburner and climbed away. Immediately his RWR started chattering as the Oseans had locked onto his aircraft with their radars.

 

He eyed his target and made a direct line towards it.

 

The chattering increased as he watched the two Osean fighters close on his position from his situational awareness display. He aligned himself over the express way past the Anchor Bay Bridge. A Rapid beeping indicated they had fired a missile at him.

 

Trigger squinted. The yellowed concrete entrance of the Anchorhead bay tunnel was his only port of safe harbor left. He took a sharp breath as he crossed the threshold.

Time slowed as the sound of the explosion was amplified across the tile interior of the tunnel. Debris fell and lights flickered as Trigger struggled to maintain control of the Longsword in the confined space. Any hiccup and he was dead instantly. The cockpit was filled with a strobing flashes of sickening yellow light as the plane roared underneath the sodium vapor fixtures at a break-neck speed. Anticipating the chicane in the road, he rolled the plane over onto its right, then rapidly to its left. He swore as he felt the wheels of the landing gear scrape the tile siding of the tunnel. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he rolled forward to the exit.

Within a heartbeat, he was free. The RWR Remained silent.

“Archer fifteen naked” he reported. “Enroute to fragged location.” He added as he flew north towards their planned airfield in Erusea.

Checking his fuel, he was astonished. Once again, he wouldn’t be landing on an empty tank, but he would only have moments of fuel to spare.

***

The flight back into Chopinburg from the refueling airport had been uneventful. As Trigger had anticipated, Arrangements for post combat maintenance was already made in advance when Fick reported what had happened to Bandog. After landing at the predetermined airport Trigger joined the Beleaguered team in the back of the Helicopter. The only one he could tell was awake when he climbed onboard was Fick, with the rest of the Marines secured to the net seating and fast asleep.

It was mid-day by the time the helicopter crested the hills to the compound. As the rotors spun down, Trigger could see Bandog already awaiting them on the ramp.

Trigger shakily stood up and walked out to greet him. “Of what do we have the pleasure?” Trigger asked sarcastically. Bandog tossed him a newspaper. It was written in Erusean, He was very rusty with the few words he picked up from

Cossette, alongside another man. Trigger made a mental note to read the article later but he was happy to see her smiling.

the Second and third articles Trigger couldn't make heads or tails of, however the fourth article caught his eye.

 

Le retour de Trois Grèves?

 

“Return of Three Strikes?” Trigger asked hesitantly.

Bandog remained stoic “Exactly. My contacts in Osean Military Intelligence are just about shitting themselves because they had written you off as dead; if not officially, Others think this was some daredevil copycat.” He reported.

"Where was this written?" Trigger asked, struggling to read what was written about the engagement.

"Axel Bay Gazette, But it’s been picked up by almost every paper in the continent, and even republished in Oured Daily and the Bana Press" Bandog explained.

"Wow, guess I get around. Kinda blows our cover though, doesn't it?" Trigger asked.

“We’ll see. If nothing else, it showed those bastards who bloodied their nose last night.” Bandog said, flashing a slight grin.

 

"Wait, I thought you said they had already lost aircraft?" Trigger asked

 

"Yes, I did, By our count about eight. Six of which were likely Erusean Pilots who just got the airframes that morning. The only victories we got, was either through pilot inexperience on their end, or sheer fucking firepower. It took a Carrier Air Wing to kill two of them with what I believe are experienced, if not sloppy, crews. In your case it was still a flight of F-15's to get them off your ass, so at a minimum for a victory we need 2:1 split with Gen four aircraft or better." Bandog sighed.

"But Last night? Last night you took on two, by yourself, in a goddamn glorified farm tractor and kicked their ass, but not only that, made a fucking spectacle out of doing it, after we had just kicked their front door in! Everyone is going to know Three Strikes is back, even if they don’t want to believe it, because there may be only half a dozen other guys as batshit enough as you are to try to do that. This was the first lopsided defeat they have had. We can only see if they’re going to learn from it.” Bandog said

 

“So, any idea who this Lisa Park chick is?” Fick asked walking up from behind Trigger.

“Who’s that?” Trigger asked.

“The only target we missed last night.” Fick said annoyed.

Bandog scratched his chin. “Nothing came up on what I was searching through when you called. Hopefully, there’s something in those hard drives you recovered to point us in the right direction.” Bandog explained.

“They’re all yours.” Fick invited, pointing over his shoulder to the bags secured in the corner of the helicopter.

***

Cossette stared at the picture attached to the document.

It was a grainy CCTV photo from inside the Anchorhead Bay Tunnel. It was some prop airplane, but adorning the tail was three white stripes. The document had been one forwarded to her by those sympathetic to her in the Erusean Intelligence Service. It was a detailed after-action report by two Osean fighter pilots who had encountered a mysterious dogfight above the city the night prior. Local police were stumped and chalked it up to a crescendo to a brash terrorist incident relating to a string of other events that occurred earlier in the night

What are you doing Trigger? Was all she could think about.

a knock on her bedroom door broke her from her trance.

