Against the World
“Damn, No sneaking now!” Ding swore in an alley whose opening led to the market. “Whole damn town’s here!”
“What’d you think was going to happen, with all that noise?” Stanley asked.
“Hell, I was hoping they’d stay inside, not come out and see why things are blowing up!” Chavez replied. “Or that their guards would tell them to stay inside. When you hear a gunshot in LA, you don’t run out onto the street to see what happened, you stay inside and hope it wasn’t aimed at you or your buddy.”
Domingo had grown up in Los Angeles, with a rather rough neighborhood leading to a rough life. He did what most kids his age did to ease the struggle; join a gang, at least to find some people willing to help. Even with allies, it was a dangerous occupation; and one of his close friends learned that late, when he lost his life to a rival gang.
That death made Ding realize just how destructive and vain the street life could, and would, be. He didn’t have many ways to ‘rise above’ the brutality of it; so, he decided to go to one of the few places where the skill set could be put to real use, the Army. Having been around guns his whole life, it didn’t occur to him that the ponies didn’t have firearms, even though the military he’d just fought were armed with arrows and swords. Old habits can be stubborn things.
“Well, I haven’t seen any kind of firearm here,” Stanley said. “But I agree all the same. Still, we can’t just wait for them to go back in with God knows how many hostiles on our tails.”
“Connolly, watch our six.”
“Sir!” the SAS troop replied.
“Rifles, you got any clue as to how many are on us?” Ding called over the radio to the snipers.
“You got their whole damned army on your back,” Homer reported.
“Shit, we can’t stay here!”
“The hell’s going on, Ding?” Clark asked.
“They’re almost on us, sir. The civies in the marketplace are blocking a quiet exfil.”
“You see any other way than loud by now?”
“Not anymore, Six.”
“Marketplace has multiple entrances, have the team spread out to provide a good field of fire,” Clark ordered. “We’ll fight ‘em off, then make a run for it.”
“Covington and Team One are set up in the woods outside of town.”
“Alright.”
“Sir, they’re on us!” Connolly called, firing a couple bursts from his weapon from his hidden position at a group of alerted guards.
“No time!” Clark said. “Guys, find defensive positions in other side of the square; spread out!”
“What about-”
“Get going!” Clark ordered Chavez.
Ten black-clad troops and two pale-skinned humans in suits shuffled out of the alley. The large crowd of ponies that filled the square immediately blocked their path. At the sight of the Rainbow troopers, about half of the crowd fled. The other half stared in shock and surprise, still enough to halt the men’s path.
“Get outta here!” Clark yelled. “Go home, damn it! Get inside! Find shelter!”
Some of the remaining ponies heeded his warning and left, but still there was some left.
“For Christ's sake,” Clark thought. “Just hope none of these guys get hurt.”
Clark pointed his gun straight up in the air and fired off three rounds in quick succession. The noise and power of this new weapon sent the rest of the crowd running and screaming. Clark was just happy none of them were brave enough to try something dumb like take them on. The troops immediately moved through and found spots that they could shoot from behind.
“Alright, ready!” Chavez reported. “Oso, you got the 60 ready?”
First Sergeant Julio ‘Oso’ Vega set up his M60 machine gun on a stone fountain that was small enough not to block too much of his view.
“Ready, Ding!” Vega replied.
“Focus fire, main street entrance, large group incoming!” Ding ordered. “Fire!”
Vega looked down the sights of his weapon and took aim at a group of dark figures running down the street towards their position. He aimed slightly left and squeezed down on the trigger, moving right over the group as the rounds went out. The gun chattered as the figures suddenly stopped and scattered.
Usually in a counter-terror operations Vega’s M60 wasn’t needed. It was only meant to be used as a support weapon for whatever it could be used for, and usually that wasn’t much. Though it annoyed him how little he could use it, it was only used for extreme scenarios; whenever it came out the situation was bad. He could tell he was going to use it a lot today.
However thick the golden armor was, it wasn’t enough to stop the 7.62X51mm NATO rounds from the gun. Three of the guards in the middle were seen to drop to the ground, while the others dove left or right behind whatever cover they could find. Steady bursts from Vega’s gun locked the street down.
“Enemy from the alley!” Stanley yelled, aiming and firing his pistol at a guard and wounding him.
“They’re swarming! They’ll overrun us if we don’t work fast!” Ding warned.
“Kill shots; make sure they count!” Clark ordered. “We have to take them out faster than they pop up!”
