It was before dawn. Three four-man squads had been deployed by a pair of unarmored trucks that raced through the snowdrift that surrounded the entire province they rode through. Moving at high speeds, each gunman within the two trucks jerked back and forth as the drivers traversed the sprawling, frozen desert where only rocks and dying vegetation laid. Trainee Mike Randall kept himself occupied as he kept his gear within the confines of the vehicle.

Like the others beside him, Mike wore gray fatigues and an olive drab harness that remained strapped to his body. A green helmet with a white cover atop encased his rapidly growing hair, and it only highlighted his sharp jaw and freshly shaved face. Beside him, Trainee Malkovich adjusted the slim gloves that didn’t quite reach his jacket-sleeves showing his darker skin.

His fellow Ranger was trying to deal with the cold as he squeezed his hands in an attempt to keep his blood flowing. Mike performed a similar action with his toes, yet he felt uncomfortable in the somewhat heavy boots he had been provided by the OMFS.

As the two vehicles raced towards a small wooden building just at the edge of a large wintery forest, Mike was the first of the group to gain a visual on the target building which held their current objective: a group of armed assailants had kidnapped a diplomat that was reporting to the Federation, and he was to be found somewhere in the small town they were rapidly approaching.

With their arrival being in coordination with the timetable provided by their superiors, Mike checked the that his new bolt-action rifle had a round chambered by pulling slightly back on the straight bolt that laid atop of the wooden weapon. Its design looked oddly like that of the Karabiner 98 Kurz that the German Wehrmacht used during the Second World War, yet it almost looked frankensteined with the way the weapon actually worked.

Before the driver could call out, Mike and his team readied themselves moving swiftly; inserting fresh stripper clips, toggling safety switches, and tightening gear—whatever symphony was to play was quickly drowned out by the vehicle’s engine which only grew louder as the two vehicles broke off from each other and sped towards their destinations.

Stopping abruptly at a small patch of trees leading towards the objective, Trainee Lecca was the first to spring out of the vehicle as the others unclipped themselves with hast and too leapt onto the thick snow that covered the large plain that they sprinted across.

Cutting through the trees, several voices echoed in the distance from the small wooden cabin that awaited the four. Falling behind Polk, Lecca concentrated on breathing as she continued to sprint over small rocks, snow piles, and dead tree branches. Polk was the first to reach the property line of the cabin as he raised his rifle and fired it striking a man in the chest killing him instantly. Racking another round into his gun, Lecca ran in front of him as she moved towards the primary entry point that was designated by their commanding officer. Firing her rifle with great accuracy, a second target slumped to the ground as she now fell behind Mike who took the lead.

Sprinting straight at the door, Mike slowed as he turned the corner of the only room that was currently open from the outside and fired a round at a man that was hiding in the corner. Racking the bolt of his gun as the target hit the wall behind him, Mike remained wary of the intelligence that the OMFS had provided for the mission; the target was held in a small village, and it was more than suggested that there would be stiff resistance from hostile forces.

With Wash moving towards a door that was closed along with the other three, Mike shot the body slumped against the wall a second time to confirm the kill before turning around to join his fellow team members. Slamming the door open and walking in at a brisk speed, Wash missed his shot and force Polk to cover his ass as the next target collapsed on several cabinets with a crimson red liquid pouring from his head.

Not having the time to chastise her carless teammate, Lecca took the lead as she and Mike were the first two to enter a living room area where a man waited to ambush them at the next hallway. As the man fired what looked to be a revolver-styled weapon, Lecca was fortunate for him to miss as she pursued the target, firing two bullets into his chest spreading red liquid on the stained wooden floor.

With Mike and Polk moving left and opening a door to a sub-bedroom, Lecca followed as Wash provided security on the hallway. It was a clean sweep with Polk having to discharge his gun on a target that laid on the bed with another pistol-styled weapon in their hands.

