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Drummer-Dan · #1 (**permalink**) 07-05-2009

Never Quite There
Chapter 1: S.E.A.T Call To Arms

Lt. Wayne Styles- Recon Team "Echo"
0245 Hours, January 17th 2010, Colchian Rainforest, Turkey.

Status: Stable

Current Location: Held up on site, Exact position unknown

As he opened his eyes he saw the same silhouette, Stocky, good build, and what he took for a Beret atop the head of the unknown figure.
The room was dark as always, he was never interrogated in the light.

Styles wondered how his interrogation would start this time around. He braced himself for the first of many sucker punches that was usually thrown at him, to his surprise it never came.
Instead, he was offered a hot meal, which he gladly took, making sure to dig in as soon as possible before it was taken away. Luckily he did so, for as soon as he had stole a few handfuls of food, nearly searing his hands, the meal was quickly taken away from him.

The same Baritone voice rang through the air.

"You would like food, Yes?" Said the silhouette from before.

Styles as usual, said very little, replying with a short yes.

"Then all you have to do is tell me why you are here and from which unit you have come, my friend. Then you and your friends can enjoy both, a meal, and each others company." The voice echoing around the room.

The thought of these rewards were almost to tempting, but keeping his proffesional mentality he broke into his cover story again.
The barrage of fists andd boots that were issued to him obviously meant that the cover story wasn't going down to well.
The sound of the screams of pain were only topped by Baritone guy as he shouted his request.

Iam giving you one more chance, Mr. Styles. Don't fuck it up, Because the lives of your men now count on it!" The voice had never sounded so serious before. Styles knew this wasn't a bluff.

Drummer-Dan · #2 (**permalink**) 07-05-2009

Cpt. Ryan Vaughn- Search and Rescue Team "Alpha Two Four"
2320 Hours, January 19th 2010, Turkey Airspace

All was quiet aboard the chopper, only the whirling of the blades above could be heard. Taking a look around at his team, Vaughn saw they were all doing their routine checks, must be like second nature to them by now.

Looking down at his own gear once again, he began checking it over for a third time. His weapon was loaded and his equipment was all still in place.... Just as it had been ten minutes ago.
He finally put the the check to rest and faced his team.

"Right, we are going in Quick and quiet. I don't wanna hear nothing from touch down to Lie Up, Understood?" Vaughn's tone seemed to set everyone into proffesional mode, as they began gathering up their gear.

A voice came in ober the headset.

"ETA four minutes... Dropping Altitude, get ready!" The pilots voice sounded out through the headset.

Vaughn raised his hands, four fingers on display to his squad.

"Right, you know the score... I want radio silence as soon as we touch down. Got any questions before hand, say 'em now" told the captain.

r3n0 · #3 (**permalink**) 07-10-2009

It always starts with some dickhead getting a promotion. Warren Riley stood suit-clad and stoic in the CIA Crime and Narcotics Division office of his newly-appointed superior, Gary Worth. Agent Worth was an incomprehensible douche, in Riley's opinion. However, 'superior' meant just that. Riley kept his mouth shut as Agent Worth pissed away his career.

"Agent Riley, I'm going to be Frank. We're removing you from the Juarez assignment. In light of the intel ceased during that raid in El Paso, we feel that it would be better for the division if you were reassigned to an Alpha Unit operating out of our friends in jolly ol' England. You're going to Turkey, where you will connect with a Captain Ryan Vaughn. He is your daddy now, and you do as he says, understood?" Worth's face turned slightly sideways, his eyebrows pushing upward condescendingly in gesture signifying that no matter how quickly Riley would answer, it would still take too long.

