December 14th, 2016, 17:43
Circa 160 km SW of the coast of Cyprus, Eastern Mediterranean

The roar of the airplane's engines and propellers is barely audible inside the cargo box, almost like a hum, the only sound breaking the silence. The doors leading to the cockpit are sealed shut, painted with the Cygnus logo, a stylized swan opening its wings, and the words: "Cygnus Military Solutions Air Force". Next to the doors, a white screen had been set up, with a mini projector on a table a few metres from it, a chair on its side. Suddendly, the door slams open, and sergeant Leonard Miller steps out of it into the cargo box, a grin barely visible on his lips. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Miller's deep voice echoes in the cargo box. "Stand down soldiers. I didn't become a hired gun for more pointless ceremonies." The man wears a pair of aviator shades concealing his eyes; Miller's mullet is also partially hidden by his black beret, adorned with the Cygnus logo with two crossed bones beneath it. Khan's clothes consist of a pair of dark green trousers and an olive green blouse, the sleeves rolled up above the elbows, unbuttoned and with a black shirt underneath it; the blouse's right shoulder is adorned with three black chevrons, surmounted by the pirate flag symbol of the Blackbeards unit, while on the left there's an oval patch you don't recognize, depicting a stylized fox facing left. Miller walks toward the table, the crutch he holds in his right hand rythmically stomping against the metallic floor, as he hums a song you don't recognize, and sits down on the chair besides the table, facing you, with his crutch resting against the side of the chair. Miller produces a small leather pouch from one of his pockets, and takes a pinch of tobacco out of the pouch. While rolling a cigarette, Khan says: "Now, I think you have already been throughly briefed about your mission. But a bit of revising has never hurt anybody, right?" As Miller puts the cigarette between his lips and lights it with a gray metal Zippo, the projector flickers to life, and an image appears on the white screen, depicting what could be described as an offshore plant, only much, much bigger.

"This is Haolam Haba, the Nation of Refugees." A puff of smoke exits Miller's mouth as he starts speaking, putting away the tobacco pouch and the lighter in his blouse. "Unless you spent the last few years living in a cave, you probably know most of the stuff you have to know about it already, and probably more. You also probably know these guys are not as good and saintly as they seem." The projector flickers and shows more pictures, taken from battlefields across the world, depicting soldiers fighting, crates of guns and ammunitions, prisoners of war, trucks full of migrants, cocaine and opium plantations, as Miller uses his crutch, held in his right hand, as a pointer, moving it towards different pictures. "Eritrea. Iraq. Lybia. Rwanda. Venezuela. Syria. These folks have been everywhere, acting as mercenaries for those who could not afford it: militias, rebel groups, cartels, insurgents, terrorists. Normally, only sovereign countries could deploy PMCs: not anymore, thanks to Haolam Haba. And that's not all: HH has been implied to be massively involved in worldwide illegal weapons trade, as well as drug and human trafficking. Thanks to their consistent military and intelligence forces they have been able to move guns everywhere, and drugs from countries like Afghanistan and Colombia into the whole wide world, opening up new markets for themselves in places like Africa and India, and let's not even get into their slave and prostitution trafficking."

"Nobody really gave too much of a damn about all this in the international opinion, because according to the United Nations HH are literally Jesus incarnate, because they offer a good and permanent solution to the migrant crisis: they actively help and shelter migrants from the whole world, offering them a safe haven at no price, and hell, they give 'em a job too. The whole thing is three times the size of Manhattan and was created specifically for housing as many people as possible: I have no idea how many are there, but it's probably above two millions and counting. Also, these people are damn good at keeping secrets and also seem to have comptent lawyers, since no international court could rule that they were guilty of any major crime." Miller lets some ash from his cigarette fall into the ashtray, then puts it back in his mouth. "Still, as you can imagine, HH attracted attention. And I'll let you guess, who's the most curious cat out there in the world?" The projector flickers again, showing a picture displaying information about CIA operations in Haolam Haba, as Miller grins and points down his crutch, resting both his hands on it. "Too late, you lose."

