Knight Hunters: Project Shine

The bossman hesitates to enter the hold.

Something is definitely wrong here. He finally starts into the hold and I follow, checking our six every few seconds.

I gotta say, his technique is rather shoddy... Chief would call him out for it in a heartbeat. I motion for him to go down first. As soon as he's down he gives me the signal and I descend. We stack back up and proceed. I resume checking our six at regular intervals. That's when I hear him slip and fall.

"Boss, you..." What I see takes me back to Afghanistan...

A village in the Panjshir Valley where I witnessed the ass end of a slaughter...

--------------------------------------------

Somewhere in the Panjshir Valley, Afghanistan
2005...

Lonestar has point. Being from West Texas I guess that makes him better at navigating mountainous terrain. All I've ever known was the plains of Oklahoma and the seas of the world. I'm behind him and Chief and Raven are behind me.

Chief Steiner's got our 'pig', an M-60E3 machine gun. The man's an artist with that thing. Raven has an M-16A2 with an M-203 strapped to it. Lonestar is humping both an M-500 shotgun and an M-82A1 fifty caliber rifle.

I'm content to carry an M-4A1 with ACOG scope and forward grip. No flair, just enough to get the job done.

"Lonestar, I thought you said you knew where we were going." Raven says from the back of the line.

"Hey now, all in due time! Ya don't rush perfection." Lonestar shouts back.

"Would both of you shut up? The way you're bickering you'd think you were married..." Steiner snaps back. We travel in silence for about a quarter mile when we hear that unmistakable sound of Kalashnikov fire on the wind.

"Any body else hear that?" I ask.

"Yeah..." Steiner replies as he keys his throat mic. "Skyeye, this is Seiger with Fireteam Alpha. We need some visuals of any villages near our position."

"Copy that, Alpha. Stand by one..." We all take a knee, weapons shouldered. Lonestar has that monster rifle up. I've seen him shoot that thing kneeling and standing. The Field Manual recommends firing it from the prone.

I don't think they had the six foot nine Texan that is Lonestar in mind when they wrote it.

"Alpha, got a village three mikes from your location. It's crawling with ragheads." Without words we start doubletiming.



We reach the outskirts, the popping of AK fire diminishing.

"Lonestar, overwatch... Raven, left flank... Mechanical Man," That's me. "...right flank... I'm going up the middle..." Steiner's orders are clear. Raven and I screw silencers onto our rifles then move out, the Chief wrapping his head and face in medical tape. My route is uneventful up until I reach what used to be a donkey stable. I see a couple of raghead donkeyfuckers dragging a woman and what I believe to be her daughter out of a house. They have a much smaller child with them as well. Picking through the Pashtun I discern that the two women are begging the ragheads to let the baby go. In response one of them drills a slug into the mother. The older daughter starts pleading for them to spare her sister. They drill the baby in the head. I almost lose it. Somehow I maintain my stealth. The woman continues to wail. They start tearing her burqua away in order to rape her.

I don't know what happened next. I just remember Chief prying my hands from around the neck of a lifeless corpse. The second raghead had my knife jammed into his eye socket and the third's head was twisted all the way around.

"It's fucked... They slaughtered everyone here..." Raven mutters. My fists clench again, squeezing blood out of my gloves.

"Mechanical Man, get a hold of yourself. Can you do that at least?"

"They fucking murdered two people in front of my eyes and they were about to rape her..." I say through clenched teeth.

"CS1... Joel, you did what you could... Sometimes that's all a man can do." I finally find myself, my muscles slacking up. I can't bring myself to look at the woman because she reminds me too much of my sister. Even on the helo I avert my eyes, looking at the countryside as we head for Kandahar.

------------------------------------

I feel it again... That rage building up. Even as I help the boss up I wish his arm was the neck of whoever ordered this slaughter.

No one should be subjected to this...
 
Weiss knew when he slipped, what had been eluding him. You can't miss the smell of blood, not this much of it, but in the cold, and the salt of ocean air, and the rust of an old ship... you could mistake it.

He was surprised when Wild Turkey caught him by the arm, sparing him the worst of a bad fall. The man was supposed to be upstairs, in the captain's office finding that goddamned disk- Aya was suddenly fiercely glad he wasn't. You never got used to finding your job done for you.

"Fuck." He muttered.

In the dark, down the long blood slicked corridor past the bodies, there was movement. There were survivors, the distant shuffling of the confined immigrants, someone coughed, a woman was muffling sobs...

Wild Turkey was staring at the mutilated bodies littering the hall, unseeing; his grip tightened.

And clearer, the approaching clink of metal on metal, like someone tapping a pen against the wall. Walls. Ambiant light glinted off a... metal leg... Two legs. Three...