Guards began to file out from the alley and into the square, finding their own protection from carts, benches, stands, and a variety of other objects. There were two other small alleys to the team’s left where more guards began to come from.
Ding focused on two guards running from the alley and into the square. He aimed at one and fired off a burst, followed quickly by another for the second. The first one impacted into the rear of the target’s side, immediately making him tumble from his sprint and roll across the ground. The second burst missed entirely, allowing the guard to take cover in a fruit stand.
Ding saw the figure pop up from his cover slightly, aiming something. Before he could get a shot off, he saw the figure duck back down as an arrow whizzed by his head and implanted itself in the side of the house behind him. Instinctively, Chavez fell behind his own cover, a stone bench, for protection.
“Alright, let’s see you try that again,” he said to himself.
Ding reloaded his gun with a fresh magazine and once again looked over his cover towards the stand. He caught the guard at the same time he was standing back up, presenting the same situation as before. This time Domingo fired first, his shot making a connection with the guard’s forehead and ending him.
Across the square it was the same situation. Troops of both sides looked up from their cover and took shots from their positions. The loudest sound was that of Oso’s M60, with the other sounds coming from the Rainbow team’s suppressed weapons and the crossbows from the guards launching arrows. In the darkness, it was hard to tell anything, but the Rainbow troopers knew where each other was, so they had no reservations about shooting at an unknown target.
Clark’s pistol wasn’t exactly as good as the soldier’s SMGs, but it was better than nothing. He took aim at a guard moving from one piece of cover to another. On his next sprint, he fired a bullet onto the side of the guards, hitting him square center. The guard stopped where he was and staggered. Clark waited to see if he would go down, but when he spotted Clark and raised his crossbow, Six took another shot and sent this bullet through the guard’s snout and collapsing him.
As he reloaded his pistol, he saw what looked like a laser shot out from the main street towards the square. It was apparently aimed at Connolly and his little cart, though the soldier was lucky enough to see it and dive out of the way as the cart shattered into pieces. Before Clark could ask what it was, Ding answered.
“Another one of those unicorns!” he yelled. “Nail him!”
Oso spotted the lone figure out of cover and fired a five round burst, cutting him down.
“Good shot, mano!” Ding said.
As if to contradict him, another laser shot out from the alley and hit the first story of a house near where Ding was sitting.
“Fuck!” Ding swore. “How many of those guys are there!?”
As the unicorn moved from the alley to get a better shot, Price put a burst into the side of his throat.
“Ding, come in!”
With the battle going on, Domingo didn’t notice the radio going off.
“Ding, this is Rifle Two-One!” Homer Johnston reported. “We can see enemy forces moving in to your six, you route is blocked!”
“Any idea how many?”
“Unknown, but it looks significant.”
“Shit.”
Domingo took a minute to think of something new.
“You see any other exit points?”
“There’s a small street to your four o’clock that leads out into the field,” Homer reported. “You’ll have to book it to the forest, but we’ll be able to cover you from the tree line if you draw them close enough.”
“Ok, get ready; we’ll be there soon enough.”
“What’s going on, Domingo?” Clark asked.
“We’re gonna have to try and make a run for the woods across the field,” Ding said. “Hope you’re still in shape, Mr. C.”
“Not like I’ve got a choice, right?”
“You never change,” Ding said. “Paddy, you got any smoke?”
“Yes Ding!”
“Alright, throw it! Oso, suppressive fire!”
Connolly lobbed the smoke grenade into the middle of the square as Vega fired off the rest of his belt in one continuous stream.
“Smoke’s out; let it build!” Connolly said.
As they watched and continued to fire, thick white smoke covered up their targets.
“Alright, fall back!” Ding ordered. “On me; and get ready to run!”
“Ok, a slight wind from the West,” Johnston reported from his position.
“I feel it,” Weber added, his English stunningly perfect.
The four snipers were concealed in one spot or another along the tree line. Each wished that they had a ghillie suit, rather than the black body armor they wore for the Paris mission. But, at least the darkness helped conceal them along with the woods and their stillness.
“Ding to all Rifles; we are exiting the village and moving across the field. Cover us and take out any pursuers.”
“Copy, Domingo,” Fred Franklin answered. “We’ll keep them off your back.”
As the snipers readied their rifles and looked through their scopes, twelve figures came running out of a street and into the field, moving in their direction. They were soon followed by a wave of other figures.
“Lotta work tonight, Weber,” Johnston said.
“Ja, there’s well over twenty.”
