It was a hard-fought battle to take the ZLF Forward Base, but the JSOC had done it.
Just as the Lieutenant, Walker and Mercer rid the base of the ZLF insurgents, the attack helicopter had finally arrived.
Seeing that the situation had already been neutralized, the pilot decided to descend and land in the middle of the FOB, dropping off several JSOC soldiers.
Rourke looked up at the sky towards the descending helicopter and then towards his watch. It had arrived several minutes late to the party.
"Right on schedule..."
He lifted the radio transceiver on his vest, before looking at the pilot in cockpit. His tag read "Big Bird 3-7". "Major, this is Rourke. Station Big Bird 3-7 at the FOB. He'll be under our command."
Merrick came on at the other end, "Copy that, Rourke. Brief the crew on their immediate orders. We have supplies and fuel enroute to the FOB."
"Roger that - Out here."
Just as Mercer and Akers returned from their firefight, Rourke signaled for everyone to gather around momentarily and made a spinning gesture with his finger.
"I want this place locked down and clear of any threats, starting from the infirmaries. We have wounded to look after."
He took a moment to look at some of the dead militiamen around them, as well as the ZLF insurgents before redirecting his focus to his men.
"This base needs to be secure before everyone else starts moving in... that'll be in about 4 hours."
---
Meanwhile, Creed walked over with a wounded Dmitry. "Come on old man...Don't you fall down on me again...We're almost there lad...Come on..." Creed panted and coughed as he helped the man walk.
Walker saw what was going on, aiding Creed and dragging Dmitry to a stack of containers, laying him upon them and carefully at that, laying his pack under the mans head. "Who do you think you are? The incredible hulk? - you gotta ask for help creed….."
"He's a heavy mother fucker...took a hit to the dome, barely grazed him. Couple inches to the right he would've been..." He looked at Dmitry, who was dazed and completely out of it. "...Yeah, you know what I mean mate."
"He woulda been singing the choirs songs with the rest of Mullah's men. Now settle down, you dragged him all the way here, go find some shade or something… its like a thousand degrees here."
"Roger that...I'll sit down over here." Creed walked over to a nearby place of shade and sat down as Walker took the disoriented Dmitry to the infirmary.
---
"So, what now? We make this our base? We're smack-dab in the middle of hostile territory." Lieutenant Akers walked over to his captain and judged the position of their base.
It was in exposed land and an easy target for any enemy ambushes.
"This is one of ZLF's crutches in the region..." Rourke and Akers were standing nearby the gate, which led to the direction in which they came from to raid the FOB.
"Past that gate is militia territory, which by definition is also our own. From here, we'll push further into enemy territory and drive them out of the region."
"Then, we'll find our man and get ourselves out."
Rourke then took out a pack of cigarettes and his Zippo lighter. He took a single cig and looked up at the sky.
"But if only it were that simple, huh Lieutenant?"
Akers took out another cig, grabbed his own lighter and lit it before puffing on it.
He nodded at Rourke's final statement, "Nothing is simple out here…"
Akers then remembered what he found inside the base. "There were children toys in that base, Captain. See, I dont know what that implies…but theres some serious shit going on in here."
"Children... they have no business being here." Rourke stood there, deep in thought, as if he was questioning something.
"Yeah...You should check on Dmitry. From what I could tell with Creed, the big guy took a hell of a hit. Lucky to have survived." Akers then continued to speak as he puffed, "Do we have a status on Fremont?"
Rourke began making his way to Dmitry, but not before answering Akers first.
"There should be intelligence logs or a communications network somewhere here. I'd figure he must've passed through here."
As Rourke made his way to one of the tents that were being used for the wounded while the infirmaries were being secured, he noticed the trails of blood and dead bodies scattered across the ground.
The majority of the dead militiamen were young, some could even be considered minors just by looking at them.
Even in death, the naivete on their face was clear. Meanwhile, most of the ZLF insurgents were likely above 25, a small bit of them even looked to be middle aged. Perhaps they already had children of their own.
Rourke dismissed the thought and focused his head to prioritize the base and his men. The thought had disappeared, but perhaps it had only retreated to the back of his mind.
Rourke went to the tents and visited Dmitry, who was knocked out cold on a stretcher that had been placed on top of several boxes. He took a moment to look at him, observing his injuries closely.
A field medic was tending to his wounds, but lacked the array of supplies that would probably have been available at the AFRICOM base in Angola.
"Hmmm... its not as bad as I had imagined." He knelt down to get on a closer level to Dmitry. "Talk to me, Sergeant. Can you still fight with us?"
"Us? Sir… i barely even know where i am. My heads in agonising pain, i can't remember anything, and we're in this hellhole."