“Come in.” she said wearily.

 

He walked in, adjusting the cuff link on his dress shirt. “Well, I’m ready for the announcement, are you Rosa?”

 

She scowled and folded the paper neatly back into the envelope. “Since when did you start getting so friendly?” she growled.

 

Alex made an over dramatized hurt expression “Well you did agree to the terms of the deal.”

 

“wasn’t like I was given much of a choice.” Cossette mumbled under her breath as she fixed her makeup in the mirror.

 

Alex smirked “That’s better. Media will love this.”

Chapter 37

 THIRTY-SEVEN

Fick laid a stack of building plans out on the table before him. Club Aurora was a relatively large complex, the first subfloor, first floor and second floor all consisted of the main Club space. The Third and fourth floors was a more exclusive location. With the fifth floor acting as a labyrinthian office space; The six and seventh floors consisted of a penthouse for Michael Troy, the clubs proprietor, and the Marines target. Trigger studied the diagram and was glad he wouldn’t be on the primary assault team for once. No matter where he looked, the interior was a smattering of concealment and cover, and more choke points than he cared to count. To a less experienced force it would be a blood bath, however after seeing the brutal efficiency Basilisk operated with, Trigger felt bad for anyone standing between them and Troy.

 

After the operators studied the plans for a moment, Morgan stroked his beard. “We don’t even have time to make a shoot house of this place. Let alone have a practice run.” He lamented.

Fick cleared his throat “Well we just so happen to have a plan that shouldn’t get us all killed.”

“We have done more with less intel.” Zhao noted. Fick pulled out a pen and circled one of the rooms in the penthouse. Trigger read the label as Dining Room.

“According to the Broker, the meeting will be here, which unfortunately is a straight shot to the Lift.” Fick started. “We can expect a moderate resistance on the top floor, and more as we go down. Per shift schedules, most of the security will be in the main club room around this time. They’re expecting an assault from the ground floors clearly.” Fick continued

“And I imagine you have some other way we’re getting in?” Asked Kyle.

Fick nodded. “A three-prong strategy. First I’ll cover is Trigger since he’s the easiest-“ He pointed at Trigger “- You’re our eyes in the sky and acting as ISR. Sorry I can’t spare either Kyle or Morgan so you’ll be doing this single seat; Is that OK?” Fick asked.

Trigger nodded “Understood, will be nice to carry the extra gas.” He said smirking

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Kyle defended himself.

Fick held up his hand to silence the men. “Regardless, Trigger I also want you loaded out for close air support. They got the drop on us last time, I don’t want to see them try it again.” Fick ordered.

“Righto” Trigger replied. “Should be good with a limited Hellfire loadout, the gun-pods for good measure and the ISR pods.”

Fick nodded in acknowledgement before continuing.

 

“Second team will consist of Dennings, Adams and Zhao. You three will be a part of the distraction and exfil team.”

“Distraction?” Dennings asked.

“Yes. Corporal, your job will be to secure our exit, there’s a parking garage underneath the building, You’ll be stationed there and will have to make sure we have that as an option.”

“By myself? Great.” Dennings groaned.

“What about Adams and Myself?” Zhao asked.

Fick grinned wickedly. “For you? I will need as much noise as possible inside the main club. Try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum, but make sure you take out as many of their guards; The more you tie up down there, is the less coming upstairs to deal with us.”

The two NCO’s traded glances. “So, it’s one of those jobs?” Adams asked rhetorically

“Yep.” Fick replied.

 

Zhao paused for a moment. “If at all possible, I think it best if we take a quieter approach instead of kicking in the door, guns blazing.” “Any chance we can get any of the spoofers?” Adams added.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Fick replied

 

Trigger was briefed on the technology, tended to defeat any minor security implements for a short time when activated, up to and including metal detectors. It wasn’t perfect but for most occasions it worked.

 

Zhao smiled. “Great, we should be able to take the Five Sevens, a few mags and flashbangs if that’s alright with you Lieutenant?”

“I don’t have an issue with it.”

“Ooh do we get those suits with ballistic weaving as well?”  Adams asked.

“No time for that, Best chances we have is to just wear the carbon fiber shirts we have.” Zhao replied.

“Really? Those won’t stop more than a nine though.”

“Odds are we’ll be long gone before they break out the heavy weapons.” Zhao reassured him. 

 

“Well, it sounds like a plan then. Adams and Zhao will cause a distraction in the main hall and draw away hopefully most of the guards long enough for us to infiltrate on the rooftop.” Fick continued.

Zhao raised his hand “Just out of curiosity sir, how many would that be?”

