0700 HOURS.

FRIDAY, 1 AUGUST 2112.

MUMBAI, INDIA.

Summer was slowly fading away. The long days of unbearable heat and humid winds slowly starting to give way to cooler weather would be a testament to such a statement. The early morning sun slowly moved across the blue sky; its light broke through the heavenly clouds and shined upon the streets of Mumbai, though those present would never be able to scour such a city with the preparations that was being made behind the scenes.

Iran was just the beginning. What was a terrorist attack on the city of Tehran had been revealed to be a front for the movement working against the Pakistani government. Luckily enough Mike and his fellow Rangers were thrown in the middle of conflicting orders which prevented them from getting involved in the near-suicidal mission to eliminate a hostile compound filled with over 100 gunmen who were well trained and on point. The Special Forces team that spearheaded the operation worked in tandem with infantry from the 101st Airborne and eliminated the site with minimal casualties, but the mission itself had distracted the United States from the growing insurgency in Pakistan for a whole month.

On the black tarmac was currently occupied by airmen of the United States Air Force and Indian Air Force. A collection of soldiers and airmen quickly moved off C-5 Galaxy cargo planes and between the battalions that were loaded, and the tanks and other heavy vehicles being dismounted, special operation teams arrived via cars or helicopters. Air Traffic Control had a busy day and the easy day only happened yesterday.

Peshawar would be one of the first cities to see foreign troops roaming the streets. It was a comforting and terrifying reality to many citizens throughout the country as no more than 100 years ago did the nation of Pakistan hold hostilities against the “Yankees”, against the western powers. The situation within had reached a breaking point. Law Enforcement organizations working alongside a small number of underequipped soldiers couldn’t handle open combat with the insurgents that scoured the nation. As they called themselves, “The Freedom Movement for the People of Pakistan” (FMPP), they were a group focused on replacing the current government, and as of late they had well gone passed the marker of terrorists and now were labeled as an official, and dangerous para-military organization. The technology they held wasn’t up to par with any of the western nations, but their spirit and tactics leveled the playing field.

Mike stood weary against a window. His eyes scanned the tarmac.

“What do you think is going to happen?” The voice of Jacob Green, someone that Mike had grown to mentor grasped his attention. “The briefing didn’t make much sense.” The young boy admitted as he fiddled with the sleeve of his combat shirt.

“Brass isn’t making the right decision. They want us to walk into Peshawar and get killed. They can’t just provide a target, say nothing about him, then dismiss us when we try to ask questions.” Corporal Devon Ramirez, the resident medic of the squadron, said in a sharp voice.

“Something on your mind, boys? You two look like you’ve seen some shit.” Stepping around the corner, Mike placed his hand on the wall. Jacob turned around slightly taken off guard with the appearance of the sergeant, and Devon nodded his head as he stepped towards the coffee table next to him.

“Nothing is wrong here Sarge.” Devon began, “I just want to understand why they said nothing about target ‘Brutus’. It makes no sense for them to have us working the supply lines within Peshawar instead of going straight for the kill. I think it would be better to go for the head of the snake.”

Mike paused at Devon’s words. He had no argument to the twenty-eight-year old’s concerns regarding the mission. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I do believe there is a reason why we’re being placed alongside the regs from the 1st Infantry Division. Command definingly has something planned, but for now it looks like the plan is to starve the insurgents throughout the major cities and prevent them from gaining weapons and ammo.”

“Yeah, I get that, what about the meeting we’ve been called to by the Lieutenant General though?”

Having no words for the corporal, mostly due to his own questions about the unnerving situation, Mike opted to remain silent he provided nothing but a shrug. Devon was dissatisfied with the answer, but he chose not to press the issue as he turned back in his seat to finish the coffee cup, he had in front of him.

Standing to the side in thought, Mike tried to formulate a proper answer to the questions he had in his own mind. The politicians in Washington DC were trying to play it careful with the campaign that was to happen in no less than two weeks, yet they pushed for the ‘invasion’ of Pakistan. Perhaps it was to establish influence over the region and to provide a barrier to the western world from the Mongolian Union and China, though he could only question if such a move was worth it when in the face of nuclear Armageddon. Even with Russia supporting and being a major player in the coalition strike force, the odds would heavily imbalance the world stage and lead to a possible conflict worse than the fight against the Terran Initiative for the People of Africa (TIPA). He could only hope that weapons of mass destruction wouldn’t be at play in this conflict. Though a proposition pushed forward by the Secretary of Defense, Julian Conner set a shiver down his spine as he called for “full frontal assault” in front of congress and the president.

