After separating, the group of thirty didn't waste time getting in which group they belong to.
There wasn't any speech or idling, some way or another everyone knew where they belonged in this operation.
Groups formed fast, none of it was random, but by skill and past history which have been honed by years of training.
Four teams were rounded up.
Recon, Demolition, Assault, And reserve.
Each one had their own job in this operation, no need for confusion or any overlap while out in the field.
____
The recon team gathered near a shaded wall behind the main armory, as if already taking to the shadows to stay out of sight.
Each one wore light gear, no extra bulk to weigh them down more than needed.
At the center stood Sam Fisher.
Older now, but even with age he still had a lean physique well kept even after retirement.
And yet even now he still looked like your everyday civilian.
He checked his rifle, then his sidearm, not forgetting his special set of tools clipped to his side and vest. Each movement precise with years of practice.
A marine nearby watched him for a second too long.
Long enough for Fisher to notice.
"Something on your mind?" he asked without looking up.
The marine shook his head. "No, sir."
Fisher gave a small nod. "Good, keep it that way."
Not in rudeness, just direct to keep them from overthinking what's about to come.
With that he turned to his team and announced what was about to happen.
"We go in first," he said. "No noise. No light unless needed. We find the path, mark it, and stay out of sight."
No one responded.
Fisher nodded and finished with one last piece of advice. "If something feels off, it probably is. Trust that feeling".
With that everyone gave a quick nod.
____
The demolition team worked out in the open. The energy itself radiating off them was almost a complete 180 from the recon group.
Heavier gear, rigs laid out, high explosive charges lined up in neat rows.
And the one leading this group.
Many know him from a regiment called the Bad Company.
George Gordon Haggard, Jr. stood in the middle of it, sleeves rolled, hands moving fast as he checked each piece.
A man who believes in explosives more than guns themselves.
He picked up a block of C4, weighed it in his hand, then set it down.
"Alright," he said, voice carrying just enough. "We're not here to make a show. But if push comes to shove I'll sure as hell make it one, HAHAHA." He said with a grin.
He pointed at a case next to him. "Extra C4 charges, we need something dealt with we sure as hell make sure we never run out of what we need".
"40-mm grenades, extra ammo, whatever you can think of I want it brought. I'll make sure we are the last to fire a shot".
"Cuz by the end of it, if things go bad? We sure as hell will make it go worse for them".
A few short laughs followed breaking the tension that has been building.
____
The assault team stayed closer to the vehicles.
Weapons out. Checked and rechecked.
Their job was were the fight takes place. The front lines.
Captain Price stood near the lead truck, talking low with a few others.
John "Soap" MacTavish leaned against the side, arms crossed, scanning the surrounding making sure nothing can go wrong.
With that his eyes squinted just a little before saying. "Something feels off."
Price didn't even look at him. "It is."
Soap nodded once. "Good, thought it was just me.
Nearby Ghost adjusted his gloves, mask already on. Well after all he never takes it off.
Roach checked his rifle before saying.
"Route's a bad one,"
"It's the best we got to stay hidden as long as possible. Plus the route's always bad." Price replied.
Roach shrugged. "Fair point."
With that they all went back to checking their gear.
____
Finally the reserve team stayed in the back.
Near the last set of vehicles.
Most of them waiting while a few added more to the vehicle just in case.
Among them one stood out, people called him Big Boss, or as most of us call him, Snake.
Snake stood away from the rest, back against a crate, arms folded.
He watched everything.
Quiet as he may be he still made sure they brought what was needed.
"Make sure to bring an Mk 22, also load up some AT4's."
No extra flair, just direct orders.
____
With gear checks wrapping up, engines started.
One by one, low rumbles sounded in the early evening.
Dust starting to kick up as the vehicles started rolling out.
The convoy rolled out at 18:40.
No special farewell, only vehicles moving past the wire and into open ground.
The road didn't stay a road for long.
Cracked asphalt turned to dirt. While dirt turned into broken rocky paths.
Then even less.
The route was chosen for a reason.
Less traffic meaning less eyes to spot them.
The downside was less support if something went wrong.
____
Inside the lead vehicle, Price sat forward, elbow on knee with the map open.
"Listen up, Fisher's team moves ahead once we hit the ridge up ahead." he said, tapping a point on the map.
Soap leaned over to look.
"Distance?"
"Two klicks."
Soap nodded. and silence resumed.
In another truck, Haggard sat with his team.
He held a detonator in one hand, tossing it up and down like a ball.
"Don't get jumpy out there," he said. "We only use this if we have to."
One of the guys turned his head to look at him. "And if we have to?"
Haggard grinned and gave a small shrug.
"Then we better make sure it's a good light show."
The rest of the groups smiled lightly at that.
____
Further back, Fisher's team stayed quiet.
Eyes on the terrain, watching for any movement or patterns.
Pretty much anything that didn't fit.
Suddenly Fisher raised a hand, telling the driver to slow.
"Stop here," he said over comms.
The convoy halted.
He stepped out first.
Looked ahead at the long stretch of ground.
It was quiet, almost too quiet.
After a few seconds of listening he crouched down and touched the dirt.
Tracks, not theirs and faint but there nonetheless.
"Someone passed through," he said.
One of his team moved closer. "How long?"
Fisher shook his head. "Few days at least."
Over comms, Price's voice came through.
"Status."
Fisher keyed in.
"Tracks ahead. Unknown count. Moving same direction."
A short pause.
"Keep moving, might be Guss's squad." Price said. "Stay ahead of us."
"Copy."
____
The convoy continued, slower now compared to before.
Caution spiking.
The sun low, getting close to setting at this point.
The heat cooling as the sun sets leading to cold nights.
There was no wind, only the sound of engines and gears shifting.
____
And ahead, past the next ridge.
Past the broken line of buildings in the distance.
Lay the place where Guss was last seen or heard from.
No one said it out loud. Didn't need to.
They all felt it.
Something waited out there.
Not just enemies.
Something worse.
It was a feeling like never before. One that for some reason induced fear to the common citizen.
But for these trained group it was just another operation.
____
Fisher moved first. Into the open, NVG's firing up after the sun finally set over the horizon.
He stayed low. Avoiding silhouetting over the ridge they were on.
The rest followed.
Step by step.
Behind them, the convoy slowed to a crawl.
Assault team ready.
Demolition on standby.
Reserve holding.
Everything lined up.
Everything ready and on standby.
Yet still even from up here.
There was no sign of Guss.
Not yet.
____
____
And that's it for this chapter. I plan for 2 more chapters of fighting and one more for debrief before the story really starts.
Hope you enjoyed and I have a very interesting idea for this future plot. And a little spoiler. you might find out what type of enemys the mc will be fighting in the future, in the next chapter. Honestly kinda want to change the name of the novel after thinking of it but I'll leave it for now.
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