 

Fick thought for a moment. “Probably thirty on the floor, another ten or so in the lounge above you, and maybe another fifty in the building. Like I said, security will be tighter than normal.”

“Great, well at least Dennings won’t have the shittiest job.” Adams quipped.

“Moving on, final team will be the strike element. Haver, Hernandez, Kyle, Morgan and myself will insert via helo onto the rooftop to secure the penthouse and neutralize the targets inside the Penthouse. From there we take the stairwell down to the bottom floor and evac with Dennings.” Fick explained.

“That’s still eight flights of stairs.” Morgan noted.

“We’ll just have to deal with it. If Zhao and Adams pull off their job, should be able to soften most of the resistance coming up the stairs. And besides I left out one part, we will need to pull Adams and Zhao out of the Main Hall as well. No separate RV points, we all go together.”

“What about secondary rendezvous points?” asked Haver

 

Fick pulled out a large map of the city. 

“If we can’t meet up in the garage, we are to meet at Gründer Park where the Belkans’ will be waiting for us anyways.”

“Because that worked so well last time. Or the time before that.” Haver noted.

“Relax, only person we need to worry about shooting us down is Trigger, and what are the odds that could happen twice?” quipped Hernandez.

Trigger stepped back and held his hands up “Hey! I got acquitted of that!”

“Says the guy who painted three lines on his tail!” shot back Hernandez jokingly

“I mean, Uh.” Trigger threw up his hands in defeat. Jeez, even the old squadron didn’t give me this much grief Trigger thought to himself. Trigger sighed “What if that doesn’t work? Like last time.”

 

Fick shrugged “We play it by ear. Won’t be the first time, Won’t be the last time. OIA has safehouses nearby, we make contact with the old man and cool our heels there.”

“What if it goes sideways?” Adams asked.

“Well, if its before all the teams are in play. Zhao and Adams will have to get themselves out of the club. From there, Trigger will need to provide Overwatch until Dennings or the helicopter can pick them up. Failing that? We will be looking at the minimum of a different Special task unit pulling you out, or an international incident. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail there.” Fick started

“If something goes wrong while all pieces are in play? We take out who we can and move on from there. I’m not keen on shooting our way out of the city but if it comes to that, be prepared.” 

 

A silence fell across the room.

“Alright gentlemen, moving on.”

***

Adams looked over the railing towards the main dance floor. It was a variable sea of bodies moving in the flashing lights of the music. While his electronic earplugs had brought the noise level to something bearable, he could still feel the reverberation of the music in his bones. Though only in his mid-twenties and his more fashionable persona he put up, he hadn’t been to a nightclub outside of a mission in years.

 

“On your six.” Zhao’s electronically amplified voice whispered. He held two glasses and handed one to Adams.

“What about the ‘No drinking on a mission’ policy?” Adams asked.

Zhao shrugged “Gin and Tonic, hold the gin.”

“Oh, So shitty tasting lime water then?” Adams replied taking a sip, recoiling at the bitter carbonated drink. “Fuck, next time just get me a jack and coke.” He complained.

“At these prices? No way.” Zhao replied, Adams continued his search of the room. He had identified all the entrances shown on the blueprints and made out where the security was located. Now he was just waiting on the signal.

Adams looked over to Zhao, he wasn’t sure where the senior marines attention was. “Yo, give it up man, your old enough to be half these girls dad.” Adams quipped. He himself did take notice of many of the scantily clad women, some of whom he could see had an eye on him as well.

Zhao shrugged again “I’m divorced remember? You don’t get that option. When is she due again?”

Adams frowned “Sometime in November. I was hoping to take some leave after this mission to take care of her. I’ll certainly have enough.”

Zhao nodded in approval. Neither man continued the conversation. Between the distraction and professional courtesy, there was no room for their personal lives in a mission.

 

“Two more guards just walked in.” Zhao noted.

Adams looked down at his watch. “So, you want to do this together, or separate?”

Zhao paused for a moment. “Let’s start together then fan out, I’ll take this side, you move over and take the other side.”

“Copy. Your radio set to the right frequency?” Adams asked.

“Yup, though here reception is going to be shit without the jammer.”

Adams laughed “Guess we’ll be playing it by ear then.”

 

A squelch on the radio caused the men to go silent.

Fick’s voice crackled across the radio.

 

“Attention all Servants, the grail is filled”

 

“Showtime.” Zhao said calmly as he pulled out his Handgun.

Adams sighed. The spoofers had done their job, and the club’s staff was unaware what they had invited inside the building. He calmly unclipped a flashbang from his belt and pulled the pin.

 

“On three.”
***

The CH-53 flew low over the water, out the side windows, Morgan could see the aura of light radiating across the water as land drew closer.

Fick stepped his way across the helicopters cargo bay and sat in one of the netted seats next to Morgan, miming the channel for him to step his radio to.

