Location: West Falkland
Unit: GOU
Date: 10th September 2022 CE
Thompson led with a left blow, but Mclaw blocked it and pushed him back. As Thompson regained his footing, Mclaw went on the offensive, and James realised he was vulnerable. Bringing up his arms to protect himself, he felt blow after blow strike his stomach and sides.
Finally, the blows stopped, and James cautiously lowered his arms to see Mclaw staring at him. In a sudden movement, Mclaw struck Thompson's shin, causing him to fall to the floor in pain. James cried out and removed his hands from his face to grab his leg.
Taking advantage of the opening, Mclaw punched James straight in the face, sending him flying into the corner of the small arena. As Thompson looked to his left, he noticed the padding on the outside and swore under his breath. Mclaw spoke, "Again!"
James stood up and readied his fists before charging at Mclaw again. Mclaw dodged to the left, going for a strike to the temple, but Thompson predicted this and jumped to the floor, rolling as Mclaw's hand passed harmlessly over him.
In an attempt to kick Mclaw in the stomach, James pulled his foot back and pushed it forward with as much force as he could muster. But Mclaw caught it. James gulped, realising he was in trouble. "Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath.
Mclaw smiled as he gripped James' foot, swinging him around and tossing him like a ragdoll.
Thompson covered his head as James bounced off the floor on the other side of the arena. As he looked up, he saw Mclaw pacing back and forth.
Pulling himself to his feet, Thompson moved slower this time. He approached Mclaw cautiously, making sure to make unpredictable movements that might have seemed random to Mclaw. Faking a kick, Mclaw reacted by going to grab it.
Thompson bounced off his left foot, leading with a right jab to Mclaw's chin. As he pulled back, he noticed Mclaw staggered backwards with a look of shock pasted on his face. Mclaw felt his jaw, grinning, "Impressive. Next time, if you get the chance, continue the blow, and you may be able to break someone's jaw."
Thompson walked to the side, lowering his guard. Bending to pick up a bottle, he asked, "Guess we're done?"
Mclaw chuckled from the other side of the arena. "Ha... no."
Suddenly, he darted forward as James muttered only one word: "Fuck..."
Mclaw's fist made contact with James's face, and his vision went dark.
***
James woke up against a wall, as Mclaw sat next to him, "we're done," he paused, checking his clipboard, "27 knockdowns, that's a new record for you."
James sat up, holding his head, "You didn't have to knock me out, you know?"
Mclaw sighed, "You shouldn't assume the enemy becomes less dangerous once they start speaking."
Mclaw handed James a bottle as he took a sip, "Thanks."
Mclaw looked up, "You know, kid... I can see you going places. Ever considered joining special forces? SAS and shit."
James scratched his chin, thinking before looking up, "Me, special forces?" Mclaw had started the cogs turning, "At most, I'd go for paras, no way I'm fit enough for that shit."
Mclaw stood up, "You underestimate your own ability," he paused, "You've seen more combat than most operators did before the war."
James laughed, "That's because we pulled out of Afghan ten years back, and even those who have combat experience are more raiders participating in recon and assistance for rebel groups and a few guerrilla attacks in Central Africa."
Mclaw sighed, "I'd consider it, kid. I'd say you are probably as fit as most paras already."
Thompson jokingly laughed, "You hitting on me, Sir?" he grinned, "Sorry sir, but I don't swing that way."
Mclaw rolled his eyes, "Funny," he checked his watch, "I believe the rest of the unit is coming back in a minute from PT. I'd recommend you get some scran before they eat it all."
Thompson nodded, giving a two-finger salute before running off. Mclaw huffed, pulling a flask of Cappuccino, "I could never be a recruiter."
***
James and Richards faced each other, their eyes locked in a tense standoff. They stood perfectly still, like two gunfighters in an old Western movie, waiting for the other to make the first move.
James slowly shifted his weight, moving his foot back just a fraction. Richards mirrored his movements, his foot sliding back slightly.
Suddenly, Richards' attention was diverted as he caught sight of a shadow behind him. He quickly turned his head, calling out a name, "Zeller?"
