Mission Three - Assault on Jinghong Dam
Timeskip, Mekong River, China - 10/25/2022, 6:10 UTC+8
Noel Alonso was soothed by the smooth whirring of the patrol boats' engines, a dangerous mood while wearing a stolen PLA Marine uniform that barely hid his dark skin tone and non-Chinese facial features. Between the muddy, almost black waters barely lit up by his boat's faint headlights and the high banks that blocked the scant illumination from the moonless sky, there was a lack of things to do but to wait for their group to reach their destination or be stopped midway, either briefly or permanently.
Well, there was stargazing, but he had just turned eighteen. It was the middle of a combat mission. There was no way he could just sneak a look at the starry sky -
He did so anyway for the fifth time of the journey; the North Star was barely visible through the mass of other glimmering pinpricks of light that demanded their share of attention, but it guided their path anyway - North, then West, to Jinghong City and the Jinghong Dam just beyond it.
Trying to bring his mind back onto the mission, Noel glanced at a disguised Qingshe right beside him; Myron was driving the lead boat and using night vision goggles and a gas mask to hide his pale skin and his distinctive American-Asian face. Then he dared a glance behind his boat engine's barely foamy spray to look at the group's second boat, where Henri, Nil, Marta, and Cristina were crammed worse than he was - One of them was driving the vessel and keeping up with Myron as the latter navigated the central length of the strangled Mekong River.
Two headlights; another boat was approaching, slightly more slowly - The group would have to rely on the PLA symbols that marked their boats as official Chinese property to pass beneath the notice of the opposing patrol. As the enemy craft passed them by, Noel let out a breath he did not know he had been holding back in his chest; a flashback to the old days, when squashing terrorists was the worst he could dread. Good, the worst was now over -
Oh no, Noel thought as the faint lights of the patrol boats lit up a giant chain, with floating buoys strapped to it, that was strung out across the shrunken Mekong River to block all passage upwards; each end of the chain was tied to two concrete guard towers that had gears and cranes that allowed for the chain to be raised up and down at will. This was not in the intelligence reports, but it was a tactic that made sense; to block potential infiltrators to Jinghong City, whose lights just lay beyond the guard towers and the chain between them.
Voices in Chinese could be heard through the radio, but Myron, in a fake Mandarin accent, talked fast, answering every question or order... Before handing the tower guard a small box that Myron had told him and Qingshe on the trip contained a bribe of heroin. Gross, but as the chain was lifted and the two boats were permitted to go through Jinghong City, where PLA Soldiers and Marines swarmed as ants, weapons at the ready, and drones flew overhead taking surveillance footage, Noel felt small again as Task Force Obsidian moved through the better-lit river, where tank columns could be seen patrolling the riverbanks and the occasional firebase could be glimpsed behind buildings.
Jinghong City was an armed camp; the Dam, just up ahead, was much worse.
There was another long chain, made up of heavy steel with plastic buoys attached, but this time, each end was attached to two small bunkers of reinforced concrete, whose domes were covered with mud and earth to camouflage them from aerial view. And in the bunker to their left, there was a window, and beyond the window was Huo Ren, their Task Force's greatest still-living foe...
@Lewascan2@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro
Timeskip, Mekong River, China - 10/25/2022, 6:10 UTC+8
Noel Alonso was soothed by the smooth whirring of the patrol boats' engines, a dangerous mood while wearing a stolen PLA Marine uniform that barely hid his dark skin tone and non-Chinese facial features. Between the muddy, almost black waters barely lit up by his boat's faint headlights and the high banks that blocked the scant illumination from the moonless sky, there was a lack of things to do but to wait for their group to reach their destination or be stopped midway, either briefly or permanently.
Well, there was stargazing, but he had just turned eighteen. It was the middle of a combat mission. There was no way he could just sneak a look at the starry sky -
He did so anyway for the fifth time of the journey; the North Star was barely visible through the mass of other glimmering pinpricks of light that demanded their share of attention, but it guided their path anyway - North, then West, to Jinghong City and the Jinghong Dam just beyond it.
Trying to bring his mind back onto the mission, Noel glanced at a disguised Qingshe right beside him; Myron was driving the lead boat and using night vision goggles and a gas mask to hide his pale skin and his distinctive American-Asian face. Then he dared a glance behind his boat engine's barely foamy spray to look at the group's second boat, where Henri, Nil, Marta, and Cristina were crammed worse than he was - One of them was driving the vessel and keeping up with Myron as the latter navigated the central length of the strangled Mekong River.
Two headlights; another boat was approaching, slightly more slowly - The group would have to rely on the PLA symbols that marked their boats as official Chinese property to pass beneath the notice of the opposing patrol. As the enemy craft passed them by, Noel let out a breath he did not know he had been holding back in his chest; a flashback to the old days, when squashing terrorists was the worst he could dread. Good, the worst was now over -
Oh no, Noel thought as the faint lights of the patrol boats lit up a giant chain, with floating buoys strapped to it, that was strung out across the shrunken Mekong River to block all passage upwards; each end of the chain was tied to two concrete guard towers that had gears and cranes that allowed for the chain to be raised up and down at will. This was not in the intelligence reports, but it was a tactic that made sense; to block potential infiltrators to Jinghong City, whose lights just lay beyond the guard towers and the chain between them.
Voices in Chinese could be heard through the radio, but Myron, in a fake Mandarin accent, talked fast, answering every question or order... Before handing the tower guard a small box that Myron had told him and Qingshe on the trip contained a bribe of heroin. Gross, but as the chain was lifted and the two boats were permitted to go through Jinghong City, where PLA Soldiers and Marines swarmed as ants, weapons at the ready, and drones flew overhead taking surveillance footage, Noel felt small again as Task Force Obsidian moved through the better-lit river, where tank columns could be seen patrolling the riverbanks and the occasional firebase could be glimpsed behind buildings.
Jinghong City was an armed camp; the Dam, just up ahead, was much worse.
There was another long chain, made up of heavy steel with plastic buoys attached, but this time, each end was attached to two small bunkers of reinforced concrete, whose domes were covered with mud and earth to camouflage them from aerial view. And in the bunker to their left, there was a window, and beyond the window was Huo Ren, their Task Force's greatest still-living foe...
@Lewascan2@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro
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