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[Sundance]

12:15 Eastern/17:15 GMT
Near the Library of Congress

Leatherneck ducked back behind the shot-up car he was using for cover. The Marines had got pinned down a block away from the Library of Congress by a large group of Red Shadows. The firefight that had erupted as a result had claimed the lives of four of the Marines, but more of the Red Shadows. These Red Shadows were using light machine guns and grenade launchers.

Leatherneck scooted back to where Gung-Ho was with Jackson and the wounded.

“We need to flank them,” Leatherneck said. “They’ve got too much cover up this street for us to stand a chance advancing.”

“Roger that,” Gung Ho said. “I think they’ve got vehicles advancing up too provide cover, too.”

Leatherneck nodded, he’d heard the engines getting closer as well. “I’ll take Grant, Curtis, Hitchens and Kaparso down 3rd Street, cut along C Street and up 2nd Street. We’ll come at them from the back.”

Gung-Ho gave a curt nod, “Kyle can handle things here.” Gung-Ho referred to the senior Sergeant below them in the chain of command. “I’ll come with you.”

After telling Kyle to keep the Marines safe and firing, Leatherneck and Gung-Ho moved out, leading their squad.

As they approached the intersection of 2nd Street South East and Independence Avenue, they saw several vehicles speed past. Three were conventional Red Shadow Shadowtrak assault vehicles. The fourth was a tracked version sporting a three-point missile battery on its rear.

Red Saracen was driving the lead Shadowtrak in the group Wilder Vaughn had ordered to the Library of Congress to aid the Shadows there in fighting off an American counter-attack.

Red Saracen had once been known as Salahadin al-Haq, a PLO terrorist who had worked in Europe under Carlos the Jackel. During the 1980s he’d joined the Red Shadows after realising the Palestinian liberation movement was going nowhere. After narrowly avoiding capture during the Action Force assault on Red Shadow bases worldwide – sometimes known as the Resolution 909 campaign – he had rejoined the Red Shadows after the Black Major’s return. Now he was leading an assault group in this attack on the Great Satan.

The Shadowtraks pulled to a halt next to the wrecked vehicles at the intersection of Pennsylvania Avenue and Independence Avenue. Red Saracen hopped out of his vehicle, with Red Terror following from his TerrorTrak.

The lead Red Shadow hurried up to meet them.

“What have you got?” Red Saracen asked, his Egyptian accent still thickening his words.

“American Marines,” replied the Shadow leader. “They have automatic weapons and grenade launchers, but we’ve held them off so far. We need your support to finish them.”

Red Saracen nodded, he moved to take a look down the street. The Marines and Shadows were exchanging fire from behind more parked and abandoned cars.

“No problem,” Red Saracen said, moving back toward his vehicle. “Leave the TerrorTrak here, Red Terror, we don’t need missiles for this.”

His silent companion nodded and remounted his vehicle as Red Saracen climbed into his own and began giving orders to his two companion drivers.

Before anyone could react, a light anti-tank weapon streaked across the street and hit the TerrorTrak’s rear end, blowing it apart.

Red Saracen ducked for cover as an M60 opened fire next, cutting down several of the Red Shadows.

Leatherneck dropped the spent launch tube and unslung his M16/M203 as Curtis continued laying down suppression fire form the M60. Gung-Ho sighted his M203 on the Red Shadow commander in his Shadowtrak and fired off a 40mm HE grenade.

The High Explosive shell dropped into the vehicle’s open body and detonated, ripping it apart.

Kaparso and Grant were firing in short bursts, taking down Red Shadows with more precision than Curtis who continued spraying rounds down the street. Hitchens was holding their rear, further back.

Gung-Ho raised his own M16 as Leatherneck blooped a grenade from his M203 into the Red Shadows. The explosion covered Gung-Ho as he fired off three bursts in quick succession, cutting down three running Shadows.

The Red Shadows resistance quickly crumbled as more gunfire began from down Penn Avenue.

The explosion that had destroyed the TerrorTrak had ripped apart the other two Shadowtraks, leaving four burning wrecks.

The Marines regrouped and once more, they gathered the enemy weapons and destroyed them with thermite charges.

12:25 Eastern/17:25 GMT
Dunbar High School, Washington DC

The MH-6 Little Bird touched down on the school grounds, the four soldiers hopped off the bench seats. The compact helicopter lifted back off the ground, pivoted and sped away to the northwest.

Airborne pushed himself up off the ground from his crouch and looked around. “Looks okay,” he commented.

Next to him, Ripcord was looking around as well. “Any idea where the hell we are?”

“Dunbar High School,” Freefall replied, pointing to a nearby sign.

The other three paratroopers exchanged glances. “Don’t look at me,” Static Line said. “I’ve never been to DC.”

“Neither have I,” Freefall put in.

Ripcord and Airborne exchanged looks again. “Last time I was here’s going back a few years,” Airborne admitted. “Let’s find a car.”

The four soldiers walked toward the gates of the school, which proved to be locked. Rather than shoot the lock, Airborne simply scaled the fence. The others followed him.

“Hey! What the hell you doin’?” shouted a man nearby carrying a shotgun.

Airborne walked toward him. “We’re US Army, sir. I suggest you return home.”

“Army?” the man asked. “What you doing in the school?”

“We were dropped off by a helicopter,” Ripcord answered before Airborne could. “Didn’t you see it?”

“Lot of helicopters flyin’ about,” the man answered. “All kinds of crazy stuff.” He looked the Joes over.

“Army, you say? Which outfit?”

“10th Mountain Infantry,” Airborne replied. “We’re all paratroopers.”

“10th Mountain? My brother was with them, back in the ‘80s. That was before he got killed in Somalia.” The man shook his head. “Real mess that was…”

“Sir, do you live nearby?” Airborne asked.

“Yeah, right over there. Why?”

“Do you have a car we could borrow?” Airborne went on.

The man considered it. “You boys a recon team? Part of that GI Joe bunch the President was talking about in the Emergency Broadcast?”

“That’s us,” Freefall said cheerfully.

“We got dropped off a bit further away than we intended,” Ripcord explained.

“Okay, sure. Just don’t get it blown up, or nothin’.” The man led Airborne down the street. Moments later, he returned in a late ‘80s model Camaro.

“Sweet ride,” Freefall commented as he got in the back.

“You know where we’re going?” Ripcord asked as he took the front passenger seat.

“There’s a map in the glove box,” Airborne replied. He put the car in gear and drove off.

13:00 Eastern/18:00 GMT
Approaching Washington DC

The four Storm Eagle fighter jets knifed through the sky at five hundred miles an hour. Lt. Colonel Alexander Russo was flying the third of the fighters. Leading the flight was Ace, with Dogfight as his wingman. Their job was to cover him and his wingman, who’s name Russo was ashamed to say he could never remember.

Russo’s radio crackled. “Skystriker, you ready?” Ace asked.

“Ready and willing, Ace.”

“Hit ‘em hard, Colonel,” the flight leader replied.

It was a bit strange for a Lieutenant Colonel to serve under a Major, but Ace was the lead pilot of the GI Joe team, which gave him seniority in that outfit. His experience flying the Storm Eagle during its brief time as a Joe aircraft also meant he got to serve as training instructor for the Storm Eagle squadron.

Skystriker had joined the Joes several years after Ace, flying the Conquest X-30 at first, before being assigned to the Tiger Force Tiger Rat, an aircraft he barely ever flew in practice. Now, he was flying this new stealthy fighter and hoping like hell the attack computer would work.

The four fighters descended to a lower altitude and decelerated. Ace and Dogfight took up a cover position, whilst Skystriker and his wingman went on the attack.

He armed his AGM-65 missiles and opened the weapons bay; he was approaching Dupont Circle, the missile’s onboard TV camera locked on to the ASP batteries and Stinger sitting in the circle. Skystriker launched the missile.

The anti-tank weapon scored a direct hit on the Stinger jeep, the explosion destroying both ASPs. The Red Shadows had sited the triple-A batteries too close to the SAM jeep for safety and it just cost them.

The second Maverick missile was aimed at the two Stingers and one ASP at Logan Circle. The missile destroyed one of the Stingers outright, with flying debris hitting the ASP and the second Stinger.

As Skystriker was preparing to launch his third missile, he suddenly spotted the Roboskulls lifting off to the south.

Seconds later he saw Ace and Dogfight flying their Storm Eagles to intercept. Skystriker quickly armed, targeted and launched the third Maverick, which destroyed two ASPs sitting in Franklin Square. A fourth destroyed a pair of Stingers in Mount Vernon Square.

Before Skystriker could turn east and head for Stanton Park and Lincoln Park, anti-aircraft gunfire began to lash out at his fighter from Lafayette Square and the Ellipse.

“Stay close, Four,” Skystriker radioed as he pushed his throttle forward and climbed away from the tracers zipping across the sky.

The captain flying the other fighter gave a terse acknowledgment as they tried to evade the gunfire. More gunfire erupted from Henry Park and Judiciary Square as they tried to get to their targets.

“Break off the attack, Four,” Skystriker radioed. He pulled his fighter north and into a climb. He looked back to see his wingman close on his wing.

“We’ve got a new problem, Colonel,” Four radioed just before Skystriker’s threat warning system began screeching its alert tone; his Storm Eagle was being hit by several radars. He thought at first it was the Stingers trying to lock on with their missiles, before he looked at his own radar and saw twelve new contacts closing fast.

Skystriker cursed the decision to only arm his and his wingman’s fighters with the anti-armour missiles. Whilst the public liked to think stealth aircraft were invisible on radar, the truth was that they weren’t. Instead, whilst a conventional fighter of similar dimensions might’ve had a radar cross section the size of a house, a stealth jet had one the size of a person. The radar beams not absorbed by the fighter’s skin were deflected away at angles to the transmitter/receiver. Those signals could easily be detected by another radar unit – in other words, twelve hostile jets could wind up being able to lock on to his jet by simply overwhelming the plane’s stealth characteristics.

The squadron suddenly split in to two groups. One turned south, the other kept heading his way. Skystriker checked his radar screen to find Ace and Dogfight were now racing north after shooting down the Roboskulls.

The two Storm Eagles launched a barrage of their Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles at the group of smaller jets. Skystriker armed his fighter’s 20mm cannon and turned to intercept the leader.

As the two fighter’s closed on one another, Skystriker realised they were Firebats, the Cobra fighter used in Terrordromes. Clearly the Red Shadows had decided not to rely on the VTOL Roboskulls.

Skystriker set the thought aside and fired his Vulcan Gatling gun as he came into range. The burst of bullets shredded the cockpit, killing the pilot.

The Storm Eagle’s onboard computer screamed another warning as one of Shadowbats launched an air-to-air missile at him. Skystriker fired off chaff and dove toward the ground, before sweeping back up in a climbing turn. He lined up on another Shadowbat and fired off another burst, peppering the jet’s rear with bullets. Something exploded before the fighter disintegrated; smoke, flames and metal fragments pouring out of the wreckage as it plunged toward the ground.

Skystriker cursed under his breath as he looked around the sky. Dogfight and Ace were engaged with targets. The other guy, flying the fourth jet, had just waxed another Shadowbat. Damn, why can I never remember his name? Skystriker thought before dismissing the irrelevancy.

A quick radar scan revealed that of the twelve Shadowbats that had initially attacked the Storm Eagles, eight had now been destroyed.

The number dropped by another two as Ace and Dogfight dispatched their targets. The surviving pair fled.

Skystriker checked his fuel state as Ace contacted the flight group on their coded frequency and ordered them to report in.

“This is Skystriker, I’m four Mavericks down. I’ve used 200 rounds of ammo and I’m about five minutes away from Joker fuel.”

Dogfight reported he had only a single Sidewinder remaining and was closer to Joker fuel, the point at which fuel would become critical, but above ‘Bingo’ when the fighter would have to land soon.

The fourth pilot, whom Skystriker remembered was a captain, reported he had expended more rounds for his Vulcan cannon, and was also closer to Joker fuel.

“That’s it then,” Ace concluded. “We need to get to a base and refuel. Form up on me, I’ll raise Langley AFB and see if they’ll let us land.”

Skystriker brought his fighter up on Ace’s left wing, with Dogfight on Ace’s right. Skystriker’s wingman slid into position on Skystriker’s left wing.

[Sundance]

The four stealth fighters headed for Langley.

13:45 Eastern/18:45 GMT
Five miles south of Washington

Lift-Ticket was flying the Black Hawk with a steady hand on the controls. After topping off his fuel tanks near the Virginia state line, he’d taken the MH60 in low toward the capital. The briefing he’d been given on the radio by Dial-Tone had stated he was to drop off Captain Falcon and his team at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, near the tidal basin. That now seemed to be off the cards as far as he was concerned.

“Uh, Falcon, you might wanna take a look at this…”

The Green Beret shifted from his seat to crouch behind the pilot’s seat. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Lift-Ticket simply pointed out the cockpit window.

Ahead of the helicopter, tracer anti-aircraft fire flashed up from the ground in several places, fighter jets could be seen flitting around.

“Damn,” Falcon said over the intercom. “Looks like someone launched an air battle without telling us.”

“Right. I can’t risk getting this bird shot down, Falcon,” Lift-Ticket said.

“You gonna abort on us?” Falcon asked.

“Hell, no, Cap’n,” Lift-Ticket answered. “I’ll go in low up the Potomac, see if I can get you close to the DZ.”

Moments later, the pilot put the helicopter into a shallow dive, before levelling off mere inches above the river’s surface. As they approached a few ships still travelling up the Potomac toward Washington, Lift-Ticket steered around them, rather than over-flying them.

Falcon consulted a map he had of DC. “Lift-Ticket, get us past Hains Point and then drop us at East Potomac Park. We’ll have to haul ass in to DC from there.”

“Roger that, Cap’n.”

The MH60 past by Washington National Airport, far lower and closer than it ever could have normally, turning toward the spit of land jutting out from the city as it neared the Pentagon.

The Black Hawk finally came to a halt over the parkland, hovering before dropping toward the grass.