Zeller stood and looked at James, "Don't you dare..."
James darted into the cafeteria, quickly snatching up as much as he was allowed to.
Zeller looked at Richards, "Step aside..."
Richards gulped replying timidly, "Oh... Okay," he complied as Zeller walked past, grinning.
As she entered the room, she noticed Mabasa already sitting next to James on one of the large tables, "How the hell?"
He pointed to another entrance, "Backdoor," before inhaling his second salted hash brown.
Zeller grabbed some food sitting down next to them. Soon the rest of the GOU pushed in one by one except for Mclaw.
Thompson looked around, "Guess Mclaw isn't gonna join us again?"
Mabasa nodded, "It's nothing personal. The Captain went through some serious shit and doesn't like to get too attached."
Out in the hallway, Mclaw stood listening to them, muttering to himself, "You lot have no idea," he turned around walking down the corridor. His eyes started to twitch before he calmed himself, "I can't lose again... I won't fail humanity once more."
Thompson looked at the doorway, he felt a shiver run down his spine, but it was off. He knew it was something he'd felt before, but this feeling wasn't induced by fear, but by something else.
Sorrow.
He watched the doorway closely as the emotion changed. That sadness had turned into the fuel for rage and hatred.
Standing up, he looked around the corner.
Nothing.
Zeller looked at him confused, "You good, Runt?"
James turned back, "Yeah..." he paused, taking one more look, "Just peachy."
As he sat down, Zeller leant across the table, "You started your sharpshooter training yet?"
James shook his head, "Mclaw won't let me near anything bigger than 556."
Zeller chuckled, "If you want, I can teach you on the Hecate."
James's eyes sparkled, "the .50?"
Zeller laughed, "One and only, so wanna learn?"
James stood up, "Is that even a question? Of course, I fucking do!"
***
James stood behind the loaded Hecate with Zeller to the side, "Pick it up."
Still keeping the barrel pointed into the open field, James looked the mighty rifle over, "It's heavy."
Zeller chuckled, "Oh, grow a pair," her face went stiff as she concentrated, "Let's see what you know, ready!"
He got onto his belt buckle, lifting the rifle into his shoulder. He chambered a round, grabbing the stand connected to the butt. He aimed down sights and waited.
Zeller spoke, laying down on his left, "Target: 50m, singular, quarter left."
James quickly found the target as he pressed the laser on the side. Zeller nodded, confirming it was correct.
James pulled the trigger as the rifle recoiled into his shoulder, closing his eyes out of a primitive instinct.
Zeller looked at him, then back at the target, "YOU MISSED?" she paused, "at 50m with a TEN TIMES SCOPE?"
James shrugged, "Wasn't expecting that much recoil."
Zeller felt a vein pop, "That's a bullshit excuse, you fucked up because you didn't secure the rifle properly and shut your eyes," he paused her berating, "You know what, I'll show you how to do it."
She took the rifle from James checking the chamber.
Standing, she pulled it into her arm, holding the sling loop with her left hand.
Firing, she made a bolt action rifle look full auto, expending the magazine almost immediately.
She looked at James as his eyes were wide. Zeller spoke, "Fine, I'll go through the proper procedures."
Throwing the rifle next to him, and it landed in between his face and arm. She knelt next to him, grabbing the cheek rest and James's shoulder. Forcing them together, she looked down at the connection point, "Next use your left and hold it by the butt spike," she nodded, "That's the position you need to hold it in. Practice resting and finding that position again."
James moved his shoulder before pulling the rifle back into his shoulder. He did this constantly before concentrating.
Zeller handed him a magazine, "Load it."
James nodded, pulling the bolt back and loading the magazine as he pushed the bolt forward.
Zeller looked down range, "300m, a double, centre of axis."
James's eyes widened as he noticed two targets lined up next to each other, side on. Both sheets of skinny wood, "You want me to hit that, at 300 metres?"
Zeller nodded, "Mclaw thinks highly of you, and I want to too," she paused, still looking forward, "Take the shot."
