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Author Topic: Black Sword fan-fic part 3  (Read 1978 times)

Sundance

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Black Sword fan-fic part 3
« on: August 27, 2013, 03:47:47 PM »

Black Sword is the codename for a UK Special Forces task group. Its purpose: to hunt down the terrorist group known as Cobra, an organisation dedicated to bringing down Western civilisation.

Previously…

A joint operation between Black Sword and the US task force known as ‘GI Joe’ led to the capture of Firefly, a mercenary saboteur. Firefly revealed Cobra’s hierarchy to Black Sword’s commander, and the location of a Cobra camp…

Darklonia
Two weeks later

The C.5 Hercules transport plane rumbled through the late night sky over Eastern Europe, far above the reach of Darklonia’s fighters or her air defence systems. On board the Hercules were the four SBS members of Black Sword, the two Special Reconnaissance Regiment snipers, Paddy O’Leary, the signaller, Thaman Rana from the Pathfinders and all but Martin Tanner from the SAS members. All were dressed in HALO jump gear, rifles strapped to their sides. At three minutes to jump, the transport’s intercom system began blaring out ‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC. Captain Windsor, the team leader, shook his head as he heard the music, muffled though it was by his helmet. Thunderstruck was the song of choice of the Pathfinders. The Pathfinders had a long-standing tradition of playing the song just prior to executing a parachute jump. As well as Thaman being a Pathfinder, David Cottrell from the SAS had been a Pathfinder before joining the SAS. Windsor concluded one of those two was likely to have given the pilots, Mels and Robbie, the music.

The Pathfinders were an elite platoon of the Parachute Regiment, who specialised in forward recon of enemy forces and vehicle combat, engaging static and mobile targets from their lightweight Land Rovers. Many Pathfinders often joined the SAS. Cottrell had taken that route from the Paras. By contrast, Windsor himself had been in the Grenadier Guards regiment before joining the SAS. Big Ben had been in The Rifles, a regiment Windsor detested as it had been created in 2007 through the amalgamation of four different regiments, one of which had itself been the result of a prior amalgamation of three regiments and another had been two regiments previously before their merger in the 1950s. Windsor hated it since it was forced to trade on the history of other regiments to have any identity. Hywel Jones had been with the Royal Welsh, another hybrid regiment. Prior to the Royal Welsh being formed, he’d been in the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Jacko, like Big Ben, had been in The Rifles. By contrast, the four men of the Special Boat Service were all ex-Royal Marines, where most SBS commandos came from.

As the loadmaster indicated one minute to jump time, the Hercules’ ramp came down and the commandos began moving forward, Windsor stepped aside to watch them file past. As they did, he saw Thaman and David exchange bumped fists, before Liam Norris, one of the two snipers, did the same with David. Windsor frowned, then realised, Liam had also been a Pathfinder before joining the SRR. Cameron Travis, the other sniper, had joined the SRR from the Royal Regiment of Scotland, another unit that was the bastard offspring of amalgamation, where seven Scottish regiments had been merged into one.

The commandos dived from the plane, with Windsor bringing up the rear. They fell through the sky, breathing oxygen from bottles strapped to their chests, wearing normal goggles across their faces. Night-vision gear would’ve been useless, torn away in the slipstream.

It took less than ten minutes for them to make the descent, before popping their chutes and steering into a smooth landing, one after another. Jacko and Brian Cooper pulled small shovels from their packs and quickly dug a hole and buried the team’s parachutes, oxygen bottles and harnesses, the rest of the team forming a security perimeter as they worked.

Once done, the team moved out, Thaman in the lead.

The assault team moved quickly across the grassy hills toward the Cobra camp, not talking, their heads constantly moving as they scanned the night through the four-lens night-vision goggles they wore. Four lenses, side-by-side, gave them greater peripheral vision.

Half a mile from the camp, they came to a halt in a copse of trees.

Liam and Cameron moved forward. Two guard towers were manned by Vipers at the corners of the camp’s fence. Both snipers took aim with their Arctic Warfare sniper rifles, firing a single sub-sonic round to take the guards down.