"Sir, with all do respect to you and the Agency, this is complete fucking bullshit..." Worth shifted back in his chair, his lips motioning to speak, but Riley cut him off with his continued ranting.
"I have been picking apart these Juarez fucks like fleas off of a monkey dick, and right when my agents and I are a shot away from shutting Juarez down for good, this assignment gets fucking pulled out from under me? Correct me if I'm wrong, Gary, but that sounds a lot like a certain Director is stealing the fucking credit for the blood and sweat that I've poured into this investigation..." Again, Worth would attempt to interject, but would soon be silenced by the gradually increasing voice of Riley's frustration.
"How many narco-fucks have YOU put down, Gary? How many nights have you had to lie awake in your fucking bed because you know you're responsible for taking a father away from his children? How many dead bodies do YOU see when you close your eyes? I see fourteen. Fourteen drug-trafficking Mexicans that I've single handedly murdered, and in some cases, tortured for the sake of national-fucking-security. You give me a good fucking answer to these questions, and MAYBE I'll hop on a plane to Turkey."

Worth's answer came in the form of an ultimatum, and Riley found himself on a plane to Turkey.

Introductions were brief, and in a flash, Riley was geared up and put on a chopper. He didn't feel fear or anxiety, quite the contrary, he knew what was coming and what to expect. So he slept on the chopper, as best he could with the rotor roaring and the sound of chopping wind still punishing his ears through his sound-dampening ear muffs.

He dreamed of killing, as an inevitable precursor to having to wake up and kill again.

Drummer-Dan · #4 (**permalink**) 07-15-2009

The chopper began its quick descent into the thick bush. Not being able touchdown, the oreder was given to fast rope down and secure the immediate area.

Captain Vaughn looked around at his Squad and relayed the information to them.

"Right, this is it. Get your shit together and get down that rope. As soon as the crew gives the thumbs up, I expect the first man to be on that rope and halfway down already. Ok, lets liven up." Vaughn Said as he cocked his weapon.

The heli, came to halt and Captain Vaughn stood ready to go. He secured his gear, to his belt kit and bergen, everything else was stashed in the pockets of his DPM's. His weapon was slung around his shoulder, safety on to avoid any ND's (Negligent Discharges) which could either injure or even drop a fellow team mate, or give away their position, or in a worse case scenario, Both. That would really put them in the shit, a dead body and a compromise, followed no doubt by a Shit storm of a contact.

The aircrew gave the thumbs up, Captain Vaughn happened to be the closest member of the squad to the rope, and so therefore he literally flew down it.
His feet touchdown on the floor of the jungle, the climate was already showing it's bad side, the air was sticky but it wasn't quite as hot as he previously guessed.
The only sound heard was from the Mozzies flying around, they obviously picked up the scent of a new hotspot Diner in town and each was eager for the first seating.

Ignoring the mozzies and the humidity, vaughn gave a quick scope around his surroundings. It was clear from what he could see, but he knew better than to rely on that, and stayed alert constantly, waiting for the others to touchdown.
The next step would be to find their position uising the GPS and then tab toward the target area and set up and OP, from there they would have a cold dinner so as not to risk compromising their position with smoke from the fires, sort out their gear and get a two man recce going on the target area.
But for now the task was getting the team down, and tabbing to an appropriate spot for an OP.

GhostShip Blue · #5 (**permalink**) 07-15-2009

Gunther Hansen slung his rifle muzzle down and secured it as he took the short step to the line. He buckled off and rigged down quickly. This was not his normal MO, under normal circumstances he'd have humped it in from the nearest secure forward fire base. While not "heavy iron" by most people's definition, pretty much anything bigger than boots qualified as heavy iron to Hansen, and that included the helicopter. Lone stealth and a single well placed shot were what he specialized in. Why the Legion had sent him on this mission he could only imagine. What he did know for certain was that the Legion had, and he would make it work.

He hit the ground by the time the thought had coalesced. He loosed his rifle, eased the safety off and sholdered it as he scanned the thick jungle in the opposite direction of Captain Vaughn. He advanced enough to clear the drop line and knelt. The lower position allowed him to look under some of the brush and kept his head well below the most probable lines of fire.

