Rise

A story by somedude726

RISE

Chapter 18: Semper Paratus

After what felt like hours, but probably only around twenty to thirty mintues, we finally made it to the end of the large clearing and the town was in grasp.  A small cottage I hadn't seen before sat on the outskirts, with bird cages and even the little chicken house things outside. Looked like a home for animals. None were outside, as the rain probably made them want to not be outside, although I think I could see some around in there little homes.

"Okay, everyone go into Zone Alpha. Then we should probably talk," Sarge spoke, and started walking towards the cottage.

"Zone Alpha?" I questioned, following.

"Yeah, the cottage." he responded, continuing to walk.

"Right."

After a few silent moments, we finally made it to a house, somewhere we can go inside! Sarge opens the door, and we all go in, shivering from the cold. The warmth of the cottage welcomes us, as we all finally take in the fact that we're not outside. The calm demeanor of the cottage was destroyed as soon as Kendrick got into my face though.

"What the fuck." he simply stated, spreading his arms. Didn't ask, wasn't even really a demand. Just a 'what the fuck'. All things considered, he had a hell of a reason to. Thing is, I'm the reason for most of those.

"Start from the beginning." Sarge added.

"Right... Operation Black Feather."

Somewhere in Iraq, 2041

"Alright everyone, listen up!" I barked to everyone in the CH-146, as they got to attention. Alpha Squad, all ten of us, were packed into a small transport helicopter, the CH-146 or Bell 412, headed to an abandoned old warehouse in Iraq. Intel suggested an organization of sorts had been hiding out in here, plotting for something massive. If intel was correct, this group had been making nuclear bombs, and planned on using them. So, The Phantoms, our own little group under the command of USSOCOM, had been sent in to investigate. The Phantoms was a huge special operations bunch, sent in to any worldwide threats made to the United States, or anywhere else around the world. The macho-secret-spies-group basically. There were around fifty of us, and we broke off into five different squads. Going by the NATO phonetic alphabet, we called each group Alpha through Echo. Each other squad were in their own other helicopters as well, flying down the same road we were.

"Yes, sir!" the squad shouted in response over the chopper blades, saluting. The pilot even went along as well, putting up a hand and a shout. Now, everyone listened to me, because of one reason. General Simon Kolb, at the time Major, used to be the commander of The Phantoms. He'd been extremely busy with a top-secret project he hadn't told me about yet, and one day he just decided he can't lead The Phantoms. So, he passed the torch down to me, and I ended up as the leader of The Phantoms.

"We're almost there, so everyone ready up. Look, we don't know what we're about to find here, it could be empty, or we could be ambushed. Be ready for anything," I say to the group as I pull the C8A3 carbine rifle out from its resting spot over my shoulder. I look it over, it practically shined from the sunlight through the window. This little gun was my baby, I had cleaned it daily and went with it every deployment. At least, that's always what I thought at the time, this was my very first deployment. It was a little odd commanding The Phantoms on my first deployment and mission, especially when it's one where you're storming a possible terrorist hideout, but when your father is Simon Kolb that's what happens.

"Yes, sir!" the squad chanted.

The rifle was equipped with a C79A2 ELCAN optical sight fitted onto the carbine's rails, the standard for the C8A3. On the underbarrel donned a foregrip potruding vertically, and on the side rails had one red laser sight. A selective fire switch lay above the trigger, set on full-auto. Of course, the safety was on. As I had found out from the shooting range, this set of attachments was my favorite way to use the gun, foregrip did wonders for my horrible accuracy. With all these things on, the gun did get heavy and that definitely didn't help, but I hadn't planned on shooting many people. In my younger stupidity, and yes I realize this was just three years ago, I kept the optimistic view that I wouldn't fire it today. Yet I had all of these things on the gun, usually made for, well, shooting. Wasn't the best of choices.

I hit the magazine release button on the C8A3, and checked rounds. As I expected, the double-column magazine was full with thirty 5.56x45mm NATO cartridges. I slammed the same magazine back into its socket, and pulled back the slide on the rifle. The magazine locked into place, so I continued checking the gun. I raised the weapon in front of me, and looked down the optics. The reticle popped up, as the red triangle and 3.4x28 magnification entered my vision. Satisfied with the rifle, I leaned forward in the seat, and slung the carbine over my shoulder. Now, to the next weapon.

I reached over and pulled the Remington R1 Carry handgun from the holster and looked it over. Really, I just sort of liked holding it, it just felt awesome. I went through the same procedure, checking mag, optics. Of course, the magazine was full with .45 ACP rounds and the iron sights were ready. This pistol was equipped with just a suppressor attached to the muzzle. I twisted the suppressor and made sure it was tightened, and as it didn't turn any more I decided I was good. Making sure the safety was on, I put the firearm back in the holster.

"Ten mikes out!" the pilot, Tucker, declared as he continued flying.

"You heard the man, ten mikes out. Lock and load, gentlemen." I add. You know, I think I was pretty good as a squad commander then. At least in talking. Meanwhile, I was shaking in my seat, and either no one saw or didn't want to bring it up. Thank god for that.

