City of fire

US Special Operators aid Greek Special Forces in capturing an HVT in Santorini, Greece

City of fire
US and Greek Special Operators deploy to capture an HVT

Evil. A plague of terror diseased with insanity and murder, spreading into the minds of the weakened and the senseless, but also hiding in the shadows like a rat. When evil takes root, it grows. It grows to a size large enough to be irreversible, with the only cure being death itself. The power of the mind may be at large, but the cold touch of murder weakens it, the warm embrace of blood awakens the demon inside. We are not death, we are the messengers. Its our job to arrange the meeting.

“Voodoo, Spectre team is ready to capture the target. Do you have a visual?” Spectre One spoke.

Laying with my spotter, Hawkeye, on top of a newly constructed bell tower adjacent to the target building about 800 meters away, I readied up my McMillan TAC-338 and adjusted the enhanced variable zoom and engaged the mark two infrared overlay. We are a US Special Operations Sniper Team already stationed in Santorini, Greece, and have been here enjoying the city and its people for about a week, that was tasked with aiding Greek Special Forces in capturing a High Value Target. Through the scope, the Greek team was highlighted in blue with a periodic IR flash coming from each man. I saw one arm hanging out of a window of a van parked in front of a large mansion, but just far enough to where he was not seen. The other guys were standing on the sidewalk just on the other side, disguised as Greek civilians having a smoke.

“Roger Specter team, Voodoo has visual. You may deploy when ready.” I respond.

“Yo, you think this is the guy this time?” Hawkeye wonders, spitting a couple times from the dip in his mouth.

“Its gotta be him.” I confirm. Looking at Hawkeye a little too long, he noticed me looking at him with a smirk that tells him that I wanted something.

“What you think i’m pretty? What do you want?” Hawkeye smiles.

“You got any more dip?”

Hawkeye laughs, and pulls out his collectors edition Silver Creek long cut wintergreen chewing tobacco. He takes a small napkin from his shoulder pocket and scoops up a nice wad from the can. Handing it to me, I take it with my bare hands and throw it into my mouth, instantly getting a nice taste from the product. Looking back into the scope, I see the guys on the ground just slowly getting out of the van and making their way to the capture target, who was sitting at a coffee table alone. The guys at the other end of the street were keeping an eye on the movement of the team members.

“So who’s the dude we’re after?” Hawkeye asks.

Still looking through the scope, I explain to him, “The target is a guy code-named “pyro”. He’s not even Greek, but decided this was a great place for his HQ. He was a part of a black market gun running service before running off to do his own thing. The dudes at the CIA know for a fact he has connections to another guy we’re after.”

“We don’t know the guys he knows?”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” I reply.

Looking through the scope, The guys are ready to make the bag ‘n tag. “You guys realize once you grab him you’ll have his whole security force descending on you. You’ll be fighting the whole way through.”

“We got it covered, Voodoo.” Specter one replies.

“You even know these guys?” Hawkeye asks.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

Specter one then injects the target with horse tranquilizer, and he’s out cold in seconds. Slouching over the chair he was sitting in, Specter team carries him over to the van while the guys on the other end of the sidewalk drawing their pistols and forming a defensive perimeter around the guys carrying the body of Pyro back to the van. In and out very quickly. As soon as Pyro was loaded up into the van, sentries posted on the rooftop of the target building began firing.

“Rooftop, 11:30, 750 meters.” Hawkeye spots.

Placing my scope over the target, I adjust to the wind speed which was about 3 MPH Northeast. Flicking the safety off to fire, I slowly squeeze the trigger with the crosshairs of the scope just a little bit above the targets head to compensate for the distance, and slightly to the left to compensate for the wind direction. Fully pulling the trigger to ignite the round, a suppressed shot launches from the end of the Gemtech One suppressor and a single spark of light can be seen flying further away and lower to the target, where a big hole was punched through the target’s head. Flopping backwards, the target falls to the ground, with no chance of standing back up. In that time, I loaded up a new round into the chamber as quickly as it took for the bullet on its flight path to hit the target.

“Enemy down.” Hawkeye confirms.

Spitting at the ground from the dip Hawkeye gave me, I scan the area for another target to hole-punch. “You got someone else, brother?.” I ask.

“Yeah. Balcony, 12 O’clock, 725 meters.” Hawkeye spots again.

Placing my scope over the target, I utilize the variable zoom feature to the scope and adjust it to meet the distance and wind speed and direction to get the kill.

“Careful, wind is picking up. Five miles per hour heading Northwest.” Hawkeye warns.