His single shot rifle wasn't the ideal tool for this job. In the close distances of jungle fighting he'd have preferred an SMG, there'd be no line of sight long enough to give his far superior range the edge. While a wild fire fight would compromise the mission, the helo was a hell of a marker for almost any knucklehead within 5 klicks.

The faster the flying missle attractor cleared off, the happier Hansen would be. Until then, he scanned the underbrush for movement he couldn't attribute to the helo and waited for the rest of the team to get on the ground.

Drummer-Dan · #6 (**permalink**) 07-18-2009

The rest of team had fast roped to the safety of the earth. Vaughn gave a signal, raising his hand and positioning it just above his head, Fall In.
His squad carried out their final checks of their surroundings and then slowly, carefully, quietly moved over to his position.

Speaking in just over a whisper, he gave a short brief on the current situation.

"Right, we gonna be heading west through the bush. We need to be silent and aware. No getting distracted by a pretty looking butterfly, alright. We need to locate a suitable position to lie up" The captain told.

"Right, Hansen, you take point. The rest of fall in" The captain ordered as he took his weapon into the shoulder.
Being a scout and sniper, Hansen seemed the best option for pointman. If anything moved he would see or hear it, and he would be the one to find the best possible LUP, over-looking the target area. Easily the best man for the job.

The Captain, who was second in formation scanned the areas to his right and left, eagerly waiting for some form of movement or better still, a possible ambush. Neither occured.
Given the terrain and enviroment in which they were situated, the spacing within the formation had to be relatively tight, Vaughn always tight formations, it just allows the enemy to wipe you all out at the same time.
Luckily though, all was silent. Apart from the gentle whispers of the wind on the trees. The singing choir of crickets, would loop itself time and time again, often accompanied by a vocal ad lib from some other form of wildlife who obviously felt left out.

The team stumbled out of the bush and into a wide clearing, in the far distance above the canopy beyond, The captain spotted a thick trail of smoke. Judging by its thickness, it couldn't come from some little cook pot, this was a bonfire, not too big, but certainly no too small either.
Vaughn raised a closed fist and held it level with his head, Halt.
Slowly edging forward, he tapped on the big shoulder of Hansen, who being the pointman, would not of seen the order behind him.
Vaughn pointed over to the far canopy, and indicated the smoke trail.

What do Ya reckon boyo?" He said to his pointman, He then turned to his squad.

"Keep 'em open" He said pointing to eyes, he then pointed at his weapon.

"And keep It ready"

He then turned back to his pointman, in hoipe that he had come to some kind of conclusion as to the situation up ahead.

GhostShip Blue · #7 (**permalink**) 07-19-2009

Hansen watched the smoke drift in to the sky above the forest. It told him little. What told him volumes more was the complete lack of high ground.

Gunner turned to the Captain, his voice a controlled, professional volume practiced on countless missions through the brush with a spotter, "Smoke doesn't tell us a whole lot - might be one might be 50 hostiles. No high ground makes it a little harder to get the hard data but not impossible."

He looked at the clearing, the smoke and the jungle. "We could work around the clearing as a group then I could head out while you all work into a temporary fire base. I can cover the ground faster and get closer by myself."

Hansen thought he could probably complete the mission alone inside threee days - work in take one or two targets out and ease back into the jungle and fire again a few hours later. Pick them apart, one target at a time. Sunded like there wasn't enough time for that.

Gunner started away from the Captain back into the forest, "Sir, have them keep their eyes open for traps - I know I'd try to force us into the open."

With that, Gunner headed into the underbrush without a rustle or whisper and began scouting the route to the FEBA.

DarkPassionPlayed · #8 (**permalink**) 07-20-2009

The quick drop from the fast-rope was just that, over and done with just like that; just how it should be done, unlike training when you'd wait for the new recruits to gently edge over to the damn thing. She had been stuck with the new guys for what seemed like ages, making sure they'd pass their exercises so that they can be stuffed into the nearest platoon. So it came as such a relief when Ryan had caught her for an operation. Back with the captain, just like it should be.

