I clicked the radio off, tucking it carefully behind the rocky ridge where it could be recovered later, and began my final approach. The first sentry fell without ever realizing he had a target on his back. A single, suppressed round fired from two hundred meters out neatly toppled him from his perch on the wall.
The second guard spun around, utterly confused by the sudden collapse of his partner. I cut him down just as fast, shifting my sights with practiced, fluid speed. Two down, eighteen to go. I kept closing the distance, sliding into a dry, cracked irrigation ditch to stay concealed, my rifle up and hungry for targets.
A third sentry suddenly surfaced on the wall, his head swiveling as growing alarm etched across his face. I settled into cover, steadied my breath, squeezed the trigger, and dropped him.
Three down, seventeen left. That was when the compound finally started to wake up to the nightmare. Angry shouts erupted into the crisp morning air as fighters scrambled toward the perimeter. Someone had finally figured out they were under attack, even if they were completely blind to where the fire was coming from.
I reached the base of the outer wall and slapped a small thermite breaching charge against the mud-brick. It was designed to burn straight through the thick material with a blinding heat, avoiding the deafening, concussive blast of a standard explosive. I took hard cover, hit the detonator, and counted out the exact burn seconds in my head until the hole was wide enough to slip through. When the time was up, I flowed into the breach fast and hard, my rifle eagerly searching for the next threat.
The courtyard was an absolute circus of chaos. Fighters were sprinting in every direction, snagging loose weapons, and desperately trying to piece together a defense against a phantom assault they couldn’t comprehend. I spotted three of them right off the bat. I engaged them center mass, dropping all three into the dust before they even had a chance to raise their barrels.
Six down, fourteen to go.
Suddenly, one of the technical’s heavy machine guns roared to life. Bright red tracers tracked my position, chewing up the dirt. I threw myself into a hard roll behind a rusted vehicle as heavy rounds sprayed the exact spot I had just been standing. I popped up on the far side of the truck, acquired the frantic gunner in my sights, and drove three rapid rounds into him. He slumped forward, silenced over his weapon.
Seven down, thirteen to go.
Two more fighters spilled out from a narrow doorway, their weapons raised and sweeping blindly. I engaged the first one, dropping him instantly, and immediately shifted my sights to the second. But instead of a crack, my rifle gave a hollow click. The first magazine was completely spent.
I ran a tactical reload on instinct alone. The empty magazine clattered against the dirt just as a fresh one aggressively snapped home. Years of practiced muscle memory made the entire motion seamless. I re-engaged the second fighter just as he lunged for cover, putting two rounds into his torso and dropping him cold.
Nine down, eleven to go.
I pushed forward, driving hard toward the main building where I had spotted Keane. I stayed low, weaving aggressively between parked vehicles and crumbling walls as enemy rounds cracked viciously past my head, kicking up harsh sprays of dirt against my boots. The enemy fighters were finally starting to coordinate. They were realizing that a single attacker was systematically tearing through their compound with deadly purpose.
A figure popped up on a flat rooftop, hoisting a heavy RPG onto his shoulder. I pivoted sharply, putting a round through him before he could even line up the launcher. The heavy weapon clattered harmlessly down into the chaotic courtyard.
Ten down, ten to go.
I reached the heavy wooden main door, paused for a fraction of a second to listen to the frantic movement inside, and then kicked it completely off its hinges. I flowed into the room, my rifle sweeping the dim interior. The contrast from the brightening dawn outside made the shadows heavy. Two fighters were aggressively hustling Keane toward a back exit, dragging him by his arms.
My sudden, violent arrival threw them into a sheer panic as they desperately tried to relocate their high-value prize. I shot the first man, then the second. Both of them crumpled to the floor before they could even think about bringing their weapons to bear.
Keane was bound tight and heavily gagged, but he was wide awake. His eyes went wide with shock when he finally recognized my face in the gloom.
“Hold still, sir,” I ordered, drawing my combat knife and slicing quickly through his heavy restraints. “We’re leaving.”
He ripped the gag down. “Captain Cross? What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice raspy.
“Later. Move!” I snapped back, physically hauling him toward the shattered door with my rifle up and sweeping the angles.
We barely made it three steps out into the dusty courtyard before the remaining fighters opened up on us in a highly coordinated, terrifying volley. Eight insurgents rained heavy fire down simultaneously. Rounds punched brutally into the mud-brick walls around us, completely filling the tight space with the deafening howl of automatic weapons. I violently shoved Keane behind the solid engine block of a truck and returned fire, immediately dropping a fighter who had foolishly overexposed his flank.
I was burning through my ammo now, firing tight, controlled bursts at multiple targets just to keep their heads down while I frantically hunted for a viable exit strategy. Twelve down, eight to go. Just like that, my second magazine went dry.
I reloaded in a blur just as Keane lunged forward, snatching an AK-47 from the hands of a fallen fighter. He checked the action and began shooting back with the smooth, practiced competence of a thirty-year veteran.
“You got an extraction plan, Captain?” he barked over the roar of the gunfire.
“Working on it, sir,” I shouted back, returning my sights to the fight.
Another fighter caught a round and fell hard. Keane quickly ran the numbers in his head. “Thirteen total! Seven remaining!”