Mike’s hand clenched the hem of his pants. The beat of the helicopter rotors pulled unsettling memories to the front of his mind; the cries of his brothers, the unending barks of rifles firing, the constant buzz of explosives detonating, all were nightmares that he had never wanted to relive in his life yet here he was. Scanning the outside tarmac, his eyes were drawn to a two-tandem rotor helicopter—the Crow CH-65 helicopter—it had replaced the long old CH-47 Chinook. Beside him, Devon and Jacob stepped forward, their attention also drawn to the helicopter. As the rear ramp dropped the three watched sixteen individuals in plain clothes unload thirty-two unmarked boxes.

“Who the hell are they?” Green asked the previously unsaid question as the sixteen individuals disappeared into the very same hangar where the briefing that was to be held by Lieutenant General Hoover was.

“Black ops? Green Berets? Probably someone from JSOC to deploy along the Activity and the CIA.” Devon fathomed. He was right. Special mission units were being tasked with the precise jobs. Any normal Army or Marine unit could handle such missions, but what was required, the speed and accuracy, could only be effectively carried out by the men that were specially trained for such missions.

Moving away from the window, Mike raised his arms and straightened himself as he approached the table the other two Ranger sat at. Sitting off to the side, he grasped his cup of coffee, his calloused fingers being nicked by the heat and a burning sensation running up his hand as he put the piping-hot liquid against his lips. After taking a small sip he let out a satisfying huff being placing the cup back on the plastic table.

“So, they’re going to be with us.” Jacob lightly said as he pointed at the hangar the unknown men had just entered. He was concerned, his voice proved that much, and he tried to share his feeling through bodily actions which went unnoticed.

“I don’t know. Something about this whole situation just doesn’t sit with me right.”

As their comments ended abruptly, the two Rangers weaseled their way to the two seat across from Mike. The sergeant’s attention had long been removed from the tarmac and his born eyes were directed to the small smart-screen TV sitting up on one of the walls.

A news reporter spoke, her voice echoed throughout the half-empty room, “—With almost simultaneous protests breaking out in Iraq, North Korea, Brazil, and Bolivia, the TIPA security council have begun the process of gathering private security forces, private military contractors, mercenaries, and other questionable groups to their side. Prime Minister of Britain and head of the UN security council, Sullivan Harrold, has yet to comment on UN troop deployments being made in the previously mentioned countries, and he has refused to comment on the actions NATO is taking to counter TIPA movements throughout the middle east, south-east Asia, and northern Africa. The sudden focus on the nations of Uganda, Kenya, and South Sudan had prompted many world leaders to question the goals the TIPA has for the continent of Africa.”

“This shit if fucking crazy.” Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Who would’ve seen that coming? Mercenaries and terrorists gathering under a single nation. We haven’t seen anything like it.”

“Five billion believe Russia and the United States is the big threat. Ideological distortion, that’s what I call this mess. A lot of people are looking at the wrong thing, they get distracted.” Devon of all people said, “That hardline faction in China is making moves against the already crumbling CCP, though I don’t know how the rest of the world will react to a sudden change of leadership.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. What do you think about this, Sarge?” Turning to call Jacob made, Mike raised an eyebrow as he tried to follow on what the PFC was asking as he hadn’t been fully paying attention to the conversation prompted by the news reporter.

He thought of an acceptable but disappointing answer, “I don’t have anything at the moment. Anyways, come with me, we need to be at the meeting on time.”

Exiting the communication building the occupied, the three walked towards the pristine and cleaned hangar where the unknown men entered a decent while ago. With Mike at the front, they were stopped by two guards at the doorway, they were nothing more than normal grunts, but they had special orders to let no one but those selected pass. Though it was a headache for the sergeant to take care of, he and his two men were quickly granted access and let inside only to be met with a large whiteboard that stuck out like a sore thumb when compared to the high-tech hangar.

THIRTEEN DAYS AND THIRTY-TWO HOURS BEFORE THE BREACH INTO HELL.

BLOOD AND HONOR FOR THE ARCHANGLES.

His eyes quickly passed over the brazen message and the brightly colored, metal-skinned angel that was hugging the knife that commonly used to depict members of a special mission’s unit such as Special Forces (SF) or the Compartmentalized Operations Force (COF). The date on the board directly mentioned when the campaign in Pakistan would begin, and that’s what kept him on his toes. His briefing had listed the counter-insurgency operation to begin in another month, but it appeared that the Pentagon made the call to role the schedule ahead of time. What bothered him was the fact that within thirteen days something would happen, be it a special operation or a direct-action mission, that was something he didn’t know, but just walking into the room it was obvious that he was going to be wrapped into something that only those that made up HIGHCOM would ever know.