After the last pair of boots made a gentle "thud" on the jungle floor, they'd vanished into the thick bush, heading off on a Westley bearing. It was hot and humid, the conditions running her back to training, when she'd been little more than a willing recruit and still chasing after the front runners. SAS exorcises were always the best, and as serious as they were, each was something to enjoy, learning the tips and tricks as you went. It was all being put into practice now, and with her P90 pulled up into her shoulder and eyes up, operation Bloodhound was underway.

After reaching the clearing, Alice too could see the thick channel of smoke sailing above the canopy. It was too big for a small, practical cooking fire, suggesting that it was to at least be a large patrol or outpost. If they timed it right with enough Intel from the scout, a clean silent sweep on the entire area would be possible. Then again, all it'd take is for someone to trip a wire, a target to let out a shout or get a round off and everything would get very nasty very quickly. They'd reached their first obstacle, but it would be an impact on the rest of the Op if anything went wrong. This was going to have to be flawless, or messy.

It was never both...

Drummer-Dan · #9 (**permalink**) 07-20-2009

The captains gaze was shifting from Hansen, to the distance bush, and back again. Hansen had begun heading off. Vaughn remembered to give him the ROE and told him what he is to do when he reaches he position.

"Hansen, we are to keep things quiet, return fire only. I need you to give us eyes on the target area and rely the intel back to us. We will head off toward the bush dead ahead, you box around and Lie up... The ERV is here, any drama, give it a quick burst and fall back to this location, from here you radio in every hour on the hour until we are all here. Got it?" The Captain ordered.

Looking back at his team, he gave them the same brief. Turning back to face the distant bush, he gave the order to move out.

Fan out, Three metre spread. Keep 'em open." Once again the captain raised two fingers to his eyes in a gesturing motion.

The team mobilised, the blanket of darkness that covered the sky above had now taken full affect. Visibility fell dramaticly, keeping each soldier alert and on their toes.
Vaughn scanned the horizon before looking to his right.
She was always proffesional always had been, even all those years ago, when she was still green. Now was no different, her eyes fixed on the surroundings, alert and watchful. Her posture, strong and powerful, yet she still had that feminine feel about her. Thats what Vaughn liked about her, this proffesionalism wasn't an act to fit in with the lads, it was who she was.

"How're we doing Alice?" He asked, as the team slowed a few feet shy of the bush.
Vaughn held up his closed fist once again, halting the team. He edged forward by himself, scoping out the immediate area. The smoke from earlier now invisible through the dense barrier of trees and shrubs.
Standing a short way in, he turned to his team, and gave the order to move up.

"Alice, break out the comms, get Hansen on the net, i want a sitrep" He ordered.

"Tell him we have just made the bush and are slowly tabbing forward... The rest of you get a brew going"

GhostShip Blue · #10 (**permalink**) 07-20-2009

Hansen eased into the jungle with grace and silence. Despite his size, he disappeared far more quickly than seemed possible. Once into the dense undergrowth and on his own, he was in his element.

Just as Shere Khan did not fear the panther Bagheera, Gunner Hansen did not fear his prey. Unlike Shere Khan, Hansen was not over-confident or certain of his own invulnerability. He knew, too, that this kind of mission was almost impossible to botch completely. Even if the wolves dragged him down while he dealt with the panther, the rest of the tigers would hear it. It wouldn't be enough to save him, but the wolves would not escape this jungle book.

Carlessness was certain death, and that wasn't authorized, so Hansen moved with care. It wasn't that the Legion didn't authorize suicide last stands, it did. This just wasn't one of those instances.

He let his conscious mind remain idle while his instincts and training worked the terrain. Eyes, ears, nose, and skin took in the gestalt of the forest, digesting it, working the larger, subtle patterns. Here was the way, his body folded around the brush in near silence while his consciousness waited for warnings.

