Diplomacy refers to spoken or written speech acts by representatives of states (such as leaders and diplomats) intended to influence events in the international system.

Diplomacy is the main instrument of foreign policy and global governance which represents the broader goals and strategies that guide a state's interactions with the rest of the world.

International treaties, agreements, alliances, and other manifestations of international relations are usually the result of diplomatic negotiations and processes. Diplomats may also help shape a state by advising government officials.

Diplomacy, Wikipedia

Part 1: Retrospective

Summer had arrived. The long days and unbearable heat from the sun to come would prove such a statement. The late evening sun slowly faded over the horizon; its light that once broke through the heavenly clouds above now dissipated giving room for the cooler temperatures that soon followed.

Stars seemingly descended from the blackened sky. A flurry of artificial, unhuman lights lit up small tarmac being used by the United States Air Force and the Indian Air Force. A collection of soldiers and airmen ran around as they prepared themselves to conduct a large troop movement to Pakistan.

Peshawar would be the first major city to see US troops roaming the streets. It was both a comforting and terrifying thought to many citizens of the country as not more than 1oo years ago hostilities with the “Yankees” were reaching a breaking point. Now they were waiting in the darkness of the unknown, hoping that the situation would blow over within the following year.

As the sun began to fade, a glint of its lasting warmth spread over the airfield. The golden-orange hue gave light in a dimly lit room. The alluring light drew in several men from their conversation. Their bodies warmed to the light and withdrew a myriad of different emotions from those present.

Sergeant Randall quietly raised his arm. He sat a small table in the command building on the base, and he grasped a small white mug that was sitting on the plastic table. He nicked the top of the cup with his calloused fingers and a burning sensation ran through his hand as he raised the mug to his lips. With a satisfying huff he placed the mug back down and left the burgundy-colored liquid as he stood from his seat and walked over to the window where two other Rangers were standing.

As he walked over the two Rangers, more specifically; PFC Green and Corporal Ramirez, were talking, a smaller cargo plane landed on the tarmac, and members of the Indian armed forces rushed out to the plane when it finally parked.

“-What do you think is going to happen? The briefing didn’t make sense.” Green admitted as he kept watch on the cargo being unloaded from the plane.

“Let me guess, brass didn’t make the right decision again?” Ramirez, the resident medic, responded with a light chuckle. “It is important that we get to “Brutus” first. He is the one supplying weapons to the other groups.”

Deciding to make the two jumped as Randall slammed his hand against a wall, and Green physically jumped at the sudden sharp noise as he walked forward, “You two look like you’ve seen some shit. Something on your guys’ minds?”

Letting out a light curse and facing the Sergeant, Green gave a weak smile as he raised his right hand in a weak effort to great him. “I don’t get why we aren’t going for the supply lines moving through Peshawar. Wouldn’t it be better for us to do that than go for the head of the snake?”

Randall paused at the question as he considered the words he would speak carefully. He adjusted the watch sitting on his wrist. “I’m not to sure, but perhaps they intend for his capture or death to be a sever morale drop for the forces we’ll be facing.” He said. “Bet you the Marines will be assigned the mission to ambush those supply lines anyways…”

Randall’s words were laced with a hint of uncertainty, as he couldn’t ascertain what both his commanding officers and the higher brass in Washington D.C wanted to gain from this tenure in Pakistan. The political gains would be substantial as the United States would essentially have a line of defense in the middle east from both China and the Mongolian Union, yet even with Russia’s support in the manner, the unknown variables at play with the nuclear armed countries would put an imbalance on the world stage.

His fist slowly clenched tightly around the hem of his BDU pants. The situation being presented reminded him to much of the uprising caused by the Terran Initiative for the People of Africa (TIPA) in 2080. It was a conflict that stretched over five years, and he only hoped that it wouldn’t repeat itself in the coming days.

Though with WMDs being a player in this conflict, the proposition put forward by Secretary of Defense, Julian Conner, to the President would send shivers down many of the veterans from the last generation as he was calling for a “Full Frontal Assault” on hostile territories.

Before he could walk away and get lost in all thoughts, Green pointed out the window towards two tandem rotor helicopters landing not far away. As the PFC and Corporal attempted to guess who was arriving, Randall watched as the ramps opened, and sixteen individuals and thirty unmarked boxes accompanied by four more unknown individuals exited the helicopters.

Though that wasn’t what caught his eye. A crowd of news reporters that were allowed on base by the Indian government were silently recording the men. Eventually the MPs caught them and escorted them of premises, but they failed to retrieve the film from the cameras.