Liam, Cameron, Thaman and Paddy waited at the copse as the rest of the team dashed toward the camp, dodging around the counter-balanced wooden pole that passed for a gate.

They promptly split up, Captain Windsor and Big Ben heading for the ops room as the rest moved to place Semtex charges on the doors to the barracks rooms, with tripwires across the doors.

Big Ben and Captain Windsor reached the ops room. The captain led the way into the building, his M4 up and ready. There was a single Viper in the room, dozing. Windsor pulled out the combat knife strapped to his web-gear and stepped up to the Viper before stabbing the unsuspecting gunman in the neck. Big Ben unslung his backpack and began filling it with paperwork, DVDs, flash drives and a handful of smart phones. Windsor opened up his own pack and followed suit.

Once their backs were full, they both grabbed laptops and tablet PCs before heading out the door. Big Ben then set up a demolitions charge on the door.

At the armoury, Brian and Mark ‘Bunny’ Bunn cautiously opened the door to the building with its thick walls and thin roof. Inside was a man working on a missile launcher. He turned toward them, then froze at the sight of their M4s aimed at him. He raised his hands.

“Who the hell are you?” Bunny asked.

“Scrap Iron,” the man replied. “Missile technician and new anti-armour specialist. I only joined last week.” He had a slight East European accent, Bunny noticed.

Brian covered his fellow SBS commando as Bunny cuffed Scrap Iron with flex ties and then put a hood over his head. They led him outside, before Brian set the place to blow up with a timer.

They hustled back to the centre of the camp, where the team regrouped.

“Who’s this?” asked Windsor.

“New recruit,” Bunny said, “Says his name’s Scrap Iron and he’s an anti-armour specialist.”

“Thought he might have some intel value, so we didn’t slot ‘im,” Brian added.

“Thank you for that,” Scrap Iron added, his voice muffled slightly by the hood.

“Shut up,” Brian said, slapped the back of his head.

“If he’s a new recruit, why do you think he might be worth taking prisoner?” asked Windsor.

Brian shrugged, “For one thing, he could tell us why they need an anti-armour specialist. Might be helpful in stopping them.”

“You might also like to know about who recruited me,” Scrap Iron added.

Brian slapped him again. “I said ‘shut up’, Muppet.”

“We don’t have time to debate this, Captain,” Big Ben said. “Those timers are running.”

Windsor looked at him. “Good point,” he conceded. “Grab him and let’s go.”

The team moved across the camp toward the small airstrip where Harry and Steve rigged demolitions charges to the fuel dump before the team climbed aboard a large cargo truck parked at the side of the runway. They drove out of the camp, just as the charges on the ops room and the armoury exploded.

Pausing long enough to pick up the other commandos who had waited outside, the group then made their way on to the nearby main road as one by one the barracks blocks were destroyed as the Cobras reacted to the explosions, waking up and charging out of the buildings, only to trip the Semtex.

Paddy contacted Zero back at base, “Rapier 1-1 to command, Mission accomplished. Camp destroyed.”

Two days later
Black Sword HQ, Hereford, England

Colonel Zero assembled the team once more.

“Scrap Iron has given us some very valuable information,” he informed them. “So, kudos to Bunny and Brian for capturing him and not slotting him.”

The colonel glanced around as several of the commandos applauded them.

“Our prisoner has revealed that, unlike Firefly, he was recruited by two businessmen in Switzerland. These businessmen identified themselves as Tomax and Xamot, who Scrap Iron learned were the bankers for Cobra, operating in Switzerland. Our friends at Vauxhall Cross have determined that these aliases relate to Tomas and Louis LaSalle, twins linked to the Corsican mob. They fled Corsica some years back and are now believed to be in Switzerland. Tomax and Xamot are the heads of a corporation called ‘Extensive Enterprises’, which investigations have linked to Ponzi schemes, pyramid schemes, money laundering and fraudulent share trading. They may have legitimate activities as well.”

“I assume the money goes straight to Cobra?” asked Captain Windsor.

“Correct,” Zero nodded. “Scrap Iron said he believes that Tomax and Xamot supply Cobra with a significant amount of its operating funds, as well as supporting the arms sales Destro makes. Capture of the twins will put a significant dent in their financial resources.”