They knew the bigger picture. Mike was nothing more than a grunt, a worker ant.

Walking into the room, the sergeant instantly spotted Captain Thompson. The man was sitting with the remaining members of his squadron, and they remained relatively silent as they waited for the meeting to start. Beside them were thirty soldiers apart of the 82nd Airborne division and sitting just in front of them were ten airmen wearing USAF uniforms, they were no doubt Combat Controllers that would be working in tandem with any SMU that would be deployed to Pakistan.

The men that he did not recognize from any unit, the plain-clothed operators, they spoke joyfully amongst themselves. The one leading their conversation, a man with blood red eyes and jet-black hair stood out amongst the other normal-looking men. He spoke in a relatively calm manner and his expression shared smiles as he listened to one of the men speaking about a prior incident during the war in Africa.

Letting out a curt yawn as he found himself sitting on a crate next to all the chairs the large group were sitting in. Moving on from scanning over all the unique personalities of the men and women gathered, his attention was pulled back to the sudden shutting of the metallic door and the sharp noises of boots pressing against the floor and echoing in the hangar.

Lieutenant General Hoover had already received his orders regarding the mission to Peshawar. He would temporarily give operational command to General of the Army Kennedy Adams. It was beyond an unusual order, having the top of the army suddenly come down to his level to oversee a special operation in Pakistan was bewildering at best and insane at worst. He didn’t know what the president had planned, yet an unsettling feeling settled in his stomach as he recalled a video conference, he took part in a week earlier. A general from the USAF and officers from the Russian Federation’s army spoke with the president and his cabinet to form a plan of action. The uptick of activity within the region had alarmed the superpowers and disrupted their previous concurrent operations. Between terrorist organizations, revolutionary groups, militias, contractors, mercenaries, and other third-party para-military businesses prompted a response, but to this level, that was something that weighed heavy in his mind.

He took a short breath as he arrived at the front of a small projection module.

“Settle down! I said settle down!”

Shifting in his chair, Mike focused his attention on the Lieutenant General.

“On any normal day I would thank you all for being here, but let’s be honest, have of you don’t want to end up in MP custody today.” The older man said gaining a wave of chuckles and laughs from the group gathered in the hangar, “You have all been instrumental in the buildup to secure Pakistan. Our allies in this coalition, both Russia and India have provided the necessary resources to sustain such an operation, but make no mistake, the United States is spearheading this operation against the FMPP. At o-five hundred we received news that Taliban forces and the Afghanistan Army have engaged Pakistani border guards, and as of o-seven hundred, just a few minutes ago, we have confirmed the loss of several checkpoints along the border,”

“Fucking hell. Afghanistan is declaring war with this move.” Lieutenant Patterson whispered to himself.

“Along with the shots being traded along the border, we have several other conflicts in the region that will no doubt affect the main campaign. We’re talking armed mercenaries from south-east Asia, contractors from the Baltic states, and troops from the TIPA. Those nut jobs in Africa are finally making their move, and it will be aimed towards NATO and other UN countries, so watch your shots when on the ground. One of the many targets you will be pursuing goes by the name of ‘Brutus’, he is a mid-level gun-runner and smuggler that is supplying the primary FMPP resistance in Pakistan.”

Activating the projector, a small pause was held between the men as they looked amongst themselves. Mike couldn’t help himself but look at the plain-clothed operators sitting towards the front of the large group. The man that was previously leading the conversation before the briefing started had caught his eye. The sergeant had no doubt that he had seen the man before, but her couldn’t recall exactly who the man was, nor what unit he was a part of.

“Along with special tactics operators from the Air Force, jumpers from the 82nd Airborne, and Rangers donated from the 75th Ranger Regiment, you will all be working alongside our D-Boys from COF, play nice while on the ground.” Hoover’s warning was not said with any sarcasm as silence fell upon the group gathered. Everyone looked towards the now named Delta-Force operators.

Coughing into his hand, Hoover turned the stares away from the Delta operators, “I’m sure you are all familiar with the incidents that happened in California. What happened in Los Angeles was unfortunate, but the FBI arrested the one coordinating the cell. They were able to work with the DEA and DIA to trace back the cell all the way to the FMPP here, in Pakistan.” Taking a sheet of paper and sliding it under a camera that was projected on the wall, Hoover provided an image of the target.

“We don’t have a name yet, DIA is working on that, but target designation is the name, Brutus.” Mike leaned forward trying to read the contents of the paper as Hoover continued, “With the new Task Force, Task Force Spare being formed to eliminate this new threat, you will work alongside the 2nd Marine Division to coordinate an effective containment of the city of Peshawar. A kill-capture order has come from JSOC on target Brutus, and we will be conducting missions in a single line towards the suspected target area.”