“What is it sir?” Morgan asked.

“About are talk this afternoon.” Fick began, “Do you think it will effect the mission if he knows?”

Morgan thought for a moment and shrugged “Probably, His history and psych eval suggest he’s one to make stupid decisions when his judgment is clouded. But then again-“ Morgan gestured vaguely in front of him “-maybe that’s just his MO either way. Not my place to judge; but why take the risk?”

Fick nodded in understanding. “I see, we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Or burn it”

Fick frowned “Hopefully it won’t come to that.

 

The Crew chief rushed up to the cockpit briefly before holding up three fingers towards the Lieutenant.

Fick sighed heavily “Once more unto the breach” before clicking his radio back to the teams frequency.

Ficks voice crackled across their headsets. “Alright gentlemen, get ready, three minutes out.” He reported.

 

Morgan took a moment to inventory the equipment strapped to his vest. HK-416 rifle with attached suppressor, EO Tech red dot sight, Sig Saur M17 Handgun, with spare magazines for both, as well as two hand grenades and two flashbang grenades. Across the cargo bay from him sat Haver, who was loading his Benelli M4 shotgun with a speed that even pro shooters would be impressed with. All the Marines had opted for their standard OCP uniforms with a mixture of khaki or camouflage plate carriers and vests.

 

The plan was simple, Morgan would be the first on the roof, followed by Haver, Hernandez, Kyle and finally Fick. Haver and Morgan would breach the upstairs and secure the sight while the other Marines rappelled from the helicopter, and then they would move to secure the bottom floor of the penthouse to kill their targets. From what the Broker had told them, the expected number was nine; With Troy leading the meeting and his eight sub-lieutenants.

 

As the Helicopter passed between the Anchor Bay Bridge spans, Kyle spoke up.  “Hey Lieutenant, Isn’t this helo a bit noticeable?”

Fick shrugged “Not much we can do. Besides, if we’re lucky they’ll just mistake it for local police.”

 

Another voice crackled over the radio, it was Trigger “Lancer, Rooftop looks clear, be advised, two heat signatures seen three minutes ago near windows on the top floor.” He reported.

 

Fick clicked the radio twice in response.

The female Helo pilots voice crackled over their radio next. “Archer, Lancer one-one at IP as fragged”

Fick stood up “Get ready people. One minute!” he barked.

Trigger was quick to reply over the radio “Lancer, LZ is Ice”

Fick keyed his throat mic “Attention all Servants, the grail is filled”

 

From here it was only business. The Crew chief opened the rear door, its hydraulics hissing to a stop as the helicopter banked to the south towards the city’s football stadium and entertainment district. Within seconds the Helicopter slowed to a stop above a dark building. Morgan stood up, and threw the thick rope out the back of the helicopter, waiting for only a moment for the rope to complete its fall, he grabbed onto the line and within a heartbeat was descending towards the rooftop, only using his boots to arrest his decent. Seconds later his boots were on the roof, he unclipped his rifle and brought it to his shoulder. He paused for a second.

 

Staring dumbfounded before him was a man inside the penthouse, just behind a pane of glass. Morgan knew his expression well, it was the same he had seen time and again on countless soldiers, terrorists and dissidents faces. One three-round burst shattered the glass and sent the man crumpling to the floor.

Morgan moved forward as he felt Haver tap him on the shoulder, cautiously the two men fanned out across the upper deck of the building. A stout report of a shotgun was heard as Haver found the second guard on the roof. Morgan keyed his throat mic, “Rider one-three, two tangos down.”

 

Looking back, the rest of the Marines had landed on the roof, The CH-53’s crew chief disconnected the rope and immediately the helicopter was gone. Fick motioned for the team to split off into two groups, Haver and Hernandez quietly entered through the shattered glass windows, while Fick, Morgan and Kyle made their way down the outside stairs to a lower balcony. Without the roar of the Helicopters rotor blades, Morgan could hear the sounds of chaos. From far below was screams of the clubs patrons as they fled the violence Adams and Zhao were unleashing inside, while in the penthouse before them, Troy’s bodyguards were hastily preparing for a hostile force to be coming up the elevator any minute, in the confusion missing the sound of the heliborne assault taking place above their heads. Morgan took up a shooting position and found his targets, while Fick and Kyle did as well. He had a perfect vantage point as he saw Hernandez dispatch a shocked guard silently with a garrot allowing himself and Haver to take up their own shooting positions in the room. The Marines now had coverage or had cleared every room of the Penthouse besides the dining room.

 

There was a collective breath. “Execute” Fick ordered.

 

Morgans first burst was into the back of one of the guards defending the hallway, before the man had collapsed, he moved the rifle to the man closest to him. Within seconds the dozen guards who had taken cover laid dead or dying without getting a shot off in retaliation. Morgan dropped his empty magazine, replacing it quickly.

