SEAL Team Four: Missing In Action [Cancelled]

The sound of the HV-22 Osprey’s blades filled John’s ears as the tiltrotor aircraft started up its two RR T406 turboprop engines. SEAL Team Four was granted a mission to assassinate Faruk Al-Bashir, the secondary leader of the PLR. After Solomon, a former CIA operative, almost put an end to New York City with a WMD, the US waged war with the PLR, and went after its second-in-command. If this mission went well, it could mean an end to the Global War of 2014. If not, well let’s just say the world could end up in a nuclear winter.

The charcoal colored Osprey began to shake as it lifted off of the ground, but the abruptly stopped when it was a few meters up. It tilted forwards as a ramper guided the Osprey with his wands. After a few second of guiding, to make sure the Osprey was clear of any obstructions, it lifted upwards. The Osprey tilted forwards, angling it’s propellerss. The aircraft quickly gained speed, and John turned his attention back to his squad.

“Alright men, we know the objective!” John had to shout over the noise of the propeller blades. “We eliminate the HVT Faruk Al-Bashir! This mission is risky; the whole world rests on our shoulders! If there’s one little fuck-up, the world enters a nuclear winter! Got it?!”

He was met by a chorus of ‘Yes Sir!’

“Alright! Check your damn weapons, equipment, and pack! Like I said, if we screw up, we’re not only dead, but the whole fuckin’ world!”

John checked over his gear for the third time that evening.

‘Ok. M4, check. G18, check. Pack, check. CamelBak, check. Gear, check. Let’s get this shit done.’

John flipped his night-vision goggles over his face. The green light was blinding at first, but his pupils shrunk, and he was able to see around the cabin. All his men were checking their gear, and putting their goggles on. John took off his parachute, and made sure everything was packed correctly.

The pilot’s voice called out over the intercom. “One klick until we reach the AO! Opening cargo doors!”

John gave a thumbs up, and watched at the cargo door opened up, revealing a dark sky filled with shining white dots. He secured his strap to a bar in the cabin and walked over to examine over the edge.

As he neared, the cold midnight air rushed up to meet him. John looked over the edge, and what he saw was fascinating. There were buildings everywhere, the streets packed with vehicles, despite it being 2 AM in Jeddah.

“Ten seconds!” the pilot’s voice shouted. John walked back, and unsecured the karabiner from the bar. He joined up with his men in a straight line, him being last. He looked up, where a red light had just came on. A few seconds later, it turned green.

“GO GO GO!” John shouted, as Cooper, Griffin, Brandon, and he jumped out of the aircraft. Like before, as he neared the opening, the cold air rushed up to greet him. The wind hit his face, making it slightly red from the temperature difference. After exiting the aircraft, he looked over at his wrist to see that he was nearing 2000 meters from sea level. Knowing that the land was a little above that, he estimated it to be about 1950 meters. Looking behind him, he could see the Osprey fly away from him.

‘There’s no going back now.’

After about a minute, he looked back at his wrist. It read 800m.

‘Time to deploy.’

They moved away from each other, and deployed their chutes.

“ALRIGHT MEN! OBTAIN A HEADING OF 270!” They adjusted their ram-air parachutes to a heading of 270 degrees.

All was quiet during their descent. No birds, crickets, or anything like that out here in the desert. John looked behind him to see the city lights slowly fading away.

After couple moments of descending, SEAL Team Four touched down, their combat boots making a crunching sound on the coarse sand. They all quickly repacked their parachutes.

“Alright, Brandon, set up your M98 on that hill over there.” John pointed at a large hill overlooking the compound where Al-Bashir was hiding.

John restated the plan to make sure everything went off without a hitch. “Cooper and Griffin, you’re with me. We’re going to infiltrate the compound, and eliminate the HVT, and eliminate everybody that opposes with lethal force. Got it?”

“Yes sir!”

“Then let’s move!”

John peeled the sticker off of the breaching explosives, and stuck it on the metal door.

“Alright men! Stack up!” The bodies of the three SEALs pressed against the cool stone wall. Griffin was on the right of the door, with his SCAR-L. John and Cooper were on the left side with their M4A1 and M249.

“Brandon, how copy, over?” John said into his radio.

“Send.”

“You covering us?”

“Wilco. Out.”

John looked over to his comrades. “Brandon’s got us covered. You ready.”

“Affirmative,” said the SEALs.

“BREACHING!” John pushed the detonator. There was a loud explosion, and a flash of orange light.

“LET’S MOVE!” John cautiously stepped through the smoke, and headed to the left, M4 raised. Next was Griffin, who went to the right with his weapon raised. Last but not least was Cooper, who went forward, SAW raised.