"According to the intel they gave us, Langley had a SAD SOG team undercover in HH, codename Gray Fox. They told us they were there to monitor HH activities and they got caught, but I think you can smell the bullshit from here as well. The CIA knows better than send guys on top secret assignments just to keep an eye on things, and most of all, they usually don't get caught in missions as simple as this. They had a task, something went wrong, and now they're probably all dead, since contacts stopped around a month ago. Of course, since the CIA doesn't want us to smell their dirty laundry, they fed us a fake story: and we don't ask questions. Your mission is very simple, and has barely anything to do with the CIA's task." Another picture is displayed on the screen, depicting a bald caucasian man in his forties, from the front and from the side; with his right hand, Miller smacks the bottom of his crutch right between the man's eyes. "This handsome gentleman is Seth, one of the Gray Fox members. No idea if that's a codename or his real name. Anyway, one week ago, the CIA received a radio transmission from Haolam Haba: apparently, it was Seth, who claimed he had been taken hostage and needed immediate rescue, and also gave out his location. Yes, I know, it's a trap. That's also one of the reasons Langley sent us instead of their own guys to investigate. Your orders are to infiltrate Haolam Haba, locate Seth, and free him if necessary; you'll get more orders once that is done." Miller blows out a stream of smoke from his nostrils, once again resting his hands on his crutch. "You think that's all? Well, you think wrong." New images appears on the screen, depicting what looks like a well-manned and equipped military base in the middle of the desert.

"These photographs were taken by one of our spy drones in Syria. Five days ago, we noticed a spike in activity in Soviet bases in the region. This is the Khmeimim base, south-east of Latakia. Lots of trucks, cargo airplanes and choppers, tanks, gunships, troop movements...they're planning on something big. And then, three days ago we get this." Another picture appears on the screen, resembling the Haolam Haba photos at the beginning; only, there are evident signs of fighting, with fires and smoke rising from the structures. "The authorities of Haolam Haba announced that a terrorist attack, led by unknown forces, had taken place in one of their platforms. And guess what, it's in the same area where our CIA guy, Seth, was located when he sent his call for rescue. We have no idea if the Reds have any involvement in this: our spy drone was spotted and shot down before it could get any closer, and we couldn't risk send another or our operation could have been compromised." A new image appears on the screen, which appears to be a drawing of one hexagon, surrounded by six smaller hexagons.

"This is a crude map of Haolam Haba; as you can see, the facility is composed of one core structure, surrounded by six smaller platforms, connected to each other and to the core with bridges. The platforms are named from Alpha to Zeta, clockwise, starting from the northernmost one: so the northern platform is named Alpha, the north-eastern one is Beta, the south-eastern is Gamma, and so on. Seth last made contact in Delta, the soutern platform, and that's where the recent attack took place too. You will perform a HAHO jump landing in this platform, reach Seth's last known location, and report back. There's probably fighting going on down there, so watch out, and shoot only if someone shoots at you. The microcameras mounted in your helmet will send me a live feed of your mission, and I will keep contact with you through the transceivers headsets you are equipped with, as your mission control, from the Cygnus air base of Halfaya, Egypt. My codename for this mission will be Khan. Your codename as a squad is Greyhound; private Morse will be the squad leader. In case communications with mission control is interrupted, he's the one who gives orders." Miller's cigarette, or what remains of it, flies into the ashtray, thrown with a swift movement of his fingers. Khan stands up, holding his crutch. "Remember, this is a top secret infiltration mission. Don't expect any official support from Cygnus. If you run out of ammo or supplies, all replacement gear must be procured on-site. Once you're out there, you're on your own." The projector shuts itself off, and Miller stands up and begins to walk towards the door he entered through. Openining it, he turns towards you. "Good luck, soldiers."