 

Without saying a word, Kyle stacked up on the door breach the room, As Hernandez made his way down the stairs he yelled “Gun!” and dived to the ground, the walls around the room burst open as the familiar sound of an AK rifle filled the air. Morgan unclipped a flashbang from his webbing, pulled the pin and threw it into the open doorway.

 

With a muted thud it went off, shattering the remaining glass in the room.

 

More erratic gunfire tore the drywall of the penthouse asunder, shattering glass bottles in the wet bar and destroying granite furnishings in the kitchen.

“Fuck! I’m hit!” yelled Kyle. Hernandez quickly rushed forward and pulled the Sergeant out of the room onto the balcony to administer first aid.

 

Within a second the gunfire stopped as their assailants ran out of ammo.

 

Fick nodded to Haver and Morgan. Quickly kicking down the shattered door Morgan crossed the threshold to clear the room he turned to his right and was met with a guard within grabbing distance, the man was still visibly disoriented from the grenade. Morgan didn’t even bother to aim as he pointed the rifle at the man’s chest, three rounds of 5.56 sending him backwards and out the shattered window to the street below. He turned and stepped forward to his left to allow Haver to come in behind him.

 

Morgan started to pick off those closest to him, a man in a clean business suit raised a pistol. Three red blossoms appeared across his chest as Morgan cut him down. A guard turned in surprise, trying to reload his rifle he crumpled as Morgan pulled the trigger.

He felt thumps as Haver unloaded rounds across the heavy wood table into the targets on the other side. Taking a knee, Morgan turned his attention to the man wielding the AK rifle. The rounds flew high, starting at his sternum, the second round hit his throat, and forth below his right eye, killing him instantly. Morgan moved his rifle to a final target, rushing for the corner, a final burst cut them down with the rounds hitting them in the side.

 

Morgan exhaled.

“Tangos down.” Fick reported over the radio.

The next voice was Hernandez. “Berserker one-eight to Magus, be advised, Berserker two-six is going to be fine, his plate took the round, we’re entering the building now.”

Haver let out a chuckle “Nothing more than a mosquito bite then.”

Fick cracked a grin “yeah I guess so. Refreshing to take direct fire like that.”

 

A moment later, Hernadez entered the room followed by a limping Kyle.

Fick pointed to Haver and Kyle “You two, put Claymores outside of the elevator, and cover our exit.”

“Wilco” replied Haver. Kyle groaned slightly and followed, stepping over the growing blood pools.

 

Morgan stood up and took count, eleven people laid dead in the room, counting the guard who had taken the express way down to the ground level, that accounted for all but three people.

Looking to Fick, Morgan could see that it dawned on the Lieutenant first. He quickly keyed the mic. “All Servants, be advised, four possible tangos still active.”

Morgan held up his index, middle and ring finger “Three, one went out the window.”

Fick rolled his eyes, “Scratch that, three possible tangos”

“Negative Magus, we cleared all the rooms. Building is all-clear” Replied Haver.

Fick swore under his breath. “Check again!” He hissed.

Hernandez turned around to face the officer “Sir, there isn’t many places to hide, if they were here, we’d have seen it.”

“Well let’s figure out who the hell we’re missing then. Get photos of everyone.” Fick said grimly.

 

Morgan let the rifle hang by its sling and pulled out a digital camera. Gingerly stepping over the bodies, he could see the man with the AK was the now-deceased Michael Troy. Hernandez walked up behind Morgan and glanced down at the corpse chuckling. “You really didn’t want to give him an open casket? Harsh.”

Morgan brushed off the comment and went back to the mundane inventory. Within moments they had found their missing person.

“Well shit, we got Morgan and seven of his lieutenants. Looks like Miss Lisa Park is the only one left.” Fick reported.

“Any chance she’s running late?” Asked Haver.

Fick hissed and kicked one of the dining room chairs in frustration. “Negative. If she was planning on attending, odds are she’s rabbited by now.” The Officer sighed. “Ok plan b, grab and hard drives or documents. Something in here might tell us where she went.” Fick ordered.

Dennings voice crackled over the radio.

“Well, whatever you’re going to do, make it quick, I hear Sirens, probably got a minute or two.”  

Zhao’s voice crackled over the radio next “Assassin One-One, moving towards the exit with Rider One-Four.

Hernandez left the room for a moment, returning with two black trash bags. Handing one to Morgan, the two Marines quickly started snatching phones, and wallets from the dead. Without pausing to turn the devices off the two shoved Laptops and paper files into their bags. Satisfied with their haul, Fick motioned them towards the door.

 

Morgan handed the bag off to Kyle and gently opened the Staircase door. While the Screaming died down, the sounds of automatic fire could be heard as Adams and Zhao made their way towards the garage below the building.