Thompson aimed down his sights lining up the two targets, as Zeller spoke, "Don't fire immediately, concentrate, align your target, close your eyes, and breathe normally. Are you still on your target? Good," she paused, "Take a deep breath in... then breathe halfway out, and pause."
Her lip twitched as Thompson held his breath, "Then... Fire," she muttered.
Thompson pulled the trigger as he felt the softened recoil slam into his shoulder. He saw the huge bullet leave the muzzle, and as it arched through the sky... it hit its mark.
Slamming through the head of the first target the wood chunk was flung off while the bullet continued onto its second target, with its deadly whistle it obliterated the second target, chopping it clean in half.
Zeller laughed, "Not bad... not bad at all," she stood up, "Stand."
James stood up smiling, as Zeller proceeded to punch him in the shoulder. James yelled out in pain as she followed through.
She pulled the fist to her side smiling as James still held his arm, "Fucking hell, why'd you do that?"
Zeller shrugged, "You're not made to be a sniper," she checked her watch, and her eyes widened, "Oh shit," she turned around, grabbing the rifle and walking off.
James frowned, "So you just tell me I can't be a sniper, and then run off?" He followed her.
Zeller looked back, "I'm late for one of Mclaw's events, your lesson's over!"
Zeller jumped on her bike speeding off as James sighed, "Wouldn't mind a lift back!"
***
Zeller entered the base complex to see the other GOU members filing into a truck.
Mabasa chuckled, "Finally."
She patted him on the shoulder as she climbed into the truck, "Shut it, Safari," she whispered jokingly. She immediately took her hand off, realising what she had done, "Oh shit, I-I'm sorry."
Mabasa gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, "It's fine, it's not too painful anymore, Swiss," he paused trying not to show weakness before smiling, "Just I'd rather you wait a few more months before you do that again, okay?"
She nodded, "Sorry," Zeller climbed on the truck, speaking in a sarcastic voice, "However, if that's true, you will have no sympathy from me, Safari."
And their dynamic was back as fast as it went...
As she walked down to the front of the truck she noticed Mclaw sitting next to a figure in a black balaclava.
She sat down behind him, "Who's the driver?"
Mclaw looked at the figure in the balaclava, "She thinks you might be a traitor."
The man in the balaclava just kept on looking forward, "I am as devoted as any man or woman under your command, Reaper."
Mclaw looked back, "He's a loyalist, don't worry."
The truck started as the GOU drove off, about two minutes into the journey they were already singing twinkle twinkle little star. Laughing in between every lyric.
As the song drew to a close Mclaw rubbed his eyes, "I can't wait to arrive..."
Richards looked around, "Wait, where's Thompson."
Zeller looked at him from across the truck, "Didn't you see the note Mclaw left, he said everyone except Thompson..."
Richards scratched his chin, pulling his small wrist pad up, "Wait where?"
Zeller stood up, hanging onto the railing, "Do you have a picture of the second page?"
Richards looked at her, "What second page?"
She sighed, sitting down, "I'll forward it to you."
She clicked a button on her wrist pad as an image popped up. Clicking a few buttons, Richards frowned, "Fuck," She chuckled as Richards looked up, "On the event description... it just says fun."
Zeller checked her image of the warning order, "Correct, it seems he expects us to participate in his games."
Baker chuckled next to them, "If the Captain finds it fun, then may whatever god is up there help us all.'
Mclaw spoke from the front, "Hey! I can hear you, you know!" he paused, "I'll have you know my sense of fun is normal..."
Mabasa raised an eyebrow, "Ah yes, because we all love jousting."
Mclaw sighed, "Go fuck yourself, Mabasa."
Mabasa laughed, "If I could, I would, Sir."
Mclaw turned around to face the front as he cracked a smile.
***
Arriving at a beach, they noticed several jet skis sitting on the water. Each bobbing up and down in the furious waves.
Mabasa looked at Mclaw who was smiling and holding two large black cases on his shoulders. Jumping out the door of the passenger seat, he threw down the cases on the sandy beach.
The GOU hesitantly filed out.
Fitting a radio and ear defenders, Mclaw spoke, "Pick a jet ski."