I look outside the window, and stare off into the distance. The entire area below was filled with sand and dirt, you'd think we were in the middle of a desert. Definitely felt like it, with the heat on top of it. The whole area just felt bland, and sad, really. Maybe I'm just used to clean grass and such, but this was just bad. The road path had long since turned from anything flat and smooth to gravel and sand, with bumps and potholes everywhere you could see. I guess it was a good thing we were in the helicopter.

I continue to look out the door's window once and look ahead of us, and notice a small object off into the distance. It appeared to be a building of some sort... and I couldn't help but notice the flags and armored cars surrounding it.

"Shit. Is that the warehouse?" Walden, the Sergeant sitting next to me, noticed me looking out the window. He appeared to also notice the building.

"I think so. Look at the flags, I never seen anything like that before." It was true, the flags on the vehicles and building were completely new to me. Not even intel said anything about this. The flags were a black background, with three hooded figures on top of it, donning dark red cloaks. A thin yellow stripe lay behind the hoods, going up vertically.

"Yeah. What kind of flag is that? Intel didn't say anything about that." Walden replied.

"That's because it was never in intel. Did intel say anything about those cars, either?" I ask, as the chopper continued to move, giving us a better look at the cars in front of the warehouse.

"Don't think so. Jesus, they got turrets, armored vans, is- is that a Humvee?" Walden responded. Looking down, keeping my eyes peeled, I noticed a camoflauged truck with an unmistakeable weapon on top.

"Yeah... they managed to get a Humvee. What the hell?" I muttered, before the pilot interrupted us.

"Coming in for landing everyone!" Tucker spoke.

"Heh. I dunno, man. You're the commander here." Walden finished our little conversation, as the squad stood up and went over to the doors.

"Okay Alpha, listen up!" I start.

"Sir, yes, sir!" they chant, as the helicopter starts lowering down.

"We don't know what's down there. But I can already see armored vehicles, guns, and intel suggests a mercenary organization may be inside here. We could be ambushed, this could be a trap, there's a number of failures that could occur in this warehouse!" I start.

"So I want you all to be ready for anything, got it? We are not dying today!" I shout, pumping a fist in the air as I do so.

"Hoorah!"

The helicopter lowered a distance away from the warehouse, and off to the side, down the road. Each other of the CH-146 choppers landed in different areas, except for Delta who of which was still in the air, for tactical placement. Might not be the best idea to send around fifty people in through the front doors, there were definitely better ones. Once we hit the dirt, we opened our doors and dropped out, after the pilot informed us he'd be returning to base. The ride was a good couple hours, don't even remember how long, so it was nice to stretch the legs a bit. After we stood on the road for a bit and scoped out the area, I decided to brief everyone again on something.

"Alright, so we're going in the front goddamn door. Breaking in through the front. Bravo Squad is dropping in through the top, Charlie Squad is breaking through the back, and Delta--" I point to the last helicopter in the air, some distance away from the building. "--is on recon watch. Or, y'know, sitting up there with a .50 Cal." I chuckle a bit at the last statement, before a member of Alpha interrupted me.

"Yeah, well what about Echo? They must be doing some fucked up shit again." Petty Officer Phillips asked, smirking behind his helmet.

"Well, you'd be right Phillips. They plan on coming from underground, and should there be a reason for it, they're ready to blow the place to shit." I return the smirk, and grab the C8A3 rifle from my shoulder, and have it at the ready.

"Well, I guess you should always be prepared..."

"Semper Paratus, soldier." I replied. Latin for 'Always Ready', the motto of the United States Coast Guard. I might not be a U.S soldier, but it was something I liked to keep in mind. Besides, Echo Squad were U.S Marines.

"True that. So, we gonna wait for them first, or what's happenin'?" Phillips asked, again.

"Yep. They dropped down at a nearby manhole, they should be going through the sewers now. They'll tell us when they're ready." I answer. "Ready your weapons, everyone." I remind the squad, as I start walking towards the warehouse, making a 'follow me' motion with my hand.

I noticed that if there were someone in this place, they were definitely here recently. The sand held rough-looking footsteps, tire tracks. Most of it was blown over by the wind of the helicopter, but it was there. Between that, and the armored cars, I couldn't help but be a bit worried. Again, being younger, I did not want to shoot this damned gun, then I ended up being assigned to Alpha Squad thanks to USSOCOM, and here I am going in the front door. According to my father, who used to be part of Alpha, this was the squad for frontal assault. So, yay that.

"Hey. You doing okay, Kolb?" Walden jogged up next to me, with a brow raised, guess he noticed.

"Umm... sure." Not the best response from the man commanding an elite squad with members around the world sent for terrorist threats and such.

"Man, the son of Simon Kolb himself, and that's all he says?" Walden really catches on to things fast. I really just wanted to say I was not fit for this position, because I was not, but that didn't seem like the right thing to say.

"C-Come on, let's go." I attempted to drop it. Maybe that was a worse thing to say.

"You don't wanna do this, do ya?" I need to ask my dad why he thought Walden was such a good soldier.