Circa 30 minutes later

The airplane speakers buzz to life, as Miller's voice echoes inside the cargo box. "Gentlemen, this is your stop. Thank you for flying with Cygnus Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight. Don't forget to grab your free parachute on the way out. Ramp opening in 3...2...1..." The cargo ramp slowly begins to open with a loud hiss, allowing the roar of the engines to be fully heard inside the plane, and letting a blade of light cut through the dim inside of the cargo box. Soon, the clouds and the sea below are visible on the outside of the plane; the Sun is setting on the horizon, bathing the sky in a deep orange hue, reflecting on the clouds, of a bright pastel colour, and the sea, shining below. "Begin Operation Dog Shelter."

Operation Dog Shelter
141743Z DEC 16

Tyus sat quietly listening to Miller spew out the mission briefing. He'd already received the Warning Order prior to departure and packed his gear accordingly. For this operation, he packed all his standard field gear, as listed on his sheet to include the handheld radio (AN/PRC-148), VHF radio (AT RF23 EPM Handheld Transceiver) and GPS attached to his assault vest. The NODs (AN/PVS-14 Night Vision Device) was attached to his helmet. He also had a small parachutist's oxygen tank, mask and pair of goggles; sun, wind and dust for the insertion. Due to the proximity of locations aboard the platforms that make up Haolam Haba, he chose to carry the MP5/40 instead of the SCAR-17. The team might still need the longer ranged SCAR, since Mr. den Oude was carrying one, they should be covered. For Pyrotechnics, he drew two fragmentation hand grenades, two flash bangs, one red parachute flare, a green smoke, yellow smoke and purple smoke to be used for marking when necessary. All four members of the team were airborne qualified and knew to have their primary and reserve chutes packed and strapped on before stepping onto the tarmac. He also carried his Sig Sauer .40 caliber handgun on his right thigh. The convenient aspect of the pistol was that both his side arm and primary weapon used the same caliber ammunition.

As Tyus listened to the mission briefing he took note of the CIA's Special Activities Division (SAD) unit stranded on the floating refugee camp in the Med below them. Gray Fox. He would retain that code name. They may need it to identify potential friendlies if encountered on the ground. 'Seth, a member of the SAD unit called for an evac, but CIA handed the mission over to Cygnus?' Tyus thought to himself. 'This smells fishy. Seth is the bait and we are the suckers walking into our funeral. CIA knows more than they are sharing with Miller.' Tyus continued listening, making mental notes as he went on. 'The Russians!? Fucking great. More than likely, they are the ones causing the ruckus on Haolam Haba. A hot DZ to boot. Lovely, just fucking great.'

The four men shuffled their way to the rear of the aircraft as Miller returned to the cabin. All their equipment was strapped down tight and checked multiple times before boarding the aircraft. Tyus Morse spoke into his mike, fixed under his oxygen mask. Prior to the mission, they planned for Matt Convel and Robbert den Oude to form B Team and Tyus Morse and Uhili Uta'atu to form A Team. The two teams would move in order to cover each other once on the deck. "This is a long jump. We are approximately forty...four zero clicks from our drop zone. Elevation is thirty thousand feet. You all know the drill. Early release, I'll take a compass heading, looking at two hundred twelve degrees from current. We'll track the DZ on GPS and fly towards our insertion point at Platform DELTA. Time of flight should be about two mikes. Stack on me during the jump in order, "Wolf", Uhili and "Doc". Watch my course corrections as we go. Report any irregularities along the way."

Tyus faced the tail of the aircraft awaiting the ramp's lowering.

Over their earphones, the team could hear, "Gentlemen, this is your stop. Thank you for flying with Cygnus Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight. Don't forget to grab your free parachute on the way out. Ramp opening in 3...2...1..." Tyus watched the ramp slowly open as the roaring of the engines intensified inside the cargo area. The sun was setting on the western horizon. They were facing a southerly exposure. The coast of Lebanon was somewhere out there in the darkness. The earphones picked up again with music and the words, "Begin Operation Dog Shelter."