“God damn, who are they?” Green questioned watching the men disappear into a nearby hangar being escorted by a flurry of MPs and soldiers dressed in civilian clothing.

As Ramirez attempted to spout answers ranging from Black Ops Teams to intelligence agents, Randall was the one to come up with a satisfactory answer. “JSOC sent them over. Probably Green Berets that are going to insert along with Special Activities agents.”

Turning away from the glass and returning back to his seat where his coffee laid motionless, a TV on the other side of the room echoed throughout the room as both Ramirez and Green followed.

“…with the almost simultaneous protests breaking out in both South Korea and Iraq, members of the TIPA’s security council are beginning the process of gathering both private security forces, and private forces to their side. Prime Minister of Britain and head of the UN security council, Sullivan Harrold, has yet to comment on troop deployments being made both by NATO and the TIPA…”

Taking a seat adjacent to Randall, Green shifted uncomfortably at the news. “-Shit’s fucking crazy. I mean-who saw that coming? Mercenaries and terrorists gathering in a single location under a single banner?”

“Well over two-billion people believe that Russia is the big threat right now. “Ideological distortion” as I call it. Lot a people looking at the wrong thing.” Ramirez commented as he laid back in his seat. “The hardline faction in China, y’know the one we worked with back in Afghanistan? Apparently, they’re starting to make their move against the CCP.”

Settling into his seat and drinking his now lukewarm coffee, Randall listened intently to the conversation.

Part 2: Task Force Spare

THIRTY-TWO DAYS AND THIRTEEN HOURS BEFORE THE OPRESSED ARE LIBERATED!

BLOOD AND HONOR FOR THE ARCHANGLES!

Hidden away in the back of a worn-down hangar, a message was inscribed on a dirty whiteboard with a single, now worn-out marker. Beside the message was a drawn, heavily modified image of the U.S airborne patch. Instead of the more simplistic design, the knife was being hugged by a sharply drawn phoenix that had flames emanating from its body.

Attempting to keep his eyes open, gaze met the invigorating sentence. Based on the briefing he had been given the previous night, there would be only one month and three days before the United States would officially move into Pakistan to help secure and stabilize the country.

Now awakening himself, the warmth in his arms became apparent as it had been folded over his chest in order to keep his body warmth in the early morning chill.

Scanning over the message, Randall turned his attention to the group of men that had gathered nearby. The leader of the group spoke joyfully, his blood red eyes and jet-black hair stood out in the crowd. As he spoke, his relatively calm and exited expression calmed those around him as they retold several stories of war.

As Randall let out a curt yawn, the sounds of boots echoed throughout the hangar and the creaking of machinery of several aircraft roared momentarily. The cheers of his fellow Americans slowly faded as three men, Lieutenant General Hoover and two other officers hastily walked over to the now thirty-man group that had assembled in the hangar.

It had only been a week since he had the three-way discussion with both PFC Green and Corporal Ramirez, yet now it felt like the monotonous days of filing reports or preforming “pointless” duties had seemingly vanished within the span of that week. They hadn’t been on the “front lines” in Africa or Southeast Asia, rather the men had grown rather bored of their time in India, yet despite this, there was a growing importance to them being in the region as terrorist attacks in Pakistan had been reaching devastating levels.

Due to this uptick in activity within the country, the United States Air Force (USAF) had been cooperating with Pakistani ground forces as they attempted to weasel out both safe houses and bunkers throughout the country. Many of these places had been created by the Taliban and Al-Qaeda during the early 21st century.

Different special operation forces had been operating within local resistance groups to assist Pakistani forces, yet the entire US Army and Marine Corps were needed to fully drive out local threats. It was almost like the initial invasion of Afghanistan, and that is what worried Randall to a certain degree.

Snapping out of his thoughts, a thick and tired voice spouted from Lieutenant General Hoover’s voice as he walked swiftly to the head of the group, his rugged military boots slammed onto the floor as he found his place.

“Alright settle down! I said settle down!”

Springing from the wall he was resting on, Randall calmly walked over to a small crate. There members of his squadron and another Ranger squadron listen quietly as Hoover continued.

“You have all been instrumental in this buildup to secure Pakistan, but as O-Five Hundred it seems the ceasefire between Taliban forces in Afghanistan has been broken. Earlier, radar in Iran had picked up several unknowns approaching the Pakistani border, and as of O-Seven Hundred, we have lost contact with the site.”

“Fuck me, Afghanistan is basically declaring war?” Lieutenant Patterson poised the question to Captain Thompson who could only give an unassured shrug in response.