“We going to Zurich?” asked Saint.

“No, you’re going to be going to the sunny Cayman Islands instead. An operative from GCHQ managed to hack their computers and acquired their personal schedules for the next three weeks. A holiday in the Caymans as part of their attempts to maintain their off-shore tax avoidance in the Caymans.” Zero grinned, “An undercover team will be going to capture them, once we have positive ID and will be covered as tourists.”

“Sir, I’d like to volunteer for that assignment!” called out Griff. Harry, Jacko, Bunny, Big Ben, ‘Wee ‘Eck’ and Liam all quickly volunteered as well, no doubt deciding it was a chance to get a free holiday as an assignment.

“I’ve already selected the team,” Zero announced. “Saint, Lisa, Ado, Steve and Greg are going.”

Several of those who had volunteered groaned like disappointed school children.

The Cayman Islands, the Caribbean
Three weeks later

Saint and Lisa sat in the lounge of the Owen Roberts International Airport. They’d been in the country for a week, posing as a married couple on holiday. Much to Saint’s disappointment, Lisa had made him sleep on the floor the whole week. Both were sipping cold drinks, a folded newspaper next to Saint concealed his P226 SIG Sauer pistol. Lisa’s was concealed in her handbag next to her drink on the table.

Ado was disguised as a cleaner; the trolley with his cleaning equipment hid an MP5 sub-machine gun in the rubbish sack.

Greg and Steve were posing as friends on a snorkelling holiday, carrying bags that concealed shotguns as they sat in another part of the lounge, drinking tea.

The tannoy announced the arrival of a plane heading for Jamaica. Ado was wearing a radio earpiece tuned to the air traffic control frequency. He passed Lisa and Saint, making a point of collecting an empty chocolate bar wrapper Saint had left on the table.

“Their flight’s the next one in the pattern,” Ado muttered. “Get ready.”

The signaller rolled his trolley across to Steve and Greg, repeating the message.

Minutes passed, before the twins strolled into the lounge, carrying briefcases, from the runway; passengers at the airport still having to board on the runway, rather than via a Jetway.

As they approached Lisa glanced around, spotted them and gave Saint a brief nod.

The twins passed them by as Steve and Greg approached.

Lisa and Saint drew their pistols and Lisa called out, “LaSalle!”

Both twins turned to see the two soldiers aiming their pistols at them. Violating civil firearms training, they had their fingers on the triggers.

Greg and Steve dropped their bags, pulling out the Benelli M4 shotguns they carried as they did.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded one of the twins as several civilians screamed and dived for cover.

“This outrageous behaviour is pointless,” the other twin said.

“It’s not as if we carry cash in great sums,” the first carried on.

“Nor can we be extorted,” the second concluded.

“We don’t intend to extort you,” Ado informed them as he approached them from their right, his MP5 up and ready.

“You’re under arrest for a variety of crimes, starting with funding a terrorist organisation,” Saint explained. “Put the briefcases down, hands on your heads and down on your knees.”
Logged
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Sundance

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Re: Black Sword fan-fic part 3
« Reply #1 on: August 27, 2013, 03:49:00 PM »

Saint and Lisa moved forward, careful to keep clear of the others’ lines of fire. The twins exchanged a glance, looked around at the firepower levelled at them and then dropped their briefcases and complying.

Lisa kicked aside the cases as Saint moved in and cuffed them.

Ado keyed the walkie-talkie in his belt. “Rapier 5-5 to Zero, targets captured.”

Lisa and Saint gave the twins a quick pat-down search, removing their mobile phones, before hauling them to their feet and dragging them toward the front entrance.

Once outside, the twins were shoved into a minibus, which the commandos drove around to a distant part of the airport, where a Jamaican Defence Force Bell 412 helicopter was waiting. The twins were loaded aboard, followed by the commandos. The helicopter lifted off and headed southeast toward the larger island.

Nearly two hours later, the helicopter touched down at the Norman Manley International Airport, where an RAF Hercules transport was waiting. The commandos and the twins transferred to the large turboprop plane.