Tyus spoke one last time to the team, "let's get our feet wet, ladies." Then he shuffled toward the lip of the ramp and stepped off into nothingness. Four seconds later, he pulled the ring on his RA-1 RAM AIR Tactical Parachute. The chute filled out promptly slowing his descent into the Eastern Mediterranean. Tyus pulled on his GPS to confirm his location and the location of the Drop Zone. He found them in several seconds and made a four-degree course correction to the south. The wind speed at their current elevation was playing hell on navigations. After dropping ten thousand feet, he made another four degree course correction to the south. He continued dropping and adjusting speed an elevation. The team was descending, while moving forward at a rate of just under 50 feet per second (FPS) and would reach the DZ sooner than expected.

As they neared the platforms, Tyus could see the southern platform. They sailed over the two northern platforms before landing. At ten thousand feet, the platform appeared quiet. Sporadic gunfire could be heard from the direction of the southeastern platform, ZETA. DELTA appeared clear.

Tyus scanned the DZ for a suitable landing spot. The best he could come up with was the top of the infrastructure along the northwestern corner. It provided a forty by thirty meter level base to drop onto giving the team room to spread out as they landed. They didn't want to land below eye level of potential hostiles or curious bystanders. Also, choosing the highest flat piece of terrain to land on gave the Cygnus team a height advantage.

Just as he dropped through the last thousand feet of the trip, an explosion erupted from the southeastern corner of Platform DELTA. A bright orange ball of fire lit up the sky illuminating the four chutes as they descended rapidly into their objective.

Once on the deck, Tyus slipped from his parachute harness, and removed his oxygen mask. He trapped the chute and piled the gear near the edge of the structure he stood on. He freed his MP5/40 from its bindings, bringing the gun up to his eyes with NODs on scanning the darkness for potential threats. He immediately pushed off the night vission device when the explosion occurred to preserve his eyes as best as possible. He scanned the southeast as he scrambled to the corner of their entry point coming to one knee while his teammates arrived a few seconds behind him.

@Capra@thecircus@cpldingo@The Spectre

"Begin Operation Dog Shelter." the man said as the cargo ramp finally opened to revel the clouds and the sea below. It was amazing to look at as Robbert watched the others jump out of the plane and got ready to jump after them into nothingness. The music was still playing as he got ready to jump as he held on his medical pack. His weapons were holstered as he ran towards the nothingness and jumped. The oxygen mask was helpful as he began to descend into the Mediterranean. A few seconds after leaving the plane, Robbert pulled the ring on his parachute and the slow descent began. He tried his best to follow the others, but the winds were giving them hell. They were still far away from the landing spot and he was determined to make it there.

After ten-thousand feet of slowly falling, everyone could see the platforms as a gunfight was heard nearby the southern platform. The team soon found a perfect landing spot on some infrastructure nearby the platforms. No-one could see the land as it was completely dark out unless someone had a night-vision device with them. An explosion erupted and reveled the four men as they descended rapidly into their objective. The mission was simple as mission could be, land near the facility, reach Seth's last known location, and report back to HQ. But, Tyus knew that this 'Seth' guy was bait and the CIA knows more. Regardless of the situation, they had to find out if Seth was alive or dead. He hoped that the footage from the microcameras captured something good during the mission.

Robbert liked the idea of Haolam Haba being used as a place of haven from the war-torn countries; but, he knew that it wasn't the perfect country. It existed, so that Europe didn't have to deal with a migration crisis. Being from the Netherlands, he didn't want to think how his country would of dealt with a migration crisis. The country wasn't as powerful as it used to be in the early 1900s. They don't have the East Indies anymore, thanks to revolts for the locals. Their economy had also seen better days, but it wasn't in total chaos. Robbert was shocked to see that he was the only non-American in the squad. He didn't hate the idea of being with Americans, but he'd rather had most of the squad European than American.

As soon as Robbert landed on the ground, he threw off the harness, and removed his oxygen mask. He put down his medical pack and unholstered his SCAR-H as he checked the surrounding area for any possible threats. After checking for a minute, he realized that he landed away from the landing zone. It wasn't too far, but he still didn't land on the zone. He began his short walk towards the LZ, hoping that he would see one of the three guys. Then, he saw Tyus checking out the surrounding area as well. Robbert walked slowly towards Tyus as he began to say, "Alles komt op zijn tijd."