Doubling back, Lecca tapped Wash’s shoulder making him move down the hall towards the final room within the building. At the final door, the wooden piece was kicked down by Wash as he stepped aside allowing the other three to storm the room. A man held the diplomatic hostage in his right arm as his left grasped for a gun on the table behind him.

Bingo.

Even with all the training Mike ever had in his life, making a shot with a hostage at risk wasn’t encouraged, yet he would put more people at risk if he didn’t neutralize the threat while it was busy trying to retrieve a weapon. Aligning the metal sights on the rifle he held, he decompressed the trigger as he quickly exhaled giving to window for the bullet to be its most accurate.

A splotch of red coated the targets face as he collapsed to the ground with the woman in his arms scrambling away from the now dead body screaming.

In the matter of forty seconds, eight targets were confirmed eliminated and the hostage was secured.

“Up!” Polk roared as he kicked over the body that had just hit the floor. “Up!”

“Room clear!” Dragging the woman by her arm, Wash took the hostage out of the room with Mike moving ahead of him with Lecca to secure the exit. “Let’s go!” Mike ordered as he checked over the eight bodies throughout the property.

“Are you hurt!?” Wash asked in a suave voice making the woman nod at him.

“N-No.” She was able to say as she was continued to be dragged by the man to the same door where they had entered.

“Get moving!”

One-by-one the five-man group left the building with speed as they raced towards the vehicle waiting for them at the edge of the forest. Lecca’s breath was visible in the winter weather, and her body shook once more as she moved through the thick snow that covered the edge of the forest. Her and her teammate’s trail was left visible, but it wouldn’t matter as they soon saw the vehicle, they had arrived on not a few minutes earlier.

Glancing behind her, the princess-turned-operator looked at the hostage they had rescued. The diplomat was a young woman with short-brown hair in a tomboyish cut. The woman’s clothing was mostly intact, just the stray splotch of dirt or mud had soaked into the black fabric of her suit. Thankfully, other than the snow, the terrain was suitable enough for the diplomat to walk on as she clutched at her waist presumably nursing a wound she sustained while in terrorist custody.

“Get in! Get in!” The driver of the truck shouted, making the group move faster through the thick snow. Turning around an facing the forest, Mike, and Polk watched the forest with quiet eyes as Lecca assisted the diplomat into the back of the truck while Wash clambered into his seat. Roaring to life the truck began to violently move as the rest secured themselves within the vehicle. Slamming the gear forwards, the metal beast lunged forward kicking up snow as a chorus of gunshots echoed from the forest. Whether it was friendly fire or the hostile terrorists, identification was impossible as the vehicle tore around the edge of the forest towards the second objective where team two would’ve been to secure vital intelligence and eliminate the leader of the terrorist group that had overtaken the small backwater town.

With the freezing wind blowing against Lecca’s face and short tomboyish cut silver hair, her brown eyes trailed to the forest not far away as she looked upon the spaced-out trees that let more than ample sunlight through the greenery and snow. Performing an operation on such rough terrain would become a common thing in her life. From the golden fields beyond Stragea, to the sparkling snow-covered deserts in the Federation, she had been on the move in such environments for the last several months.

Such places would consume and rip apart those do not prepare, though there were those that lived in such environments plagued by monsters, demons, and other nations. Those safe in the interior would call such people insane, yet the day-to-day troubles were nothing in a walk in the park for those that knew how to deal with such threats.

“Makes me wonder what the hell people move out here for.” Leaning out of his seat and looking out the wire frame door, Polk scoured the surrounding area looking for anything of interest.

“Probably those that don’t want to get involved with the cities or government.” Wash said as he placed his hand against Lecca’s seat.

“Stay focused.” Mike said keeping calm as he unpacked a spare jacket in the bag he had. “Let’s not get caught looking for trouble.” Handing the jacket to the diplomat, the woman said her thanks silently as the princess stared at the interaction with a blank face.

“Team two got caught in a firefight! We’re backing them up so they can get out!” The driver shouted over the roar of the truck’s engine as he throttled the pedal.