Somewhere in Europe…
Hours later

Major Bludd stood in the operations room of his secret headquarters. In front of him, a large computer monitor was mounted on the wall, showing Cobra Commander and the Baroness at the Commander’s own secret location.

“The Twins seem to have been captured,” Cobra Commander informed him, after preliminary greetings. “They were scheduled for a vacation in the Caymans, but Tomax’s locator beacon went off twenty minutes ago, giving his position as somewhere over the Atlantic. A second report ten minutes ago, put him ten miles off the Irish west coast. It seems they have been captured, probably by the British.”

Major Bludd frowned. “I take it you’re talking about those commandos the Baroness mentioned attacking our training school in Somalia?”

“Correct, Major,” The Baroness replied, her Russian accent contrasting sharply with the men’s American and Australian accents. “My sources in the UK suggest this new task force was involved in that operation with the American G.I. Joe team we already knew about. They’ve also targeted Destro. From the reports he has given me, it seems the British government were vectoring against us, via him. They and the Joes were behind the operation to grab Destro in Trucial Abysmia; they then instituted some kind of operation that led to their aircraft being shot down in Darklonia, before the team escaped with American help. They also destroyed the Darklonian camp.”

Major Bludd swore. “Firefly and Big Boa are missing, probably captured, we don’t know where. The twins are captured. Who else have we lost?”

“Several Vipers and Troopers who don’t know enough to be dangerous, from Somalia. Possibly the new anti-armour missile technician the twins hired. Darklonian forensics teams who examined the camp couldn’t be sure.” The Commander sighed. “This is why you need to get the twins back. They are the only ones who can continue to financially support our operations they way they have. Destro’s not able to generate the kind of income the twins do.”

“How do we get the twins back?” Major Bludd asked.

“They’re obviously heading into Britain on a plane. That means almost certainly they’re going to land at RAF Brize Norton, it’s the main base for transports since they closed Lynham in Wiltshire. They either risk an air transfer with helicopters to London or Hereford, or they use a land convoy.” The Baroness paused, “They’re far more likely to use a vehicle convoy. You’ll need to intercept them on route.”

“Skycreeper’s training his CLAW squadron in Britain. I’ll have him divert to Oxfordshire and scout for them.” Major Bludd hesitated. “Do I authorise them to attack, or merely recon until we can get a ground force in place? They could easily wind up getting wiped out if the RAF scramble Typhoons to intercept.”

“We can buy more microlights and recruit more pilots. We can’t easily get hold of people who can get their hands on the kind of money the twins have generated. Consider all assets expendable in retrieving the twins,” Cobra Commander ordered.

“What kinda men are these British commandos?” asked Major Bludd. “What’s the quality of the opposition?”

“My sources in Britain indicate the group is made up of a platoon-size combat force. Six from the SAS, four from the SBS, SRR, Royal Marines each and five paratroopers. Plus two RAF Regiment gunners and two signallers.” The Baroness sighed. “As yet their identities are unknown.”

“Right, I’ll get on it,” Major Bludd replied.

“Command out.”

The link clicked off. Major Bludd turned to the single Tele-Viper sat in the ops room, “Contact Skycreeper, get him to divert his squadron to Oxfordshire and tell them to search for a multi-vehicle convoy leaving Brize Norton.”

The Tele-Viper nodded and set to work. Major Bludd went to the door and waved in the other Tele-Vipers and the four Vipers outside. Vypra was standing at the door as well, dressed as usual in her black Nomex overalls, her Nomex balaclava tucked in the waist.

“Vypra, the twins have been captured,” Major Bludd informed her, before explaining what was known. “I want you to lead the ground assault team. Skycreeper’s Night Vultures aren’t going to be able to rescue them alone.”

“I’ve got four Motor-Vipers over there already,” Vypra told him. “I was on my way to inform you I was heading to Britain for the testing of the Stingers we took over.”

“What’s their status?” Bludd asked.

“They were taken into the UK as props for an action movie,” she replied. “The guns were disabled, to allow HM Revenue and Customs to allow them in, but naturally, we repaired them to be useable. They’re at our base in Chipping Norton.”

“Excellent, get there and get mobile. Once you’re mobile, make contact with Skycreeper and use them to find the convoy.”