It was the English equivalent to "He that can have patience can have what he will." It was one of many Robbert's signals that he gave to the squad. He started to use Dutch proverbs as a way to signal the squad that he was nearby. Plus, it helped them learn parts of Dutch as well. He didn't know how the others felt having a Dutch aboard, but then again, they also had Tongan as well. After making sure that he had arrived at the LZ, he started to check the surrounding area with Tyus to see for any possible threats. He reached for his night-vision device and put it on for a moment to see for any threats. He pulled it off and placed it back into his pack quickly.

"I don't see any possible threats near the LZ" Robbert spoke to Tyus as he stood behind him, "But, we can't be too sure."

The waiting game began as the rest of the squad should be at the LZ in any given moment. After that, the mission would finally start and they can see if Seth is a traitor or not.

Wolf sat in silence on the flight, every fifteen seconds he would spit into a small bottle he had.
Copenhagen wintergreen longcut sat in his lower lip. The aircraft was a repurposed KC-130 Hercules, modified to fit passengers comfortably, for the most part. There were two columns of seats three to a row with an aisle cutting down to the middle.

Miller stepped out, and Wolf still somewhat indoctrinated into military protocol stood up at attention, but was quickly called to stand down.
Miller began the briefing, Wolf had already read his warning order and, for the most part, understood the parameters of the mission.
Haolam Hah, the man-made nation of "soldiers for hire" and for all the wrong reason.

Like most well intentioned endeavours, this road to hell was paved with them. Initially started out as a joint venture to house, feed, and otherwise care for displaced local nationals, due to war famine 92nd general human behavior, and it worked out exceedingly well.... At first. Wolf called it back in 2011. He remembered telling friends that it was going to end up de-funded, corrupt and someone was going to get killed, and he was right, he wish he was wrong. Then they took hostages and demanded to be recognized as a sovereign nation, worst part of it all is the UN folded like a wet noodle. After it had been known they were wheeling and dealing in the arms trade and guns for hire business the international community turned a blind eye to the situation, because they kept the refugee crisis under control. Like putting a band aide on an open wound.

Now they were being sent in to secure a CIA dog who had been taken hostage. Wolf knows bullshit when he smells it, there was more than they were being told, which, in the grand scheme of things... Isn't anything Wolf is not accustomed to.

'Just like Afghanistan,' he thought to himself. That last OP was his reason to leave the Marine Corps.

Wolf mentally checked his gear. His M27 and eight magazines, his .38 stubby and two extra cylinders. His plate carrier, two m67 frag grenades. Two smoke grenades, a combat knife, and his PVNS14s that were flip mounted in front of his DSO on his weapon, and more dip, just in case. The only thing he wore on his uniform was a black and tan American flag patch on his chest, upside down.

Their team leader for this operation is former army Sgt1st Class Tyrus Morse. For a soldier doggy he knew his shit, his knowledge of fine tobacco and women.... A bit lacking, but tactically he was just as skilled as Wolf, maybe even more so given his lengthy army stint.
The plan was for a HALO drop to a designated platform. Himself, and doc were to provide overwatch, considering they both had longer ranged weaponry, the other two, Morse and Uhili were main effort. Wolf preferred to be the assault team, but, a mission was a mission.
Miller finished up his brief and headed back into the cabin, The flight officers began to prep for insertion. Wolf took his dip out and placed it into his small bottle, stood up, then dawned his mask.
He stood and buckled his gear, then shuffled to the ramp.

Once his mask was secured Morse came over the net:

"This is a long jump. We are approximately forty...four zero clicks from our drop zone. Elevation is thirty thousand feet. You all know the drill. Early release, I'll take a compass heading, looking at two hundred twelve degrees from current. We'll track the DZ on GPS and fly towards our insertion point at Platform DELTA. Time of flight should be about two mikes. Stack on me during the jump in order, "Wolf", Uhili and "Doc". Watch my course corrections as we go. Report any irregularities along the way."
Wolf got into place behind Morse, checked Morse's chute, gave him a pat on the back of his head.