“D****t” I think to myself.

Readjusting the scope, I had to take an extra second or two to realign the crosshairs over the target and compensate for the wind direction. Pulling the trigger again, another spark of light is seen travelling through the space in between to meet its target. Seconds later, the light of death made contact with the target and spilled the blood from his head, giving him the hole-punch he probably deserved.

“Voodoo we got our hands full. We’re driving down the street and making a right towards the alleyway leading to the extraction poi- OH S**T, RPG!!” Spectre One screams.

I saw a rocket trail make full contact with the van, and detonate on impact. The van flew upwards and rolled twice, Spectre team was gonna feel that in the morning. Enemy forces begin converging on to the crash site, which left we with the only option to start popping heads. Placing my crosshairs over the target closest to the van, I pull the trigger again and sent another suppressed round downrange. The targets head yanked itself to the side with the bullet upon impact, sending a nice stream of blood into the face of the guy next to him. As the target went down, The others scrambled to find cover, very sloppily. One guy ran to drag his dead buddy out of the kill zone. Wasting no time, I load up another round and squeeze the trigger to light up another round after the crosshairs were where they were supposed to be. Another target went down as the blood splatter he made was made into a little puddle as he fell to the ground next to his buddy.

“Spectre, come back.” I worry.

I saw a window break open and a soldier coming out, firing his weapon into the crowd around him. As he got out, his buddies got out after him and took cover very quickly, eventually getting Pyro out of there. Spectre comes in over a couple of static intervals with some coughing, but he was otherwise fine.

“Roger that Voodoo, all men are accounted for, HVT is secure. Making our way to the extraction point on foot, will lose your sight of us. Thanks for the support. Spectre out.”

“A*****e.” Hawkeye grunts.

“You would think that they would just give us a ride back to base and not leave us with Pyros chipmunks to deal with. Bugout car is waiting below the bell tower, let’s vanish.”

Hawkeye is the first to crawl backwards and set up the rappelling ropes to make our way down. Meanwhile on the ground 800 meters away, Pyros men are pointing in our direction and shooting aimlessly, yelling at each other in the process. I pop off a couple more heads, the biggest machine gun operators being the first to go, before Hawkeye signals the ropes are ready to go. Slinging the McMillan across my chest, I make my way to the rope and hook myself up to it, while Hawkeye was already on his way down. Looking down the bell tower, it was a straight drop down, and this was the way to go since going down the stairs would take too long. The bikes and chairs on the ground looked about the size of my fingernail, so I had to guess we were up out 105 feet. I lean over the edge of the bell tower and took my first leap down, about 20 feet wide, and locked my arm behind the small of my back to halt myself. Standing Horizontally on the body of the tower, I looked down towards my six O’clock and saw that I still had a long way to go. Wasting no more time, I took a powerful jump and loosened my grip hand to descend an additional 30 feet, then continued to jump down until we reached the ground. Untying myself, I discarded the rope and made way to the bugout car, Hawkeye was already in the driver’s seat starting up the car. Practically throwing myself in the car, I slam the door shut and Hawkeye floored the gas pedal. The car pushed us back into our seats with great strength as it bolted down the road towards the main road.

“That was easy” Hawkeye jynxed.

At that moment, a pickup truck just barely grazes the back of our car trying to take us down. I pull out my custom Glock 31 with a nice Punisher logo on the back of the pistol slide that reminds me how badass I am. I busted out the window with my elbow and unloaded the first magazine into the truck behind us. Gunfire from the truck came in nearly all directions as sparks were seen making contact with the rear-view mirrors and frame of the car. Pulling myself back into the car to avoid getting shot, I reached for another magazine and locked the pistol slide to load up another round in the chamber. This time exposing my head and arms out the window for only a brief second, I take a calculated aim down the enhanced iron sights and send off several rounds into the car, where the blood splatter all over the windshield was seen, but the exact point of impact made by the bullet was unclear through the shattered glass. The rounds that were shot off killed the driver, and the car when spiraling out of control, and eventually flipped over and landed on the roof of the car, totally destroying the vehicle.

“Enemy down.” I sigh.

Hawkeye only smiled. “Good kill.”

Through Santorini, we took narrow and seemingly impossible turns and cuts until we made way to a small bridge that was currently under construction that was leading to an island on the other side. The entrance to the bridge was about 100 yards out, and we were progressing slowly from all of the turns we had to make getting through the city. Security forces were putting holes through our bugout car from rooftops. Sparks were everywhere from the bullets hitting the metal frame of our vehicle or the metal poles next to buildings, and small dust clouds from the bullets smacking into the ground. Then another communication came in from the radio, first static, then helicopter blades in the background.