Vypra nodded, she headed into the ops room.

“Inform the Motor-Vipers in Britain to get the Stingers moving, I want four of them manned with a Viper on the gun. Have them get the fifth one moving with a Viper driving, Once I can get there, I’ll drive that one.”

One of the Tele-Vipers immediately picked up a phone and made the call.

Two hours later,
Five miles outside Evesham

The four black Land Rovers were driving along the road at a fairly sedate pace when Skycreeper finally spotted them. He had led his four Claw microlights on an outward spiral westward from Brize Norton, as the others of his squadron had headed east and south.

Skycreeper’s personal Claw was more heavily modified from the commercial microlight it had started life as than any of the others. As well as the two machine guns mounted on either side of the fuselage, two RPG-29 anti-tank rockets were mounted on the underside of the wings, whilst a crude turret carrying a TV camera, night-vision camera and a laser designator was fitted under the nose.

Skycreeper got on the radio, calling his squadron to join him, before relaying GPS coordinates to Vypra’s Stinger team. She informed them they were outside the village of Weston Subedge, about ten minutes away.

“I am engaging the convoy,” Skycreeper informed her. “I don’t want them to reach Evesham.”

Without waiting for a reply, Skycreeper put the microlight into a dive, lined up his microlight on the lead Land Rover and fired one of the RPGs.

The rocket struck the vehicle and the high-explosive anti-tank round detonated, obliterating the Land Rover, in a spectacular fireball. Skycreeper pulled the Claw out of its dive and looped around to line up on the trailing Land Rover as the vehicles skidded to a halt. They hastily switched to reverse and began backing up the road.

Skycreeper’s second RPG missed the trailing 4x4 by only inches, detonating in the grass verge. The explosion was sufficient to lift the Land Rover off its wheels, sending it flying through the air in a roll top over bottom, before it crashed down on to the road on its roof. The middle pair of Land Rovers slammed to a halt. As Skycreeper flew overhead, the doors opened on the vehicles and the commandos scrambled clear, drawing M4 carbines from emergency racks inside.

“Engage, engage, engage,” Skycreeper called into his radio. The three remaining Claws in his flight dropped lower toward the ground, before opening fire with their machine guns.

“Cover!” screamed Lisa as bullets slammed into the road beside her. She ducked behind the open door next to her.

She returned fire at the microlight as it flew past. Saint and Steve were already firing at the next microlight as it flew in, firing its guns, before veering off as their fire got too close for the pilot’s comfort. Ado was on the radio.

“Rapier 5-5 to command, we are under air attack. Two vehicles destroyed. Enemy aircraft using anti-tank rockets and machine guns. Request immediate support!” Ado began reading off GPS coordinates, no doubt from the watch-like device he wore.

Lisa saw Greg firing at the last of the microlights as it came in from his side of the Land Rover. She turned his way and sighted on the aircraft.

Lisa let loose with a sustained burst of fire from the M4 before ducking as it flew overhead. As she reloaded, she could see that her fire had hit the microlight’s wing. It was also trailing smoke from its engine, where Greg had hit it.

The microlights joined up and circled around about a mile from the convoy as Lisa watched.

“Get in the Land Rovers,” she shouted. “We need to get out of here!”

The commandos scrambled back into the vehicles as the microlights began another attack run.

“Friendly air is five minutes out,” Ado reported over his radio as Steve gunned the Land Rover’s engine and the 4x4 sped forward, slamming aside the still burning wreck of the lead vehicle.

Steve swore under his breath as he glanced out the driver’s side window to see the four microlights coming back toward them, guns blazing.

Bullets slammed into the road around the two Land Rovers as they did their best to evade the air attack.

Suddenly, one of the microlights exploded and plummeted from the sky. Steve glanced left to see a Lynx helicopter scream past, the side-door open, gun blazing.

A second microlight went down, wings shot to pieces as the Lynx whirled around in the sky, turning its gun on a third. The attack from the helicopter threw off the microlights’ assault.

Before the commandos could start celebrating, five vehicles screamed around a corner behind them, opening fire with their own machine guns.