A branch on the ground ahead caught his eye and he froze in place before easing towards the ground smoothly. He squatted next to the branch. He did not sway, and touched nothing, and looked carefully. It had been cut by a machette judging from the cut marks. He eased forward carefully, watching for signs of traps or movement. A few paces forward and he found what he was looking for - a machette trail cut through the forest.

The condition of the fallen foliage and cut plants indicated it had been a day, maybe two, ago. Numbers were hard to judge accurately, but experience led him to six. More and the trail would be wider, more clearly trampled, much less and they probably wouldn't have bothered with machettes, or if they were inexperienced enough to need them, they wouldn't have been sent out in such a small force.

Hansen cleared off the trail, back into the heavy jungle, knelt close to the rich earth and froze. Held held his position silent and still for minutes, breathing slowly. When he was convinced there were no people he keyed his mic. "Hansen here," he didn't wait for an acknowledgement, instead giving an immediate sitrep so he could get moving again, "machette trail. Estimate six hostiles. West bound in the past 2 days. No current signs of traps. Will continue. Advise caution."

He cut off the mic and remained motionless. Minutes passed and nothing but the jungle moved. When the bugs had resumed their flights and the crickets began to chirp again, Hansen eased back into the forest quietly enough that the crickets kept up their racket. Gunner appreciated the contribution to his cover.

He zig zagged across the path - not wanting to follow it, but wanting to know it's course. Apparently this was a party coming in to support the hostiles. If it was the main force, there weren't many of them and that seemed unlikely - or they'd split their force and let the skilled jungle fighters move on their own.

Hansen hadn't seen any sign of other troops, but skilled troops could be as hard to track as him. Just as easily, they could have gone around the other side of the clearing and taken a course he couldn't intersect without ranging farther than neccessary. He reserved judgment and checked in three more times.

He kept careful track of his distance and direction with each turn. When he got within 1,000 meters of the target zone Hansen eased himself prone on the soft loam of the jungle floor. Again he waited. Certain he was alone, he moved in slow fractions of an inch and pulled the gille suit out of his pack and over himself. Now the work began.

An hour later he'd covered another 500 meters. He checked in briefly, saying only he was near the camp. Nothing to be gained by revealing how close or from which direction he was coming. He had no hard recon yet anyway. Noise carried from the encampment, but nothing clear or definite. He eased forward with careful, silent movements. Each one slow, smooth and carefully planned before he began it. Any sign of a rustled branch and Hansen stilled himself, waited, recalculated and began again.

This is why snipers are feared - like the tiger, they can arrive without warning, having stalked forward with patience, grace and planning.

Voices sound nearby and Gunner Hansen eased his motion to a silent halt. A sudden move now could turn this into a blood bath that he didn't want to take. He lay still, breathing slow, quiet and shallow breaths. The patrol passed within feet of him. He could have made short work of them, but his presence would have been revealed. Instead he counted, made mental notes about what each one looked like and how they were armed. Two carried machettes but wore no sheaths.

Once they'd gone, Hansen eased to the north, working his way to the northwest, closer to the camp. Night fell before he'd made it far enough to the north and close enough to get a good idea of the layout. He recognized a couple of the men from the patrol and added a few new ones to his tally. Every hour he paused, waited for the jungle to deafen him, and checked in. He kept his voice soft as death, but never whispered - a whisper could carry and be garbled at the other end.

With darkness fully draped around the jungle, Gunner began to move again. A little more quickly now that darkness covered him, but still with the patience of a sniper. Each movement was slow, deliberate and fluid, one flowing seamlessly into the next.

The low life of the jungle accompanied him until dawn, when he was hunkered down under a knot of bushes and undergrowth that had grown up around the base of a great old tree. He was less than a hundred meters from the camp, his rifle in position and his mental notes sharp. He checked in again saying that he was in position and would revise counts. From here he could easily take two down and move to a new position before the targets would even know what had happened. He watched and listened. When the good guys got here, the bad guys would get it in the back.

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