“MACE!” Roared a voice from the thunder.
Stephan Mace ducked and weaved through the mud and the downpour, the steady thrum of the rain interrupted by deadly crack of bullets tracing past him. Mace raced to his commander, shooting a cloaked figure behind him while flicking out his execution blade from his forearm to slice down another mercenary from his commander’s side.
“You need something boss?”
“Damn right I do! This isn’t going to turn out like the Dragon Project. Not again.”
“Understood.”
“We’ll try to hold these bastards till nightfall then make a break for it.”
“You got it. I’ll tell the rest of the Recons.”
Stephan took off running low, experienced at ghosting through bullets. The mud was all around.
…
The mercenary sniper didn’t see Mace until it was too late. The man dropped to the ground and Mace stepped over the body. Jumping from the ledge he landed on another merc, and jumped to the aid of one of his men.
“How’s it going Charge?” He sliced a man down and dropped one a few yards away with his pistol.
“I’m doing fine, Mace, mighty fine.” Charge spun around, shot a man in the chest and then jumped over him to tackle the guy behind him. A snap ended the fight and the merc dropped with a thud, neck at an awkward angle.
“Any news from the boss?”
“We’re stopping a Dragon.”
“You got it.”
“Tell Shard when you see him. We’ll meet at 0100 hours.”
“Will do. You off to find Flint?”
“Yup, know where he is?”
“Blowing a hole in the merc supply line, last I checked.”
“Good man, I’ll see you at 0100.”
…
They all met, at the middle of the night. The rain was drumming, collecting, drowning. But the four shadows, no, they were men, stood unaffected. They were more intent towards another purpose.
Lucas Charge, an enormous black southern man. He was the heavy weapons specialist. Born in Alabama, he had been mired in racist tensions ever since he was a child. Hated and scorned, he had enrolled in the Green Berets after 10 years of fighting against the racial prejudices of the system. After seven years he was drafted by Mace into the Phantoms, the recon division that he was a part of now. Even with his armor, his muscles rippled with every movement.
Nathan Shard, a modestly built man, and the team’s support specialist. He wore light armor and had a sniper rifle strapped to his back. Early in his life, a car accident had struck one eye blind. Told he could never amount to anything, he ran to the gangs, learning to shoot with horrific accuracy. After a police raid, Shard was thrown in jail to serve eight life sentences. But Mace had heard of him, and offered him a deal. After seven years of parole, Shard joined the Phantoms and became their long range specialist.
John Flint, a wiry man, and the engineer expert. Originally a white hat hacker, Flint had been attacked in an alleyway. Beaten within an inch of his life, Flint decided to devote his life to the invention of military weaponry. Mace heard of his work and had him transferred to the CIA. After seven years learning the basics of inventive solutions, he was recruited into the Phantoms as well. He had the basic armor, but with specialty modifications like energy shields and a limited cloaking ability.
And Stephan Mace, the team lead, and the stealth expert. He wore a trench coat over his light armor. It was said that all he carried was his standard execution blade and his silenced pistol.
“I’m going to be blunt; we are here to make sure another Dragon doesn’t happen. And whatever that takes, we will stop it.
Stephan looked steadily into the eyes of his brothers. John. Nathan. Lucas. Gave a sad smile and put his arms around them.
“Whatever it takes.”
…
The company of men sat in the mud, looking into each other’s faces by the last dying light of the sun. The rain seemed to have stopped just for this moment. The captain looked at them all, one by one.
“We almost had it gentlemen… but these damn things never go according to plan. I want you to know that I’m proud to call each and every one of you bastards my friends, my comrades. No matter what happens tonight, I would go to hell and back for you guys. Know that. Now let’s get the hell outta here. Move out.”
Under the cover of darkness, the group silently moved through the mud, the rain started again its heavy drumming concealing the noise of their travel.
A scout ran up.
“The Recons aren’t here, sir.”
“Damnit, I had hoped that they could have our back.”
“I guess they didn’t make it sir.”
A dark shadow stepped up next to the commander.
“Thinking we’d miss the party?”
“Damn it Mace! Could give a man a heart attack! I’m glad you’re here though, thought you might’ve not made it. Where are the others?”
“Around. Do all of you have to make so much noise?”
“Well excuse me you-”
“Hush.” Stephan held up a hand.
The column stood still. The dull hush of rain, and the dripping of the trees was painfully contrasted with the tense, loud breathing of the company. Stephan winced at the noise.
Crack! Stephan spun around and saw a young recruit staring at him with wide eyes. A broken branch lay in his hand.
“I- I’m sorry sir! I just tried to catch my balance…”
Stephan stopped him with a hand gesture. Listening.
Suddenly gun fire erupted all around them, from both sides of the valley.
“GET DOWN!!”
The men dived into the mud, and started returning fire. Mace saw with practiced eyes the groups of men hiding under cover.
He glanced towards the man who had given away their position. He was down, but holding his leg.
“Boss! Just over this hill is the evac point. Get there, and you should be good. We will make sure that you make it.”
“Gotcha Mace. Good luck.”
Stephan ran seeing a mercenary drop to his left. Good shot, Shard. Aiming through these trees was difficult enough. Let alone with any accuracy.
To his right he saw Charge and Flint flying through the lines of mercs, taking down any who got in their way.
“First priority is getting survivors to evac.” Stephan said into his earpiece.
“You got it Mace.”
He raced up to the man holding his leg.
“Get up son.” Offering a hand.
They struggled through the mud, Mace shooting at the mercs who got to close with deadly accuracy. Now, over to his left, he saw Flint fall, taking on a group of assault rifle carrying mercs.
“What’s your name son?” He said to the man beside him.
“Charles- Private Charles White.”
“Good man. You’re going to be alright. See just over there? The bunker?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the evac point. Get there.”
Stephan let the man go and raced back towards the mercs.
“What’s their positions Shard?”
Nothing but static.
They got him.
He ran up to Charge.
“They got Shard.”
“Then we’ll get them.”
“Sounds good. But first, let’s protect that evac point.”
The two men raced back over the hill, and their true skill was revealed. Any mercenaries that thought to take down the fleeing survivors couldn’t stand up to the two Recons. Mace, running up to them in close-quarter combat, his execution blade flickering in and out, ending the lives of the mercs in his way. It was said later that he could only be seen as a shadow, and the only sign of his presence was the sudden gash in the line of enemies. Charge, attacked with the force of rage for his friends, not caring for weapons he merely crushed any who were in his way. Slashing and shooting, they came to the evac point to find the helicopter there. The mercs had paused in their pursuit of the survivors, cautious of the Recons.
“MACE! Get on board!” The commander shouted.
“Only after all the wounded! Charge and I will hold them off.”
“Only Charge and you? What about-”
“Gone.”
Stephan looked around and realized that Private White was struggling to get to the helipad. He raced over and helped him to his feet.
“Didn’t I say it was going to be alright? See, here it is. Come on, just a couple more steps now…” The man struggled the last few yards and dropped into his seat. Bullets were flying all around now.
“Mace! Get in NOW!”
“No can do Boss, you need cover fire if you’re ever going to get off the ground.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it…Damnit Mace. You’re a good man.”
“You’re not too bad yourself.” Stephan smiled back at him. “Now get going.”
The chopper swung off as the two men gave cover fire against the mercs.
“It’s been a good run Mace.”
The helicopter flew out of sight.
Bullets whined past them.
“Indeed it has.”
About the Winner:
Luke Spafford lives in Black Forest, Colorado, and occasionally herds chickens. He writes to clear his head and whenever he gets a spark of creativity.
Image Source:
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