At a small fenced in air base, small buildings with high militant activity, a black transport truck weaved through the crowd of people, a green tarp keeping snow from falling on the occupants inside. After searching for a place to park, The truck then came to a halt on a tarmac with tents and people at fire pits to keep warm.
The driver got out of the truck and headed around back. He opened the tarp and gave a firm hand gesture to get out. Out of the truck came four men and one woman, all armed to the teeth in tactical vests which were a dark green and dark beige camo pattern to match woodland shrubs. Each vest had the infamous red star, meaning they were part of a Russian organization. Standing to the side of one of the men was a large male German Shepherd wearing a bulletproof vest for dogs also adorning Russia’s red star.
the driver then got back in the truck, gave a wave goodbye and drove away. The last man out shoved a TT-30 pistol into a holster and made his way through a maze of small transport trucks and armed men and women carrying crates or gearing up in tents with small bonfires inside.
After rounding a corner and passing a stern looking man in his late seventies, a team member handed him an AK-47, nodding to the man while grabbing the Soviet weapon, he slid in a bullet loaded magazine while sticking a few more into his Kevlar vest. All right everyone, let’s get this show on the road, the man who handed him the rifle yelled to the rest of the team with a thick yet clear Russian accent.
The imposing man checked his gun for any problems as he stepped onto a snow cleared tarmac. a lone Sikorsky Blackhawk on an apron helipad with a skull logo embedded into the ground, Two Soviet rifles used for the cross bones. The helicopter’s blades spraying cold wind and snow particles at his Balaclava covered face which he enjoyed, the one thing he loved about the motherland was the snow and cold weather.
A man was inspecting the big helicopter and gave a thumbs up to the head honcho as he boarded. The team consisted of four men, one woman, and one multipurpose attack dog, each with different roles. Yet, they would have to make that five men as a man with stubble on his face wearing a snow cap and a bulletproof vest, a FN Scar 17 in his hand boarded in front of him.
“Fuck this weather!” The man then turned his attention to the team leader, regaining his composure. “First time in a blackhawk, heck of a day ain’t it mate.” The Russian cocked an eyebrow before responding to his words. “Yes, and by how you just acted shows you can barely tolerate this weather and you are not from here.”
“No sir, I’m an ex spec ops of her majesty’s armed forces.” The Russian man squinted at the British man. “Okay, yeah I am not a professional co-leader yet I can manage for a while if need be, I’m just your medic and electronics operator.”
“you're one of us now, welcome to the team comrade.” “I am the team leader, Sergei Gennady. The British man nodded. “The man with the very thick eyebrows and green eyes is Ivan Kozlov, our corpsman and scouter.”
“Our sniper here is Sasha Makarov, an ex Spetsnaz like myself.” He Gestured to a woman with brown hair, everything else was covered by private military gear, a bandanna, and a hood. Sergei got close to the man and squinted. His gaze could pierce ten iron doors. “She never misses.” The man in front of him gulped as Sasha gave him a glare that could kill an entire army alone.
“Our heavy machine gunner up there manning the M240B is Yuri Becker, do not make him angry or you will regret it.” Once again The new guy nodded vigorously in fear which was what Sergei wanted to see, just for the fun of it.
“Last but not least is our expert tracker and dog handler, Yevgeny Vladimir. Yevgeny, out of all of the team, gave a friendly wave. “The dog is named Buford, he will be our only non human ground support and personal sniffer dog, trained to attack, kill, and detain anyone on standby.”
we do what the big boss wants his little mercenaries to do.” Nodding in understanding, the British man looked outside as the chopper was taxiing to a rather small runway, the pilots waiting for a plane to taxi off of the runway.
“Before we depart from this frozen wasteland, no offense to your homeland and all, I should really give my name, and will most likely be stationed with you for a while.” Charlie Atkins at your service. The Russian team leader watched two men close the cargo doors and looked back at Atkins. “Welcome aboard Atkins.”
With the plane off the runway, and getting an all clear from the ATC tower that was specifically made to hide the mercenary activity and scramble satellites, the pilots got the large chopper off the ground and tilted the nose forward as they gained speed and altitude as the Sikorsky lifted into the air, flying over a seemingly endless snowy mountain terrain.
____________________________________________
Sergei’s POV.
____________________________________________
The large helicopter flew over the vast mountain ranges of the wilderness of Moscow, the cold biting at Charlie Atkins body like angry mosquitoes, even if the main cargo doors were closed, the gunner still had his window open. Not caring if he got frostbite or not, I looked out one of the cargo door’s windows at the world below.
All I wanted to do was kill the bastards who were responsible for my grandfather’s death, if not me, I hope that someone would. we also have to watch out for American military activity. We are a small group of extremely deadly mercenaries who work for a man in the Russian government who is providing us shelter and by that I mean all of us live in extremely fancy houses our boss loans us. If we fail him, we will be on the streets and later on in a maximum security prison. But we never have failed him in the many years of our time working for Killzone private military company. Still, we would be outgunned easily if we encountered Americans.
My thoughts were shattered as the pilots tried to get our attention. Positioning my microphone and headset, I tried to get in contact with them. “What is your situation?” They would only call if it was something very important. “I need you all to Brace yourselves as we are about to enter one hell of a storm, we will try our best to descend lower to get out of the storm.”
“We are almost to our stop and we will drop you off and you will be flying by plane to Iraq then to Afghanistan to which your targets are.” Sure there was a lot of static, but I could still make out what they said. “Copy that.” As we shook around in our seats from the storm, I once again looked out the window and saw nothing but clouds.