“CLEAR!” shouted John. They looked around. It was a shabby place. Tiles were cracked, some missing. There was one lit lightbulb overhead, hanging by a wire. Off to his left was a kitchen, which was surprisingly clean, compared to the rest of the place. Forwards was a staircase. John motioned for his squad to follow. They slowly went up the stairs, weapons raised. As John neared the second floor. He heard shouts, then a bullet struck the concrete not less than in inch from his head. Instead of backing away, he rushed forwards, and quickly took out both gunmen. He looked around to make sure there were no more hostiles, and then inspected the bodies. Once he was done, John stood back up. In front of him was the only door on the second floor, the one leading to Al-Bashir.

He quietly moved to the door, and extended his left hand to the knob. Before his hand reached it. It twisted quickly, and a figure stepped out, holding an AK-74. That figure was Al-Bashir. They heard him shout something in Arabic, but before he could finish, his head exploded. Pink and white bits of brain and bone shards went everywhere. His limp body dropped to the floor, his AK going off from the impact. Luckily, the bullets went everywhere except into the SEALs.

It took a second for John to process what happened. He then quickly turned on his radio.

“Nice shot Brandon,” he said into the radio casually.

“Thanks,” he heard static for a second, then Brandon was back on comms. “I see some tangos coming from the east to inspect the AO. ETA one minute. Get out of there! I’ll meet you at the LZ and radio for a ride. Over.”

“We got ya Brandon. Moving to LZ. Out.”

John got out a digital camera, and quickly snapped pictures of the body. After doing so, he put it away, and rushed through the door. They didn’t have time to grab intelligence, or identify the body, so they legged it to the LZ, where they would meet up with Brandon.

The crunch of the sand beneath his boots, and the ragged breath of his squad mates was all he could hear. In the distance, he could see the same Osprey that picked them up with Brandon leaning out the side with one of the pilot’s P90.

They reached the Osprey, and vaulted into the cabin.

“Took ya long enough,” Brandon said jokingly.

“Shut up.” John said in between breaths. His team had just run half a mile with 100 pounds of gear on. “It’s not like you had this much fucking gear on.” That was the truth. Since Brandon was only there to provide sniper support, he had half the weight of the gear that the other members of SEAL Team Four had. He still had acrylic plates and pockets full with .50 cal ammo, but, he had less of it.

“Whatever. Yo’ Curt! Take us away!” Brandon shouted into the cockpit. The Osprey started to lift up and tilt forwards, heading away from the compound.

John flipped up his night-vision goggles, which were caked with sand, and rubbed his forearm on his forehead.

John secured his karabiner to the bar once again, wand walked over to the edge of the cabin. Since the pilots had not yet closed the doors, he could see the crowd of enemies down below.

‘That was a close one.’

He thought he saw one kneel down, holding a tube on his shoulder.

‘I hope that’s not what I think it is...’

“Brandon! Hand me your rangefinders!” He felt a weight land on his hand, his eyes never leaving the suspicious person. John pressed the rangefinders to his eyes. There was one Arabian kneeling down with a surface-to-air man-portable launcher aiming right at the Osprey. John felt a sense of dread come over him.

“Oh fuck, we are so boned! We got a man-portable down there!” he shouted franticly. Suddenly, there was a bright flash from the ground, and a smoke trail steering itself towards the Osprey.

“SHIT! GET DOWN!” There was a loud explosion, and a large shudder. John looked out, inspecting the engines. The left one was fine, but the right one was on fire. Then the Osprey started to tilt to the right. Suddenly, there was a green aura surrounding the Osprey that was getting brighter every second.

“WE GOTTA JUMP!” yelled John.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” shouted Griffin.

“YES! NOW EVACUATE!” John ran to the cargo doors.

“HE’S GONNA JUMP!” shouted Griffin.

“YEAH HE IS! NOW JUMP!” shouted Cooper as he too ran to the doors. But before both SEALs could jump, there was a blinding flash.

Sunlight seeped through John’s eyelids as he slowly came to. He immediately realized something was wrong. The reason being he had a face full of dirt.

‘Didn’t we crash is a desert?’

As soon as he started to remember last night, a piercing pain went through his skull. The feeling was akin to a large nail being driven through it. He clutched his head, hoping by doing this it would go away—but it was all in vain. He tried to subdue the pain by gritting his teeth, and going into a fetal position. Then suddenly, the pain went away as quickly as it came.

John slowly rose up from the earth, trying to steady himself. He moved his hands around to try to grab on to anything. John felt his hand brush a tree. He moved his hand back, and then leaned on said tree.

‘Wait… There’s no trees in the desert.’

He suddenly opened his eyes, and took in his surroundings. In front of John was the twisted wreck of the HV-22. It was tilted sideways, the right wing completely crushed. However, the left wing barely had a scratch on it. He looked left and right. All there was, was endless forest.

‘Damn. How are we gonna get outta here?’