“Shouldn’t we get the diplomat to safety!?” Mike shouted with surprise as he made sure the woman triaged and in a stabilized position. “This is hostage extraction 101! We have to get her back to base!” Grasping the seat, the driver was in, the younger boy shivered at the Sergeant’s booming voice.

“Orders sir!”

“Don’t fucking call me sir! I work for a living, God damn it!” Mike roared. “Turn this metal box around now! Get her back to base!”

Before the driver could retort his order, a thunderous crack emerged from behind making the four gunmen turn around. Two muzzle flashes emerged from several shooters on three trucks that pursued them over the flat, frozen desert. Bullets pelted the grounds they drove over, the driver changed gears as he increased the speed of the vehicle.

Snapping into action, Mike collected the diplomat below his body, leaving him to only lean over her as he steadied his bolt-action rifle on the truck as he fought to see through the snow-dust that was kicked up from the tires. Polk was the first to fire as he struck the pursuing vehicles in the grill, yet it did little to nothing as the hostiles kept pace.

“What is this movie bullshit!?” Mike groaned as he struggled to chamber another round.

Aligning the metal sights of her rifle, Lecca focused her mind as a small faint purple casting circle covered her left eye. What she was casting was a faint beam of pure mana that would help her direct the shots fired from her gun. It wasn’t anything special, just a visual indicator that would assist in aiming, but it was more than enough with her new proficiency in firearms to shoot “Dead-Eye” when she was tested for marksmanship by the OMFS.

She was the resident sniper, and all she had to do was perform her job once more.

Decompressing the trigger of her rifle, the bullet loaded in the chamber with a cloud of gas. Firing at a slowly moving target at long distance was something difficult for most shooters yet firing between two high-speed moving platforms was something she found to be quite impossible. She missed her first shot as it just grazed pass the driver of one of the hostile vehicles. Slamming the bolt back, she loaded a new bullet as her frustration grew.

“Thirty-seconds!” Their own driver called out as he slammed the vehicle towards the right, intending on linking up with team 2 who were currently caught in a firefight with quickly dwindling terrorists.

Clenching his jaw, Mike grimaced at the thought of getting the others caught in an encircled position, but he had no words as he targeted the wheel on one of the vehicles. He hesitated but committed to the action as the bullet he now fired ripped through the thick tire sending the first vehicle crashing into the second creating a large mess of metal and bodies.

Opening one of the pouches on his harness, he quickly drew a clip to insert into his empty weapon. Over his shoulder, Lecca climbed and rested against the wire-frame roof as she once again aimed her rifle at the final behicle that was pursuing them. Breathing out as she squeezed the trigger, the bullet smashed through the front windshield and tore through the head of the driver sending the vehicle into a rollover.

“Nice fucking shot sweetheart!” Wash cheered as the silver-haired princess rolled her eyes.

As the truck pulled just behind team two led by Captain Thompson, gunfire was kept at a steady tempo as pot shots were made by the terrorists taking cover in the tree line and scattered wooden huts. With only four men against what felt like ten to fifteen hostiles, it was more than difficult to coordinate an effective response; the only reason why they were still alive, was the quick thinking of the Thompson to disengage and fall back to the vehicle they arrived on.

“Take care of her kid!” Mike ordered as he and the others jumped out of the truck and sprinted towards Team 2.

Crawling on the ground, Simon reached a firing position and placed two shots in one of the hostile’s chest. The body fell backwards and did not move as he scanned the trees for more—bullets rained down around him near his head—he was forced to move back to prevent being shot. “Friendlies coming up the rear!” He screamed at the top of his lungs as he spotted Mike and his fireteam moving up on the right side of the forest entrance.

“Thompson, status!” Mike bellowed as he knelt behind a large boulder that was covered in snow.

“13 to the southwest!” Sitting behind cover, the man looked from his cover as he gripped his wooden rifle tightly. “Flank them from the West! Well provide suppression to the east!”