The figures in the lead were all running on hind legs, while their pursuers ran on four legs. Even with the Rainbow trooper’s training, the ponies, being on four legs, were naturally faster. The twelve troops began to ignore limiting themselves and ran as fast as they could towards the woods.
“Target ID shouldn’t be a problem,” Houston stated. “Riflemen, fire at will.”
As soon as Houston finished, a shot rang out. Fred Franklin’s big M82 .50 Caliber sniper rifle fired the first shot of the ranged engagement. The massive slug reached out and found a target on an unfortunate guard’s leg, knocking it clean off and sending him to the ground in a howl of pain.
The others, upon hearing and seeing this, stopped for a moment to figure out what was going on. That gave Weber a clear headshot with his WA2000, sending the bullet through the guard’s helmet. The bullet passed through the skull as he fell to the ground.
“Looks like they’re too scared to move,” Johnston said. “Let’s wake them up.”
Unlike the rest of the Rainbow organization, which assigned the troops specific weapon, the snipers were allowed to choose their own weapons. While Franklin picked their rifles, Homer Johnston’s rifle was unique and custom made. Houston liked it so much that he decided to get a copy made for his own weapon of choice.
The sniper rifle was chambered for the 7mm Remington Magnum with a select-grade Hart barrel. It used a Remington match quality receiver and a Leupold ten-power Gold Ring telescopic sight. All of these gadgets were connected to an ugly Kevlar stock; wood would have looked nicer, but deteriorated over time.
Johnston fired his shot at one of the guards staring at his injured friend. The shot went through his forehead and he, too, dropped like a sack of bricks. ‘Sam’ Houston’s shot wasn’t quite as good. The guard he was targeting panicked and began to shift erratically left and right, forcing him to make several adjustments. Just as he finally got the shot off, he flinched again and the bullet went into his body, disintegrating as it went through, shredding the spleen. What at first felt like a thick punch turned into overwhelming pain as the guard collapsed on the ground; screaming loudly.
“Damn, poor bastard,” Houston commented. “Ok, the rest are turning tail now, keep your eyes open for anything else.”
“I’m not seeing any activity,” Dieter reported.
“Nothing on the left,” Houston reported.
“Right flank clean,” Franklin finished.
The twelve Rainbow troops hustled across the field, not bothering to look back. In a final sprint, they reached the relative safety of the forest. Here they stopped for a minute, checking for any kind of wounds or losses. Everything seemed ok, save for a noticeable lack of spare magazines.
“Nice shooting, Rifles,” Clark commented as he reached the forest.
“Not too tough; they were clustered together so much, it was like shooting a shotgun into a flock of geese,” Homer replied. “Good to see you’re alright, guys.”
“Likewise,” Clark said. “Is Team One here, too, right? You said they were here.”
“We’re here, sir,” Franklin said. “Covington and the others are just setting up a little camp back in the woods.”
“Well, that’s good, at least; which direction, Fred?”
“I’ll lead you to it, sir.”
“Good, at least I can sleep a little easier this time.”
As the chaos below had unfolded, two pegasi were hiding high up in the clouds, safe from the danger. They continued to observe the battle, intrigued. They had watched it from the battle in the market to the RG getting shot out of nowhere. They kept a close eye on everything about the Guards, as well as the aliens. This development presented them with a unique opportunity.
“You think they’re against the Princess, as well?” one asked.
“Not likely, they probably don’t know where the even are right now,” the other replied.
“Even if they are lost, maybe we can recruit them. They certainly aren’t friends with the locals.”
“Maybe, but we’ll have to learn more about them, first. Either way, they have done us a big favor.”
“What?”
“How many dead guards do you see down there; thirty?”
“More or less, it’s hard to tell.”
“It’s a lot, and a lot of dead guards means a lot less security; that means the town is finally weak again.”
“Ah,” the first one realized. “You think we should make some kind of move now?”
“While they’re still hurt.”
Weber looked down the pistol’s sights at his target. The Beretta Cougar 8045 had just come out this year and had been selected as Rainbow’s sidearm by Domingo; a long time Beretta aficionado. He was going to try to aim for the head, despite the distance, to leave the meatier torso intact from the .45 cartridge. He also checked to ensure the silencer was on, so his position was not given away to any of those horses that could be nearby.
He had gotten lucky on this hunting trip; a large buck, with enough to keep the men fed for a while. Of course, it would not last long if the other’s hunting trips were not successful. He did hope they were all ok; who knew what was in this strange forest.