Falcon pulled off his intercom headset, slapped Lift-Ticket’s shoulder and flashed a thumbs up before watching the rest of his squad drop the two feet to the ground and then drop to one knee, before following them out of the helicopter.

The Black Hawk lifted straight up, pivoted and then raced away to the southeast.

Falcon looked around. “Okay, so we’re short of our target drop zone, no biggie. We’re Green Berets, not Marines, right?”

Duke gave him a “Yo!” of agreement.

“Nothing like a walk in the park in spring time, Captain,” Hit&Run commented.

Falcon smirked as he turned his attention to Spearhead.

“Take point, Spearhead. Beach Head, cover our six. Hit&Run, Footloose, flank left and right. Recoil, Duke, on me. Let’s move.”

The squad quickly moved out with Spearhead jogging to take up the lead position, whilst Beach Head held back to cover the group’s back.

As they moved forward, Falcon looked up at the sky as another explosion sounded overhead.

The group was approaching Buckeye Drive, at the edge of the park, when the anti-aircraft fire stopped.  Falcon called them to a halt and pulled his binoculars from his pack.

He spotted two fighters speeding away from the city, before catching sight of four others forming up and heading off much more slowly.

“Okay, that’s good. No more dogfight going on.”

Duke stood next to Falcon, “Might wanna report into to the Pentagon, Captain.”

Falcon nodded and pulled out his compact radio.

14:00 Eastern/19:00 GMT
The Pentagon

Hawk listened to Falcon’s brief report of his team’s position and the dogfight that had led to his team being dropped further south than planned.

“Good job, Falcon. Keep heading north until you get to the Jefferson Memorial, then follow the plan. I need you on the edge of the Mall by 15:00. Think you guys can manage that?”

“No sweat,” was Falcon’s laconic answer.

“Stay cool, Captain. No doing anything stupid when you reach the Mall, we already know they’ve got a lot of men and gear there.”

“Roger that, General. We’ll report in again once we’re at the tidal basin. Out.”

Hawk handed the radio handset back to Dial-Tone.

“Okay, so, Falcon’s team are approaching the Mall from the south. We’ve got the Marines holding position at the Capitol complex. Where’s Airborne’s team?”

“Their last check in said they were approaching Judiciary Square. Waiting for a new check in any minute now,” Dial-Tone answered.

Mainframe looked up. “Since we know Skystriker didn’t hit the triple A site there, how much you wanna bet Airborne’s stopped to take it out?”

Hawk snorted. “No bet, Mainframe. I’d count on it.”

Hawk stretched his arms over his head and grunted. “Damn, I’m aching all over.” The radio crackled.

“Sir, this is Petty Officer Jones on the fifth floor. We’ve got a hell of a lot of helos taking off somewhere east of the river.”

Jones was one of a number of lookouts Hawk had posted on the fifth floor, at the outer walls to report what they could see.

“Clarify that report, Jones,” Dial-Tone ordered.

“Sir, there are multiple helicopters lifting off, initial count indicates ten medium lift type helos and ten to twelve smaller birds. They’re heading this way.”

Hawk checked the map that he, Dial-Tone and Mainframe were studying as the situation unfolded.

“Mainframe, call the Canadians. Request a position update. Weren’t they supposed to be arriving soon?”

The computers expert nodded and picked up another radio to put through the call.

The same time
Ten miles northwest of Washington DC

Quick-Synch gave Mainframe the team’s position as the two Tomahawks and the Hailstorm jet approached Washington. After listening to the American’s report of the helicopters heading for the Pentagon, he turned to Moosejaw.

“Moose, the Americans want us to head for the Pentagon, they say they’ve got numerous helicopters coming their way.”

Moosejaw nodded, “Right.” He stood up and moved forward to relay the course change to Pulse Pounder.

After notifying Valkyrie and Snowbank of the change of plans, Moosejaw moved back to inform the rest of his team on Tomahawk 1.

Quick-Synch took Snowbank’s call seconds later.

“Quick-Synch, tell Moosejaw I’m going in to engage the helicopters. I’ll try to soften them up for you.”

Quick-Synch acknowledged and told Moosejaw, just as the Hailstorm streaked past the Tomahawk’s cockpit windows.

[Sundance]

13:55 Eastern/ 18:55 GMT

Wilder Vaughn stared at the map stuck to the inside of his van. This situation was spiralling out of his control. His air assets had been hammered by the Joes – he was under no illusions that the pilots of the Storm Eagles were GI Joe pilots – in addition to four of his air defence sites being destroyed by air strikes. An American ground force – probably Marines – had destroyed an air defence site in Seward Square and engaged a force at the Library of Congress which had included two of his senior vehicle force commanders. A recon unit had reported sighting a Little Bird in the north of the city, possibly dropping off a small commando team. A Black Hawk had dropped off a team north of Hains Point – it was the only explanation for the large helicopter dropping low near East Potomac Park before reversing course and leaving as his forces on the Ellipse had reported.

Worst still, the assault on the White House had failed. The Secret Service agents inside had beaten off two attacks by the Red Shadows despite the attackers having mortar support.

Vaughn considered his reserve force. Twelve Red FANG helicopters and ten medium lift helicopters had been delivered to a truck stop off the Beltway the previous night. The helicopters had been assembled earlier in the morning, with the truck stop seized by the troops present.

He had been considering using them to stage a heli-borne assault on the White House. Now though, with the other two Red Interceptor teams in the city reporting heavy encrypted traffic between the Pentagon and units across the East Coast, Vaughn decided he need them to attack the Pentagon.

He turned to one of the radio operators, “Contact the reserve force. Order them to assault the Pentagon.”

14:10 Eastern/ 19:10 GMT
The Pentagon

Members of all four of the American armed forces were rushing to prepare for the coming assault on the Pentagon. Along with the Pentagon Police, they were setting up barricades and firing positions on all five sides of the complex.

The frenzied activity suddenly halted as the roar of jet engines sounded overhead. Many of the men and women looked up in alarm.

“One fast mover!” shouted a look out on the south side. “Just crossed over, coming back around!”

“Whose is it?” shouted an Air Force lieutenant.

“No idea…” the lookout replied.

“GET DOWN!” another lookout screamed. “Helos incoming!”

Everyone began diving for cover as four red painted single-seat helicopters dropped in to view of the south side of the building and opened fire.

Each of the helicopters was armed with a pair of miniguns mounted on its skids.

“FANGs!” one Army non-com shouted. “Cobra FANGs!”

“No, Red Shadow FANGs,” Dial-Tone shouted back.

“More of them!” a Navy chief petty officer yelled. “With rockets!”

Sure enough, two FANGs moved in as the first four shifted away. Unlike the first four, which hadn’t got the usual bubble turret in the nose, this pair was equipped with both the bubble turret and a pair of multi-shot rocket launchers.

“MOVE!” Dial-Tone screamed. “Clear the E through C rings!”

Seconds later, as he dived through a doorway into the B ring of offices, both FANGs fired their rockets into the lower floors of the Pentagon, destroying most of the South Parking Entrance façade. A hole easily fifteen feet across had been blown in the lowest three floors.

Before these FANGs could fire or flee, they exploded. Then the fighter jet screamed overhead once more.

Snowbank cursed the FANG pilots who had held him up as he swooped the Hailstorm back around. His air-to-air missiles had been seconds late in destroying the FANGs.

Five FANGs survived his initial attack. He came around and lined up his fighter’s miniguns. Both sprayed twenty millimetre bullets and shredded two more FANGs, before they could fire.

The FANGs were now ignoring the Pentagon and trying to target him as he climbed up and then looped back around to fire another burst from the miniguns, shredding two more of the FANGs.

The remaining three FANGs were desperately moving around, trying to line up on the fast moving jet fighter. Two sprayed 30mm cannon shells at the Hailstorm as the blue jet streaked across the sky. Neither hit it.

Snowbank steered the Hailstorm around, locked his gun-sight pipper on one of the FANGs and fired another ten second burst, shredding the single-seat helicopter. He zoomed away, looped around and came back at the remaining FANGs. Luckily for him, they were armed with TOW missile racks that wouldn’t lock on to his jet.

Snowbank lined up on the left most FANG and fired, destroying it.

He was coming back around to engage the remaining FANG when it exploded under the onslaught of Tomahawk 1’s 20mm chin turret.

By this point, the unarmed troop carrying Red Shadow helicopters were on the ground, mainly grouped on the south side of the building.

The Red Shadows were already leaping from the helicopters, charging toward the Pentagon, when the two Tomahawks came across the Pentagon and opened fire.

“Guns, guns, guns,” Pulse Pounder called over the radio channel. Again his 20mm turret sprayed bullets, shredding several Red Shadows, a parked car and one of the transport helicopters.

“Guns left,” called Backstop as he finally got a target in view. His 7.62mm pintle –mounted gun sprayed leaden death at a group of Red Shadows trying to set up shoulder-launched SAMs.

“Guns right,” Plow-wind called next as he walked his bullets across the parking lot and into another transport.

Tomahawk 2 swing around to the right of ‘hawk 1 and began firing its own bullets. Two of the transports lifted off, but Valkyrie cut one to pieces with three bursts from the chin turret, whilst Zombie liberally sprayed the other, stitching a line of tracers into the helicopter’s tail boom.

Trace Route cut down several Red Shadows as he blazed his minigun into a group of them running from their helicopter, before sending the armour-piercing rounds into the helicopter’s cockpit and engines.

“Let’s move, Canucks!” Moosejaw shouted as Powder Keg threw the ropes out the side of the Tomahawk.

Badger grabbed one of the ropes, slid down it fast and then hit the ground and unslung his riot shield in one smooth motion. The former SWAT officer moved forward from the ropes, keeping the shield between himself and the Red Shadows who were starting to respond to the Canadians’ arrival. Badger dropped to one knee, allowing bullets to ping off the Kevlar shield, before leaning his MP5K sub-machine gun around it and firing a burst at the Shadows.

Behind him, Moosejaw and Quick-Synch moved forward, firing their C7 assault rifles.

Eclipse had led the second Tomahawk’s deployment of troops, carrying his riot shield in front of him. Aurora and Take Down were close behind him, with the Ranger firing her Minimi machine gun in long bursts.

As Eclipse and Badger formed a strong point for the Canadians with their shields, Aurora, Quick-Synch, Take Down and Moosejaw kept up the pressure, firing at the Red Shadows. Deke, Line Dance, Shiver and Prairie Dog sprinted away from Tomahawk 1 and headed to the west side of the Pentagon.

Powder Keg, Sun Dog, Underbrush and Deadhead headed toward the east of the building, firing at the Red Shadows as they went.

Overhead, Trace Route and Backstop released the ropes hanging from the Tomahawks, and then Pulse Pounder accelerated away from the Pentagon, followed by Valkyrie. Both helicopters fired a few more bursts from their door-guns before they raced north, away from Washington. Their pilots were keen to reach a safe distance and then adjust course toward Langley Air Force Base.

Powder Keg found a wrecked minivan to use as cover, she halted her team with a clenched fist.

“Sun Dog, let’s see what that fancy ray gun of yours can do,” she said.

Next to her, the directed energy weapons expert smiled. He was used to the abuse he got about his weapons system. Both Flash and Sci-Fi of the American team had warned him of the ridicule they got sometimes for their so-called ‘laser rifles’.

Sun Dog quickly checked his weapon, charged, set and ready, he saw. He levelled the rifle-like firing unit at the nearest group of Shadows and fired.

A shriek split the air as an orange-gold beam lashed out and hit a Red Shadow in the chest. The Red Shadow collapsed like he’d taken a rifle round.

“Now we gotta wait for the charging cycle,” Sun Dog commented.

“You mean, you do,” Underbrush commented. He raised his own C7 and opened fire.

Deadhead grinned, “Take your time, Sun, more targets for us.” He opened fire, hitting two Red Shadows trying to set up a light machine gun on a wrecked car.

Sun Dog grimaced. Getting the backpack particle accelerator’s cycle sped up was one of the biggest problems the weapon faced. That didn’t make the jungle warfare trooper and frogman’s comments any easier to take.

On the west side of the Pentagon, Shiver led the way toward the Red Shadow assault group that was taking cover behind several wrecked cars. Return fire was coming at them from several Pentagon office windows.

Shiver directed his four team-members to take positions behind the assault team with hand gestures.

He then snapped his hand down and all four opened fire, cutting down the twelve Red Shadows in seconds.

Further north, to the team’s left, came the distinct ‘bloop’ sound of a mortar firing. Shiver’s head snapped around, then toward the Pentagon, where a shell traced a smoking arc through the sky before slamming into the roof and detonating.

“Dog, with me,” Shiver snapped before running off.

Prairie Dog charged after him. The pair rounded a shot up SUV to find a mortar team, preparing to fire. Both opened fire, cutting down the three Red Shadows.

Shiver turned to Prairie Dog, “Spike it, I’ll cover you.”

The EOD expert nodded, pulled a grenade off his webbing and trotted forward. He flicked the pin free, and then shoved the grenade into the mortar tube before turning around and running.

The grenade exploded, destroying the mortar.

On the south side of the Pentagon, Moosejaw’s team were moving forward, with Badger and Eclipse leading.

The Red Shadows were desperately firing at the team, but with the two SWAT experts crouch-walking forward, keeping their shields forward, Moosejaw, Aurora, Quick-Synch and Take Down were able to keep moving behind them, firing at the gunmen.

Inside the Pentagon, Hawk and Dial-Tone were standing in a third floor office, watching the battle from the window.

“Jesus, those Canadians are good,” Dial-Tone commented.

“They ought to be,” Hawk answered. “We helped train them, remember.”

The radio operator nodded, remembering help set up the Canadian unit’s computer system, as well as the fact that they’d had trouble using it as someone had cleverly lost the manual. Irrespective of their technical abilities, a situation he knew had been remedied with Trace Route’s addition to the team, the Canadians were clearly highly effective commandos.

Occasionally, he could see a amber beam of light flash out across the car park to the east.

“What’s that flashing light?” Dial-Tone asked.

[Sundance]

“Probably the particle beam weapon one of the newer guys uses.” Hawk glanced at the other Joe. “Supposed to be better than Sci-Fi and Flash’s death rays.”