Ado threw Xamot down into the jeep’s foot-well, in the back of the Land Rover. The businessman was still cuffed and hooded. The signaller threw himself across the seats, ducking as bullets shattered the rear window. Greg was driving the trailing Land Rover. He ducked his head down as best he could.

“Give us some return fire!” he screamed at Saint.

Ado, though, was busy shouting into the radio.

“Five vehicles on our six!” he yelled. “Give us some cover, Ken!”

“Stand by,” was the pilot’s calm reply.

The Lynx AH mk7 screamed overhead, the gun blazing from the side door.

Big Ben was having the time of his life. He’d probably never admit it to anyone, since it was unprofessional as hell, but hanging on to the L7 7.62mm machine gun, blazing away from the door pintle at the jeeps as the Lynx sped around at extremely low level was the most fun he’d had with his clothes on in ages.

The L7 roared as he fired a second burst, bullets pinging off the ‘hillbilly armour’ on the vehicles that he now recognised as UAZ-469 jeeps with metal plates bolted on to the doors, sides and roof as crude armour. Each vehicle had a machine gun in the rear, manned by a Viper.

Ken whipped the Lynx around in a fast 180, spinning on a penny, before coming back at the UAZs from the rear. Big Ben sighted on the right rear UAZ, then fired a sustained burst, shredding both wheels on the left side of the jeep.

Vypra glanced into the rear view mirror as the Lynx screamed toward them, gun firing again. Then she watched in horror as Stinger 5 span out, flipped over on to its roof and slid across the road as its wheels were shredded. The Viper in the back had to be dead, she knew. The Motor-Viper driver might have survived, but they were out of the fight.

“Keep firing!” she screamed as the Stingers kept up the chase. They were barrelling down the A44 toward Evesham. Thankfully for the soldiers, the road was mainly clear at the moment, but traffic would pick up once they crossed the A46 into the small town itself.

Lisa frowned as she saw the Lynx pivot in the air once more, now hovering over the road, the right side door was open as the helicopter dropped vertically.
Logged
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Sundance

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Re: Black Sword fan-fic part 3
« Reply #2 on: August 27, 2013, 03:49:37 PM »

“What’s he doing?” she asked Steve as the Land Rover hurtled toward the town.

“Blockading the road, I’d guess,” Steve replied.

The gun roared and Lisa looked back to see one of the UAZs swerve to avoid being hit in the engine block, but instead take the bullets in its wheels.

The Lynx was now sliding sideways, pacing the 4x4s as Big Ben fired once more, this time, he got the angle right and the bullets passed through the crude armour slit on the front, killing the driver. He walked the line of fire across the UAZ’s roof into the gunner. The jeep failed to make the bend and crashed into the hedge lining the road.

The Viper in the back of Stinger 2 finally got lucky and hit the left rear wheel of the trailing Land Rover, which skidded and slid across the road, before coming to a halt. Before he could celebrate, the Viper was gunned down by Big Ben.

Ken slid the Lynx around and dropped lower. Big Ben blazed fire into the Stinger’s wheels, causing it to skid and slam into the back of the Land Rover that had slid to a halt.

Vypra whipped her Stinger around the crippled Land Rover as Big Ben was firing on the last of her Motor-Vipers. She was determined to save at least one of the twins. Too late she saw the muzzle flashes from the Land Rover ahead, before the world went black.

The Stinger crashed into the back of the Land Rover as Steve brought it to a halt.

The Lynx now circled overhead as the commandos again debarked from the Land Rovers, guns at the ready.

Lisa and Steve moved quickly to pull the Viper off the back of the jeep before pushing him to his knees and cuffing him, pulling out his pistol holstered on his chest, his combat knife on his right boot and then pulling off his helmet and goggles.

Greg, Ado and Saint moved to where the Stinger had crashed into the hedge. The three soldiers approached the vehicle carefully; guns up, aiming down their sights. As they got close, they could easily see the Viper in the back was dead, his head ruined by the bullets. In the front, they saw the dead driver was no threat.

“Saint to Lisa, two confirmed dead at the Stinger in the hedge,” he radioed over his walkie-talkie. “Moving to the next.”