The large animal stopped and lowered its head to drink from a pond, giving Weber his chance. This would have been a good time to have a ghillie suit to better conceal him. He also wished he could use his rifle, but ammunition had to be conserved.
As the buck’s head moved back upwards, Dieter took careful aim. Before he pulled the trigger, the animal looked right where he was hiding and gave a confused look; it was almost as if he was more intelligent than an average deer and was wondering what the human was. All the same, Dieter didn’t hesitate, squeezing the trigger and silently sending the round to its target in a clean kill.
Hustling over to it, he quickly examined his surroundings first to make sure there was no threat in the area. He then examined the deer, and saw the bullet had gone in and out without much trouble. He quickly decided to bring it back to camp and begin working on it there where it was safe, rather than in the unknown territory.
Luckily for him, the camp was rather close. Since the men were not exactly equipped for a camping trip, they were improvising with whatever they had. But, since they were all former special operations troopers and had gone through some sort of wilderness survival, it did not present a daunting challenge.
“Weber!” Vega called from a side of the camp, working on what looked like a doe. “How long did it take for you to run that one down, mano?”
Dieter sighed and dragged his animal over to Vega.
“Not too long,” he said, returning the joke.
Feldwebel Dieter Weber had been trained in Germany’s Burger Fuhrer, the Mountain Leader School; physically one of the toughest schools in the world. Being the toughest team member in Rainbow, he was quick to surprise Vega, who had already heard rumors about the school. He then started a running joke in Rainbow that Dieter wasn’t entirely human and was able to run down a deer, catch it, and kill it with his bare hands. The former GSG-9 operative was usually happy to comply
Most of the team was busy at something; Weber and Vega worked on what would soon be dinner, Price and Lincoln were collecting wood, and the like. McGarret and Traven, the team’s two Canadian members, were absent from the camp; being positioned back up at the tree line to keep an eye on the town and give a warning if anything suspicious started to go down.
“Hey, guys,” Clark called out. “I need one of the snipers to follow me up to the tree line. McGarret is reporting some strange activity out there and Franklin and Houston aren’t back from their hunting trip yet.”
“You’d better go, Weber,” Johnston said, working on his dis-assembled rifle.
Even though it had been made by the same guys who made rifles for the United States Secret Service, he had to admit the cartridge did burn up the barrel a little quicker than he’d prefer.
“Ok, let’s get going, Dieter,” Clark ordered.
“Ja.”
Twilight did not get much sleep that night, though few in the town did. She didn’t see much of what was happening, but as soon as she did step outside, a royal guard immediately ordered her back in. It was not until daylight that she was able to look out the window and spot a couple of corpses of the RG that she realized it there had been an attack, a potentially devastating one.
Going back outside and demanding answers, the guard responded by telling her of the events that had transpired last night. As he went on, it became clearer and clearer what had happened; apparently those aliens she had captured had friends. The guard, once again, sent her back inside, saying that her brother would be visiting soon to inspect what had happened.
The rest of the day was spent sulking about the library. There was no escaping the guilty feeling she had; the idea that she had been the cause of this kept working its way in. Why did she have to stun those aliens? What in Equestria possessed her to do that!?
“But, maybe I can find a way to fix it, too…” she wondered.
With her thoughts running off into possible solutions, she didn’t notice her brother enter the library.
“Twilight!”
“Shining!”
She quickly ran over and pulled him into a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re ok!” he said.
“Shining, what-”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time to talk; I just came to make sure you are alright. Something bad is happening, and I have to go help with it.”
“Is it the aliens again?”
“No, something else; something arguably worse.”
“Well, this is interesting,” Clark observed.
“You can say that again, sir,” McGarret replied. “What can you see, Weber?”
“They’re held up in a bank, at least that’s what the signs say it is,” he reported. “Ten hostages, one of them is a kid, two dark-green winged horses, one with a sword and the other with a crossbow, both wearing what look like balaclavas.”
That was a bad surprise for the men, as balaclavas in this situation usually said ‘hey, I’m the bad guy’.
“The building itself seems to be surrounded by those same guards we fought last night, but there’s not many of them.”
“Guess it's cause of the beating you guys gave them, eh?” Traven asked.
“Might be, but I’m surprised that they’ve got this kind of crime here, too,” Clark said.
“Are you really, sir?”
“A little; it’s more about how similar it looks to the situations.”
“That is a rather big coincidence,” McGarret added. “Anything happening, Weber?”