"Good!" He yelled, the other two followed along.
This time Miller came over the net.

"Gentlemen, this is your stop. Thank you for flying with Cygnus Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight. Don't forget to grab your free parachute on the way out. Ramp opening in 3...2...1..."

The ramp dropped, the air pressure changed, the team began to deploy

"Begin Operation Dog Shelter."

"let's get our feet wet, ladies." Morse said before stepping off into the sky. Wolfe stepped up looked to the flight officer to his right, noticed a small USMC insignia tattoo on his neck.

"Land, air, and sea right? Oorah," He said before stepping off.

Wolf angled his body to match Morse's vector, with a quick glance to his six he could see the other two members of the team following. He pulled his chute at the same elevation when the team leader did, and continued to follow. Wolf was scanning the area as well, he spotted a platform northwest of the compound. Judging by their current speed and angle of decent, he was sure that was where Morse intended to land.
Suitable, it was elevated giving the team fire advantage, the only problem was a one hundred meter kill zone between the infrastructure they were landing on, and the nearest cluster of structures for cover, accurate suppression is going to be key there, if they were spotted while dropping in.

As they approached the LZ a detonation occured to their south east. The sky lit up in and orange glow.

'fuck... Hope no one's looking up,' he thought to himself for a second or two all four chutes were completely illuminated.

Wolf hit the deck harder than he intended, he stumble a bit and fell to a knee, but immediately adopted a defensive posture until his bearing was found. He stowed his chute and landing gear with Morse's.Once squared away he took a knee near Morse, leveled his rifle and scanned the area, his set of 14's were mounted in front of his DSO, giving him some eyes out further.

While the team was arriving Wolf spotted a platform that had been partially deconstructed or never finished, either way there were areas that would make a great overwatch point.

"One five zero meters south, by south east, good spot for overwatch, halfway constucted platform, doc and I will post up there and give you guys overwatch, when we change positions we'll notify by radio with one word, Appalachia, and ir flashes."

“Eats” shook his head as he listened to the mission brief. “A scratch team and a shitty mission”, he thought to himself. But the personnel were well-trained and experienced; Morse, his partner, was an ex- Delta operator with light infantry experience, the Doc was an ex-Dutch KCT type. And Convel, Doc’s partner, was an ex-marine Raider. “So it shouldn’t be TOO fucked up” he muttered to himself.

Miller; the briefing officer, team leader, whoever he was continued his briefing; detailing the environment, target information, and possible threats. ‘Uhili shook his head as he rubbed his forehead. “Christians in Action” he muttered, “Why do we have to clean up their mess?”

25 minutes later, “Eats” is finishing up his final equipment check, ensuring that he could operate self-supported for 3 days at least. He made sure his weapons were loaded and secure just as the buzzer sounded. He smiled and shook his head as he heard the standard line, just a change of employers; "Gentlemen, this is your stop. Thank you for flying with Cygnus Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight. Don't forget to grab your free parachute on the way out. Ramp opening in 3...2...1...”

‘Uhili exited the aircraft last, did a quick “3 count” and pulled his d-ring. His PD Zero opened correctly, and he let of a breath. Jumps still gave him the willies at all of these years. Another sight check of his equipment, and “Eats” did a nav check and began tracking on his partner.

A few minutes later the team was over the platforms. “I just love a hot DZ!” “Eats” muttered, when he heard the sound of gunfire and saw the explosions. Releasing his equipment bag’s drop line and then landing lightly, he dumped the air out of his ‘chute and began bringing it in. After securing his equipment and readying his BRMC, ‘Uhili put on his MICH 2000 helmet and trotted in the direction of Morse.

A few seconds after you touch land, Miller's voice buzzes into your ears.

"Greyhound, this is Khan, can you hear me?"