The next Stinger was sitting sideways in the road. As the commandos approached, the Viper in the back opened fire with his gun. The commandos ducked for what cover there was, firing back. Then there was the roar of the Lynx’s L7. The Viper was cut down.

More slowly than before, the three soldiers approached the Stinger. The driver threw his sidearm out the window, opened the door from the outside, keeping his hands in view before kneeling on the ground. Saint moved in, pulling off the Motor-Viper’s helmet and goggles before hooding and cuffing him.

They moved up the road, heading for the final Stinger. It was overturned in the road. The Motor-Viper driver had crawled free of the wreckage. He was lying in the road, his leg visibly broken. As the commandos approached, he tossed aside his sidearm and knife before raising his hands weakly.

“I surrender,” he said. “I’m in too much pain to try fighting you.”

They didn’t take any chances, Greg cuffing the injured terrorist before removing his helmet and goggles and hooding him.

Sirens could be heard getting closer. The police and ambulances were on their way as the Lynx hovered overhead.

Five miles away, the remaining Claws were finally approaching the area.

“Attention all Claws, this is Night Vulture 5, I am assuming command of the squadron. Skycreeper’s been radio silent too long. None of One Flight are responding. We have to assume they’re down. We are RTB. Follow my lead back to base.”

“We have to attack!” came another pilot’s reply. “We have to try to rescue the twins.”

“No, Blackout, We have to preserve the remainder of our squadron and report back to Major Bludd.”

“You idiot, Wild Weasel, we can still salvage this!”

“No, we can’t. We can’t possibly rescue the twins with these microlights. We can’t fight off an armed helicopter and an alert commando team and all those police ourselves. Return to base now, or I will shoot you down myself.”

The six remaining Claws all made the turn, heading back to their secret base.

Cobra Commander’s base of operations
Location unknown
Four hours later

The Baroness approached Cobra Commander as he stood before the large window in his office, gazing out at the view.

“I’ve bad news, Commander,” Baroness stated. “Major Bludd’s report that the mission to rescue the Twins has failed is correct. The BBC news is reporting that a terrorist group attacked a convoy carrying terror suspects in Worcestershire. My sources in Britain confirm that the twins remain in custody and that Vypra and Skycreeper were also killed. Some of the Vipers involved in the attack survived and were captured.”

The Commander turned, anger burning in his eyes, “We have a Crimson Guard in Britain, yes?”

“Correct. Covered as a lawyer.”

“Have him take the case of the Vipers, and tell him to execute them. Poison, preferably, so that they die in pain.”

The Baroness nodded, making a note on the tablet she carried. “What about the twins?”

The Commander glared at her. He turned away, thinking. “Didn’t Destro mention having an accountant working for him, someone he’d caught poaching on his father’s estate a few years back?”

The Baroness thought back, “Yes, I seem to remember him mentioning it. Some specialist computer accountant using miniature drones to poach. ‘Raptor’ I think he called him.”

“Contact Destro, let’s see if this ‘Raptor’ can get at our money…”

Black Sword command post
Hereford, England
A short time later

Zero sat at his desk, talking to his boss in London.

“Congratulations, Colonel. The capture of the twins went off flawlessly, your unit survived the rescue attempt and now we’ve got more Cobra troops to interrogate. The twins are a big prize though. We’ve cut Cobra off from most of their money.”

Zero smiled at the web cam above the monitor.

“Thank you, sir. I must admit, I had my doubts about the unit. But they’ve proved their worth. Whilst the Increment might have been able to do the job, it would’ve diverted them away from other missions. Black Sword is needed.”

“So, the great Robert Buckingham admits to being wrong. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It had to happen sooner or later, sir.”

The man on the monitor laughed. “Indeed it did. Congratulate your team, for me. Particularly the pilot of the Lynx and his gunner. Job well done, there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll be in touch when we’ve got more intel for you. Keep up the good work. Trent out.”

Buckingham had enough time to nod, before the picture disappeared and his boss at the Secret Intelligence Service disappeared from the screen.

He reflected on the team’s success. So far, so good. Perhaps Cobra would soon be crushed. But you never knew…

The End…?
Logged
Paratroopers don't die, they go to Hell and regroup.