Dmitry sat up, grunting very loudly as he did so, chirping to the floor, occasionally looking up to Rourke.
"You're gonna be alright, Sergeant. I'll get us out of this place soon enough."
Rourke took a moment to observe the condition of the FOB as he spoke to Dmitry. Half of the buildings had either been reduced to ashes or were on the brink of collapse from the mortar strikes.
"I reckon we can only stay here for around 3 days, its worse than the Major made it out to be."
---
As Akers began to walk away, he felt a hand clasp upon his shoulder.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant." It was Pierce. Akers felt a firm grip, one that demanded attention, promptly.
"Yes, Sergeant?" Akers, having walked away from Rourke, was now sitting against a wall of a two-storey house, sharpening one of his knives. "What you need?"
"What exactly are we doing here? Fremont and the senator of defence are probably having limbs hacked off as we speak and we're just sitting here making ourselves at home?" He didn't seem furious, nor mad, not frustrated, instead speaking calmly and clearly.
Akers was irritable from the get-go. He stood up, facing Pierce directly. "You think I don't know that? You think any of us don't know that?" Akers didn't nessecarily raise his voice but there was an edge underneath it, perhaps something more dark.
"We move without intelligence, without a plan, we get everybody killed including Fremont. So yeah, we make ourselves at home."
"We don't need a plan for these people evidently, are you seriously sure these are the same people that did that attack?" Pierce backed off, sitting down on a milk crate in front of Akers, placing him at a lower level, and thus having to look up at him.
"Yeah, same people," Akers claimed dismissively, before kneeling down to face Pierce at eye level "and THAT...that thinking right there...its how you end up in a bodybag...that right there. You underestimate 'em...it gets in your head, and all of a sudden you're a corpse and guts like that militia guy over there."
He pointed to one of the militiamen that were gunned down by the Insurgent with the M2 Browning.
"I'd rather be in a bodybag than be here, respectfully sir. It's hot as balls, it smells like a open grave cemetery and even worse.. we are prone to being attacked simply for holding this fob." Pierce looked to the insurgent, getting his teeth at the sight but holding firm on his stance. He shook his head as Akers walked off.
---
10 hours later
---
The task force was now gathered in the central compound within the ruined FOB. They all stood on a balcony, with a small circular table in the center and a lantern on a stool. Rourke stood upon everybody.
"Mullah should be back from burying his men soon enough. And Baptiste should be out of the infirmary to tell us what he knows."
"Sir...do we have any updates on the Commissioner? Its been three days...ZLF is normally very public about their kidnappings." Creed, now dressed in just a t-shirt and military vest, spoke up from the group of JSOC, arms folded across his chest.
"Their mouths seem to be shut this time around and we've got far worse things to worry about."
Rourke looked out at the distance, deeper into the Southwest province.
"We won't have more than about 2 more days to stay here until the ZLF comes back with a vendetta."
Mercer interrupted, "Then there's no reason for us to wait around and stay here."
Rourke shot back, "We can't mobilize everyone at once to get out of here before the ZLF arrives."
Rourke looked below momentarily to see all the JSOC soldiers and some of Mullah's men running around the base, and then back at his own men.
"That's why our next objective is to find a more permanent base in the region, somewhere that gets us closer to all of the other areas within Zaire. Akers!"
At attention, Akers soon came out of a nearby doorway with Baptiste, holding a wad of documents. "Here you go, sir. Important intel regarding Zaire Liberation Force in Zaire. One stood out to me - They blew up the Grand Inga dam...less than a year ago. I don't think anybody in the area survived that."
Baptiste replied with ease, albeit injured, "That area is what I consider the 'red zone'. Hostile activity is at its highest." Baptiste nodded formally as he took the documents from Lieutenant Akers and dropped them onto the center table.
Mercer chuckled, "What kind of lunatics would blow up their own dam? We'd be wise to stay out of there."
Rourke acknowledged Mercer and turned to Baptiste, "What else do you have for us, Baptiste? We need a base we can defend and keep out of the enemy's hands."
"A base....I cant help. But I can help with your next mission. Kinshasa is notable for its large ZLF presence. If you're looking for your Commissioner, theres a high chance the Liberators holed him up in one of the larger buildings that they've taken as their base."
"I hadn't realized we were so close to the capital, that should be our next target. What else do we know about the big city?" Mercer came closer to Baptiste, analyzing the map that the man had laid out.
"The city sits along the Congo River ... Bridges in and out are limited. If the Zaire terrorists are holding your precious Commissioner, they'll take him to the heart of Kinshasa - the Downtown portion. Likely a tall access point with limited ways in and out. Good sightlines."