They did as they were instructed, each taking a distinct colour to identify themselves. Mclaw threw the crates down as he walked in front of them, "Listen in, lads and lasses," he paused as two more masked men opened the cases revealing several MAC-10s. Picking up a few of them along with a few magazines, they handed them out to the soldiers as Mclaw spoke, "Over the last few hours, the Loyalists have been setting up targets for us at sea. These will be used to simulate what you may encounter should shit hit the fan."
Mabasa was the first to speak, "Why are we using these, shouldn't we use our pistols?"
Mclaw nodded, "You will be long out of ammunition in your pistols by the time we get to this stage in the operation."
The unit looked at each other but didn't question Mclaw any further.
"Load! Make ready," Mclaw called out as the operators pulled their MAC 10's bolt to the rear before loading and chambering a magazine of 9mm Parabellum. Mclaw nodded, picking up one of his own and jumping on a jet ski, "Get on then!"
The GOU members stumbled onto their jet skis through the knee-high waters.
They started their engine as Mclaw used his radio, "Get further out."
Mclaw starts to pull forward slowly before speeding up. The others follow him; slowly, pulling out to form an arrowhead formation.
Bouncing on the waves the jet skis flew through the sea. Moving about three hundred metres or so out, Mclaw held up a fist before slowing down near two buoys. The rest followed suit, keeping their jet skis idle.
Mclaw pressed his radio, "This is the course, there are 30 targets, which means by the end of your run you should have two rounds left."
Mabasa raised an eyebrow, looking at Zeller who was smiling, but this would change as Mclaw continued, "As well you are not allowed to go under 40 mph, understood."
Zeller's face dropped as she protested, "40, sir?"
Mclaw started his engine, "Do you want a demonstration?"
The Operators looked at each other, nodding in agreement. Mclaw smiled. He revved the engine, as he drew a loaded MAC-10 from his leg.
Speeding off, he fired a small burst of four shots, and each shot hit its target... four targets were thrown back before the 9mm deflected into the sky, disappearing.
Bouncing over a wave, he felt his vehicle hit the sea as the spray was projected into the sky, he opened fire five more times, and five targets pinged, moving back and forth. He hit the accelerator as fast as he could when he shot forward, standing up he leaned left as he pulled the jet ski into a sharp right turn. He fired off a burst again as several targets felt the damage of the submachine gun. Noticing a humongous wave blocking the final two targets, he hit the accelerator once more.
As he felt himself go over the edge of the wave he aimed, snapping between targets he fired twice. Both shots hit as he landed between the waving steel sheets.
Coming back around to the rest he switched his radio back on, "Just like that."
***
Richards sped through the course, missing several of his shots and constantly going between twenty and thirty on the turns.
Suddenly he looked back as he reached the final stretch, "Dammit!" he swore as he saw a large shadow appear in front of him, turning to see it he cursed, "Fuck these..."
The large waves consumed Richards, dragging him down underwater. Desperately trying to swim to the surface, he felt a sudden push on his back. In a panic, he turned around and kicked the figure behind him, only to see a matt black figure wearing a regulator.
The figure grabbed their regulator, and as Richards reached the surface, he apologised, "Sorry mate."
The loyalist removed his regulator, gritting his teeth in frustration, "Get back to the jet skis and get going."
As Richards climbed back on his jet ski, he felt wet, freezing, and embarrassed. He noticed Mounts and Turner trying to suppress their laughter, which only added to his frustration. Quickly returning to the formation with his metaphorical tail between his legs, he eyes the pair.
Mclaw raised an eyebrow, "The best was Mabasa, by quite a bit, out of the thirty he hit 21, not going below 40mph; then Zeller who took her time, I believe you went down to 10 at one point..." he paused raising an eyebrow at her, "but you did hit all targets... then third place is Turner. Slower than Mabasa, less accurate than both Zeller and Mabasa," Mclaw sighed, "How many of you actually have been jet skiing more than twice?"
Mabasa and Turner raised their hands, but no one else.
Mclaw sighed, "Fine..." he grumbled, "Looks like you have a lot to learn..."