“It’s attracting a lot of return fire, I know that,” Dial-Tone commented as several Red Shadows could be seen firing in the direction of the beam’s source.

Hawk left the office and headed back along the corridor to the stairs, a Marine sergeant was standing nearby, carrying an M16, waiting to cover Hawk on his return to the NMCC.

“Still can’t believe we’re being bailed by Canadians,” the Marine muttered.

Hawk turned an angry glare in the Marine’s direction. “Belay that, Marine. Those are some damn good soldiers out there. One of them’s an ex-US Army Ranger. Another’s an ex-GI Joe member. That’s the calibre of men and women they are.”

On the east side of the building, Powder Keg gunned down another Red Shadow.

“I think you ought to give up on that ray gun, Sun Dog. It’s taking longer and longer to charge back up,” she commented.

Deadhead chuckled as he fired a suppression burst at two Red Shadows, “PK, I could’ve done better than him if I’d brought my harpoon gun.”

“C’mon, Deadhead, give the guy a break,” Underbrush commented. “That’s the way of the future he’s got there.”

The frogman snorted. “Yeah, in 2010 maybe. Right now, I’d sooner have another real gun with us.”

Sun Dog glowered as he powered down the particle accelerator and the beam-caster. He then drew his sidearm pistol, took the safety off and took aim.

Two Red Shadows popped their heads over a wrecked car. Sun Dog shot both in quick succession, hitting both in the head.

He turned toward Deadhead. “Happy now?” he asked.

The frogman grinned.

Powder Keg’s squad began to advance from the cover of the wrecked car. They shot any of the Red Shadows they encountered, moving across the parking lot toward Moosejaw’s team.

Once the two groups had linked up, they began to make their way toward the Pentagon, moving from cover to cover.

“Friendlies coming in at your three!” a voice shouted out.

Aurora and Moosejaw turned to see Shiver’s team jogging across the parking lot.

Shiver dropped to one knee next to Moosejaw.

“We’ve taken out a mortar team over on the west side. We also took out some Shads,” Shiver reported.

“Good work, Sheevs,” Moosejaw said, using the nickname he’d given the former Cobra North operative. “We seem to have them on the run.”

Aurora let fly with a long burst from her Minimi to punctuate Moosejaw’s comment.

The remaining Red Shadows were taking cover around the wreckage of one of their helicopters.

The Red Shadows leader was a man known as Red Tiger. His uniform had a unique red and black tiger-stripe pattern to it, whilst his helmet lacked the distinctive Red Shadow face shield; instead it had a chrome faceplate like a Cobra Viper’s. As bullets pinged off the wrecked helicopter, Red Tiger was crouched next to a Red Interceptor.

“Goddamnit, Vaughn, I need some back up! There’s a Canadian assault group out here that’s killing my troops! We took heavy losses from their helicopters and now they’re on the verge of over-running us!” Red Tiger shouted into the handset of the Interceptor’s backpack radio.

“I’m afraid you’re on your own, Red Tiger. Your unit was our only reserve force. Our other forces are still committed around the White House and Capitol and elsewhere.”

Tiger swore and handed the handset back to the Interceptor. He had about ten troops left, there were twice as many Canadians out there besides the American troops inside the Pentagon… A brief scream to his left informed him he was now down to nine of his troops.

Red Tiger stood up and let loose a long burst of automatic fire from his Chinese copy of the Kalashnikov. The last thing he saw was a woman in a red bodysuit and baseball cap firing a light machine gun at him.

“That’s another one down,” Aurora said as she ducked back behind the wrecked car she, Moosejaw and Shiver were sheltering behind.

Before either of them could reply, there was a scream of, “BLOOD!”

Another scream, “BLOOD!”

A third, “BLOOD FOR THE MAJOR!”

The remaining Red Shadows charged around the wrecked helicopters toward the Canadians. The Red Shadows weren’t even aiming, simply blazing away with their weapons.

The Canadian Joes returned fire with precision, dropping all eight Red Shadows.

Quick-Synch radioed the Pentagon, and then handed his headset to Moosejaw.

“Moosejaw to Hawk. All Red Shadows down.”

“Good work, Moose. Have your troops come on in. I just got word a convoy’s on route. I want you guys to rendezvous with it.”

“Roger that, General.”

14:30 Eastern/19:30 GMT
Andrews Air Force Base, Virginia

Whilst the Canadian Joes were busy fighting the Red Shadows in the Pentagon car park, three C-130 Hercules transports were flying into Andrews. The planes touched down in quick succession before taxiing clear of the runways. They barely had a chance to stop outside the hangars before the rear cargo ramps were lowered and a string of GI Joe vehicles began rolling out of them.

The first Hercules disgorged a Mauler tank and a Hammer jeep. The second disgorged a HAVOC assault vehicle and a Hammer, whilst a second HAVOC drove out of the third.

Two Skystorm X-Wing helicopters landed near the transports as Joes disembarked from the Hercules planes.

The Joes gathered around Stalker who stood next to one of the HAVOCs, affixing a street map of DC to the vehicle’s flank. The Master Sergeant had been serving as an instructor at the Rangers School at Fort Benning when he’d heard about the assault on Washington. Hawk had placed him in command of this ad-hoc task force.

“Okay, Joes, listen up. The enemy is the terror group known as the Red Shadows. They used to run around South America, Europe and Africa mostly, back in the early ‘80s. Everyone thought they were finished after they disappeared back in ’86. Seems like they were biding their time.”

Some of the Joes knew whom they faced, others didn’t.

“Back in the day, their MO was brainwashing people into serving them. Some did it for the cash; most were effectively slaves. This group could be the same – brainwashed – or they could be mercenaries hired by the surviving Shadow leaders. Either way, they’re dangerous and they’ve attacked Washington.”

Stalker pointed to the map. “Air strikes by some of our former fly-boy comrades have taken out air defence batteries here, here, here and here. More remain. This one,” Stalker indicated Lincoln Park. “Will be our target. Two Stinger jeeps and four ASP batteries. Large group of foot-mobile infantry. No Humint on how alert they are. All we’ve got is overheads from an Action Force recon sat. We hit them with a barrage of rockets from the Hammers, then move in to engage with the HAVOCs and the Mauler.”

“What about the whirly-birds?” asked Steeler. Next to him, Windmill bristled at the derogatory term for helicopters.

[Sundance]

“Windmill and Wild Bill will fly escort for the convoy,” Stalker replied. “During the attack, they will remain away from the park to avoid them being shot down. Their job will be to insure we don’t get counterattacked by a roving pack of Hyena tanks.”

Stalker waited for any more comments before continuing, “Once we’ve destroyed the air defence site at Lincoln Park, we’ll continue down East Capitol Street to Capitol Hill. Leatherneck and Gung-Ho have a Marines detachment there, ready to engage the Shadows on the Mall.”

“Yo Joe!” Rock’n’Roll shouted.

Stalker gave the machine-gunner an exasperated look before continuing. “You know your assignments. Move out.”

Wild Bill and Windmill returned to their helicopters, which were being refuelled. The rest of the Joes began to split up and head for their vehicles.

Cross Country climbed into the driver’s seat on the lead HAVOC. Roadblock clambered into the gunner’s seat atop the HAVOC, whilst Repeater got into the cockpit of the recon sled. Dusty took the driver’s seat of the second HAVOC, whilst Rock’n’Roll took the gunner’s seat and Stalker climbed into the recon sled.

Cover Girl was driving the Mauler whilst Bazooka took the gunner’s seat and Steeler the commander’s position. The lead Hammer was manned by Recondo driving, Lowlight and Shockwave on the side guns, with Salvo in the roof turret. The second Hammer was being driven by Wet Suit, with Heavy Duty manning the roof turret. Torpedo and Backblast manning the side guns.

The convoy rolled out of Andrews Air Force Base and headed west toward Washington. Moments later, the Skystorms took off and followed.

16:00 Eastern/21:00 GMT
Capitol Hill

Stalker’s Joe team had arrived at Capitol Hill a few minutes earlier. Together with the US Marines led by Leatherneck and Gung-Ho, the force was now mounting an assault on the Red Shadow positions on the Mall and Henry Park.

The Mauler and the two HAVOCs were providing intermittent cover fire as the Marines advanced across Henry Park, supported by the Hammer jeeps.

Salvo, Lowlight and Shockwave were firing long bursts of suppression fire as the Marines advanced toward one of their dug-in ASP batteries. The Red Shadows had hunkered down to avoid the heavy machine-gun fire and the occasional bursts from the Marines.

As Hammer Two advanced, behind Hammer One, Heavy Duty looked northwest to where Wild Bill and Windmill’s Skystorms could be seen over Lafayette Park.

Wild Bill swerved his Skystorm to avoid the return fire from one of the ASP batteries defending the mortar vans.

Ignoring the ASP for the moment, Bill locked on a Hellfire anti-tank missile and launched it at the two mortar vans on the right. He then switched his aim to the ASP battery and fired a second Hellfire. The first missile detonated between the mortar vans and blasted both off their wheels and smashed them into the ground. The second Hellfire destroyed the ASP unit.

Windmill launched a Hellfire at the other pair of mortar vans before firing a second Hellfire at a Stinger jeep that was trying to lock on to his Skystorm.

The Red Shadow infantry on the ground were now firing light machine guns and assault rifles at the two helicopters. Both pilots armed their nose-mounted machine guns and returned fire.

The two Skystorms swooped away from the smoking ruin of the Red Shadows’ position, passing over New York Avenue Northwest. Wild Bill spotted a large force of Hyenas and Shadowtraks racing along the road.

“Skystorm One to all Joe units,” Wild Bill radioed. “We have a large enemy force heading down New York Avenue toward the White House. I am engaging.”

As Wild Bill spoke, he pulled his Skystorm around to approach the convoy from the rear. He switched over to his Hydra 70 rocket launchers, targeted the middle of the column and opened fire. Both launchers spat eight rockets on tongues of flame; the 70mm rockets hit and shredded ten of the Red Shadow vehicles, causing the others to swerve to avoid the burning wreckage.

Two Hyena tanks opened fire with their 90mm gun turrets as Wild Bill climbed away from the column. Unfortunately for those Red Shadows, they failed to spot Windmill bringing his Skystorm into line with the column before he unleashed his own Hydra rocket pods. The remainder of the column was obliterated in seconds.

“Bill to Windmill, we’ve got another column comin’ down Vermont Avenue, pardner,” Wild Bill reported as he circled away from New York Avenue.

“Roger that, Bill.”

The second group of Hyenas were more alert this time, firing their cannon as the two Skystorms approached. The two Joes simply armed their remaining Hellfire missiles and launched them into the column.

The four anti-tank missiles destroyed several of the Hyena tanks at both ends of the column. Wild Bill wasted no time arming his twin 9mm nose-mounted cannon and opened fire at the remaining vehicles. The armour-piercing rounds ripped through the Hyenas and Shadowtraks with ease.

Windmill reefed his Skystorm into a tight turn over K Street North West, spotted another column of Red Shadow vehicles and quickly targeted them with his Hydra rockets.

“Bill, this is Windmill, I’ve just shot up another column. I’m down to my cannon rounds.”

“Roger that, pard. I’ve just spotted a group comin’ in along M Street. I’ve got half my Hydras left. I’ll take ‘em out. You best let Stalker know you’re buggin’ out if you’re Winchester.”

“Copy that,” Windmill answered, before switching frequencies on his radio to report to Stalker his helicopter was nearly out of ammo, or ‘Winchester’ as pilots called it.

Wild Bill pulled away from M Street, leaving another smoking pile of wreckage in his wake and turned north toward Rhode Island Avenue.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself as he spotted yet another group of Shadowtraks speeding south, passing Logan Circle.

“Wild Bill to Joes, we’ve got another attack force headin’ south near Logan Circle. I’m outbound, Winchester. You guys are on your own, I’m afraid.”

“No, they’re not, Bill. I’m on it,” reported a new voice on Wild Bill’s radio.

Seconds later, the Texan helicopter pilot was surprised to see the Tiger Rat screaming across Washington at low-level.

Wild Bill realised the voice on his radio had been Skystriker, who had apparently retrieved his Tiger Force modified Rattler.

The Tiger Rat’s Avenger Gatling gun opened fire, wreathing the nose of the fighter in smoke as Skystriker strafed the Shadowtraks.

The Tiger Rat pulled up and away from the burning wreckage, before looping around southwest.

“Wild Bill, I see more Shad vehicles heading toward Constitution Gardens on Virginia Avenue. If you’re out of ammo, bug out. Me and my wingman can handle them,” Skystriker radioed.

Before Wild Bill could ask who Skystriker’s wingman was, he saw what looked like a blue Firebat scream past his cockpit, a large red maple leaf decorating its flank.

“Copy that, Skystriker. I’m outta here.”

Skystriker lined up on the large force of Shadowtraks and Hyenas speeding along Virginia Avenue.

“How you doin’ back there, Dogfight?” Skystriker asked his gunner.

“Just dandy, thanks, Colonel.” Dogfight smirked. “How about this time, you give us a roll so I can use the turret?”

Skystriker grinned as he promptly threw the Tiger Rat into a barrel roll, before firing his Avenger cannon again. As the yellow and black fighter screamed over the surviving vehicles, Dogfight opened fire. The twin machine guns aimed ‘up’ and behind the aircraft to fire at the vehicles below.

Seconds later, Snowbank steered the Hailstorm down the street, firing a short burst from his fighter’s twin chain-guns.

The two remaining Shadowtraks exploded as the Hailstorm pulled up and away, rolling through a barrel roll as it did.

As the two fighters screamed across the Mall and passed the Ellipse, anti-aircraft fire flashed up at them from several ASP batteries. Skystriker wasted no time pulling the Tiger Rat around in a flying u-turn and speeding back toward the Ellipse. He armed his fighter’s Mk 82 Snakeye bombs and shoved the throttle forward as he sped back across the Ellipse, releasing the bombs as he crossed the Red Shadows’ air defence site and the mortar vans. The bombs deployed their tail retarding devices, which slowed their descent, allowing the Tiger Rat to clear the area. The bombs detonated exactly eight feet above the ground, the explosions destroying the lightweight vans and smashing the jeeps and AA batteries into the ground.