“So, boss, how far up are we, by that, I mean, are we still high up in the air right?” I turned my attention towards Hunter. “I have no clue Hunter, we could at least be still in mid flight for all I know.” Just as I said that, the chopper banked hard, causing us to hold on to at least something, not even caring as I saw Atkins looking out the window in astonishment. “The hell was that!”
“Looked like a tree, some sort of tropical tree like you’d see in the rainforest, never been myself but I saw documentaries about the place.” I was not in the mood for a damn lesson right now, I needed to know what the hell was going on and if we were under enemy fire. “Fuck that Atkins and focus, I want an explanation.” I situated my headset and got our pilot on the line, Luis Patrov.
“What’s going on up there Patrov?” All I got was damn static until both pilots started talking to one another. “ I think you guys want to brace yourselves for what you’re about to see”. Not getting what he was going on about, I decided to take a look out the window and boy did my jaw drop. We were flying over a lush forest, a forest that was not even supposed to be here at all. “What the hell,” I muttered while staring outside.
____________________________________________
Applejacks POV.
____________________________________________
Well Big Mac, there ain’t no better way to harvest apples quickly then the… oh great, them humans are slacking off again. Do you want me to bring out the whip? Nah, ya want somethin done ya gotta do it yourself. And with that I was about to make my way towards the two children playing instead of doing what they were supposed to be doing, until a loud noise nearing the fields was heard and it sent them younglings running. What me and Mac saw was one mighty hell of a sight! Rounding some of our apple trees, a huge contraption of some sort with a windmill rotor on top and another near what I assumed was its tail, somehow flying low without cutting anything with those chopping things. It kept going until we couldn’t hear it any more. It had windows though, meaning somepony must be piloting it. Did the royal guard make a new type of defense machine, nothing that advanced has been heard out of Canterlot and twilight would have informed me. Twilight! She would obviously know what to do, I better get a spare apple to toss at Rainbow dash. Serves her darn right for nearly making a drought on mah farm! With my new goal, I headed out to find the girls.
____________________________________________
Meanwhile, Gennady's helicopter flew over trees, the heilo flying slowly so they could scan the unknown land they were now in. He looked out the window and saw a large field near an American looking farmhouse and barn. Not wanting to waste any fuel even if the pilots said the fuel mysteriously replenished itself like a fucking video game, He still wasn’t going to risk a crash. There! Set her down nice and easy, we went through one hell of a storm and we have no idea if this bird has any damaged or malfunctioning parts.
The helicopter lowered to the ground and the gear gently touched the dirt as they landed in a grassy field. The boss gave a nod and the mercenaries all jumped out, guns traced in all directions. The hired guns were all confused by their surroundings. It was Atkins who broke the silence. “Where the hell are we Gennady?”
Gennady looked around, gun in hand. “I don’t know, but we got to check this place out.”
“We need to find a phone and call the boss and tell him what has happened.” He was now downright confused at his now colorful surroundings. “Um, boss?” Gennady looked to where a frightened Kozlov stood. He also noticed the dog was growling aggressively, yet very confused at whatever he was seeing. There, right in front of him was a creature that looked like a crossbreed between a human and a horse just with a more cute appearance. She had yellow fur, short but still noticeable. somewhat gold or amber colored eyes, and red hair, adorning it was an oversized red bow.
This couldn’t be happening, could it. “Hey, what are ya humans doin without an owner?” The mercenaries were all taken aback by what she had said. Should we shoot her? This thing ain’t on the level boss, kozlov asked grimly. “No, we are not here to hurt people unless people are being hurt by someone, do not engage, yet I want to know why she said master”.
Gennady walked up to the now shaking creature and spoke sternly but tried his best not to be scary as he knew what prey animals do when scared, They run for the hills. But he had no clue where he was so he assumed that she would do so.
“Okay kid, I’m gonna ask you nicely, how do you know about our species, and what do you mean by us not having owners?” The pony shrank back but knew better than to run. I’ll tell you but don’t hurt me. The armed leader sighed, knowing a question like this would have to pop up.
“I won’t unless you give me a reason to, I am a man of my word.” The pony, horse, whatever hybrid it was infused with, took a while to compose herself. “Well, y’all are used for labor and nannies, most of you fellas are pets, but you all seem different.” Gennady was on his last straw as he switched his gun to semi automatic. He hated slavery with a passion and it disgusted him greatly. Before he could do anything he would regret, a voice rang out in their direction causing them all to trace their weapons in said direction.
“Y’all get away from mah sister wild humans!!!”. A familiar blonde farmer came running down the hill, a small dog bringing up the rear. At the sound of an aggressive voice, The German Shepherd got in an attack position and showed off his large teeth. The mercenaries flicked their guns safeties off. As quickly as he could, Becker got to work, fixing any parts of the 308 cal machine gun while the pilots inspected the aircraft and prepped it so they could make a clean getaway. Well, “shits about to get real boys.”
Author's Note
Well, this is the first chapter and I hope ya like it. Sure some people have done these stories but I wanted to throw a somewhat soldier one in, a lot of displaced characters, not that I have a problem with that, it’s what got me to do this in the first place. The Blackhawk looks like a Uh-60L but no United States Army on it. Just black with the Russian red star. The mercenaries Look like your average day spetsnaz soldier just with camouflage military fatigues.