 

Nodding to the rest of the Marines, they began their way down towards the exit.

***

Dennings tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t mind not being in the firefights unlike his teammates. Not every Basilisk Marine was selected for their fighting prowess. And while Dennings could hold his own in a fight, that alone was not why the Old Man had him assigned. His specialty had always been escaping and evasion, which often lent his skills to acting as a getaway driver for the smaller special tasks teams of Basilisk.

 

This mission had been like many others. Even through the thick concrete ceiling and walls, he could hear the music thumping from the club above, which was quickly cutoff by a dull bang, followed by confused and terrified screaming as people rushed the doors. To save time later, Dennings took it upon himself to dispatch the few guards in the garage and open the gates for a swift exit before returning to the rented panel van.

Within minutes of him reporting the sound of sirens, he watched the first police cruiser bolt past the garage entrance. He eyed his watch. He frowned.

 

A loud bang was heard as a metal door on the opposite side of the Garage was shot open, quickly, five heavily armed men in uniforms, followed by two in suits rushed through the doors, returning fire to unseen attackers above.

Dennings cranked the ignition and drove towards the men, one of the uniformed men yanked the side door open and threw a black sack into the back before limping his way in. Soon another man followed tossing the bag he carried. Quickly the six of them had crowded into the back while the seventh climbed into the passenger’s seat. He pointed towards the exit. “Drive” he ordered.

“Aye aye, Lieutenant.” Dennings replied, the vans tired squealed in protest as it lumbered towards the exit. On the main street, The Anchorhead Police had started to make a perimeter, but still had left an entire sidewalk open. Honking his horn, the van jumped the curb and shot passed the retreating police. There was a collective groan from the back.

“Hey, I got shot you know!” whined Kyle.

“Yeah, so did I, your point?” Zhao shot back.

“Please, it was a graze.” Hernandez quipped.

“Yeah, that cut through my armor!” Zhao replied.

Hernandez laughed “You all are the biggest babies I’ve ever met!” he said in faux disbelief.

 

Fick shook his head, chuckling to himself. Taking a second to regain his composure he keyed the radio.

“Magus has linked up with Assassin, we’re Oscar mike.”

Chapter 36

 THIRTY-SIX

Cossette laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

 

It had been her routine since coming to her families villa in North Erusea two months prior. Officially it was the Cascadia Military complex, the mountain compound served as one of the many luxurious retreats for the previous royal families of Erusea. Rosa remembered the cavernous hallways from the rare visits her parents made to the home in her youth. Now instead of being a private retreat, it served as the temporary home to the Monarchy while the Royal Palace was under repairs in Farbanti.

 

It was humiliating and she loathed having to leave her people in such a dire situation, but in the end the remaining members of Parliament who had survived the attacks had forced her hand. In their eyes, it was necessary to not lose the last of the Monarchy; Cossette understood but hated the choice all the same. It removed her from the people she had cared about, and some of the last people she had left to rely on.

 

It was all getting too much for her. For the first time since Tyler Island, she truly felt alone.

 

She looked out of the large window overlooking the countryside below the mountains. The lush fields were bathed in a cool blue light of the moon.

 

Where are you Trigger. She wondered.

 

Every night she thought back to the last time she had seen him.

***

Trigger looked down on her smiling.

“So, how was your first flight?” he asked, flashing her that boyish grin she fell in love with.

Cossette couldn’t help but smile. Between the adrenaline of their escape and generalized shock, the entire flight was an assault on all her senses, but at the same time it was exhilarating. This is what your life is like. She thought. “A bit bumpy but I think it went well.” She replied.

Trigger leaned in and gave her a kiss, before turning to see the Osean soldiers surround the airplane.

Silently he mimed for her to raise her hands in the air so the soldiers could see them. She understood of course and patiently waited in her seat for Trigger to talk to them.

She watched as he approached one of the Oseans. He said something but then immediately collapsed to the ground.

“Trigger!” she shouted in horror.

“Keep your hands in the air!” Barked another Osean, she looked out to see dozens of rifles pointed at her.

 

She watched in horror at the scene that unfolded next.

 

A small group of the Osean soldiers had rolled Trigger over and surrounded him. From what she could see, it looked as if he was slowly coming to. Suddenly one of the Oseans sent a swift kick into the side of Trigger. Cossette watched as he writhed in pain, but before he could fully react, another kick was delivered.

 

Cossette had seen how Oseans treated their Prisoners firsthand, but it had been nothing as brutal as this. The sight reminded her of how her own countrymen had treated the People of Tyler Island. Those atrocities were only finally banished to her nightmares but were now being reenacted right in front of her eyes. The brutality the Oseans were showing was not that of someone besting a foe, it was far more personal. They knew who he was, and they knew who she was, and they were looking for their pound of flesh on the betrayal they felt.