---

After the explosion, the whole area seems immersed in an eerie silence, with the only noises being occasional distant gunfire and Khan's voice. The Sun has fully set, with light being provided by the numerous streelights of Haolam Haba; clouds cover most of the sky, with the full Moon being visible behind them, staring down. "According to our satellite you landed in the middle of a residential zone, near the southeastern corner of platform Delta. The building you are standing on is an administration office, while the platform to your southeast is a half constructed heliport." Looking down below, you can see what resembles a city district, with perpendicular roads intersecting between each building, all fitted with sidewalks, streetlights, and signs written in English, French and Arabic. The building themselves are squarish and tall, all identical to each other in their vaguely cubical shape, painted in various colours: the bottom floor of these buildings appear to be housing shops, offices, and most of the commodities offered by any ordinary city. The roads are cluttered with a few abandoned cars, some fallen streelights and signs, and other such debris; pieces of paper glide across the air, moved by gusts of wind. No living thing appears to be moving. "The area has been evacuated by the HH authorities immediately after the terrorist attack, but there might be some civilians still around. Stay sharp."

Scanning the area around you, you see some buildings that stand out among the others, having a different shape or being larger than the others. "Most of the southern part of the Delta platform is made up of residential districts: most you'll find there are houses, with the occasional police or firefighter stations, churches and mosques, and so on; there's a hospital near the centre of the platform and a military base near the northern corner, while the rest of the place, the northern half of Delta, is made up of factories and other industrial buildings. All around the platform there's a ring of manutention walkways and passages, that lead to Delta's subterranean level: here you can find most of the platform's infrastructure, including power plants, a subway, and the sewer network. Seth's last known position is approximately ten kilometers to your northwest, in a building of the industrial zone."

To the west of your position, you can see many columns of smoke rising from buildings, as well as occasional explosions. "According to our intel, the fighting is most intense near the southern and southwestern corners of the platform. One viable strategy would be to sneak through this area, hoping that the HH soldiers are too busy getting shot at to notice you. Otherwise you can try moving through the eastern zone, which is more firmly under HH control: perhaps they'll be too busy paying attention to the western zone, and you'll get through undetected. You might also try moving through the subterranean level, but we'll probably lose radio contact, and orienting yourself will be way harder. The choice is yours. We don't have a fix on the strenght of the unknown attackers or their goals, but we have no interest in fighting them right now: only shoot if they shoot you first."

Suddendly, you see movement ahead of you, approximately three hundred metres away. Two IFVs, colored khaki, moving towards the western part of the platforms. Zooming on them with your binoculars, you see they are adorned with the black cross, symbol of Haolam Haba. "Huh, those look like LAV III. Wonder where they've got those toys from. They don't seem to have spotted you, but watch out for more reinforcements. Haolam Haba soldiers aren't your average illiterate, rag-head goat herders; they've got military training, and they're probably pretty jumpy right now, so they're likely to shoot on sight. Be careful. Out."

"Gather around ladies. Let's go over the operation one more time before we leave tomorrow morning," Ty spoke to the other three members of his team. He held a laser pointer, used to highlight a spot on a large photograph of their objective area. "This is Halaom Haba. It is nothing more than a floating refugee camp. Our mission is rescue an American Central Intelligence Agency Operative. We will receive a more detailed brief on the flight tomorrow heading to the objective. I want to cover our actions as a team and our contingency operations, roger?"

The team all responded in unison with a, "Roger!"

"This is our intended Drop Zone," Ty highlighted a flat structure in what appeared to be the industrial heart of Platform Delta. "Our target is located somewhere amongst these buildings here," he highlighted an area less than half a kilometer from their DZ. "We will move along a magnetic azimuth of one hundred degrees to this rally point here. There are several sites along this route we could use as an overwatch point. I want Wolf and Doc to be on overwatch. Myself and Eats will make contact with CQB weapons and search for our objective. Be prepared to adjust your overwatch position, Wolf. If you have to move, Eats and I will go to ground and cover your movement, roger?"

The team all responded in unison with a, "roger!"