Baptiste showcased a map of Downtown Kinshasa. With the taller buildings near the center circled with red marker.
"When I was in this place, before you came...They were sending a convoy here enroute to that city. Which means theres a presence there."
"So that means Fremont and Secretary Defense David could be there?" Walker walked over and pointed to one of the circled buildings on the map.
"Potientally....I hold no promises, you all know." Baptiste shrugged casually as he let the team view the map that he had laid out on the table, lit cleanly by the lantern.
Rourke stepped forward and leaned over to view the map. The city stretched across numerous districts and seemed to be large enough to fit a small country inside. Several areas were encircled with red, while 3 blue dots were situated on the outskirts of the city.
"Are these the ZLF and these are the militia?" Mercer pointed to the dots and circles that were distributed throughout the city.
"Red circled areas indicate ZLF control. Hence, why most of the city is red...Aside from that, yes, Militia controls the blue areas. Your access points are as follows: That bridge across the congo river...thats the north, or the eastern corridor...or the southern approach." He pointed to the various access points of the city.
"These logs date to 2 days back. I doubt theres still gonna be that much blue left when we get there. Whats the move, sir?" Mercer turned to Captain Rourke.
"No matter where we go from here, that city is gonna be our last stop. Between us, and the city, is 60-80 klicks worth of enemy territory. As much as I'd like the support, we'd find ourselves in complete hostile territory once we get there. But our best shot is to move ASAP."
"We could get into contact with the Marines. Launch an assault. Or we could go in steathily, move from the rooftops...Its up to you, sir."
Akers brainstormed the potiental of utilizing stealth tactics under the cover of night, to surprise ZLF, and attack the high-rise that way.
On the flipside, a frontal assault with the Marines could cost more resources but be more deadly as a result.
Rourke cut this out.
"Lieutenant, you're thinking too far ahead. Chances are we'll find ourselves dead in a village ditch before we even set foot in the city."
Baptiste agreed with Rourke, "The captain is right. Zaire Liberation Force has the area under control, like an iron fist."
Rourke looked at all of his soldiers, almost as if to apologize for what was to come. "It'll take us about 7 days to make it there, not accounting for the enemy bases and checkpoints that are in the way... A road to hell."
"I can map out a route for you. You're going to need a lot of resources for the journey." Baptiste began mapping out potiental routes into the capital of Zaire.
Rain began falling from the sky onto the dry land, causing Mercer to confuse his own sweat with the rain as he became visibly hesitant.
Despite this, he tried to keep his composure and looked at the Captain with a straight face.
"When do we leave, sir?"
"Wheels up at 0300. Its best if we move before the sun goes up. Pack your things."
---
In the base, many JSOC soldiers were running around preparing themselves. The same lieutenant who accompanied Merrick during the Task Force briefing was ordering soldiers around. Lieutenant Hale.
"Hale! Sir!"
Private First Class John Holt tracked down his lieutenant, frantically calling out to him and waving to him. "You need to see this!"
"Talk to me, Private!" Hale dropped what he was doing and shifted his focus to John Holt, who tracked him down with Sergeant Dolgen. "Whats going on?"
"They left behind a half torn photograph!" John handed over pieces of a photo to Hale, that when put together painted an exact picture of what happened in that dam explosion 11 months ago.
Valkyries lifeless body with a hole through the eye with a seemingly unidentified corpse underneath.
"Who is she?"
"The hell?" Hale meticulously put together the photograph. It dated: August 15, 1996.
With initials: From AG With Love.
Hale analyzed the photograph but couldnt tell. "I cant tell what the hell this is referring to. Or what it is. What is that in the background?" Hale pointed to the background - A heap of rubble, fiery blaze, and water.
"Some kind of operative that unfortunately passed away, what i can't figure out is what the hell it's doing here, and why these rebels would have it - and of course, who that is. She doesn't seem like no basic private to me." Holt pondered for a moment, hand to chin and all.
"Hmm….. something got ruined, what would be watery when destroyed?"
Dolgen interrupted chuckling. "You know Holt, If I had to take a guess, i'd say something along the lines of your--"
"Dolgen, shut up." Hale then turned his attention back to Holt. "Hydroelectric dam? You know, this date lines up to one of those big disasters that happened back in 1996. The...Grand Inga dam. ZLF claimed responsibility. Akers and Mercer were just talking about it. I think that matches up well, huh?"
Hale continued to analyze the picture, but couldn't quite figure out who the KIA operative in the picture was, nor the initials of "A.G."
"Haha i get it.. your mother…" John muttered the last part to himself, albeit it was still fairly audible, as he examined the photo again, checking for a timestamp or anything, only finding the date. "Well if they knew this much, they surely would know who it is then right?"