“Looks like they’re trying negotiations; one terrorist at the door with a crossbow, second watching the hostages with a bag full of something in his mouth, probably their form of currency.”
It struck John how quick the German identified them as terrorists, even if that was what they basically were.
“If it’s anything like our world, they must have some kind of dedicated force to handle hostage situations, right?”
“Don’t count on it, Six,” Dieter said. “Those guards are getting aggressive.”
“Negotiations done already?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t-One of them shot an arrow!”
“What?”
“They’re going in through the front! What the hell are they thinking!?”
“Christ, what about the hostages?”
“Mein Gott…he just impaled that kid! That bastard just killed a kid with his sword!”
John Clark stared into space for a moment, remembering the execution of the little Dutch girl in Spain. Even after it had happened, he couldn’t risk shooting the terrorist because of the threat of revealing his team’s positions. Terrorism in itself was bad beyond belief, but executing children took it to the lowest level; a level that people didn’t think possible.
“The one at the door just shot a guard with his arrow, and is retreating back inside. Guards are moving up the stairs…he killed another one! He killed that kid’s mother, the fiend!”
John had to fight the urge then and there to tell Weber to try and smoke the son of a bitch, but his team was still on the wanted list.
“Guards entering, the one with the crossbow just shot another guard coming through the door. He’s taking cover behind a desk. The one with the sword is flying now…he’s out the window, and he’s carrying that bag with him. He’s gone.”
“Damn him,” Clark whispered. "He belongs in a special kind of hell."
“The other one is shooting it out with the guards and their arrows-Nein, another hostage got hit in the crossfire!”
“What!?” Clark nearly yelled. “How did they let that happen?”
“Second terrorist just shot his third guard…wait…yea, he’s down; took an arrow in his throat. All clear.”
“That’s not how you rescue a hostage,” Clark said.
He was right; three hostages dead, three guards dead, one terrorist dead, and the other escaped with what he went there for.
“What do you make of it, Six?” Traven asked.
“I can make that they’ve apparently got problems similar to the ones in our world.”
“Ones they can’t fix, apparently.”
“But ones that we can,” McGarret added. “Six, you think we should’ve intervened?”
“I don’t know, McGarret, I don’t know. Our whole existence is to help stop tragedies like this, and yet we’ve still got a bounty on our heads here. Be honest, I did want to a little; those are just civilians, innocents. Maybe if it was a quick in-and-out thing, I’m not too sure.”
“And what if this happens again?”
“Then we’ll figure out what to do when it does happen, if it does happen,” Clark said, turning around. “Dieter, let’s get back to camp. McGarret, Traven, I’ll have a couple guys come to take over for you in a while.”
“Roger, Six; let’s hope we can figure out an answer soon.”
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An M60? I'm not complaining, but there are lighter, more practical 7.62 machine guns out there.
...wood would have looked nicer, but deteriorated over time.
That, and wood expands and contracts more in heat/humidity changes. Any material can, really. That's why a lot of serious rifles have barrels that don't touch the stock at all.
2 clean head shots from 1000 m?
3427397
In a training section of the book, Johnston got two headshots at 900 m easily. I think 1000 would be within his range. Yea, get ready for your jaw to drop when you hear how precise and strict these guys are.
But I don't think I specified the exact range, did I?
3427383
Yea, I know. It's still a crossover, so I have to stay true to Clancy and what he said. He chose the M60, not me.
And the wood, you'd know better than me. The exact quote stated that along with wood deteriorating and warping over time, "Kevlar was dead, chemically inert, unaffected by moisture or time." So maybe Clancy was wrong, but I wouldn't know exactly.
Time for Rainbow Six to hunt down some MF's.
Have the unit explain what happened, train the RG (with some ass kicking here and there to bust down the pride), vest the Rainbow 7 and get teleported back to earth in a cruel twist of fate
Rainbow is going to do what they do best.
Stop the bad guys before they even knew what hit them.
I think you mean outside.
An?
Aside from these mistakes (and others that may or may not exist but I did not see), I enjoyed reading this chapter.
Even if it is interfering with my own writing.3440128
Thanks, i'll get to fixing them
3427449 I love this story, are you planning on continuing it soon??????? Please do
3445327
As you can see, I have a lot of other works to tend to. Patience, my friend. I'll hop to it in no time!
Tom Clancy was and still is, in my opinion, one of the best military historians and authors to live. May his soul rest with God.
I am glad to meet another Tom Clancy fan. 
Tom Clancy died?!
Wow I'm so late.