“Voodoo, Hawkeye, this is Whiplash. SITREP.”

“Who’s Whiplash?” Hawkeye wonders.

“Our extraction, you need to pay more attention to the brief rather than your phone.” I reply to Hawkeye, reaching for my radio to respond. “Whiplash this is Voodoo, HVT has been captured by Greek Special Forces. We’re on our way to RZ Foxtrot, I say again, we’re on our way to RZ Foxtrot, how copy?”

“Voodoo, Whiplash, solid copy. Be advised RZ Foxtrot is on the end of a bridge, you have one shot or you’ll swim home.”

“Roger that Whiplash, see you soon. Voodoo out.”

Pulling my Glock out from its holster once again, I aim for the windshield and fire off a couple rounds into it, weakening the glass. Getting tossed around like a ragdoll from all of the sharp turns made it hard to not shoot my buddy’s face off. Once I made about 7 holes into the glass, I cut my seatbelt and placed my boots to kick the windshield out. One sharp turn was made too late, as the vehicle slammed into a building on its side, which tossed me nearly out of the car through the window I broke earlier. The entrance to the bridge was just a straight road now about 50 yards away. The bridge was a weak, aged stone looking contraption that was guarded by “road closed” signs. Like that would do any good.

“Voodoo, Whiplash is inbound. 10 seconds.”

“Whiplash, do not stop, I say again, do not stop!” I advise to the pilot.

“The hell are you thinking!?” Hawkeye screams, punching the gas pedal.

“We need a fast getaway, we can do this!”

Cutting Hawkeyes seatbelt, I raise my legs to my chest and position myself to prepare to jump. Holding Hawkeyes hand with mine, and bracing myself with the other, I thrust my fear down to my core and ready up.

“Voodoo, Whiplash, 5 seconds, hurry up!”

“S**t!” Hawkeye screams, as we come closer to the edge of the bridge, There is no turning back now.

I look to my left to see an MH-60 with a rope ladder fully extended downward from the door, and a crew member standing just before the door. Hawkeye takes his foot off the gas and throws the car in neutral, readying up for the jump like I was. When the time came to jump, it felt like we were going to miss the extraction. With my heart nearly broken, I thrust myself through the space that the windshield use to be with all of the strength in my legs. The car dips off and falls to the ocean below. Hand in hand, Hawkeye and I were practically flying through the air, with the MH-60 coming directly at us. As gravity starts pulling us down, I notice the rope ladder to my immediate left, and take hold of it with my only free hand. The weight of Hawkeye causes me to almost lose my grip, as we were violently swinging by the rope ladder under the belly of the bird and back. If we had not got each others hand, Hawkeye would not have made it. Coming back from the belly view of the helicopter, I saw the head of the crewman sticking out of the door to see if we made it.

“Whiplash, Voodoo is on the ladder!” He screams into the radio.

I look down to Hawkeye, who was hanging by one hand and legs swinging everywhere while looking down. He looks back up and screams “Jesus christ!”

“Listen, i’m going to swing you to the ladder, and you’re gonna grab on with your other hand!” I scream at Hawkeye over the rotor wash.

Hawkeye nods his head, and I begin swinging him forward and backward, gaining momentum while taking great care not to slip and fall. After gaining the momentum necessary, I lift up Hawkeye with all the strength in the arm, and he ascends to the ladder and reaches up to successfully grab the ladder. Placing both arms around the ladder step and legs on the steps below him, He looks at me and smiles, saying we made it. I was compelled to agree.

“Voodoo, Whiplash, glad to see you crazy sons of b*****s made it. First round’s on us when we get back home.” Whiplash notifies.

I couldn’t help but smile. I love these guys. Looking back we saw that Santorini was as small as a rose is up close, and smoke rising up from the center of the city from the crashed pursuit truck we encountered earlier. I looked back from the city and towards the vast, blue ocean. The sun is just beginning to set over the horizon, giving off a brilliant orange glow in the evening sky.

“Hey, Hawkeye.” I spoke.

“What’s up brother?” He replies.

“When we get a break from this, lets come back here without a uniform and rifles.” I advise.

He smiles, and only laughs, but I knew he was in agreement. We only hung on the rope ladder as the crewman hopelessly tried to bring us up to the bird. Another mission complete, and another satisfied customer.

Author's Note

The first short story! Tell me what you think of it! :)