//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: The only way to kill a terrorist // Story: Elements of Brotherhood // by Fuster Cluck //------------------------------// A lot of American soldiers get fucked up, just thought I should warn you Artyom was consumed with anger, these ponies new nothing of sacrifice! “Let me show you a REAL invasion” he said angrily. He pulled out a USB out of his backpack and inserted it into the base of the TV. He then selected a video to play and pressed pause as it started to play. He gave a quick explanation of what was happening. “In 2041 Georgian rebels stormed the capital of Tbilisi. They were aided by the American forces. A large Russian battalion was tasked with helping the Georgian military repel the attack. This is a video from my helmet cam of me and my comrades fighting off the attack.” He presses play as the ponies watched intently. The video wasn’t translated, so the ponies hadn’t had a clue what they were saying. Artyom, Dima, Sasha and Dmitry sprinted down a ruined street. Artyom looked up to see two missiles impact a skyscraper a little ways infront of him. “Get down!” Artyom screamed as a large chunk of class and steel impacted the street, followed by many other. The team quickly shifted their gaze to a abandoned super market to the left and ran in as the street was crushed under the rubble. “Status?” asked Artyom, who was sitting against a bin of bananas. “Artillery units on the far side of the reservoir are shelling our defenses and long range cruise missiles from American subs positioned in the Caspian Sea are crippling the buildings around us!” Sasha screamed over the sounds of explosions. “Air support?” “A long range jammer within the city is playing hell with our instruments, our ground forces are disoriented and our birds are blind!” Artyom popped his head out of a window, scanning the burning skyline. Three blocks away from his position he spotted a large skyscraper, un-touched from artillery fire and with a strange tower on top. This was the best bet for the jammers location. “All right, there is an undamaged building three blocks from our position, that’s the best bet for the location of the jammer” The squad nodded. Three large clangs from within the super market caught their attention. They got low and used the isles for cover. They had rounded isle number nine, only to find the source of the noise. Four rebels were looting the place. “What the fuck are they looking for?” whispered Dmitry. “A snack” answered Dima. “Pick your targets, we fire on my mark” Artyom ordered. “Mark!” Each member of the squad jumped out of cover and unleashed a hail of death towards their targets. Unfortunately, Dmitry and Sasha had picked out the same target, leaving one unattended to and still very much alive. “He’s mine!” Dima yelled as he began to sprint across the row of cooled bins that separated the two walls of freezers on either side. The rebel, finally registering what had just happened, swung his head in the direction of the attackers, laying his eyes upon Dima charging towards him. “Don’t make me fire in your general direction with my eyes closed!” he yelled desperately. Undeterred, Dima continued his sprint, squashing the frozen meat under his boots as he ran. The rebel held his M249 at his hips and opened fire, underestimating the recoil. Bullets flew by Dima, smashing the glass of the freezers or ricocheting off of the bins he was standing on. None, however, hitting their mark. As the rebel fired uncontrollably, Dima had made it to the end of the bins. He launched himself off the edge of the bin with his right foot and began to execute a back flip. Mid-flip, Dima grabbed ahold of his hatchet and flung it at his enemy. Dima landed safely on his feet as the hatchet imbedded itself in the soft tissue of the rebel’s throat. He gurgled as he fell to the ground, still reaching for the handle of the hatchet in a feeble attempted to save his life. Thankfully Dima removed the hatchet for him and began walking back to his comrades. “When the only way to kill a terrorist is with a backflipping hatchet attack” he said. “What is it those Americans say about us, uh ‘Spetsnaz: like ninjas, only with assault rifles” replied Artyom. The team had moved from the supermarket to the streets. “The building is just up ahead” Artyom yelled over the sound of an Apache flying overhead. A large clanking sound was heard as a shell flew in between Sasha and Dmitry. “TANK!” they both yelled in unison. The team ran around the corner of a building before the tank could reload its main gun. Dmitry, however, chose to take cover in a trench just infront of the tank. The tank started to move over the trench, unaware of the Russian below them. Dmitry planted a single C4 charge on the un-armored belly of the tank. The Abrams tank had rounded the corner and took aim at the Russians that were trapped in the alley way. Artyom thought this was it, that he would die with his brothers, but where was Dmitry? A large explosion was heard, Artyom thought it was the tank firing its cannon, but was proved wrong when he looked up. The tank was