Monday, November 29, 2010

"Send It" - WTWC

Here's a little bit from the introduction of a new character in the WTWC world. He will play a bigger role later on in the story. Sadly, I do not think he will live.

This is a first draft so please excuse any glaring errors. If you see something wrong, point it out! As always, comments, suggestions, hate mail, and everything else are strongly encouraged.

Tuesday, 8 November 2039
Sol System
Earth, USA, Panama, Somewhere near Chilibre

Staff Sergeant Ramon Barker was soaked through having been under a heavy rain for the last four hours unable to move. The Panamanian tropical climate was hot, sticky, wet and brutal but he had the training and the stamina to compensate which meant he could lay there in the wet for hours more if needed. He rested on his elbows looking down the sight of his Barret .50 cal sniper rifle, waiting patiently.

He and his spotter, Sergeant Byron James had been working their way slowly to through the dense tropical forest for two days before they found this spot on top of a hill. They each had used the local undergrowth to augment their ghille suits to blend better with the natural vegetation. They worked themselves into position behind a loophole, an area that provided concealment and a clear shot, this morning and were waiting for their target.

The target was a man by the name of Victor Nunez, a powerful cartel boss. Nunez fought in the border wars after the attack and the rearranging of the borders that occurred ten years ago, fighting in southern Mexico and other areas wherever he could. Eventually that led him and his crew to Panama. There, deep in the hills and thick forests, Nunez had recruited young men from the nearby towns to build up his militia again.

Recently, there were reports of guerrilla fighters causing problems near the Panama Canal, even hijacking one of the smaller ships and raiding it’s stores. The problem was escalated when a government supply ship was attacked, delaying the shipment of the critical parts needed for the war effort. That’s where Barker and James came into the picture.

Political and social events in the southern US, or the the former pan american countries, were still a hot button issue for most of the country. The government needed to keep a lid on things of this nature to maintain the happy, feel-good image of the country. People needed to feel like things were normal again, they wanted to just go about their daily lives and they couldn’t do that if they were worried about small battles breaking out in their back yards. Augmenting the concern was the country's fragile economy. It seemed the market tipped every time reports came about escalating violence down south, fears of lost shipments in the canal would only fuel the slide of production and profit into the red.

The solution to the problem of Nunez and his gang would not come in the form of a missile strike, or an armored raid, it would come in the form of a single round fired from Barker’s high powered sniper rifle. Quick, relatively quiet, and efficient, this particular form of problem solving was what Barker and James specialized in.

The two were tier one operators, the very best of the best. They could be dropped off in a hostile environment, in hostile territory, complete the mission quietly, and return alive which is exactly why there were chosen.

“I see an enemy technical in bound, four o-clock” James, looking through his spotter’s scope, his thick Mississippi accent was low but not a whisper.

Barker looked up from his rifle, slow and carefully. The small truck was coming down a dirt road toward the camp, close behind followed a large flatbed truck with a covered payload. The two watched as the vehicles slowed and stopped in the middle of the make shift camp, the sound of the dull roar of the engines ending.

Barker’s eye returned to the scope. Three men exited the smaller truck and shouted. Soon after a dozen men came running through the encampment. Behind them, walking at a leisurely pace was a man wearing a dark green five point military cap.

“There’s the target, green hat, walking toward the trucks.” James said.

“I see him.” said Barker.

The group of militia men started uncovering the load on the flat bed. They threw off the canvases to reveal several large crates.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Barker asked.

“I see an awful lotta nice weapons being unloaded if that’s what yer talking bout.” James replied.

“Yeah, that is some nice gear.” Barker said as he studied the men unloading the crates.

They watched through the slow drizzle as the men pulled heavy duty shoulder fired rockets from the crates and boxes of ammunition.

“Make sure you get a few stills, the intel weenies will want to see this for sure.” Barker said.

James’ arm came up slowly and pushed the capture button on his digital scope. The shots would be downloaded when they returned and the images could be handed over to the intelligence officer.

“Alright, we’ll let’s nail this son of a bitch so we can get out of here.” said Barker after a minute or two.

James gave Barker his range and wind. Barker made the adjustments on the dials of his rifle and waited. Nunez was standing next to the large truck patting another man on the back. He had a big grin on his face as he watched his men unload the valuable Cargo.

“Send it.” James said clearly, giving Barker the indication that his shot was good to go.

Barker breathed slowly and feathered the trigger. He felt the trigger’s familiar weight under his finger and pulled slightly feeling it tighten. When the shot rang the militia leader still had a smile on his face.

The .50 caliber round traveled the distance in under a second and punched through the chest of the target. James watched as the man’s body was thrown back under a spray of blood.

“Bingo.” James said.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck outta here, I got a hot date tonight.” Barker said as he pulled the bolt back and handled the spent shell, careful to not let it fly and give away their position.

“You ain’t got no hot date tonight.” James said, already backing away slowly under the brush.

Barker and James made their way down from the ridge slowly. When they were out of eyesight of the camp they picked up speed, after packing their gear and rolling up their suits and stuffing them in their packs.

They spent that afternoon trekking through the dense woods quickly but carefully. They had called that the mission was complete and been told head toward the predesignated extraction point northward. They made sure to cover their trail to prevent themselves from being followed and made it to the clearing that was the designated landing zone right as they could hear the distinctive thump of the inbound chopper.

Barker threw out a smoke canister and waited in the brush with James and the chopper came down. The trees whipped violently under the powerful draft of the aircraft’s blades. The two operators ran from out of the brush, through the waving grass and set their gear on the deck of the chopper. They each took a hand from the crew members and pulled themselves up and sat on the deck.

“Thanks for the ride!” Barker yelled to the chopper gunner as they lifted off.

The man behind the gun gave them a thumbs up and returned to his duty of watching for possible threats. Barker took out a handkercheif from his pocket and wiped the three days worth of sweat and grime from his face, revealing his light complexion. James on the other hand was his exact opposite, dark as could be and shining from the sweat and the ran.

“I wonder where those weapons came from.” James asked, yelling over the sound of the engine and blades.

“Are you kidding Sergeant? That gear was definitely Russian made. I bet they are gonna have a field day with this back at command.”

No comments:

Post a Comment