Richard- United Human Faction- Day 15
Everything was ready and in its place. Two humvees, packed to their limits with Faction soldiers, sat in the underground garage of their makeshift forward operating base. Richard sat in the middle seat of the front vehicle, waiting for the right moment to move out. The minute hand of his watch almost perfectly lined up with its partner, and Richard let out a loud whistle. Both behemoths’ engines started immediately, and they were on their way.
Richard’s company moved forward in relative quiet until a massive explosion rocked the front humvee. The driver struggled to get back on course as the rear passengers moved away from the now-cracked windows.
The front passenger, a former soldier in the US Army, yelled back to Richard, “Are those shells supposed to be aimed at us?”
“Yes,” Richard practically whispered, “but they aren’t supposed to be hitting us. Get that radio running.”
The soldier pulled the radio from its holster and checked for a signal. Once he found the enemy line, he hailed, “Overlord, this is Hammer 4, please respond.”
There was no response. He hailed two more times; knowing Overlord had to be listening. The third time, he included emergency codes in the message. The radio lit up with the sounds of computers humming and a single voice.
“Hammer 4, this is Overlord. It’s good to know it’s really you. How many others are with you? Over.”
“We’ve got Hammer 3 in tow, but no others, over.”
“Roger that Hammer, the doors are open. Out”
The soldier put the radio back, and grabbed his weapon. The US base was in view, and getting closer by the second. Richard donned his battered helmet, and climbed up into the turret of the vehicle. The base was more fortified than their scouts had claimed, and a massive gate blocked the only visible entrance. The pair of vehicles slowly entered the first gate, and stopped at the second.
“Overlord, Hammer. Why are there two gates at the entrance of firebase seven-three-seven? Over,” called the soldier over the radio.
“Hammer, Overlord, ready for ID, maintain radio silence, clear.”
“ID? What does that mean?” yelled down Richard.
His answer came in the form of a loud computerized voice echoing throughout the entire base. Their cover was blown. The sounds of soldiers preparing for combat were audible in every direction, even below the Faction crew.
“Plan B, everyone get in position! Team two, break the door!” screamed Richard.
The humvees broke through the gate, allowing the second team’s humvee take most of the impact. It would not be needed much longer. The pair drove into the center of the complex. Team two vacated their humvee at the entrance to the underground section of the base. The Faction members took cover behind the first humvee while the soldier pulled out Richard's gas grenades.
“Now!” yelled Richard.
The second humvee detonated, completely blocking off the underground section of the base. The first, its job as cover now complete, sped out of the base to one of the nearby hills, ready for step two of the plan. Richard led the first team toward the command structure, while the second team threw Richard’s grenades through the gaps in their makeshift wall. They abandoned the soldiers underground to their fate and ran to the main barracks.
There was surprisingly little resistance to the attack; most of the soldiers had been underground or in the armored barracks after the repeated shellings by Faction forces. The only troops Richard and his team saw in the base were those defending their target. As the entrance of the command tent came into view, three of Richard’s men suddenly fell to the ground.
“Sniper!” screamed the soldier, dropping to the ground.
Richard and Brian followed in suit, but the other two stood still, too terrified to move. Through the chaos Richard remained calculating. He was watching every gruesome detail, knowing that he would only survive if he remained stone cold. The sniper fired another silent shot, injuring one of the two left standing. Richard saw exactly what direction the shot had come from and stood himself. Pointing his weapon to where he knew his foe had to be, he fired until he heard the metallic ping of a bullet striking his foe's helmet. He continued to fire until he knew the sniper had been exterminated, then turned away.
“Let’s finish this,” he whispered to the soldier, who sat shocked by the field agent’s cold glare.
Brian followed his commander toward the tent as the soldier pulled this injured comrade away from the action. There was one man in the tent with a weapon; all the others were unarmed typists or officers. The guard lifted his weapon, but hesitated when Richard dropped his rifle to the ground. Brian ran into the tent expecting a combat, startling the guard. Brian fell to two weapons: the soldier’s rifle, and Senator Jeremy Glass' advice.
"Expect death at every corner, kid," the suited man had said, "because there's a gunman in every tent."
Richard dispatched the guard, then turned to the officers. The men in the tent were already standing, hands locked tight behind their heads. Richard reloaded his revolver and turned to his audience. The one in the middle was obviously their leader. His poise gave away his rank far more definitively than the markings on his uniform. His slicked hair, blocky shoulders and unwillingness to take a submissive stance would be his end. Richard looked the Lieutenant Colonel in his shining blue eyes, then executed his first prisoner. Richard had loved the feeling of executing mob bosses, but there was something about this kind of war that felt even better. He was a force of nature, and not even honor would change his path.
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