Post by revolutionary on Nov 8, 2007 14:15:00 GMT -5
2012
The Wrath of Gods
The Wrath of Gods
December 2nd, 2012
Gunfire blazed all around them. Men screamed as they died, terrifying sounds. Sounds that had no effect whatsoever on either of the veteran soldiers. One man stood, firing controlled bursts, and one of the enemies went down, clutching his throat. The second man ran ahead, taking cover behind a tree. He then rose up and fired the same bursts while the first man, with a black sunburst tattooed on his shaved head, ran for cover. It seemed as if the enemy were approaching from every direction, and in all likelihood truly were advancing from every direction.
“What now, Armok?” muttered Tiberius.
“Now, brother,” Armok said, between firing two three-shot bursts and killing another soldier, “We pray. We run. We shoot. We pray.”
Tiberius snorted, but kept running. This training camp was lost, and the two hundred Dreadnought Guards were stationed almost twenty minutes away in Florencia. The surprise attack seemed to be a joint coalition of rebels and some country’s Special Forces team, most likely American or British. Both Armok and his companion, Tiberius, were ex-American military, and although their training camp was only in it’s sixth week, many of the young soldiers were forming together, obeying orders as a cohesive unit. Unfortunately for the soldiers, they were up against Special Forces agents and trained Colombian Army. Before Tiberius could get too lost in though, however, the brush in front of them erupted, becoming three armed and angry soldiers, guns leveled at their faces.
Faced with the simple options of death in combat or death by trial and execution, the soldiers stood no chance. Tiberius brought his rifle to bear, and while rolling, took two of the soldiers in the chest. One died instantly as his body-armor failed, but the second man staggered back a step, returning fire. Armok rolled as well, giving up his rifle to pull out two pistols, the surviving two soldiers blossomed crimson starbursts on their faces. Within seconds, the three soldiers were dead for giving away their positions. Armok and Tiberius were up and running, wasting no time on reveries.
“American. Typical.” Said Tiberius, with a scowl. “What do we do now?”
Armok didn’t respond. Instead, he stopped running and sighed. He dropped pistols, a grenade, and a knife. When Tiberius looked over at him incredulously, he saw the half-dozen laser sights painting translucent spots on Armok’s torso and head. Tiberius looked at his own chest and sighed, dropping his weapons as well. Six more sights were affixed to his body at various strategic points. Within minutes, soldiers swarmed the two men and beat them down viciously, tying them. Before Armok lost consciousness, he saw a smug Delta-Team Captain walking towards them.
December 6th, 2012
Everything hurt. His arms, his legs, his head, it all hurt equally. Opening his eyes was like stepping into hell. Even the dim light of the putrid cell hurt. Armok was cold, hungry, bruised, and thought several bones were broken. Despite the tempting comfort of a dreamless oblivion, something had woken him. And that something was standing in his cell, reeking of human excrement and moldy straw.
“You are American, yes?” Asked the prisoner in sketchy English, brandishing a shank of some sorts. “You can get money for life, yes?”
Armok chuckled, but when it started to hurt the laugh became a wheeze, and he shivered until the pain receded. He looked up at the pathetic criminal, then peered around the cell for Tiberius. The convict kicking his ribs interrupted his searching. Despite the white-hot flare of pain, Armok leapt to his feet and head-butted the man, breaking his nose. He followed up by grabbing the man’s Adam’s Apple and squeezing until he felt more than heard the delicious crunch of cartilage that promised the man a slow and excruciating death by suffocation.
“I am Armok. Viva la revolution, mother fucker.” Armok said, dropping the choking man to the ground. He spit on the man, then looked around his cell. “Tiberius. Respond if you can hear me.”
A muted groan came from the corner of the cell. A man was lying facedown, but his body was moving in a macabre manner, as if he was a marionette. Then, Armok realized that the man was really a corpse on top of Tiberius. He helped Tiberius roll the corpse to the side, then pulled his comrade to his feet.
“Thanks, Commander.” Grunted Tiberius. He ran a hand over his jaw, wincing in pain. “Where are we?”
“Begotá, sir.”
Begotá, Columbia. The capital of Columbia, the city that, for the past two months, the men had been trying to take over unsuccessfully. Opposed by two different corrupt governments, angry drug-lords, and even angrier drug-lords, training camps were under constant assault by various factions within the country. Corrupt officials changed sides more often than they bathed, and the Presidents of Columbia spewed enough propaganda to do CNN proud. A city full of revolutionaries, some who hated New World Order, others who loved it, embraced it in their hearts and souls, lived and died for the cause. A city full of American soldiers, an embassy, and criminal transport carriers full of Special Forces soldiers.
“Hell of a way to spend Christmas, sir.”
Tiberius couldn’t help but laugh.
December 9th, 2012
“Captain, Major. So nice to see you again after your extended AWOL, or would you rather me call it a treasonous hiatus?” asked Lieutenant Colonel Cole.
“I thought of it as a vacation, Cole.” Said Tiberius with a grin, growling at the double-fisted backhand.
“Sir, I think he is under the assumption that we’re captured.” Said Armok with a grin.
“Major. Honestly. Haven’t you done enough to disgrace your country? You and your friends have killed twenty-two United States Special Forces members in the past two months, as well as hundreds of the locals. Think it’s time to call it a day?” asked Cole.
“Not quite, Lieutenant Colonel. We haven’t liberated this country yet. I still see American soldiers, corrupt government officials, and the natural resources remain untapped.” Said Armok with an even wider grin.
“You arrogant son of a-“ The Lieutenant Colonel was interrupted by a Captain walking into the cargo-hold.
“This had better be good, Captain.” Said Cole with a scowl.
“… Sir, pardon the interruption… but you’d better see this.” The Captain offers the Lieutenant Colonel a folder, with documents hot off the printer.
“… Dear God. Is this what I think it is, Hexter?” Asked Cole, eyes wide.
“Dear God is right, sir. It is exactly what you think it is. What do we do with these two, sir?” asked the Captain.
Cole looked at Armok and Tiberius with a disgusted look in his eyes. Armok, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle, fury, and cunning looked back, his eyes burning with an inner fire. The black sunburst tattooed on his head seemed to drink the dull light of the room, and the bar code on the back of his neck only made him more intimidating. Tiberius, smaller but no less built, had the same bar code style tattoo on his neck. Slightly shorter and not quite as bulky as his comrade, both were dangerously intelligent, and worked their way through the Marine Corps ranks almost too quickly. Both of them would know what the Executive Order 001 was, because both had been Devil Dogs, or Marine Corps Special Forces.
“Right now, nothing. Put them back in their cages, Captain. I’ve got to make a phone call.