“Spare?” Mike parroted, confused on why such a name was chosen.

“Probably a false flag.” The one who whispered back was Private First Class Jonah Simon. The young rifleman rubbed the back of his neck, “Wonder why though, are they doing it to make the enemy think that we already have troops in Pakistan? Why wouldn’t they just provide a number then?”

“CIA is in with some elements of the 3rd SFG.” Jacob responded.

Glaring out of the corner of his eye, Captain Thompson quickly made the men go silent. The aged Lieutenant General paid no mind to their whispered as he continued the briefing, “As far as target acquisition goes, we have a possible safe house being used by Brutus. What’s been drawn up by High Command goes as follows: Marines will take out critical communications outposts while we roll into the city of Peshawar by helicopter. Ranger QRF led by Captain Thompson will create a cordon while the strike team will cooperate with Pakistani SSG and breach into the target buildings. The objectives we are aiming to accomplish are as follows: Secure the city of Peshawar and other major cities within the nation of Pakistan, eliminate, or arrest any and all leaders of the FMPP, and stabilize the nuclear-equipped nation.”

Lieutenant General Hoover took a quick breath as he looked up from his sheet of paper and scanned the silent crowd. “This campaign will determine the fate of the Middle East. Let’s get to work, dismissed.”

Airmen, and soldiers stood up working their way towards the many exits lined in the hangar. Most of the Rangers had begun to depart with only Captain Thompson, Lieutenant Patterson and Sergeant Malkovich staying around to gather their reports. Outside of the Delta Force operators, the Rangers had been training with the Marines, airborne troopers, and special tactics operators for the last four months; they trained through the insurgency that was quickly diminished in Iran, so, it would just be one more group to train beside.

Mike stood off just to the side. He had nothing else to do for the day except running a few drills with some Marines and doing his daily PT. As he stood listlessly not sure if he should remove himself from the hangar, the sound of a pair of boots walking on the pristine floors of the hangar took his attention away from his mindscape, and soon enough the sergeant found himself catching an Asian man, the very same man he had spotted leading the conversation amongst the Delta Operators walking towards him with a gleeful expression plastered on his face.

“Sergeant Mike Randall, correct?” The man said as he reached out a hand. “The name is Eric Briner, Chief Warrant Officer.”

“I see, pardon me for asking, sir, but have we met before?” Mike asked nervously trying to remember where he had seen Eric before.

“Operation Fortress Hold, the mission to secure satellite towns and villages spread out through Sudan. We were supposed to be a quick reaction force for your platoon of Rangers that got ambushed in the middle of that sandstorm. We didn’t make it on time, but we were more than relieved to hear that you guys made it out in one piece. It would be a shame if we had to bail your Ranger asses a second time.”

Mike blinked as he recalled the mission like it happened yesterday.

“Wait, that was Delta? You were sent to rescue us in that backwater town, sir?” He seemed more shocked than anything else.

“Yup. We were responsible for diverting TIPA death squadrons and rebel elements away from the grunts working the trenches on the front lines.” Eric said calmly not wanting to waste time on this part of the conversation, “I assure you that we won’t be late again. My D-Boys are ready for anything, just make sure you are.”

“That mission…” Mike was conflicted.

“Pep up Ranger.” Eric said giving a light slap to the sergeant’s shoulder, “We still have a few more days to train, so, I’ll see you when we’re on the range.”

Publicly Available Information: Special forces Operational Detachment – Delta—The Hidden Blade of US Special Operations Forces:

Known by many names such as: SFOD-D, Delta Force, Combat Applications Group (CAG), Army Compartmented Elements (ACE), “The Unit”, Task Force Green, and Compartmentalized Operational Forces (COF) amongst many more; Delta Force was founded November 19th, 1977, in a response to a rise in terrorism during the Cold War. Delta Force operators are primarily selected from the United States Army Special Operations Command (ASOC) elite Ranger Battalions, primarily the 75th Ranger Regiment, and Special Forces.

With a classified history since Delta Force’s inception and founding, the missions Delta Force undertakes have been revealed to be primarily counterterrorism, hostage rescue, direct action, and special reconnaissance missions. Though the “tier system” was long abandoned after the creation of many SOF units, those in Delta Force are considered the best and all SOF personnel aim to join Delta Force.

During the African conflict, Delta Force operators took part in often suicidal missions against “Alpha Grade” targets and objectives. Though the number of operators that have been killed in action is classified, video recordings and other picture evidence show that only seven operators have been killed during the campaign making Delta Force the most premier and elite military special operations unit in the world.