Snowbank raced the Hailstorm across the Ellipse, firing the jet’s twin chain-guns.

The radio crackled in Skystriker’s ears, “This is Falcon, we’ve got a large force of Red Shadow vehicles coming in from the south. They’re on 14th Street and Maine Avenue. My team is on the move, heading east.”

“This is Skystriker, I’m on it.” As the colonel steered the close-air support jet toward the area he wanted, he checked his ammo. He had fifty rounds left in the Avenger cannon, four laser-guided missiles and a pair of air-to-air missiles for self-defence. This looked like it would be his last attack run, then.

“Skystriker to Snowbank, I’m close to being out of ammo, how’re you doing?”

“I’ve got about thirty rounds left in my miniguns and my four anti-tank missiles,” the Canadian pilot answered.

“Follow me in, I’m using my missiles.”

The Tiger Rat screamed out of the smoke-laden sky toward Maine Avenue South West at the edge of the Tidal Basin. Skystriker activated the laser designator, targeted the middle of the Red Shadow vehicles, armed the missiles and launched in quick succession. He pulled the fighter up and away as the four missiles hit in short order and destroyed several of the Hyena tanks.

Seconds later, Snowbank flew across the Tidal Basin and launched his anti-tank missiles at the vehicles crossing the 14th Street bridge. Two of the missiles struck the trailing Shadowtraks and obliterated them, the other two struck the bridge itself and ripped it apart, dumping several Shadowtraks into the Potomac River.

“Skystriker to ground Joes, we’re Winchester. We’re out of here, good luck, guys.”

Standing next to one of the HAVOCs on Capitol Hill, Stalker cursed as he heard this news. Staring down toward the Washington Monument, he could see the Marines falling back as Red Shadow vehicles moved out on to the grass of the parks before him. The soldiers were retreating in good order, with groups moving back to take cover behind trees or what other small cover there was, before firing to allow others to fall back past them, enabling the process to repeat itself with each group. He looked left and saw Falcon’s Green Berets sprinting up the edge of the parks, pausing to fire back at the Red Shadows before moving on.

Stalker moved forward to where Cross Country was sitting in the HAVOC’s cockpit. Roadblock was seated in the gunner’s position atop the vehicle, with the hydraulic arms raised to allow the canopy to be open slightly.

“Move your HAVOC down on the left flank, Cross Country,” Stalker ordered. “I want cover for Falcon’s team.”

“Y’got it, Stalker,” the other Joe replied in his strong Southern accent.

The canopy whirred down, then the assault vehicle’s big diesel engine roared into life. The HAVOC moved off, it’s armoured panels splitting apart as it rolled forward enabling Repeater to deploy the recon sled from the bed on the back.

As the HAVOC moved out, Stalker could see both Hammer jeeps had halted and were firing back at the Shadowtraks and Hyenas to cover several Marines sprinting back toward 3rd Street and the Capitol reflecting pool in front of the Sherman Memorial.

“I wish we had more air support,” Stalker muttered to himself as the turret hatch on the Mauler popped open. The main battle tank had been firing intermittently for the past several minutes, destroying several Shadow vehicles.

“Yo, Stalker!” shouted Steeler. “We’re getting low on ammo!”

“Dag!” Stalker cursed. “No air support and now our tank’s running out of ammo!”

Before the Ranger could curse further two Tomahawk helicopters roared over the Capitol Building and raced toward the Washington Memorial before opening fire.

Both heavy-lift helicopters sprayed several bursts from their 20mm chin turrets into the Red Shadows’ positions, destroying several Shadowtraks, before their door-guns opened fire next.

Stalker moved back toward the small command post he’d set up with Airborne and the Marine radio operators.

“Stalker,” Airborne called, as he got close. “Pulse Pounder and Valkyrie of the Canadian Joes report they’ve got enough ammo for about ten minutes of strafing.”

“Sounds good,” Stalker answered. “Tell them to make the most of it.”

One of the Marines looked up, “Sergeant-major, Pulse Pounder reports sighting multiple vehicles approaching Constitution Gardens and the World War Two Memorial at the other end of the Mall.”

Stalker took the Marine’s radio handset. “Pulse Pounder, do you have an ID on those vehicles?”

“Affirmative, six tanks and six APCs, type unknown. They do not appear to be Red Shadows, but I’m a bit busy trying not to lose another Tomahawk, here.”

Stalker half turned toward the obelisk-like Washington Monument to see several Hyenas were clearly firing their turret guns into the air at both Tomahawks as they circled overhead.

“I can tell you what they are,” a new voice cut in, with a strong Canadian accent. “Bradley IFVs and Abrams battle tanks!”

“Moose, is that you?” Pulse Pounder asked before Stalker could say anything. “Where’ve you guys been?”

“It’s me, PP, we’ve been fighting our way up from the Pentagon with the Virginia National Guard. The Red Shadows had checkpoints all along the Washington Parkway and on the Arlington and Roosevelt Memorial Bridges. We’re here to kick some ass, though.”

Stalker realised that ‘Moose’ must be Moosejaw, the leader of the Canadian Joe team. He allowed himself a small smile, back up had arrived, it seemed.

At the other end of the National Mall, the Canadian Joes were advancing on foot as the vehicles moved ahead of them, firing their machine guns at the Red Shadows vehicles. The Shadows manning the vehicles were now forced to divide their attention between the armoured force that had suddenly arrived on their right-rear flank and the Joe vehicles and infantry still firing at them from their left-front flank.

“Move it, Canuckleheads!” Moosejaw shouted. “We can’t let the Americans get all the glory!” The sergeant knew it was a stupid thing to say, but he figured it’d help motivate his troops.

The Canadians were keeping up with the Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles and M1A2 Abrams tanks now, as they slowed down to fire and manoeuvre. Some Red Shadow infantry troops were returning fire, bullets pinging off the armour of the vehicles.

[Sundance]

“Shiver, move right with first squad!” Moosejaw shouted. “PK, flank left with third squad! Second squad with me!”

The rattle and clatter of automatic weapons fire was deafening as the battle continued to rage. As Powder Keg’s Third Squad moved left, north, across the Mall, Sun Dog glanced at his watch. His eyes narrowed behind his special gold-lens sunglasses. It was nearly 17:00 Eastern time. It had now been seven hours since the Red Shadow assault began.

Moosejaw led Second Squad straight up the Mall, behind the armoured vehicles. Second Squad comprised him, Quick-Synch, Aurora and Prairie Dog. Aurora was firing her Minimi machine gun in quick bursts at the Red Shadows whilst Prairie Dog covered her.

The Bradley IFVs halted and Second Squad crouched next to one as more bullets ricocheted off their armour. The APCs returned fire with their 7.62mm machine guns then began moving again, their caterpillar tracks churning up the grass as the moved toward the Washington Monument.

Suddenly, a group of Shadows appeared around some trees on the edge of the park and opened fire with their assault rifles. Prairie Dog slammed Quick-Synch to the ground, saving the radio operator, Aurora pivoted on one foot, fired off a long burst that cut down two of the Shadows and then threw herself to the right, knocking Moosejaw off his feet.

“Argh!” Aurora grunted as she was hit by three rounds in the right arm and shoulder.

“Curds and gravy!” Moosejaw cursed. He rolled over, grabbed Aurora’s Minimi and fired off a longer burst that shredded one of the Red Shadows. Prairie Dog fired his C7 assault rifle, killing the other Shadow. Quick-Synch quickly leaped to his feet and ran to the nearest Bradley. The APC halted as he grabbed the intercom on it’s rear and called for help.

The other three Canadians quickly moved to the Bradley, Moosejaw and Prairie Dog helping Aurora to the APC, as a medic onboard opened the rear hatch and helped her in. The National Guardsmen that the Bradley had been carrying had mostly been dropped off by the Korean War Memorial to guard the prisoners they’d captured on the way in to the city. This meant the APC was mostly empty, allowing the medic room to treat Aurora’s injuries, which the medic pronounced to be ‘not life-threatening’.

16:45 Eastern/21:45 GMT
Several miles east of Washington

Three C-17 Globemaster III transport planes thundered through the skies of Maryland, descending toward Washington DC. The huge jet-powered transports had raced west from Britain in a little over six hours. En route, the USAF planes had been refuelled by tankers which had staged from Iceland for the rendezvous.

On board the first C-17, Eagle was briefing the SAS Force team he had with him. Bodycount, Sparrowhawk and Quickfire were with Playback the radio operator, Boonie and Redline who would be in the Hammer, whilst Stakeout and Rev would be in a Panther.

“We’re coming towards DC,” Eagle informed them. “We’re going to have to move fast, the last update we had from the Pentagon said that the Joes and the Marines at Capitol Hill were heavily engaged with Red Shadow forces. We might have to off-load on the move as there is still a risk from anti-air fire.”

Before Eagle could explain further, the loadmaster approached him and spoke into his ear.

“We’re one mile out from DC, pilot wants a word, sir,” the loadmaster shouted over the roar of the jet engines.

Eagle nodded before turning to the commandos, “Get the vehicles unchained and get ready, we’re one mile from DC.”

Eagle made his way to the cockpit and quickly pulled on a spare headset to talk to the crew.

“What’s up, Major?” Eagle asked.

“Where d’you want us to drop you off?” the Major asked. “We’re tracking aircraft over the District. They could be hostile.”

“Well, we’re not going to mess about landing at Washington National or Dulles. Have you got a map?”

The pilot handed one over, glancing at the co-pilot who was flying the plane as he did.

Eagle looked at the map. He could see several possibilities here. “Have you guys ever done a low-altitude drop at, say, ten to fifteen feet?”

The pilot shrugged, “Not in this baby, but I’ve done them in a Herky-bird. I imagine we could pull it off, though.”

“Think you could do it here?” Eagle asked, pointing to the map. It was a large empty parking lot with a rail line passing over it on a viaduct.

“Might be a bit dicey with that rail line, but yeah, we should be able to,” the pilot replied. He checked his charts and then relayed a new heading to the co-pilot before contacting the two C-17s following his. Eagle went back to the other SAS Force troops in the back of the plane.

“Okay, listen up. We’re doing a low altitude drop into a car park. The C-17s will drop us off east of the Capitol Building and we’ll drive from there. This is going to get very hairy, so be damned careful,” Eagle told them all.

The soldiers moved quickly to their vehicles as the jet began to slow down and take on a nose-up attitude.

The loadmaster lowered the rear ramp and held his headset close to his ear. This was going to be very close, he knew.

Bodycount revved the engine of his Battle Bike. He’d never rode one on an operation before, but he looked forward to it, he’d only recently learnt to ride a motorbike.

The loadmaster raised his hand then dropped it. Bodycount had already kicked his stand down and shoved his bike into motion before the airman’s arm was even three quarters of the way down.

The black and yellow motorcycle shot forward, passed the loadmaster and raced off the cargo ramp and disappeared. Eagle swore as he watched the other two Battle Bikes race off before Redline drove the Hammer out of the plane/

Bodycount watched the road race toward him, he gritted his teeth as the bike bounced off the road, hit a second time and then was away.

Bodycount slammed down his left foot and slew the bike around in a U-turn as the other two Battle Bikes hit the edge of the car park. He sped into the car park from the road outside and pulled the bike into a wheelie as the Hammer bounced down beside him, followed by the Panther jeep.

The C-17 was now climbing steadily away from the city, retracting its flaps and slats as the ramp rose and the speed came back up. Bodycount raced out of the car park and skidded to a halt as the second C-17 thundered down out of the sky, nose high, before the other SAS Force members dropped into Washington in their Recon Jeeps, followed by Wheels and Scout of Z Force in their jeep.

Bodycount grimaced as his ears were assaulted by the second transport gunning its engines and racing higher into the sky. The other SAS Force vehicles sped by him as he watched the last C-17 approach.

As the Z Force jeep drove past, he watched Quarrel and her Rapid Fire Bike drop from the C-17 before being followed by the second Z Force jeep, their Hammer and finally, Ton-Up in the Armadillo.

The mini-tank smashed down, cracking the tarmac before it roared away from its crater, span around in a quick one-eighty and dashed after the Z Force jeeps.

Bodycount kicked his bike back into action before reaching up to key his headset mic.

“Bodycount to Eagle, all vehicles down and rolling.”

“Roger that, Sergeant.”

Bodycount accelerated past the Z Force vehicles, catching up to and passing Quarrel, before he popped another wheelie and raced after the leading SAS Force vehicles. The Swiss Intelligence officer shook her head as the SAS Force commando whizzed by on one wheel.

The Action Force unit raced along 22nd Street, in the wrong direction before merging onto C Street, crossing the central meridian to get on the right hand side of the road. Luckily for them, there were no other cars about, other than the odd abandoned or wrecked car.

On C Street the convoy accelerated. It was more or less a straight-shot through to the Capitol complex from there.

Redline steadily shifted up through the gears, shifting each time the revs hit the red line on the dial. Redlining the engine in that way was how the young vehicle driver had earned his nickname. He’d joined the British Army with the intention of learning to become a mechanic and then leaving for a civilian job. In his time with the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, he learned to maintain every type of vehicle in the Army, from tanks to motorcycles. In 1989 he’d been drafted to join a temporary evaluation team, which was tasked with testing the American Desert Fox 6WD vehicle for Army use. Action Force sent along its own team, which led to Redline being recommended for Action Force by the former Global Rally champion driver Ragnar Ragnarsson, who had himself joined SAS Force. Redline had subsequently spent six months with the British SAS Regiment, earning his parachute wings and refining his marksmanship skills before joining AF. When the Americans had offered the Hammer to Action Force, Redline had been a vociferous proponent of accepting it. He loved the vehicle, even more than the modified AWE Strikers Action Force used as the Recon Jeep.

As the convoy sped along C Street, several civilians watched them race past, some waving to the troops as they flashed by. The convoy was soon nearing Stanton Park and Quickfire radioed back to Playback in the Hammer.

“Playback, ask Herr Eagle which way we go would you?”