"Hey. Akers, come over here!" Hale turned his attention to Lieutenant Akers, who had just wrapped up with Baptiste, Rourke, and Mercer. The tall Lieutenant jogged over.
"Whats up?" Akers was handed the picture. He recognized the operative, but couldn't bring himself to actually confirm it. It was way big of a coincidence to be true in his mind.
He handed the picture back.
"Just another goddamn propaganda picture. That was the dam we were talking about. ZLF property now."
"Prepare for the journey. 7 day trip." Akers made the men disperse, but felt conflicted.
---
Boots scraped against concrete inside the supply depot. Crates stacked high. The smell of oil, dust, and cigarettes hung thick.
At the supply depot were the newly arrived soldiers that were deployed to AFRICOM as aid from several Western countries and were promptly sent to assist the task force.
Sergeant Marcus Burns sat on a munitions crate, sliding rounds into SA-80 magazines one after another.
To his right, PFC Gabriel Gaston leaned over a stack of wooden boxes, scribbling in a small journal. A cigarette burned between his fingers.
To Burns' left, PFC Cassio Santino finished a cup of coffee, savoring the last sip like it might actually be the last. His Beretta M9 sat snug in the holster strapped to his chest rig, ready to be dropped back to his hip at a moment's notice.
Creed was busy greeting new recruits while also tending to the depot, helping the JSOC operatives with resources. He waved off Dmitry who was headed back to the infirmary, before Creed himself began to walk over to the armory. On the way there, he bumped into one of the operatives sent into the FOB.
"Hey mate, didn't quite catch your name! Where you headed?"
"On my way to throw on a stupid amount of armour to practice bomb defusing, what's got you all.. like that?" The operative spoke with a very faint chinese accent, being very fluent in english, however there were still accent slips every now and then, especially between words.
Her last couple were emphasised though, almost like she was pushing him for an answer on his life choices, "I'm Sergeant Zhao Feng. You?"
"Like what? Oh you mean, Aye listen mate. In a place like this...the best thing I can be is cheerful." Creed looked around curiously, then back to the operative. He'd never met a bomb defusal specialist or EOD before personally.
"Im Gunnery Sergeant Creed, good to meet you. You going on that seven day op to the capital?"
"I suppose I'd have to, they've been getting me to do this everyday 'till my body gives out.. wouldn't be far fetched to assume they'd have explosives around the Commissioner."
Zhao brushed off his overjoyousness, instead choosing to focus on the immediate, and obviously painful task at hand.
"Yeah, well, Y'all are lucky. I gotta stay back here, keep order and security...Help out the wounded. One of my buddies, that Russian guy, Dmitry - Took a shot to the head. Well, it grazed him, but you know what I mean. He got up like 15 minutes later and started shooting people. Hes somethin' else mate, I tell ya."
Creed yapped away to the new operative about their most recent operation, not letting her go to whatever defusal training she had to go to.
"I'm sure he's a character… you're more than welcome to take my spot, i'd much rather not go to the capital of this desert hellscape." She didn't seem very happy about her occupation either. She didn't speak much on Dmitry. She didn't really know him too well. She did seem to be impressed once Creed spoke of his feats, but that quickly subsided.
"The Major assigned me here, this is where I am...Unfortunately. Good luck out there, though. What's it looking like, condition-wise? A trek taking a week...I've never done anyting like it."
Creed relaxed against the wall, absentmindedly in a parade rest - hands behind back, feet apart. He polished his weapon as he chatted.
"I'm not gonna be able to handle it if i'm frank.. but that's what the boss wants, and what the boss wants, is our command. What else are we gonna do? Work somewhere else? Join with the enemy?" Zhao let out a chuckle, still standing as though she were mid walk, having her head craned to creed the whole time.
"You'll never catch me working with the ZLF...They're a whole different level of crazy. Burning people alive and recording it crazy...Shit, I would hate to go out like that."
Creed stood there chuckling. He was about to say something else, but JSOC soldiers around the base began running frantically and starting the final setup for the journey. Creed holstered his pistol that he was polishing and started to jog off,
"You have fun on the journey, mate! I'll be joining ya once you hit the capital!" Within moments, Creed vanished into the chaos of the JSOC base, helping operatives.
---
3:08 AM, JSOC FOB West entrance
---
Rourke stood on the side before all 20 men, who were simultaneously loading their gear onto the truck and jeep that were gonna be their mode of transport for the trip. Other than the sounds of indistinct talking and the humming of the vehicles's engines, Zaire seemed very quiet at the moment. He knew it was the calm before the storm, but spoke nothing of it and proceeded to board the jeep that would lead the two vehicle convoy.
---
This journey was about to be like no other.
For everyone.