Here We Stand or Here we Fall, History Won't Care at All

[out_of_time]

WHO: The Dependables
WHERE: Iron Crown, North Pacific.
WHEN: Midnight August 1st [Dolvanian time].
WARNINGS: Absolute mayhem. Also violence.
SUMMARY: The raid on the terrorist gulag.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, whatever works in the threads. Threads are posted for each objective, but the structure within them is completely open.

This year was the tenth anniversary of the terrible plague that had created Zero' Children in their hatred and anger. Within the Iron Crown fortress, it was another grim night. The prisoners moaned and wept within the dark, cold dungeon deep beneath the Earth. Above them, the day shift of their captors slept much more soundly. Outside, the soldiers currently on duty patrolled the ramparts with grim faces behind balaclavas. Searchlights swept the ground around the walls. To the north, below the castle, freezing men did the same on the decks of the big cargo ships that kept this place running.

The attack helicopter's rotors spun on its pad, warming up for night patrol. The armoured personnel carrier lurked in the vehicle depot like a guard dog waiting in a kennel. In the command centre at the top of the gulag's keep, the hardened older men who ran this base shuffled reports back and forth as they coordinated the group's global evildoing, counting narcotics trafficked, dissidents silenced, enemies crushed.

Whether hostage or terrorist, no one in the fortress suspected that they were in the crosshairs of the Dependables.

"We go loud when Seras drops the searchlights," Jack growled. He lowered his binoculars and stood up, machine gun slung across his shoulders. With his helmet, goggles, and black tactical gear, he looked downright sinister. "She'll engage the shooters on the wall while we get inside the base. Get past the wall any way you can, then split up and head for your objectives." It was a long, exposed run from the jumble of icy rocks that were the nearest concealment to the fortress. If they made it without getting shot, they would have to breach the gulag's outer defenses in their own ways: climbing over the wall, blasting a hole, or just old-fashioned trickery. After that, it would be into the maelstrom of the courtyard, the inevitable mayhem of crossfire and explosions.

Jack's own plan involved plastic explosives and the front gate. Once the alarms started to sound, the time for subtlety would be over. He could picture it now- all hell breaking loose with running guards, chattering machine guns, that helicopter lifting into the sky to rain death from above. No matter how much they could accomplish through stealth, he knew the team wouldn’t be getting through this without one hell of a fight.

"Hit your objectives, then push through the base to the far side. We rendezvous at the docks, then get us and the hostages out of there on a ship. Remember the lives of the people depending on you. Move fast, hit hard, stay focused, work together."

There was the click of his safety flipping off, and then there was nothing left to say. “Let’s do this.”

Comments

[out_of_time]

He stayed behind cover for a bit, watching the clouds of smoke billow out from the inner walls, marking the Widow's progress in time with the percussion of breaking bones. She was clearly tearing through them, and it was going to be a lifesaver crossing the courtyard without any shooters on the wall firing at their backs.

"Looking good, keep it up," he said. The encouragement wasn't strictly necessary, but it ought to be useful to her to know her bone-breaking was having the desired effect for her teammates. Between her and Seras' sniper fire, Jack saw no obstacles to his next objective. Well, fewer obstacles, at least. A fortress of terrorists was still shooting at them.

[latrodectus]

"If you can see me so easy," she responded, some of the accent obscured by the static stratch of the communicator, "then it is not good enough."

Privately, though, she knew it was good work. And it didn't matter much to her if she was seen, why else bother with the disguise?

"Are the others making progress?"

[out_of_time]

"We're on-schedule," Jack said, peering above his flaming cover to get a quick, vague impression of how the firefight was progressing. "No casualties." As far as he knew, at least. He thought he could see the enemy's attack chopper still squatting on its pad like a vulture, rotors spinning up. That was one weapon he didn't want in this fight.

"If you can divert to the helipad and keep that bird from getting airborne, it would save us a lot of trouble.

[latrodectus]

"Understood." She could see it too, she would have to move into position before considering the best approach.

"Can you give me cover?" A distraction would make her work much easier; there was something to be said for teamwork.

[out_of_time]

"Copy that. Firing now."

It was hard to aim through the flames, so Jack moved out from behind the burning car and crouched beside it before opening up with his machine gun, shooting long bursts from the shoulder. A hostile running near the helipad fell and didn't get up. New muzzle flashes flickered in the darkness as other guards returned fire.

Jack shot back a couple more times, then got back behind cover as enemy rounds began to converge, slamming into the car's twisted frame. He just had to keep them occupied enough for the Widow to work.

[latrodectus]

The easiest way to gut a bird permanently was from the inside. She decided the easiest thing was to approach from above, avoiding the guns nailed to the helicopter's underside. With the help of her uniforms enhancements she scaled the perimeter wall halfway. Then, a precise shot with the widow's line, just above the left window in the cockpit. That made a noise, a sharp thud. But it was a small sound compared to the firefight outside, the hum of the rotors beginning to spin.

It was a dicey thing, swinging into the cockpit while the motors were running. It would require exact angles. and absolute discipline. One muscle's hesitation. and the entire trajectory would be ruined. But she thought she could do this, and so she did.

An added advantage was that she knocked out the pilot hostile on entry. He was breathing, still, but effectively subdued, caught under a sudden hail of glass and legs. Now bloodied from the impact, Natasha had to take command of the helicopter before it spun out of control. Luckily, it was a model she had trained with, or something very close. It wasn't too difficult to shut down.

"It is done," she said. over the communicator.

[out_of_time]

Jack paused to verify through his binoculars that yes she had just taken out a fucking attack gunship by ziplining into it. "...Yeah. Yeah, I can see that." Who the hell is this woman? 'Yelena Belova' had always been one of the coolest and most reserved Dependables, a consummate professional. Despite her presence on the previous mission, Jack could honestly say he still didn't know a lot about her.

"You intact there?" That impact had looked like it involved a lot of glass.

[latrodectus]

"Affirmative." She'd need special shampoo to get the glass from her hair, but the scratches did not bother her.

"Give me two minutes, I will cut wires." She didn't wait for confirmation, she was already reaching under the control panel.

[out_of_time]

"Copy that. Got you covered." Jack put down his machine gun and unstrapped his sniper rifle, getting a better look at the Widow's position through the scope. He panned left and right, up and down. No one was trying to kill her for the moment, or him. It looks like the attack was progressing well so far, with no terrorists left fighting in this area.