“Cut straight through Stanton Park,” came the answer in the German commando’s earpiece moments later. “It’s the most direct route.”

“Jawohl, Colonel,” Quickfire replied.

However, as the convoy got closer, Quickfire spotted the park was housing a Red Shadow air defence site.

“Uh, We have eine kleine problem,” he radioed. “Two ASPs and a Stinger in the park.”

“Not a problem,” Eagle replied.

Seconds later, Quickfire saw four missiles arc overhead and drop toward the park. The air defence site was destroyed in a heartbeat.

[Sundance]

Quickfire steered his Battle Bike between the traffic lights and lamppost at the side of the road and shot into the park. Sparrowhawk and Bodycount followed him. The three motorcycles easily smashed through a low wooden fence and roared across the park. They whipped around the large statue in the centre and then narrowly avoided the burning wreckage of the air defence site before passing the children’s play area.

The jeeps following behind didn’t have such an easy ride. Narrowly avoiding the lamppost, Rev instead hit the traffic lights with his Panther, the metal pole flying aside as the jeep struck it. The jeep crashed through a low hedge and smashed a wooden bench as it careened through the park, avoiding the larger trees. Throttle and Beaver driving the Recon Jeeps attempted to follow his route as closely as possibly, both drivers clearly deciding one trail of damage was enough. The Z Force group followed them.

“Swing to the left and take Maryland Avenue,” Eagle ordered over the radio.

The three motorcyclists had to slam on their brakes and turn around quickly as they’d been about to carry on down C Street.

The convoy raced southwest down Maryland Avenue, the Supreme Court building looming over them on the left.

The convoy turned let, heading south down 1st Street, until, at the junction with East Capitol Street, the saw the metal bollards that blocked the sidewalk had been smashed aside. The Action Force vehicles turned and headed toward the Capitol building.

The column of vehicles swiftly sped around the huge building to crash through some trees and come out near the GI Joe and Marine force.

The Red Shadows were trapped between the Joes and the Marines on Capitol Hill, and the National Guard and Canadian troops steadily advancing up the Mall behind them.

The Action Force assault force sped down Seaton Park, opening fire on the Red Shadows who were attempting to dig in as best they could on open ground.

The Battle bikes opened fire first with their 9mm cannon, followed by the Panther’s 9mm twin turret guns. Next came the crash of the 40mm cannon on the two SAS Force Recon Jeeps. The roar of the 20mm Gatling gun on Quarrel’s Rapid Fire Bike drowned them out for a moment, before the Armadillo’s four 40mm cluster cannons bellowed their fire at the Red Shadows.

Powerslide steered his Z Force jeep around a shell crater and slowed down slightly as Warhead opened fire with the dashboard-mounted 7.62mm machine gun. Kickback was already blazing away with the larger .50 calibre machine gun on the jeep’s roll-cage. Powerslide saw several Red Shadows fall under the onslaught.

One Red Shadow pulled himself to his hands and knees. An explosion from a 40mm shell had thrown him off his feet. His helmet’s visor was starred and cracked. He pulled it off and spat blood. His stomach ached. Broken ribs, he decided. His uniform was torn from shrapnel damage. His ears rang. He coughed and spat out more blood. Possible punctured lung, he thought.

He spotted a loaded RPG-7 someone had dropped. He staggered to his feet, picked it up and shouldered it.

“Blood,” he croaked, spitting more from his mouth.

“Blood,” he snarled louder as he turned and sighted a Z Force jeep barrelling past.

“BLOOD FOR THE MAJOR!” he yelled as loudly as he could before firing the rocket-propelled grenade.

The grenade flew forward, spinning erratically as it was hit by a crosswind and slammed into the ground short of the Z Force jeep. The explosion none the less lifted the jeep off its wheels and flipped it over.

Kickback fell from the rear of the jeep as it flipped over. He was lucky. The jeep smashed down on the driver and front passenger seats, killing Warhead and Powerslide instantly.

As Kickback struggled to regain his composure, an SAS Force Battle bike roared past him.

The SAS Force Battle Bike is a modified version of the same motorcycle that forms the Rapid Fire Bike, but with the sidecar-mounted Gatling gun omitted in favour of a pair of twin 9mm machine guns mounted underneath the front fairing. The guns are fed ammo by a belt linked to magazines mounted at the rear where the RFB’s saddlebags hang.

Bodycount had expended half his ammo so far, the long burst he fired from his Battle Bike into the Red Shadow expended another sixty rounds and ripped apart the soldier. The SAS Force commando skidded his bike to a halt and stepped off. He unslung his M16 assault rifle and strode toward the Red Shadow. The man was clearly dead, but Bodycount stood over him and fired a three round burst at point-blank range into the dead gunman’s head.

Bodycount looked up, his face contorted with rage. He saw another pair of Red Shadows in front of him. He snapped up the American assault rifle and fired two bursts from the hip, dropping both. He stomped forward into the mess of wreckage and bodies that constituted the Red Shadows position and calmly shot several more of the Red Shadows before Double-Tap and Big Ben caught up to him and tackled him to the ground.

Bodycount rolled over in their arms, slugged Double-Tap in the jaw and pushed away from the other SAS trooper.

“It ain’t worth it, man,” Big Ben said as he grabbed hold of Bodycount’s arm. “Don’t let this happen!”

The other man simply span in his grip and punched him in the face, sending him staggering back. Bodycount turned around and had enough time to see Beaver’s fist before it hit him in the face and he collapsed.

The Canadian Ranger turned to Big Ben, “You okay?”

Big Ben wiped blood from his nose and nodded, “Sure.”

On the other side of the Red Shadows position, four of the terrorists were still holding out. Shiver’s first squad were advancing near to some of the trees lining the park as Powder Keg’s third squad moved up from the other side.

One of the Red Shadows leaped up and fired at Shiver’s squad.

Underbrush fired back, causing the Shadow to duck back, before a second leaped up and opened fire. The jungle warfare specialist was hit in the chest even as Shiver returned fire, hitting the Red Shadow.

Deadhead and Take Down had knelt next to Underbrush as Shiver and Line Dance fired once more to keep the Red Shadows’ heads down.

“He’s hit bad, Shiver,” Take Down reported. “Give us some cover fire, we need to get him to the Bradley.”

Shiver nodded, firing again as the other two picked up Underbrush and carried him back to the APCs that had halted their advance to cover the infantry.

Powder Keg’s team were advancing now behind Zombie and Badger’s SWAT riot shields. One of the Red Shadows threw a hand grenade.

Zombie darted forward, bent to scoop up the grenade but fumbled it.

“Down!” he screamed before the weapon detonated.

Deke and Sun Dog threw their own hand grenades into the Red Shadows’ position before Badger and Powder Keg moved forward to the other SWAT trooper. There was nothing they could do for him.

17:25 Eastern/ 22:25 GMT
Near the Capitol Building

Wilder Vaughn couldn’t believe what he’d been seeing. The Joes air strikes against his air defence units had been bad enough; then the Canadian Joes had thwarted his assault on the Pentagon before destroying several of his checkpoints. Another Joe force had somehow landed at Andrews and made its way to the Capitol Building. Only his decision to pull all his forces back to the Mall had prevented the Joes and the Marines over-running the positions there. But most of his forces had been slaughtered by more Joe aircraft. Now Action Force had arrived.

Vaughn knew it was over. He drew his sidearm pistol and shot both Red Interceptors. He then climbed into the driver’s seat of the van and quickly drove away from the battleground. He sped down the road to a parking lot off Washington Avenue SW and pulled in to the huge, mostly empty, lot.

Vaughn climbed back into the read of the van and activated the radio.

“This is Red Major to Red Storm. I need an immediate extraction from LZ One, repeat, extract me from LZ One.”

“Copied,” was the terse reply.

Mere minutes later, a fighter jet screamed low across the city toward the parking lot. It’s wings rotated to vertical and the jet landed in the parking lot like a jump jet. Vaughn tossed aside the red officer’s cap he wore, pulled out a small bag he’d stashed under his seat and removed a pilot’s helmet.

Jogging across the parking lot, Vaughn pulled the helmet on before scrambling into the Red Hurricane’s rear seat.

Red Storm looked back over his shoulder as Vaughn strapped in. “Ready?”

“Go!” Vaughn commanded.

The canopy whined down and Red Storm sealed it before lifting the plane off with a rolling vertical jump. He rotated the wings level and then shoved the throttle forward. The jet, bought from MARS some years earlier, climbed into the sky and raced east toward the coast before the Americans could react.

06:30 GMT, March 20th, 1995
Red Shadows headquarters
Exact location: Unknown

The Black Major stood in his audience chamber with one of his most trusted lieutenants as Wilder Vaughn was escorted in.

“Well, well,” Artur Kulik commented. “The so-called Red Major.”

Vaughn scowled at Kulik’s naked contempt.

The Black Major raised a hand to silence Kulik.

“Vaughn… You have returned from America. Alive. Yet, you have clearly failed. Why?”

Wilder Vaughn looked scared, the Black Major noted. Though he hid it on his face, the terror was evident in his eyes.

“I felt I should inform you personally of the assault on Washington’s failure and the reasons for it.”

Kulik snorted, but said nothing.

“I know the reasons for the assault’s failure. Your assassin failed to kill Hawk. You failed to adequately prepare your fighters for engaging the American Air Force. You failed to properly site your air defence units, allowing them to be destroyed and you failed to deploy your forces effectively to neutralise the possibility of ground forces being landed in the city and their destruction of your air defence sites. You also failed to attack the Pentagon until after they had already begun organising a counter-assault.” The Black Major paused. “You also failed to kill more than a handful of former Joes and of those you did kill, several weren’t even in the US military any more.”

The Black Major turned and paced away from Vaughn. He sighed deeply, before turning back toward Vaughn.

“Combined with the failure of the air attack on the Oktober Guard’s headquarters, the failed mortar attack on Task Force 282 and the utter failure of Red Eel’s attack on the Q Force submarine, this entire campaign has been a shambles. Clearly you, Wilder Vaughn, like some of my other officers, are not worthy of being a Red Shadow.”

Artur Kulik drew his Makarov pistol and levelled at Vaughn. “Goodbye, Wilder. You’ve never been anything more than a jumped up Red Shadow who was a Black Major wannabe.”

The pistol shot echoed as Vaughn fell to the floor, a single bullet hole between his eyes.

The Black Major turned to Kulik. “We must begin preparations for an Action Force assault. The Americans will want revenge and will support any operation Action Force mounts to find us.”

“Yes, Major.”

10:30 Mountain Time/ 17:30 GMT
March 21st, 1995
GI Joe Headquarters, Utah

As he walked along the corridor of the newly reopened PIT III headquarters of GI Joe, Action Force’s Commander couldn’t help wrinkling his nose. Next to him, Law the military policeman, noticed as he escorted the Commander to Hawk’s office.

“Horrible smell isn’t it?” Law commented. “Like a musty old attic.”

“Indeed,” the Commander acknowledged. “I suppose it’s inevitable after over six months of the base being closed.”

Law nodded, “And we’ve only had the place reopened for a little over twenty-four hours.” He chuckled. “My dog Order’s sulking in my room because he hates the smell.”

The Commander smiled in return as they reached the Hawk’s office. Law knocked on the door and then went in as Hawk called, “Enter!”

“The Commander to see you, Sir,” Law said.

Hawk stood, “Thanks, Law. Commander, good to see you again.”

The MP took his cue and left as the Commander shook Hawk’s hand.

“We never did have that video conference, did we?” Hawk smiled grimly as he moved toward his coffee machine.

“That’s why I’m here, Hawk,” the Commander replied.

Hawk looked over to the British officer, “You want some coffee?”

The Commander shook his head, “Can’t abide the stuff. I suppose tea’s out of the question?”

Hawk shrugged, “Sorry.”

The Commander let out a small sigh, “Never mind. This isn’t exactly a social call, anyway.”

Hawk filled a mug of his own and sat down, sipping the coffee. “I didn’t think it would be. I know you didn’t fly all the way from Belgium for tea. Eagle, Skip and Quarrel are still at Langley meeting with CIA about what we’ve learned from the prisoners we captured, so I’m guessing this is about whatever you wanted to talk to me about on Saturday.”

“Correct. I’m hoping that the horrific events of Saturday are actually going to make you more amenable to my request, to be honest.”

Hawk’s eyebrows rose as he swallowed another mouthful of coffee. “Oh. Sounds serious.”

“Yes… I’d like to have your communications codes for the Steel Brigade. Naturally, we’d share whatever the network generated, but they are rather handily placed to help us. In some cases I imagine they’re better placed than our own undercover operatives.”

Hawk blinked twice before asking, “How the hell do you know about the Steel Brigade?”

The Commander smiled. “Oh, our Z Force chaps had a run-in with one of the operatives down in Santalla last year. Said he seemed like a bright bloke, but a bit trigger-happy.”

Hawk frowned, he’d seen that operative’s report when he’d been at the Pentagon. ‘Trigger-happy’ was the kindest thing anyone had called the agent, code-name ‘Dog-tag’, in any evaluation Hawk had seen. He’d been recalled to the US following the incident, expelled from the Steel Brigade and then court-martialled from the US Army.

Hawk considered the request from the Commander again. The Steel Brigade was a secret network of GI Joe operatives deployed overseas, undercover, to act as a support network for covert ops for the Joe team. Single agents or small cells had been sent to various potential hotspots across Central America, Africa, Asia and Eastern Europe. The cells had set up safe houses and false identities for any Joe to use in a mission if they needed to operate covertly or to escape incognito. The operation had been run in co-operation with the CIA and was still around solely because the CIA still funded it.

“I might need to talk this over with the Agency,” Hawk finally said. “I’ll also speak to Colton and Hollingsworth.”

The Commander nodded, “Very well. But consider this: if you want to find and stop the Red Shadows, you can’t just rely on the CIA, your fancy recon satellites or the NSA eavesdropping on phone conversations.”

“True,” Hawk acknowledged.

The Commander stood and shook Hawk’s hand. “I hope I hear from you soon,” he said. Hawk nodded.

The Commander walked out to find another Joe, Chuckles, walking along the corridor.