As Hoover continued to explain and divulge into several armed conflicts in the area. Adjacent from the Rangers were sixteen members of Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta. This fact would soon be revealed as Hoover moved into speaking about the formation of a task force to operate in Pakistan for the following mission the United States had planned.

Many of the Rangers remained silent at the revelation, but the younger members, more notably PFC Green and Simon, tried their hardest not to act like complete fools in the middle of the briefing.

“-Leading the organization, more specifically the branch within the middle east, is a man that goes by the name Brutus.”

Activating a projector there was an awkward pause where the men looked amongst each other as the device turned on. Once activated the projector displayed an image of an older looking man. With pale skin, brown eyes, and grey-white hair, Lieutenant General Hoover tapped the image with his hand as he continued speaking.

“I’m sure that most are you are familiar with what happened in Los Angeles but let me remind you that the guy the FBI captured there was coordinating with this cell. Though it still is puzzling why he decided to cooperate with Mr. Brutus here rather than their South America branch.”

Opening a small manila folder, Hoover took out a sheet of paper and held it forward making the contents visible to the men sitting before him.

“You men have a presidential order. A kill-capture order from JSOC more specifically. Along with a support division from the Army you all will form into a task force that is going by “Spare”. The mission for this newly formed group is to: Assist Marine elements in securing major cities within Pakistan, and the kill or capture of the head of the branch, Brutus.”

“Spare?” Randall questioned as he pressed arms against his back.

“Kind of a weird name for a task force, right?” Lieutenant Patterson chirped quietly as he maneuvered his way in-between Green and Simon. “It’s like he is saying we’re not the first ones in, but with all the others here, I’m starting to question the name myself.”

“Probably some false flag for us. Make us think we already have troops on the ground, which if I’m being honest we probably do to some degree.” PFC Simon said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If we consider that CIA is in Pakistan, who’s to say that the 3rd Group isn’t already there?”

“Hey, quiet down!”

The Rangers fell silent at Captain Thompson’s hushed shout.

Thompson nodded at the aged Lieutenant General who momentarily stopped to overlook the next part of the briefing. Hoover gave a slight nod of respect to the captain as he continued the section he had arrived at. From basic insertions, to force deployments being made by the Marine Corps, Hoover listed out the objectives that the newly formed task force would achieve within a two-year time span.

Randall once again found a position of comfort as he leaned against a small crate that spotted not a few minutes earlier. He kept watch on the officers as they all dispatched different assignments to the men present, and as the crowd began to thin, oddly enough, his squadron and another from Delta had remained within the hangar.

The reason for this was soon presented. Along with the Delta squadron, totaling sixteen members, he and the other Rangers were to act as the primary members for any strike mission. A cold eeriness rested upon Randall as he focused on processing the information that was crammed into his head. The officers were long gone, and all there was to do was to return to normal duties until called for something more important.

“Sergeant Randall, correct?”

“Uh-yes.”

An Asian man with a rough patch of hair on his chin approached the Sergeant with a bright look on his face. Once a foot away, the man stepped forward and raised his hand offering a handshake.

“Name’s Eric Briner.”

“Mike Randall.”

With a nervous disposition due to being suddenly snapped out of his reverie, Randall gave the man a handshake, and Briner let out a hearty laugh as he patted the sergeant on the back. Randall became concerned as he eyed the rank on the man’s chest, Chief Warrant Officer Three.

“You guys were lucky you got out of Africa on time. I don’t think my team would’ve made it to save your Ranger asses a second time.”

Randall’s concern about why this man approached him and the others was confirmed. It seemed that Eric had a connection to them, more so that his team were supposed to provide support on one of their many missions in Africa.

Attempting to recall a time where he and the others were desperate for support during a mission, Randall let out a quiet frustrated groan. Eric took note of this and let his grip go letting Randall stand up straight.

“It was during the mission to secure that backwater town. The rebels ambushed your convoy, and from what I heard only to vics made it out.”

“That mission huh?”

A downcast look overtook the Rangers. Eric gazed into the brown eyes of Randall, and he let out a curt sigh as he lifted his hand and waved.

“Anyways I have some duties to attend to, so maybe I’ll see you all during joint training?”

Publicly Available Information: Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta:

Known by many names such as: Delta Force, Combat Applications Group (CAG), “The Unit”, or Task Force Green, the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta unit is the United States Army’s premier counterterrorism and direct-action unit.

Known to conduct direct action, hostage rescue, and special reconnaissance missions, Delta Force has grown to infamy in their highly classified and secretive missions.

To this day Delta Force does not officially exist.