"Get back up the stairs." Aya said flatly. Anyone who wasn't dead yet... they would never be able to reach them, much less do anything to help them. "Go. Radio Molotov for pickup. Go."
 
Without a word I rush up the ladderwell as quietly as possible. Rubber soles make for quieter movement over all but linoleum tile but if you don't maintain stealth discipline then it's all worthless. I make it back to the weatherdecks and duck behind a hose reel then key my throat mic.

"Molotov, this is Wild Turkey. 100% Mission SNAFU. Commence extraction procedures." I half growl into the mic. I recieve his reply then let my P-90 hang by its sling. Digging into one of my mag pouches I pull out a metal tube capped off at both ends. In one end is a fuze.

PVC pipe is good if you're dealing with straight up flesh and blood but when you want pieces to richocet, especially in a shipboard environment, you want to use metal piping. The only altercation is in mixing the right ingredients so the casing shrapnels just the right way. I key the throat mic again.

"Boss, taxi's on the way."

Before we leave I swear I'm going to use this thing first chance I get.
 
Molotov spun the helicopter as he received Wild Turkey's request, pressing the radio stud on his flight stick as he did so
"Da Tovarich, Will pick you up off the fore of ship will come in low and drop rope ladder, be swift however, i have bad feeling that someone is watching me" he said as he brought the helicopter almost dangerously low above the ships bow, dropping the rope ladder down so that he didn't have to land or risk damaging the helicopter.

the Russian scoured the darkness with his night vision goggles, whilst one of the crew members supplied by Kritiker manned the door gun, also watching out for the team.
 
This time the tops of the containers were not clear. As the lights of the ship died for good three dark shapes crawled to the edge of one of them right above Wild Turkey, they had been waiting ever since they had entered the bowels of the vessel and chose now to strike. The first sent a silent barrage of shurikens at Weiss while the other two leaped at Wild Turkey from above blades extended.

---​

For the first time since the academy Dr. Soulstien felt the pang of worry. It was not for the loss of the cargo or the agents showing up but for Selene. He stood alone among the looking shapes of his own creation eyes on the feeds from the ship. His mind noted several adjustments that could be made to the bots it was his daughter and not the attack on the agents that he kept his eye on. Such a beautiful child, made more so by his work. Really his ongoing masterpiece, and now surrounded by people he'd rather not have to explain his work to.
 
Something hits my flak jacket with all the force of a 9X19.

Which is kind of weak sauce...

Honestly, if they wanted to penetrate my IBA they should have used a 7.62X51. But that's the least of my worries. I hear the two figures before I see them and instinctively duck to one side. Something cuts a harness, a mag pouch falling free.

I won't claim to have seen everything, so I can't say 'and here I thought I'd seen it all.' Instinctively I bring the P-90 to bear and open fire, one of the aggressors dodging.

The 5.7X28 SS-190J is a subsonic round designed to be used with silencers. It loses some of it's punch but at close ranges it can still penetrate ballistic plates easily.

One aggressor learned this the hard way. But I could have sworn I saw sparks when I shot him... Falling back I key my throat mic.

"Boss, we're compromised. Changing LZ from the foc'sle to the fantail." I start. "Break, Molotov, head for the stern of the ship... Be advised, we've got hostiles on deck." Again I'm reminded how the Navy spoiled us SEALs. We'd have strobes fitted to our flak jackets which would show friendlies where we were at and to prevent friendly fire incidents.

We don't have that. I just hope the Crew Chief's got good aim.
 
Turkey's voice breaks over the radio, and Molotov swung the helicopter into action
"Da, Circling now Tovarich" he replied as he manipulated the control stick and rudder pedals, deftly maneuvering to the stern of the boat, the Crew chief, a former British Army marksman and SAW operator cocked the Kord 12.7 heavy machine gun, his night vision enhanced sight picking out the familiar shapes of the Operatives, chased it seems, by several individuals he couldnt recognise.
"Contact!" the Brit yelled, pressing his thumbs down on the Kord's trigger, sending a burst of heavy rounds slamming into the area around the individuals chasing wild turkey, and though one moved with inhuman grace and dexterity, darting out of the way, its fellow was caught in the kneecap by a bullet and it collapsed briefly, and the Crew Cheif too, could have sworn he saw sparks, but his attention was more fixed on the second assailant, who had leaped from the top of a container towards Wild Turkey, a sustained burst from the Kord caught the creature, who in a hail of sparks and heavy impacts, was knocked off course

"Come on you bastards! run!" the Crew Chief yelled into the radio, eying the darkness for more enemies.
 
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