“Excuse me, would you mind pointing me toward the exit?” The Commander said. “Bit of a maze down here…”

Chuckles smiled and said, “Sure, sir. Follow me.”

Tblisi, Georgia
March 22nd 1995
17:30 Local time/ 14:30 GMT

The Steel Brigade safehouse in the former Soviet republic of Georgia was part of a row of terraced houses in a suburb of the capital city. The front room was sparsely furnished with a three-seater sofa, two armchairs and a television set, which was currently showing CNN’s worldwide feed.

Lone Star, the former Navy SEAL, walked into the front room from the adjoining kitchen and handed around bottles of beer.

As Lone Star took his seat on the end of the sofa, he turned to Alpha Dog at the other end.

“So, what did you call us together for, Alpha Dog? I’m supposed to be meeting a trade ministry official as part of my cover in two hours.”

“We’ve got a mission, Lone Star,” Alpha Dog replied. The Delta Force operator had assumed command of the cell on the basis of time served, since he and Lone Star both held E6 ranks.

“What mission is that?” asked Firebolt, a former US Army Ranger.

Alpha Dog pointed to the TV set which was playing footage of the attack on Washington DC to accompany a report of an earlier attack by Red Shadow troops in Australia.

“What do you think?” Alpha Dog began. “The Red Shadows; no one knows where their headquarters are. Action Force hunted down the Shadows back in ’85, after Ironblood was captured. UN Resolution Nine-oh-Nine. Everyone thought the Shads were either dead or captured. Then the Black Major, Ironblood’s number two, came back after being MIA. He released a load of the captives and started causing trouble again. Then in ’86, he disappeared again after an attack on a Cobra facility in Italy.”

“So Langley wants us to snoop around and try to find them?” asked Jarhead, the fourth member of the cell. The former Marine Force Recon commando had wanted to join the GI Joe team and was happy they’d been reinstated.

“Basically, yes,” Alpha Dog confirmed. “Action Force put in a request for Brigade assistance direct to Hawk. They’ve got some undercover people looking, as have British Intelligence and CIA, but the more people looking the better.”

“Are we doing this incognito, using our cover identities or are we breaking cover?” Lone Star asked.

“We need to maintain our cover,” Alpha Dog replied. “You’ll all have to work out how to do this whilst doing your day-jobs too. At least I can more reasonably drive around the country and stick my nose in as an FBI liaison. We might need to break out the Sky Hawk and perform aerial recon, however.”

The other three commandos nodded.

“Meet back here in a week for a debrief. If you find anything sooner, come to the Embassy and contact me there.”

April 5th, 1995. 10:45GMT
Action Force Headquarters, Belgium

The Commander walked into the briefing room where Skip, Eagle and Sky Raider had assembled. A TV set on the conference table showed Leviathan sitting in the radio room of the Q Force submarine.

[Sundance]

“Good morning, gentlemen. I’ve got some good news, at last. After two weeks, we’ve got our first substantial lead on the Red Shadows headquarters,” The Commander informed them.

“Something more than the bases Task Force 282 and the Canadian Joes found?” Skip asked.

“Indeed,” The Commander nodded. “Whilst those operations were a success and the Americans have been busy kicking in doors across the States at all the safe-houses used by the DC assault force, they were, we must all agree, small fry. The Steel Brigade cell operating in Georgia has found what they believe to be either their main headquarters or at least, a major operations base.”

The Commander set down the manila folder he’d been carrying and removed several photos. He passed them around as he resumed speaking.

“The Joes were able to take these photos from a distance, passing the compound on a country highway. They’re planning to use the Sky Hawk they have in a warehouse over there to get some aerial photos. I want the Phantom X-19 over there to get some. I don’t know what kind of photos we’ll get from a one-man VTOL craft, but Boffin and Lightning tell me that they’ve got the stealth recon pod ready for a test on the Phantom. I think this is the ideal time to try it out.”

Sky Raider glowered at the news. Eagle simply nodded. The Space Force commander had been very unhappy when the US Government agreed to transfer a single Phantom X-19 to Action Force from the GI Joe team after it was decommissioned and the stealth jet had been placed under SAS Force control. Sky Raider could live with SAS Force and Z Force having helicopters under their control or Q Force having a small contingent of Skystrikers and Osprey jets under their aegis, but was much less in love with a valuable tactical air asset like the X-19 under SAS Force command. Eagle, on the other hand, didn’t care.

“I’ll tell Spectre to get the jet warmed up and start planning the mission,” Eagle said.

“Make sure you get permission to stage from our airfield in Turkey. It’ll make things easier,” The Commander said.

“Yes, sir.”

“In the meantime, I want SAS Force and Z Force prepping an assault force for deployment to Turkey, along with Space Force fighter support. I also want Space Force to recon the site with their satellites,” The Commander went on. “I’ll be speaking to the government in Tblisi about running the operation in Georgia.”

Action Force Forward Operating Base
Somewhere in Turkey
Two days later, 22:00 local time

The SAS Force Phantom X-19 thundered down the runway and lifted into the air like a bird of prey on the hunt.

Spectre quickly retracted the landing gear, throttled back and put the plane into a shallow climb to ten thousand feet. Once he’d levelled off, Spectre made sure the stealth jet was not radiating from either its air-search or navigation radars, the formation lights were out and the radios were shut off. The black jet flashed through the sky at just under the speed of sound, heading east toward Georgia.

Nearly two hours later, the Phantom X-19 crossed the border into Georgia without being detected. Spectre had even gone so far as to deliberately fly across a Georgian radar site to make sure he was undetected.

It didn’t take long for him to close in on the compound suspected of being the Red Shadows’ headquarters. Spectre activated the recon pod and reduced his speed further.

The jet passed over the compound, taking photos and recording moving images with its six cameras, two were recording in visual light, two in infrared and the final pair in thermal imaging.  Sixty miles north of the compound, Spectre executed a banking turn, descending to five thousand feet as he did and then flew back toward the compound, but now passing a mile east of the complex to get lower angled oblique shots.

As the fighter was approaching the complex the second time, Spectre’s earphones began chirping to warn him that a radar unit was trying to illuminate him.

“Air search radar,” he muttered. “Still in the green, nothing to worry about.”

The fighter passed by, the threat-warning display switching from green to yellow to indicate the heightened threat as the radar beams swept across the stealth aircraft.

Once the Phantom was clear of the site, Spectre put it into a climb back up to ten thousand feet and accelerated once more, now racing southwest towards Turkish airspace.

Once the fighter was back in friendly territory, Spectre reactivated his navigation radar and his radio, before flipping on his Identification Friend or Foe beacon and heading back to the Turkish airfield used by Action Force.

The landing went smoothly and after taxiing off the runway to the hangar assigned to the Phantom, Spectre was able to clamber down and head for his bunk whilst the ground crew went to work on the fighter and a photo-recon team removed the film canisters and video tapes from the recon pod for analysis.

April 8th 1995. 09:00 Central European Time/ 08:00 GMT
Action Force Headquarters

Eagle and Skip studied the photos of the compound in Georgia. The visual light imagery didn’t show much, but the infrared pictures showed what were clearly ASP anti-air artillery units sited inside the compound and what appeared to be a pair of Roboskulls sitting outside a hangar sized building. The thermal imaged photos showed multiple heat-sources in the buildings, as well as giving clues to the large number of personnel present.

“This place is worth hitting, whether it’s the Shads’ headquarters or not,” Skip commented. “Looks like there’s at least a couple hundred people there. Possibly large numbers of vehicles too.”

The Commander walked back into the briefing room the pair was using. “Uplink’s just got these images from the recon satellites. He’s busy going through our archives of passes over the area to see what we’ve missed,” he informed them as he handed over several more photos.

Eagle took the satellite images and frowned. “Definitely got Roboskulls there, then,” he commented before squinting and looking more closely at one of the photos.

“Hyenas?” he asked the Commander.

“That’s what the analysts are saying. We think they might have Shadowtraks too.” The Commander sighed. “Normally, I might sanction simply having Spectre fly back over and drop a pair of missiles on the place, but we need to make sure we take the Black Major alive. That slippery sod has eluded us too many times over the years.”

“Boots on the ground is a definite, then?” Eagle asked.

The Commander nodded. “And fast. We can not allow Black Major to escape again.”

Picking up one of the thermal images, the Commander said, “But how you do it is your decision.” He shrugged, “I’d make sure you’ve got a lot of warm bodies to do it, though.”

Action Force Forward Operating Base, Turkey
Two days later

The Russian Air Force transport plane thundered down from the sky toward the remote airstrip Action Force was using for preparing the mission.

The Antonov touched down and quickly taxied to the parking ramp in front of the hangars. Quickfire and Sparrowhawk moved to the rear cargo ramp of the plane, with Bodycount and Double-Tap walking behind them. Both the pistol marksman and the commando were very visibly carrying their weapons at the ready.

“I guess you’re looking forward to seeing Daina again,” Double-Tap commented.

Bodycount shrugged, “S’pose.”

“I thought you two got on well together,” Double-Tap said. “You had two days leave after that mission to Russia, you were flirting with her like crazy.”

[Sundance]

“Yeah, I took her to dinner in Prague and she told me she wasn’t going to leave the Guard to move to Britain. She also said she wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship.” Bodycount shrugged. “It was all very amicable.”

“I still can’t believe you flirt with all the women.”

Bodycount glowered, “I do not. I never flirted with Triage. She made it quite clear she wasn’t interested and all I said to her was ‘hello’. Quarrel and me flirting is just fun. And I’ve never seen Shade as anything other than a friend since that op in Sierra Gordo.”

“What about Peregrine?” Double-Tap, asked referring to the Z Force Dragonfly pilot. “Or Afterburner?”

Bodycount gave a hollow laugh. “Peregrine and I never went past dating. It barely lasted a month. Okay, I had a relationship with Afterburner, but that’s one woman in five.”

Double-Tap turned to look at Bodycount directly. “And what about you flirting with Glenda, Sparta and Powder Keg when they came over for that conference two years ago?”

“I didn’t flirt with them,” Bodycount said, looking more annoyed. “I had a friendly chat with Glenda and Sparta. I just said hi to Powder Keg and she was flirting with Beaver.”

“What about Deke, the Canadian intel specialist?” Double-Tap asked.

Bodycount thought back. “Didn’t speak to her. PK said she was a bit of a cow.”

The plane’s cargo ramp began to whine down as Double-Tap spoke again. “What about the American women?”

“I didn’t even speak to Scarlett,” Bodycount answered. “She was with Snake Eyes all the time. I started flirting with Lady Jaye and then Flint turned up, so I left. I barely said two words to Jinx or Cover Girl.”

Double-Tap sighed. “I’m sorry, maybe I misjudged you.”

Bodycount nodded. “Thank you.” There was a pause, then he spoke again, “There was that thing with Aurora, though, before we left DC.”

Double-Tap’s head whipped around as Quickfire and Sparrowhawk turned around to stare at the British soldier.

“What? She was released by the National Guard medics and came into my room, half out of it on meds and literally threw herself at me.”

“And you slept with her?” Quickfire asked, incredulous. “You scheisse-hund.”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Bodycount said, defensively. “We just snogged a lot.”

Quickfire suddenly turned his attention back to the plane as the sound of footsteps approached.

Red Star led the Oktober Guard off the An-12 transport. He stopped as Quickfire stepped forward and saluted him. Red Star returned the salute.

“Good morning, Colonel,” Quickfire greeted him. “Welcome to Turkey. Eagle and Skip are in the ops room, waiting for you and your command staff.”

Red Star smiled, “Lead the way, Herr Muller.”

Quickfire nodded and moved off, followed by Red Star, Lt. Gorky and three other members of the Oktober Guard that Quickfire didn’t recognise.

Sparrowhawk waited for the rest of the Guard to disembark. As the assembled at the end of the ramp, he addressed them, “If you’ll follow me, gentlemen, I’ll show you to our temporary accommodations.”

Bodycount and Double-Tap watched as Dragonsky collected his gear and led the group off, Sgt. Misha trailing close behind the flamethrower operator. Most of the others they didn’t recognise. Daina lingered at the back of the group and spoke to Bodycount as he fell in next to her.

“Nice to see you again, Scott,” she smiled.

“You too, Daina.” He paused, then spoke again. “Your team’s got a lot bigger…”

Daina nodded, “Da, The Kremlin decided it was foolish to just have four or five of us in the Guard. We’ve now got a fighter pilot, but he’s still in Russia. Then there’s Ruslan, Wong, Molot, Akula, Sergei, Tanya and Katya.”

“So who are all those guys?” Double-Tap asked.

“Ruslan’s our demolitions expert,” Daina explained. “Wong’s a marksman. Akula is our frogman. Molot’s a paratrooper. Tanya’s our new intelligence expert, Katya’s our commo expert and Sergei is our covert ops expert.”

Double-Tap looked slyly at Bodycount. “Better warn Tanya and Katya to watch out for Scott,” he smirked. “He’s likely to start flirting with them.”

Bodycount turned and punched Double-Tap before calmly walking on as Daina stopped to look at the pistol marksman with concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Double-Tap nodded without answering.

Midnight, local time
That night

A C-130 Hercules from Action Force’s support wing took off from the forward operating base, climbing through the black sky to reach altitude before turning north east toward Georgia. Two hours earlier a series of transports had flown a reserve assault force into Georgia. That force had included two Z Force Wolverines, two Z Force Hammer jeeps, a Z Force battle tank a company of Z Force infantrymen, two SAS Force Wolverines, three SAS Force Panther jeeps, four SAS Force Hawk helicopters and a platoon of SAS Force Attack Troopers. The C-130s had been escorted by four of Z Force’s Dragonfly attack helicopters.

As well as the infantry troops and vehicles, the reserve force had included Skip’s command force which had included Jammer, Ring-Tone and Wireless – three Z Force communications experts, Quarrel, Tracker, Kickback the anti-armour expert, Tor the Ranger and Scorpion the air defence expert. Along with them were most of the Oktober Guard.