"Our mission is not to make contact with the anyone on this platform. Our mission is simply to go in, find this CIA spook and get his ass off this thing. If we make contact, we will pop smoke and break contact. Move back to last known rally point. Then we'll move in an alternate direction and try again. We don't leave the platform without the spook, roger?"

The team all responded in unison with a, "roger!"

"When we get to the AO where the spook is located, we may have to establish contact and fight our way in. If that happens, we'll keep it tight and use whatever cover is available to our advantage. Once we have the package, we'll identify ourselves and alert higher that it is time for extraction. Our extraction route will be a hip shoot; meaning be prepared for whatever means of transportation is available to us. Keep an eye out for water vehicles and aircraft while on the deck. We may need to make hasty use of whatever is available, roger?"

The team all responded in unison with a, "roger!"

"If someone gets hurt, doc will render first aid and we'll keep moving. We cannot afford anyone with an incapacitating injury. Pray for ambulatory at the worst. If that happens, we'll make a hasty stretcher out of a poncho or just use a fireman's carry."

"Take at least a Basic Load for your weapons. We'll have a ranged team, Wolf and Doc and a near team, Eats and myself. Watch your buddy and teams, keep an eye on the other team. If we do this right, we'll get out of this OK."

"If for some reason, we miss our Drop Zone, establish a perimeter around me and I'll attempt to get a bearing on our position. I'll have to refigure a new route to the objective. Be prepared for anything to go wrong. Murphy is in full effect. I will issue a new route to the objective once it is available. Do not forget! Avoid detection when traveling along the route. Chain of command will be, me, Wolf, Eats and Doc. If you are the last man standing, get to the CIA spook and radio higher for extraction, roger?"

The team all responded in unison with a, "roger!"

"During this operation, we will use our standard prowords assigned as follows: Eats is known as READY, Wolf with the team's AR is known as FIRE, Doc will be known as ASSIST and I am [b]TEAM[/i]." Ty adjusted his posture slightly indicating he was finished. "Alright, let's get outside and rehearse the break contact battle drill." Ty lead the team of elite operatives out the doors to begin rehearsals.


"Get down!" Ty spoke to the rest of the team indicating they should all assume a prone position. Through the team's communications he whispered, "there is an APC approximately 300 meters to the east and moving towards us. They should not be able to see us on top of this structure. We are at least twenty meters in the air." With those words uttered, the heavens opened up and dropped a deluge of rain upon the entirety of Halaom Haba. The rain squall pelted everything with the intensity of a Southern Louisiana rainstorm. There was no hiding from getting wet. The rain drops were fatter than the spaces of air between them it was so heavy.

'Well at least they won't hear us,' he thought. 'Probably can't see us either.' It was after the rain started Ty remembered to respond to Miller, "Khan, this is Greyhound. I read you loud and clear, over."

The violent winds, playing havoc on the team's descent sent them about ten kilometers off their mark. Instead of landing in the northwestern corner of Platform DELTA, they dropped on a building just southeast of the center of the platform. "Fuck! we really missed our DZ, guys. Give me a perimeter. I need to check our bearing." Ty looked around and checked his map, which was protected by a plastic laminate. He still used paper maps knowing that not all electronics fail in wet conditions. One can never plan for rain. After checking the map and looking at the surrounding area several times, he found their current location.

"OK guys. We need to head north, about three hundred thirty degrees for about two clicks. There is a major medical facility in the center of the structure. It should be on our left. Avoid that and yes, avoid the HH soldiers we may bump into." Rain began dripping down the back of his neck. Ty shook a little and continued. "When we get to a point about a half a click northeast of the hospital, we'll turn to the left and move along two hundred eighty five degrees for about eight kilometers. We will stay together, unless the situation dictates otherwise. No overwatch during movement. Break contact if someone attempts to interfere with us. I have four smoke grenades. Use your frags if you have them. Eats, look for a way off this thing and get us started in that direction," Ty used a bladed hand to direct Eats, the team's point man in a northerly direction. "Let's go!" Ty stood up, hunched over and followed Eats.