“Their commander up there!?” Mike shouted back as the captain nodded.

“Some kid wielding a revolver, you can’t miss him!”

“Oh, hell no!” Wash said as he remained behind the rock alongside Lecca and Polk. “Rush up there!?”

“Lecca!” Mike said ignoring the semi-fearful golden-haired boy, “Move to those ruins—I’m going to take care of that gunner at the top!” He said pointing at a man firing a shotgun at the top of the hill. “Polk, Wash, reorient your fire to the southwest! Keep their heads down!”

“Aye!” Polk said peering the corner and firing his rifle. “Go! Go!” He boomed making the princess and sergeant get on their feet and running towards the enemy position near old ruins that were frozen over and weathered.

With some shooters redirecting their fire at the two trainees, bullets impacted the ground around them as they slid into cover behind one of the stone structures while Polk moved up with a less than reluctant Wash. Each fired their rifle with over sixteen bullets being sent downrange before even one hostile had been eliminated. Whistling noises flew over the Sergeant’s head as he remained prone while watching the distant figures move along the tree line like marker dots on a white sheet of paper.

Moving forward with the rest of the fireteam, Wash was not enjoying the firefight he had been caught in for the second time this day. Being a fighter was not one of his strong suits, and he initially imagined that training for the OMFS would focus on intelligence gathering rather than direct action missions. Sweat ran down the side of his head and his breaths remained haggard as he stood next to a large pile of weathered stones.

“Kill them!” There was no sympathy in Polk’s voice as he rushed forward on the right side exposing the flank of one of the hostiles that had just entered the ruin’s grounds with two others. Shooting the exposed man, the body slumped against the wall he hid behind as Polk gave a dead check—a single bullet to the head, caving it in.

Mike couldn’t help but blink at the carnage that was happening in front of him. The gunshots around helped him prevent the bloodied snow and torn clothing of the terrorist from being imprinted in his mind.

There were some things he would like to forget, and similar scenes he would not like to see repeated.

Hefting forward and shaking off the snow on his shoulder, Mike motioned for the other two gunmen under his command out from the wall they hid behind. Less than three minutes after they contacted friendly forces, he was once again leading a fireteam into the line of fire to eliminate enemy positions and strongholds.

Taking a firing position on a set of rocks within the ruins; the sight picture in his metal iron sights was clear as he spotted a man peering out from behind a tree. The target was pale, and he brushed snow off his weapon and shoulders as he was about to settle against the large flora. Swiping his hand on the right side of the weapon, the metal bolt was lifted and positioned back as he pushed it forward with a steady hand. The bullet he was firing was a steel-core, jacketed beryllium-metal alloy bullet. It was design to fragment and tumble within a target, though the range was somewhat limited, thus it was only designated for close quarters engagements. Compared to the 5.56, it was not as lethal at range, yet it did prove fatal to any target shot within two-hundred feet.

Confidant that his bullet would pass through the target’s chest, Mike watched as the man turned his direction as if he knew that he was being aimed at.

Calming his breaths, he wrapped his finger around the trigger and light decompressed it, taking off the slack. Increasing the pressure on his ungloved finger, he waited for the target to stop shifting before slamming the trigger back letting the bullet exit with a deafening crack. Whistling through the air, it only took a single second for the round impacted and completely tore through the target’s sternum. Pieces of flesh and bone exited the wound as the disformed bullet embedded itself in a pile of snow—blood from the target painted the powder substance in a crimson red.

Seeing an opening, Thompson directed his team to surge the left center of the hill—each of their steps were marked in the snow as they moved from cover-to-cover, trying to avoid being in the direct line of fire of hostile bullets. It was pure luck that none were hit, but perhaps the sudden assault being made by Team 1 was enough to throw the terrorists into chaos.

“Captain!” Lecca yelled over the dwindling gunfire. “Five left!”

“Secure the area!” The man shouted back catching both Polk and Wash, and his other team members other than Simon, off guard.