The final C-130 was carrying an SAS Force assault group, led by Eagle himself. As well as the SAS Force Attack Troopers making up most of the group, the unit included Quickfire, Boonie, Kukri, Bodycount, Sparrowhawk, Beaver, Stakeout, Double-Tap, Big Ben and Prowl, the Fijian recon expert. Much to Eagle’s annoyance, the transport also carried a four man Oktober Guard team, led by Lt. Gorky and the four American Steel Brigade troopers. The Georgian government had insisted on the Guard’s participation in the attack. The US government had demanded the Steel Brigade team’s involvement.

As the Hercules approached the drop-point, Sparrowhawk went around each soldier and double-checked their parachute. When he reached Bodycount, the commando returned the favour and checked Sparrowhawk’s chute.

“Good to go, Sparrow.”

“Thanks, Body.” Both troopers grinned at one another before fastening their oxygen masks into place.

Sparrowhawk gave Eagle the thumbs up and the squad leader returned the gesture.

Each of the SAS Force Attack Troopers had been recruited from either a specialist counter-terrorist unit or an elite special ops force. They were all airborne qualified, trained in close-quarter battle tactics including hostage rescue procedures. They were also trained in demolitions, sabotage, long-range recon and small unit infantry tactics. Eagle was proud to lead them.

The loadmaster signalled the ramp was coming down. The red light lit as Eagle moved forward toward the rear of the plane. He always insisted on being first out. The red lit flicked off, the green lit came on and Eagle charged forward, stepping off the ramp into open space.

The plane was flying several thousand feet over the Georgian countryside along a known commercial air corridor. It attracted no attention from the Red Shadows compound.

The commando force deployed their chutes and drifted toward the ground, executing what was, so far, a textbook high-altitude high-opening parachute jump.

Silently, the commandos floated into the Red Shadows compound. None of the sentries in the four corner watchtowers or the four gateposts were alerted as the force landed and began gathering up their chutes and grouping together. Before Quickfire, Bodycount and Boonie joined the other troops, each quickly moved up to the three ASP units stationed in a triangular formation inside the compound and planted demolitions charges. Once they were finished, they joined the rest of the SAS Force troops. The force quickly split into six squads and moved out.

Eagle was leading Gold Squad, which comprised him, Alpha Dog and Firebolt from the Steel Brigade group, Stakeout and two Attack Troopers. They headed across the compound toward the six buildings identified as being barracks blocks. Close on their heels was a second squad, led by Sparrowhawk, which included Gorky, Molot and three Attack Troopers. Sparrowhawk’s group was Blue Squad.

Quickfire was leading Green Squad, which consisted of his fellow SAS Force commandos, Boonie, Bodycount and Kukri, along with Jarhead from the Steel Brigade team and Sgt. Misha from the Oktober Guard. They were heading toward the fuel dump and the Shadowtrak garage.

Black Squad was led by Beaver. Alongside him and Double-Tap were Lone Star and Ruslan. Two Attack Troopers rounded out the squad. They headed for the Roboskull hangar.

The fifth group was led by Big Ben and was made up of five Attack Troopers. They formed Red Squad. Their target was the radio centre and the ops room. Prowl led the last group of five Attack Troopers as Grey Squad. Their targets were the Hyena garage and the ammo dump.

Black Squad approached the Roboskull hangar from the side of the building believed to be the hospital. Two Red Shadows were standing near the doors to the hangar. Both had their AK74 assault rifles slung and their helmets off. One was lounging against the side of the hangar. The other had his hands shoved in his pockets. Beaver raised his fist to halt the group. Double-Tap moved up next to him and both aimed at the soldiers.

Beaver was armed with a specially modified version of the MP5 sub-machine gun created by Action Force’s boffins in the Special Weapons Force. The MP5-SWF was even quieter than an MP5SD, the normal Special Force suppressed version of the weapon. This was combined with subsonic ammo, making the weapon almost as quiet as Hollywood portrayed suppressed weapons. Double-Tap was armed with a Colt M1911-SWF, a similarly modified version of the venerable automatic pistol.

The two commandos levelled their weapons and fired a single shot each, dropping their targets from thirty feet away with a headshot.

“Move up,” Beaver whispered. The six commandos sprinted from the hospital building to the hangar. The two Attack Troopers grabbed the dead bodies and dragged them into the hangar behind Beaver and Double-Tap. Ruslan and Lone Star took the sentries’ places. Standing next to the building before the Attack Troopers returned and replaced them.

Inside the hangar, Ruslan and Lone Star began quickly unpacking demolitions charges the pair had been carrying. Beaver and Double-Tap moved around the hangar, checking no one else was lurking inside.

Once the explosives were unpacked, Ruslan took the lead in planting the charges on the building’s supporting walls and pillars. The Russian commando worked quickly and efficiently, planting exactly enough explosives to level the hangar. Lone Star had asked the Russian about the amount required during their mission briefing. Ruslan had politely informed the SEAL he always knew precisely how much to use and never used a gram more. Red Star and Daina had both assured Lone Star that he was not making idle boasts. Now, the Texan commando could see they hadn’t been exaggerating.

Once the explosives were in place, the team retreated to crouch near the hospital. Beaver keyed his radio.

“Black One, ready.”

“Grey One, ready,” reported Prowl, moments later.

“Green One, ready,” Quickfire reported.

Inside one of the three storey barracks blocks, Eagle heard the reports in his radio’s earpiece. He didn’t reply, but felt pleased. So far the barracks had proved to be home to several dozen Red Shadows, housed in single rooms that covered most of each level’s floor space, aside from a toilet facility on each floor and a staircase. He reached the top floor and peeked in the window set in the door at the top. More Shadows. He turned and waved to his team to return to the ground floor.

“Gold One, clear,” Eagle reported.

Red Squad had quietly eliminated the sentries outside the radio room, before Big Ben and an Attack Trooper had scaled a ladder to the roof and planted demolitions charges on the rooftop antennae and satellite dishes. Now they were ready to assault the building. Big Ben took the lead; the one-time member of the GI Joe team had joined Action Force on his return to Europe when the American government deactivated the Joes.

The squad moved in the door slowly, to find a security desk which was currently empty. Big Ben led the way along the corridor, which had three doors leading off it. A Red Shadow was just stepping out of one, to the sound of a flushing toilet as Big Ben rounded the corner. Before the gunman could speak, Big Ben shot him with a three-round burst to the chest.

The SAS Force team turned toward the lone door on the right side of the corridor. The Attack Troopers moved to assault positions and Big Ben kicked the door in before moving aside. Two Attack Troopers charged in the door, firing at a pair of Red Interceptors, before pivoting to the left. One took a burst of automatic fire in his chest from a Red Shadow’s Skorpion sub-machine gun. His partner promptly gunned down the Shadow. The second pair of Attack Troopers moved in, moving around the radio equipment to reach the far end of the room.

[Sundance]

A Red Shadow at the far end opened fire with his Uzi sub-machine gun, causing the two Attack Troopers to duck away, before the gunman slapped a large alarm button.

Klaxons began to sound across the complex.

Eagle reached the bottom of the staircase in Barracks One as the alarm began to sound. He immediately activated his radio.

“Eagle to all units, execute Omega Protocol.”

Seconds later, a series of explosions rocked the buildings as, in quick succession, the ASP units, the Hyena garage, the Roboskull hangar and the fuel dump exploded.

“Grey Squad, evacuating area of Grey Two. Stand by.”

“Green group evacuating Green Two. Firing demolitions charges,” Quickfire reported next as his team sprinted away from the Shadowtrak garage. The group skidded to a halt next to the armoury, where Quickfire looked at Bodycount. The British commando muttered, “Kaboom,” before hitting the detonator.

The Shadowtrak garage’s roof collapsed in to the building as the walls dropped inwards, smashing the vehicles and burying them in the rubble.

The ammo dump exploded seconds later as Grey Squad detonated their second charges.

Back at Barracks One, Red Shadows were streaming down the stairs as Gold Squad fell back toward the parade ground.

Eagle brought the group to a halt as the Red Shadows charged from the buildings, most carrying only side arms or sub-machine guns.

Sparrowhawk’s team had been caught trying to leave Barracks Two and were now engaged with Red Shadow troops in the stairwell of the building.

Sparrowhawk shot two more Shadow troopers as Molot was hit by a burst from an Ingram’s MAC-10 sub-machine gun. As the Russian paratrooper collapsed, Sparrowhawk fired another burst up the stairs, dropping the shooter. Gorky grabbed Molot and hoisted him over his shoulder. The squad’s three Attack Troopers were busy shooting Red Shadows as they tried to exit the ground floor barracks room.

“Flash-bangs!” Sparrowhawk shouted, before pulling one of his own from his webbing. He primed the device and simply hurled it straight up the stairwell. One of the Attack Troopers copied him, the stun grenade bouncing off the wall to drop on to the mid-level landing. Another hurled one in the door of the ground floor barracks.

The grenades detonated in quick succession with their blinding flash and thundering bang. Dazzling and deafening the Shadows, the flash-bangs allowed the squad to escape the building.

“Multiple foot-mobiles from the left,” reported Fenris, a Danish Attack Trooper in Blue Squad. He dropped to one knee and fired several bursts at the Red Shadows rushing from the direction of Barracks Three and Barracks Five. The other Attack Troopers joined him as Sparrowhawk and Gorky sprinted towards Barracks One, the Belgian paratrooper covering the Russian as he carried his comrade.

“Blue Leader to Gold, we’re at the rear of Barracks One and need assistance, we have a man down and are coming under heavy fire from Barracks Three and Five,” Sparrowhawk radioed to Eagle.

“Stand by, Blue Leader. Gold Squad is under fire from Barracks One’s front.”

Sparrowhawk cursed as He kept firing at the Red Shadows allowing the Attack Troopers to sprint across to his position.

Eagle switched frequencies on his radio as his team kept up their fire. “Gold Leader to Skip; we’re under fire, launch the Hawks and have the Dragonflies stand by. Get your reserves ready as well. We may need you.”

Eagle heard the acknowledgement from his Z Force counterpart and then clicked off his radio. “Make sure your strobes are on, squad. We’ve got friendly air coming in.”

Each of the commandos quickly checked that the small infrared strobe lights they wore on their shoulders were turned on and blinking.

Five miles from the compound, Blades climbed into the cockpit of his Hawk light helicopter. He plugged in his helmet’s radio headset and began powering up the small aircraft. Next to his Hawk, Chopper was doing the same. Parked further away were two more Hawks, flown by other members of the SAS Force air squadron.

As the rotors began turning on the Hawk, Blades keyed his radio.

“Hawk Flight, check in.”

“Hawk 2, Chopper’s ready.”

“Hawk 3, Spin-blade is a go,” responded the next pilot, his British accent setting him apart from the two Americans.

“Hawk 4, Mongoose is in the green,” the final pilot chimed in. His Italian accent was even more of a contrast.

“Hawk Flight, prepare to lift and follow me in.”

The four black single-seat helicopters quickly took off and sped east toward the compound. The still-burning fire of the fuel dump created a large white spot in the pilots’ infrared visors.

“Hawk flight, remember friendlies are marked by blinking strobes. Do not engage anyone marked by a strobe. Stand by for fire missions,” Blades radioed. After the other pilots reported their readiness, he switched frequencies.

“Ground forces, this is Hawk 1, standing by to provide close-air. Someone give me a target.”

[Sundance]

“Blue Leader to Hawk 1, I need fire support near Barracks Two. Multiple enemy foot-mobiles twenty feet from my squad. Danger close.”

“Roger that, Sparrowhawk. I’m rollin’ in hot.”

Blades dropped the nose of his Hawk to increase speed, raced across the wall of the compound, over-flying the radio centre and the ops room, he spotted the IR strobes blinking in the darkness, the muzzle-flashes of weapons fire and took aim.

Sparrowhawk fired another short burst from his MP5; he was nearly out of ammo in the magazine. Just as he was about to call out that he was reloading, there was the shriek of an incoming shell and then it hit, blowing a good five Red Shadow troops off their feet and through the air. A second shell seconds later took out several more of the Red Shadows.

Sparrowhawk keyed his radio, “Good hits, good hits, multiple confirmed kills.”

The small shape of a Hawk flashed overhead and cleared away before a second Hawk flew in much slower and fired two shells into the Red Shadows then turned away.

Spin-blade flew his Hawk toward the ongoing gun battle, but suddenly saw the flash of a rocket motor and broke off his attack run. He slapped the trigger for his Hawk’s flare dispenser as the missile homed in.

The SA-7 Grail missile detonated in the flare-cloud, but the explosion threw shrapnel at the Hawk, puncturing the tail rudder and the three-bladed tail rotor.

Spin-blade cursed as he fought for control. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Spin-blade, I’m hit. I’ve got rudder damage. I am going down.”

The Hawk cleared the compound and Spin-blade armed and fired his rockets in quick succession. He next triggered his 30mm cannon, firing all 20 shells inside a minute. He then flipped the emergency release for the belly fuel tank the Hawks were using on this mission. Once that was done, Spin-blade stopped fighting the helicopter and brought it down as safely as he could. In six years of flying Hawks with SAS Force, this would be his second crash landing.

The helicopter hit the ground and bounced, hit again and then tipped over. Spin-blade leaped clear of the cockpit, rolled over and looked back to see the blades snapping off as the helicopter crashed down upside down. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted away from the wreckage.

At the Z Force command post, Skip immediately dispatched Rev in an SAS Force Hammer and Hunter in a Wolverine to retrieve Spin-blade. As the two vehicles passed the medical station, Triage, the Z Force female doctor, dashed out of the tent. She flagged down Rev’s Hammer and quickly climbed aboard, carrying her medical kit in a metal case.

The two vehicles sped toward the plume of black smoke visible in the night sky.

Inside the compound, Eagle’s Gold Squad had fallen back to the hospital building and been joined by Green, Grey and Black Squads. They were under fire from a large contingent of troops dressed in black uniforms. These black-clad Shadows had all come from the building designated Barracks Six, and were actually wearing night-vision goggles and carried AK103s, the latest version of the venerable Kalashnikov assault rifle.