After the dizziness faded away, and his vision became clear, he walked up to mangled aircraft. Scattered around it were his squad mates, who were just beginning to stir. He acknowledged this, and walked inside of the aircraft.

Everything in the aircraft was a mess. There was debris everywhere. Glass and dirt littered the side of the aircraft from where the right windows had broken. One of the left side benches, despite being bolted down, had fallen.

John saw a reflection amongst the debris, and found Brandon’s rangefinders, still completely intact.

‘Score!’

John continued forwards, until he came to the cockpit. He pried the pilot’s head from the control panel so he could determine if he was alive or not.

What he saw was a gruesome sight, even by his standards.

The pilot’s plastic visor had broken into pieces, and lodged itself in both of his eyes. His chin was smashed in, and some parts of his cheek were missing, exposing his mouth. Also, his helmet and skull were cracked wide open.

‘Holy shit, I feel really bad for Curt. This is pretty gruesome, even by my standards.’

He pulled the body from the cockpit, and fireman-carried it out of the Osprey. He gently set the corpse down, and closed its eyes. He then went back in to check on the co-pilot, Larry.

When he entered, what he saw wasn’t as gruesome at Curt, but he was dead nonetheless. Just like with Curt, he carried him out of the Osprey, and set him down next to his buddy. John kneeled down, and put his hands together, and whispered a short prayer, wishing the brave pilots a good time in the afterlife. After that, he used his right hand to touch his forehead, stomach, left, and then right shoulder, forming the Holy Trinity.

He heard footsteps behind him, and then a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be ok man,” reassured Griffin.

John stood up to face his squad.

“Alright men! We completed the mission, but we’ve spontaneously travelled to a different location. This is not time to slack. Brandon and I will dig a grave for Curt and Larry. I want you two to secure the perimeter. Cooper, I want you to get your collapsible shovel, and give it to Brandon.”

He was met by a chorus of ‘Yes sir!’

John shrugged off his parachute, then his backpack. He moved the parachute out of his way, and then rifled through his backpack for his collapsible shovel. After about a minute of searching, he found it. John pulled it out, and opened it.

Shovel in hand, he went over to Brandon, who was already digging a grave for Larry. John immediately started digging Curt’s. But unbeknownst to John, there were two pairs of eyes observing him.

A few hours later, John wiped the sweat off his brow. Before him were two patches of dirt, approximately 6 feet tall and 2 feet wide.

“Well, now that that’s done, we can report to Copper and Griffin,” he said. John reached for his radio, and pressed the ‘TALK’ button.

“This is John, how copy, over?”

“AO is secure. Over.”

‘Well that’s a relief.’

“Head back to crash sight. Out.”

John cleaned the dirt off of his shovel, as Brandon did the same. He folded it up, and put it back in its case. John then picked up his M4, and switched on his EO-Tech Holographic sight. He held it downwards, finger perpendicular to the trigger.

“Alright Brandon, let’s head back to the Osprey.”

As John was waiting by the Osprey, he heard his radio crackle, then Cooper said something on the line.

“John, we’ve found two civvies snooping on us. Most likely curious. I’ll bring them back to the crash site. ETA two minutes. Over.”

“Rodger. Out.”

John just waited there, while Brandon cleaned his .50 cal on a flat piece of scrap metal.

“Man, all that sand really took a hit on my sniper,” said Brandon. “I gotta clean ‘er good.” Brandon applied some lubricate to the firing mechanism.

He was checking his M4 out, when he heard six sets of footsteps.

‘I thought he said there was two civvies?’ If there’s six sets of footsteps, then this must not be them.’

He raised his M4, and cautiously took a step forwards. He saw some bushes rustle.

“This is John Redbar of the United States Navy SEAL Team Four! Identify yourselves! If you will not identify within five seconds, you will be shot on sight!”

“Whoa man, Chill! It’s just us,” came Griffin’s voice from behind the bushes. The SEAL then stepped out, raising his hands in the air, SCAR-L hanging by its strap.

“We found two civvies—“ he started.

“I heard six sets of footsteps. I thought you found two, not four,” interrupted John.

“Yeah about that. It’s complicated. Let me just show you.” Griffin walked to the bush, and peeked his head in. “Alright, you can come out now.”

John was confused for about why they would hide their appearance. Then the ponies stepped out of the bushes. One was a butter-colored pegasus with a pink mane, and the other was a lavender unicorn sporting a purple mane with a pink highlight.

John leaned over and whispered to Brandon, whose eyes never left his gun since he started cleaning it. “Dude, am I high right now?”

“What do you—“ Brandon started to turn around, and then saw the two ponies. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and his jaw dropped.

“John, Brandon, I’d like you to meet Twilight Sparkle,” he gestured to the purple unicorn. “and Fluttershy,” he guestured to the yellow pegasus.