With bullets bursting through the chest of one of the five, the remaining terrorists twisted in fear and gawked as the lightly armored trainees assaulted their position with efficiency and pure lethality. Slamming against a tree and shouldering his rifle, snow kicked up as a bullet emerged from his rifle igniting the gas that had been consistently escaping the barrel.

As the final target was running off, Mike, Thompson and their respective squadrons aligned their weapons on the leader—the young boy with the revolver. Each hesitated as they watched the boy look back at them with pure fear in his eyes, thus a dilemma was presented: would they shoot a terrorist boy who was fleeing?

Wash was the one to answer that question: yes. “I’m nailing that bitch!” He screamed slamming back the trigger on his rifle and sending a single bullet downrange. Ripping through the neck of the boy, the target fell to the ground grasping his neck as he began to choke on his own blood.

Mike breathed heavily as he grasped his right ear. It began to ring with the “earthshaking” pulse of the wooden rifle being fired beside him for a second time. Keeping his eyes shock, he felt the heat of his body fighting against the snow and cold wind. Opening his eyes, the last thing he heard was the boy letting out a noise—a scream that quietly turned into a whimpering moan—then silence.

It was late at night. The white snow poured down just outside of the small windows that shed moonlight onto the tile floors. Standing at her locker, Lecca felt sluggish after she had dressed into her fatigues. Throughout training she had opted to where the next days clothes the night before to save on time, but the weight wasn’t making her fell right, especially after the mission she was sent on with her other team members.

Earlier the men had washed up quickly and were off to finish their preparations for the night and next early morning. She was alone in the room, with her being the only female in training this batch, it was common for her to use this time to gather her thoughts. Yet here she was trying to clear her mind; the pictures of bloodied bodies and the scared diplomat replayed in her mind over-and-over just like all the other corpses she had created with her own blade.

A gentle knock on the bathroom entrance snapped her out of her thoughts. Without another word she walked over and placed her pale hand on the door handle. Closing her eyes and taking a soft breath, she opened the door revealing the darkened hallway; the light flooded from the washroom and revealed Mike as he stood silently with exhaustion in his body posture.

Before the Sergeant could open his mouth, Lecca cut him off as she suddenly spoke up, “—You really see such things I your world?” Taken aback by the sudden question, Mike pulled his thoughts together as he hummed at what the princess just said. “—How do you get used to such sights?”

“You don’t.” Mike said firmly as he leaned against the doorway.

“Eh?”

“The U.S Army taught us about the story of Jessica Lynch. They taught us about what the Private saw when she was captured by hostile forces, but what stuck with me was the story of that times Rangers that had to dig up bodies of their fellow soldiers from the ground with nothing but their bare hands.”

A complex expression came across Mike’s face as he remembered the declassified videos he saw and the stories he heard. “Getting used to something like what happened today is impossible…” He admitted making the silver-haired woman lower her head.

Keeping her head up, a wavering smile appeared on her face as she looked directly looked into the Sergeant’s brown eyes.

Feeling a tightness in his chest, Mike placed a hand on her shoulder and brought the woman into a hug while patting the back of her head. Maneuvering through the labyrinth of his own feelings, the two stood in the twilight as he spoke softly, “C’mon, we still need to get you back to your kingdom.” He said letting go and turning around with his hands in his pockets.

Publicly Available Information: Live Fire Exercises:

Military personnel, intelligence agencies, and law enforcement agencies require all members that are employed in combat occupations to conduct regular live-fire drills and scenarios using both live ammunition, and specialty made bullets that allow shooters to fire at each other without risk of fatal injury.

Specialty positions in both the military, OMFS, NIA, and OHFI such as: Demolition Teams (DT), Maritime Combat Squadrons (MCS), Air Combat Regiments (ACR), Communication Specialists (CS), Field Officers (FO), Field Agents (FA), Special Agents (SA), and other specialty units are all required to undergo bi-yearly evaluations using Combat Doll Units (CDU) that simulate wartime opposing forces.