Both sides were exchanging fire, but many of these apparently elite Shadows were falling to the assault force’s fire. In contrast, the Action Force unit had only taken three more casualties, two Attack Troopers and Ruslan. Ruslan had been hit badly and was being helped by Lone Star and an Attack Trooper. Another Attack Trooper, codenamed Hatchet, was treating the injuries suffered by one of his comrades. The third casualty, codenamed ‘Boxer’ was dead and had been put on a stretcher. The other two commandos were lucky to have been injured in what was a fairly well stocked infirmary.

Inside the building designated ‘Barracks Four’, the Black Major was standing near one of the windows of his private quarters, watching the gun battle. Near the door, Artur Kulik stood waiting attentively for his commander’s orders. The Black Major turned toward him.

“The dogs of Action Force appear to be winning, Artur. Our loyal Shadows may have destroyed one of the SAS fools’ Hawk helicopters, but they have three more. No doubt there is also a reserve force outside the compound standing ready to move in when Eagle gives the word.”

Artur was impressed by the Major’s analysis of the situation, even though he knew his master had once served in Action Force, however briefly, before being turned by Baron Ironblood.

The Black Major crossed the room to the door and headed out on to the landing. Artur followed closely, his Skorpion sub-machine gun at the ready.

Once they reached the ground floor, the Black Major moved quickly to the door leading to the basement.

“Return to your Elite Shadows, Artur. I shall use the tunnels to escape. Action Force may have captured the Baron and imprisoned him, but they will not take me alive.”

“As you command, Black Major.”

The two men descended to the basement, and then parted company. Black Major took one tunnel leading southwest toward the firing range building, whilst Artur took the tunnel leading back to Barracks Six.

Black Major passed through the tunnel and into an underground parking facility. Four Red Shadows stood at the ready, next to two black Shadowtraks.

The Shadows snapped to attention as the Major entered.

“Are the BlackTraks ready?”

“Of course, Major,” replied the lead Shadow.

“Good, I am leaving immediately. Let’s go.”

Moments later, both BlackTraks sped from the parking facility, racing along a tunnel that led outside the compound, sloping up to emerge inside a barn a mile from the compound.

Inside the compound, Eagle had organised Quickfire’s Green Squad to move out of the hospital and rendezvous with Beaver’s Blue Squad.

The six commandos sprinted from the hospital across the parade ground toward Barracks One. As they ran, the gunfire from the windows of the hospital intensified to cover them.

As they reached the barracks building, Bodycount and Kukri moved to covering positions and began firing at the Elite Shadows.

“Twenty-six,” Bodycount muttered to himself as a Red Shadow fell to one of his bursts of fire. “Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.”

Kukri looked at him sideways as he fired. “What are you counting?”

“Dead Shadows,” Bodycount answered. “Thirty.”

“You’re keeping score?” Kukri asked.

Bodycount spared him a quick glance. “You do know my codename, don’t you?”

Kukri rolled his eyes before shooting another Shadow.

“So, how many Cobras you killed?” he asked.

“Three hundred seventy-eight in seven years.”

[Sundance]

“Good job you don’t carve notches in your rifle’s stock.”

“Right, I wouldn’t have a stock left,” Bodycount answered.

At the other end of the building, Quickfire had found Big Ben and three of Red Squad’s Attack Troopers alongside Blue Squad. Molot and the other two Attack Troopers were lying on the ground, being tended by one of the Blue Squad troops.

“Are they fit to move?” Quickfire asked the medic as he knelt next to the Attack Trooper.

“Molot’s dead,” the soldier replied. “Nomad took a round in his right shin. It went right through. He’s out of it on morphine. Jester’s badly injured. I’ve got him on morphine too. He took three rounds in the torso. I don’t known how much longer he’ll last.”

Quickfire looked toward Sparrowhawk. “Sparrow, get your squad organised! We’re getting out of here!”

“Roger that, Quickie!”

Two Attack Troopers picked up Molot and Nomad and slung them over their shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The Attack Trooper tending to Jester organised two of Red Squad’s troopers in carrying the wounded man in a makeshift stretcher.

Quickfire moved to where Bodycount and Kukri were crouched.

“Ammo check,” he snapped.

“Half a mag loaded, three left,” Bodycount answered.

“Half a mag loaded. One left,” Kukri answered.

“Right, I want you two to led the way to the hospital. Me and Boonie will take over here,” Quickfire ordered. “Make sure everyone knows we’re coming in with three casualties.”

“Copy that, sir,” Bodycount answered. Boonie and Quickfire took the other two commandos’ positions and opened fire. The first pair sprinted toward the hospital building.

Moments later, they dashed through the shattered doorway into the building. Eagle met them as they skidded to a halt on the slippery floor.

“Report,” Eagle ordered.

“Red Squad’s RV’d with Blue, sir,” Kukri informed him. “They have three injured. Molot is dead, Nomad and Jester are wounded.”

Eagle nodded, then pulled out his radio.

“Skip, this is Eagle, how copy?”

“Eagle, Skip, I read you loud and clear.”

“Skip, I want you to leave a protective force with the medics and then roll in the rest of your force. We’ve got wounded here, some severely. It’s time to end this.”

“Copy that, Eagle. Give us a few to get organised.”

Eagle hooked his radio back on to his webbing gear as two Attack Troopers charged into the hospital carrying casualties over their shoulders, with another pair of Attack Troopers and Lt. Gorky close behind.

Eagle moved toward Gorky as the Attack Troopers were directed toward a treatment room.

“I’m sorry Molot’s been killed,” Eagle said to the Russian squad leader.

Gorky nodded, “Such is combat, I suppose.”

“I also hate to tell you, but Ruslan’s been injured as well.”

Gorky nodded again, then gave a shrug. “I suppose we can’t expect anything less,” he replied. “You’ve lost men too.”

Eagle nodded as the three Attack Troopers seeing to Jester charged in. Before Eagle could comment, the sound of helicopter rotors beating the air drowned out the clatter of gunfire. Both officers turned toward the windows in time to see an explosion tear through the mass of Elite Shadows.

Seconds later, another flash dropped from the sky and another boom shook the building.

Both men moved toward the front of the hospital as several more of Red and Blue Squads’ members ran in.

“What was that?” Gorky asked.

“Z Force Dragonfly,” Big Ben replied. He started to say something else, but was drowned out by the roar of a 20mm minigun firing.

He looked around toward the window, looking annoyed, waited for a moment and then spoke again.

“Two of ‘em are hoverin’ over the Roboskull landin’ pad. I take it someone called in more air support,” Big Ben explained.

“I called in our reserves,” Eagle answered.

*

Four Space Force Conquest X-30s were orbiting the compound five miles away, as the fighters turned toward the complex on the eastbound leg of their orbit, Afterburner suddenly spotted a vehicle racing northeast.

“Hornet, this is Afterburner,” she radioed to the flight leader. “I have a fast-moving ground vehicle heading north-east. Request permission for over-flight and identification.”

There was only a brief pause before Hornet answered, “Roger that, Afterburner. Over-fly and identify. Watch yourself, it may fire on you.”

“Roger,” she answered and threw the fighter into a diving turn toward the vehicle.

The forward-swept wing fighter soon dropped to barely three hundred feet above the ground. The former RAF pilot levelled her jet out and pulled the throttle back to avoid overtaking the vehicle as she quickly closed on it.

Afterburner squinted through her night-vision goggles as she caught up to the vehicle.

“Lead, three, I have what appears to be a modified Shadowtrak here. I see two persons in the vehicle, one is wearing what looks like an officer’s cap.”

“Roger that, Three. Stand by one.”

More than one minute passed as Afterburner continued following the Shadowtrak, which wasn’t attempting to evade her before Hornet came back on the radio.

“Three, Lead, Eagle says waste ‘im.”

“Copy that,” Afterburner said. She executed a pair of S-turns to slow herself down, allowing the vehicle below to pull away from her slightly. She armed her fighter’s twin nose-mounted cannon.

Dropping the Conquest to nearly ground scraping level, Afterburner brought the Shadowtrak into her targeting pipper, waited for the vehicle to fill the pipper and then fired a five second burst.

Twin streams of bullets ripped the BlackTrak to pieces and Afterburner pulled up in radical climb to avoid the detonation of the vehicle.

*

Inside the Red Shadows compound, the Elite Shadows and the Red Shadows were trying to reorganise themselves after the two shells from the Dragonfly hit, when the main gates were smashed in and a Z Force Battle Tank rolled through the wreckage.

Some of the Shadows recovered their senses enough to open fire at the tank as it rumbled toward them, but the bullets bounced uselessly off the armour. Seconds later, two Z Force ATCs rolled in, followed by a pair of Z Force jeeps. The Red Shadows stopped firing as the two ATCs levelled their guns at the group, as did the infantry troopers in the jeeps.

The Shadows turned as they heard a small explosion and then the sound of high-performance engines. Racing through the complex from the opposite end were four SAS Force Panthers, a pair of SAS Force Hammers, a single Recon Jeep and a pair of Z Force Hammers.

In seconds, the Shadows were surrounded as more Z Force infantry troops poured out of both ATCs and scrambled from several of the jeeps. The SAS Force commandos began to move in from the hospital.

The closest thing to an officer left to command the surviving troops was an Elite Shadow who safed his weapon and dropped it to the ground as Skip pushed through the Z Force infantry troops, with Red Star, Big Bear and his own senior NCO Sergeant-Major Zero close behind him.

“Red Shadows, I suggest you surrender immediately. You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Any further resistance will be met with the most severe consequences,” Skip informed them in a loud, clear voice.

One Elite Shadow raised his Makarov pistol. He barely got it to horizontal before he was shot by three Z Force infantrymen with three-round bursts from their M16s.

Skip raised one eyebrow.

“Anyone else want to throw their lives away?”

There was a flurry of noise and activity as the Shadows safed and dropped their weapons in a hurry. Skip and Eagle had both hoped that without the Baron’s brainwashing, the Red Shadows would be mostly mercenary types who would crumble when faced with the inevitability of their demise at the hands of overwhelming firepower. It seemed they were right.

Moving quickly, the Z Force troops and the SAS Force commandos collected and removed the Shadows weapons, cuffed them and moved them to the parade ground to await the arrival of Georgian Army troops to take them to a waiting detention facility.

Skip and Eagle moved to the hospital with Red Star. The Russian officer went to check on his troops, before returning.

“As we were about to crash in the gates, we had a message from Afterburner,” Skip informed the other two Colonels. “She reported spotting, pursuing and destroying a Shadowtrak vehicle. I dispatched a squad to inspect the wreckage. Afterburner believed that it might be the Black Major’s escape vehicle. Unfortunately, the infantry squad couldn’t find any bodies in the remains. It seems Black Major has eluded us.”

Red Star cursed, “I suppose we shouldn’t have expected any less. That man was always a slippery customer.”

“Yes,” Eagle commented. “He was a good man once, one of the best… It seems his training has enabled him to evade us again.”

Action Force Headquarters, Belgium
Thursday, April 13th, 1995. 10:30 local time.

Eagle and Skip sat in one of the conference rooms in Action Force’s headquarters. Seated at the head of the table was The Commander. To his right was his aide de camp, a British major named Flagg. On the left were General Wolfgang Bernadis and Admiral Maarten Verstappen. General Bernadis was an Austrian officer, who served on the Action Force oversight committee with the admiral. The membership of the committee rotated between the European nations who contributed to Action Force, whether they were NATO or EU nations. Whilst France and Germany held permanent positions in the six-man group, and Britain was represented by The Commander, the other three flag officers served for eight months at a time.

The two colonels were debriefing the senior officers on the mission to Georgia. They had already received written after-action reports form several members of the group, and interviewed several, but were now discussing the mission with the two commanding officers.

“Well, I must admit, you’ve certainly proved the need for Action Force’s continued operation and funding,” General Bernadis commented. “This mission proved decisive in trying to ferret out and contain the threat of the Red Shadows.”

Eagle and Skip exchanged wordless looks. Funding for Action Force often proved divisive in several of the contributing nations. Additional funding from Australia and New Zealand had helped in recent years.

“There are a few things that have been brought to light by this whole ‘war of the Red Shadows’ as the press are calling it, however,” Admiral Verstappen commented.

Skip shifted uncomfortably.

“Such as?” Eagle asked.

“The lack of intelligence sharing between some of the counter-terror units around the world,” Verstappen explained. “Besides the continued threat posed by both Cobra and the Red Shadows.”

“We know you share intelligence with the Oktober Guard and the Americans,” Bernadis went on, “But there is almost zero co-operation with the Canadian Joe team and only minimal amounts with the South American group. That needs to change.”

Eagle frowned as Skip leaned forward. “Do we have any proposals for answers?” Skip asked.

“There are several,” the general replied. “Hawk, El General, Red Star and the colonel who oversees the Canadian team will be coming to Belgium for a conference with the oversight committee and you Action Force field commanders to discuss it next week.”

“What are the proposals?” Eagle asked.

“The four main ones being considered are to merge all of the units into one; to simply form a joint intelligence sharing group; to simply talk to each other more and report on what you’ve all been up to or to merge the Guard and Action Force and the Joes with 282 to cover the eastern and western hemispheres respectively.” Verstappen smiled at the horror on the faces of Skip and Eagle.

“Don’t worry,” he went on. “I don’t believe the Americans will seriously consider the first or last options and I know the Russians will never agree to either. We may get them both to agree to the second or third proposals. It’s not just Action Force, either. The Guard has no co-operation with Task Force 282 or the Canadians. They barely speak to the Americans and only seem to contact us when it suits them. The Americans barely share intel with the Guard or 282 and only get intel from the Commandos because Redmack’s an American.”

 Bernadis cleared his throat. “Back to Georgia. The intelligence secured in the aftermath of the assault has thrown up the locations of several Red Shadow bases. The Americans are gearing up to deal with several in Central America. The Russians have the ones in the former Soviet Union covered. Task Force 282 can deal with the ones in South America. Action Force gets to deal with the rest: Asia, Europe, Africa and a couple in Australia.”

Bernadis looked at Eagle and Skip.

“You should have your work cut out for you, for a while.”

The two colonels exchanged glances.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eagle replied.

The End