 

As soon as the swarm began, they had started to drag Triggers bleeding body out of her sight.

 

Soon, there was a clambering up the ladder. A Female Osean shined a bright flashlight in Cossette’s eyes. Instinctively, she lowered one hand to deflect the blinding light, however it was brutally slapped away by the female soldier.

The Soldier clicked off the light and yelled over her shoulder.

“Yeah its her!”

 

Cossette blinked, trying to see past the spots in her vision. Suddenly the Soldier had slid down the ladder and a more permanent set of steps was brought out to the jet.

 

Cossette heard shouting. “Jesus Christ in heaven what are you doing? Lower your weapons!” bellowed a male voice.  Cossette leaned over the edge of the cockpit to see the commotion, a much older black man had arrived in a hap hazard uniform and was quickly coordinating the Oseans.

Probably the base commander?

 

Her questions were answered moments later when he had clambered up the steps to greet her.

He held out a hand and smiled broadly.

“Princess, I do apologize for the rude welcome to our airbase. If you’ll just wait for a moment, we’ll get you to better accommodations.” He reassured.

“Wait! Where’s Trigger?” Cossette asked frantically.

The man furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry Ma’am, who?”

“My Pilot. He’s an Osean Major. Your men literally just finished beating him.” Cossette said forcefully.

The man shook his head. “Ma’am, I promise I will look into that. But more importantly we need to get you off the ramp. I’m sure your aware but this has once again become a war zone.” He urged.

***
The Doctor flashed a light in both of Cossette’s eyes. Holding out her fingers she instructed Cossette to squeeze them. Then she took a drop of blood from a prick in her finger and ran a handful of other tests on Cossette. Satisfied, the middle-aged woman sighed. “Well, your highness, I understand you probably get more thorough medical care normally, but understand I’m still needed elsewhere.” She said apologetically.

Cossette smiled weakly “Its fine, thank you.” She replied.

The doctor nodded and left the small makeshift exam room.

 

It was a moment before there was a knock on the door. “Come in” Cossette said weakly. The older man from before stepped in the room, this time flanked by two armed Oseans. Cossette instinctively felt a pit form in her stomach. Sensing this the man dismissed his guards and took a seat across from her.

“I am sorry about that Ma’am. Things are a little tense, and they don’t want to leave me alone.” He said laughing slightly. It did little to put her mind at ease.

He continued “Let me introduce myself. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Jones of the Osean Air Defense Force. I’m the deputy commander of McKnight airbase.” He introduced himself, holding his hand out to shake.

Cossette took it cautiously. “I think you already know who I am.” She said. Jones nodded “Indeed I do Ma’am, and if I may say I am extremely glad to see your Ok all things considered.”

“What do you mean?” Cossette asked.

“Oh, I see you haven’t been told. Farbanti Airbase, where we thought you were, was just taken off the map. We’re looking for survivors but, its not promising.”

 

Everything that Radical had said came to pass.

 

“What about Trigger?” she said weakly.

Jones sighed. “Unfortunately, Ma’am. My men don’t have any record of any pilot who came here with you. The Major you mentioned was at Farbanti and is currently MIA.” Jones replied.

“Your lying!” Cossette shot back, emotion welling up in her voice as tears formed in her eyes.

The response made Jones recoil slightly “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t know what I can tell you. I only showed up after the fact and I trust my men.” He stated.

“You need to believe me!” she replied, tears now freely falling from her eyes. Jones sighed heavily and stood up.

“Im sorry Ma’am, that’s simply something I can’t do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a base defense I need to see to. We’ve already informed the few Conservative contacts that we have left about your presence here. I’ll have you escorted to some quarters, and you’ll be in our custody until your people arrive.” Jones stated before leaving Cossette.  

 

***

it was the same sequence of events that she went through night after night.

Post-traumatic stress disorder the doctors called it. Hysteria her detractors in the media had labelled it.

 

Per the official record of both Osea and Erusea, Trigger had been one of the thousands dead and missing from that night. And despite her protesting otherwise, there was no special consideration given to finding him. Instead of his brave actions, it was the cold and mechanical actions of an EASA programming built within the Wyvern that delivered her to safety.

 

Obsessive was the term most used in hushed tones by the staff of Cascadia. No one believed her, and Cossette knew the more she outwardly looked for answer, the less her people trusted her to lead them. So instead, Cossette reverted to what she knew best; She put on a brave face and tried to push Trigger and that night out of her mind. Once she did this, the mood of her subordinates changed significantly, and she once again was allowed to lead her fellow countrymen again.

 

She loathed herself for that choice.

 

The sun had only just started to rise, long shadows from the Mountain peaks above basked the landscape in a dark blue, while the orange blazed a brilliant orange. Gently, Cossette crept from her bed and out to the balcony. She was lost in thought, watching the sun’s rays paint a mesmerizing picture before her until a knocking caught her attention. She turned to see the only member of the staff authorized to bother her in her room.