ablaze and its occupants were attempting to climb out of the hatch. Dmitry, as casually as ever, strolled up to the tank and readied his weapon. The first American soldier flung the hatch open and stuck his head out, only to be cut down. The second suffered the same fate. Dmitry turned his back to the tank and began to walk towards his comrades. Behind him the third occupant began to make his way out, the munitions the tank was carrying caught fire and exploded as he was half way out. Dmitry struck a pose as he slowly walked away from the explosion. “Shall we?” he smiled. The team made their way to the tower. Three American soldiers were in the lobby. “I have an Idea. Artyom, Dmitry, Dima, set up in the general store across the street.” Said Sasha. The team obliged. “Hey assholes!” Sasha yelled in English from his hiding place. The soldiers all raised their M16’s and approached the entrance. “What’s dead, dead and dead all over?” A soldier decided to play along. “What?!” “You” the three soldiers were mowed down by Dmitry’s LMG. The four entered the elevator and selected the top floor. The elevator arrived at its destination, eight American soldiers were waiting outside. Anticipating this, Dima repeatedly pressed the close door button, keeping it closed. Sasha unslung his RPG, crouched down and pointed it at the doors. When he was ready Dima hit the open door button and when he crack between the two doors was wide enough he fired. Before the Americans could even identify them as hostile they were met by a rocket. Unable to react quick enough, all of them perished as the rocket detonated and part of the floor collapsed under them. The team avoided the hole in the floor and stepped over the mangled bodies. Sasha turned to his right and kicked in a door labeled ‘Staircase’. They sprinted up the staircase and reached the roof, which was one floor above them. Artyom stuck his hand out to block the sun that was blinding his eyes. A black hawk with a damaged tail section spun out of control over head, it then lisped violently and skidded along the elevated section of the roof, coming to a halt fifteen meters from the jammer. While the guards were distracted, helping the pilot out of the cockpit, Artyom saw his chance to move. “Up the stairs, now!” he whispered. “Go while they’re distracted” They climbed there stairs and took cover behind some AC units successfully, without being noticed. Artyom had a chance to do a battle assessment. Eight soldiers were dug in behind sandbags at the base of the jammer. There was a large coverless expanse, until you hit helicopter, which had four soldiers helping the pilots out. Artyom turned to his comrades. “Alright, Dima, on my mark I want you to chuck a grenade into the middle of the group. Sasha, you like blowing shit up, the mini-gun in that black hawk still looks operational, I want you to man it and unleash hell on them. The rest of us will take cover behind the chopper until you deal with them” They all nodded in agreement as they took their positions. “Mark” Artyom whispered. Sasha booked it for the chopper. An American soldier turned to him and raised his weapon. “Hey!” he yelled as he opened fire. A bullet hit Sasha in the shoulder and grazed his arm. The marine only got off two shots before something hit him in the head. He looked to the ground to identify the object, it was a small metal sphere, it almost looked like a... The grenade exploded, killing the four soldiers and wounding the two pilots. Sasha climbed into the gun and opened fire at the base of the jammer. It wasn’t long before the guards were either dead or injured. “Sasha, disable it” Artyom ordered. Sasha obeyed and ran off to the jammer. Two minutes had past, Artyom thought Sasha was going to cut a few wires, so naturally he was surprised to find him running. “Where the fuck are you going?” “C4 yourself” The base of the tower blew out and the structure bent as the support cables snapped. With a deafening sound it hit the ground. Their radios came to life with a thousand voices as seven SU-45 Flankers screamed over head. The entire opposite side of the reservoir lit up in flames as dozens of air to ground missiles bombarded the encampment. The squad was back on the streets, cleaning up the remaining rebel forces. “I gotta take a piss” said Dima. “Go in there, we’ll wait here” Said Artyom, motioning to an alley way. Dima unzipped his fly and relieved himself. The feeling was cut short however when the butt of a gun collided with the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. “Hey, what’s taking so long?” asked Artyom as he peered into the alley. He was met by four rebels dragging Dima to a vehicle. “OH SHIT” Artyom raised his AK47 and fired at the rebels. A bullet impacted ones head, killing him instantly and another shattered the others knee cap. The other two, however, dragged Dima into the vehicle and drove off. Artyom drew his knife and walked over to the injured rebel. He crouched down. “Where is Dima?” he asked as he ran the blade down the rebels cheek. Artyom turned off his helmet cam, not wanting any evidence of what he was about to do.