 

It was Gretchen.

 

Cossette flashed a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I thought I would wake myself up today.”

The Maid shook her head “Pay no mind to it Princess. I just came to let you know that your breakfast is ready whenever you wish.”

“Thankyou Gretchen.” Cossette said,

“And one last thing Your Highness, you should know we do have a guest joining us today.” Gretchen informed, a tone of disdain in her voice.

“Do we now?” Cossette replied tiredly. “Can’t we just have the soldiers execute him or something?”

“I’m afraid not, less you want to start another war so quickly.” Gretchen replied swiftly.

“Fine.” Cossette replied bitterly.

***

The sleek silver business jets tires squealed as a black plume of smoke shot from them.

 

Cossette had been at McKnight two days. In that time, they had given her almost every courtesy and the finest accommodations, but it only proved to be no more than a gilded cage. Outside of the Officer’s quarters they loaned her, she wasn’t allowed anywhere without an armed Osean escort.

 

She was exhausted and ready to return home. That jet hopefully would be her ticket out of this place.

The jet got closer, and the engines whined down to a stop. To Cossette’s chagrin, instead of the seal of the Erusean Royal Family, or the roundel of the Erusean Air Force, the jet adorned a single silhouetted seal on the door. The door of the jet opened with a hiss, a moment later a man leisurely walked down the steps, sporting a fine suit and polarized sunglasses with short cropped blond hair. He smiled broadly when he saw Cossette.

“Ah! Cossette mein Schatz! Its been too long.” He exclaimed as he rushed to greet her.

“Hello Alex. I was unaware you we’re coming.” Cossette replied coldly.

The man paid little heed to her tone and continued his smile “Well of course your military wanted to send one of their transports, but that simply wouldn’t do for a woman of your status. Instead, I have lent all the resources I have at my disposal to returning you back to Farbanti.” Alex replied.

“Why thank you Herr Schmidt, your too kind” Cossette replied. While she appreciated the gesture, she would have rather walked back to Farbanti given the option.

“Well, if you would like, I did have my assistant pack multiple changes of cloths, they’re waiting for you in the aft cabin of the Gulfstream. My staff and I will wait outside until your done changing.” Alex instructed, pointing to the jet. Cossette knew of course he was referring to her current garments. With her cloths filthy and tattered from her and Triggers escape from Farbanti, the Oseans were only able to give her an athletic track suit and t-shirts to wear during her brief stay. Most would consider it unlady like to wear, but it suited Cossette just fine.

“No, I think I’ll be ok with these. Your hospitality alone is enough” She rebuked.

The smile left Alex’s face. “I see, well if you’ll come this way Princess, we shall get you from this wretched place.”

Cossette took a seat in one of the plush chairs along the cabin. True to his word, there was a separate bedroom compartment, but Cossette had no intents on using it. As the jet departed, she could feel her own heart being torn away. No matter what the Oseans said, she knew what she saw.

“Forgive me.” She whispered underneath her breath.

***

Walking into the main dining room of the Villa, she found Alex sitting behind the table, reading a newspaper, and drinking a cup of coffee.

“Ah I see the freeloader is still here.” Cossette said loudly, getting his attention.

“You do know I have a name.” Alex replied, rebuffing the insult.

“Oh, I do, but I prefer freeloader as it describes you.” Cossette shot back.

Alex put down the news paper and stood up. Quickly he closed the distance to Cossette.

“You know you need me.” He growled. He was close enough that Cossette’s eyes watered from his cologne. “You saw how little they cared this second time around. Your own people view you as an ineffectual leader, and not even Yuktobania or Osea lifted much of a finger to pick up the rubble of this last mess you made.

Cossette bit her tongue. Despite his brusque remarks, Alex had been correct. Unlike the rapid response to the refugee crisis following the Lighthouse war, the final attack of the Radicals had only been the slightest whisper on the international stage. Other states in Usea were more concerned with it increasing the flow of refugees into their territories. Even Cossette’s own people either sympathized with the Radicals, viewing them as martyrs for a day when Erusea was a feared and respected country; Or they viewed Cossette as the cause for the pain and suffering of the attack.

“Alas mein Schatz, I am not the evil king, you’re not the damsel in distress and there is no knight in shining armor coming to rescue you. You and I both need each other to further our own goals, and the sooner you come to recognize this, the easier it will be.” Alex continued.

“we’ll see about that.” Cossette spat back defiantly.

Alex chuckled softly at the remark. “I know you had a side piece before Farbanti. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to keep that action going. But for appearances? Let’s try to look like a happy couple.” He spoke.

“Happy couple my ass.” Cossette said disdainfully.