"No one should want to kill. At least, I sure as hell don't." Again, elite squad commander. Don't I need to be all 'do whatever is necessary' and have some sort of want to put down these terrorists?

"Heh, alrighty then. When there's one of them standing on you shouting in some language ready to blast your face off with a shotgun, don't come running to me." Walden smirked and walked back behind me, giving me some distance. What is with everybody and smirking?

"Krrrrschhhh... All units, this is Echo-Six-Actual. Do you copy? Over."

And there's Echo Squad.

"This is Alpha-Ten, we read you loud and clear, over." I speak into the mic inside the helmet, awaiting response. Bravo, Charlie, and Delta all give Echo their acknowledgement after mine.

"Yeah, okay, here's a tip: Do not ever go into sewers. They suck. And-- right, sorry krrrrsch. Anyways, we're ready. Bombs are ready, while I really don't wanna need to set 'em off, they're here. We should be right underneath the warehouse, over."

"Roger that Echo-Six, moving in now, over and out." I respond. Each other squad let it be known they're ready, and we keeped moving. By now, we moved past the cars, and were now walking alongside the front wall.

"You ready, Kolb?" A voice suddenly asked from behind. Turning my head, I see a soldier walk up to me and stand at my side. He was an older fellow, perhaps in his fifties. The wrinkles shown, and the scars proved it. He had hair still, just greying out at this point. A normal hairdo, nothing crazy. A dark grey five o'clock shadow of hair had been on the old guy's face. One look at this man in full Canadian armor wielding a C7A1 rifle, you can tell he's been through some shit-- but he's not stopping anytime soon. His very presence gave me the strength, the will to go on. The courage to open those doors.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good Sarge."

Present, October 17th 2044, 7:02 PM

Grabbing his cell phone, General Simon Kolb rushed out the office he once sat in, and ran down the marble-floored hallway. Dashing past two workers on break, he immediately hit the 'down' button of the floor's elevator. 'Yay, generators,' he thought. The two workers walked over to Simon, one holding a cup of coffee, and the other one with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Hey, Overlord. What's the rush?" Even now, Simon couldn't help but flinch back at the use of his nickname being used outside of war. He wasn't sure why it stayed, but it did.

"Gotta go downstairs." Simon responded to the young, cup-wielding male.

"For what?" he asked.

"Reasons." Simon answered, in a slightly harsher voice than he would have liked.

"What, you hidin' somethin'?" the man with the cigarette suddenly accused in a light manner-- possibly joking, even. Yet still, Simon couldn't help but feel offended, as he slowly turned his head away from the elevator doors and to the person smoking right in front of him.

"Don't. You. Ever. Accuse me. Of anything." The harshness in his voice was meant that time.

Before a response could be made, the doors opened, as Simon walked in and hit the 'close doors' button. Being alone from the two, Simon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and let himself calm down. Sudden memories he didn't want to ever have again were brought up to surface, and before long any excitement and happiness Simon had before had disappeared. 'Why'd I choose this job...'

The General pressed the button for the underground basement, and leaned on the back wall. He rubbed his temples with one hand, as he awaited the elevator to take him to the bottom floor of the building.

'I shouldn't have acted like that. That's not like me at all.'

Simon started to feel uneasy about something. It didn't seem like it was that little debacle, something else. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something just felt off. Simon had been feeling this a ton lately, but whatever he thought he just could not figure it out. But right now, this felt like whatever was about to happen-- it was about to happen soon. This was something in the present, not regret of the past or concern of the future. Unlike other times, Simon hadn't made the connection to Jason as he did with other times this happened.

Ring, ring, ring.

After a few moments of being in the elevator, Simon heard his cell phone ringing, and its vibrations in his pocket. He shakily reached a hand in there, and pulled it out, to see an unknown number calling. 'What? How... who is this? Maybe it's someone I know on a different phone?' Reluctantly, Simon eventually tapped the 'Answer Call' button and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Simon asked, feeling something he hadn't actually felt since a time he could not remember... fear. Of what, he did not know, and that only put more fuel to the flames.

At first, the only response was static. Of course, this had always happened everytime a call was made, the quality would be low and there'd be static in the call. Over the months, ever since the sun never came out from the clouds, ever since crops died and farms were rendered useless, ever since electricity would only come through gas-powered generators, this was just something you get used to.

"Hellooo?" Simon asked again, a bit louder this time.

"Krrrrschhh... Brace for impact. krrrrschhh..."

Brace for impact? Simon quickly started sweating, as he fought to keep his feet together, and leaning on the wall. For a moment, nothing happened. Static stayed on the phone, and Simon didn't respond. Nothing seemed wrong for that one moment.

"What--"

FWOOOOOOOMM!

The call dropped as the phone hit the ground, along with Simon as he fell to the floor. The sound could only be explained as one thing, and he did not like it at all. An ear-splitting explosion had definitely occurred somewhere, and it was way too close for Simon's liking. The elevator shook with the force of a large-scale earthquake, as Simon slid across the floor and smacked his head in the nearby wall, throwing him into a daze. The elevator had stopped moving altogether, and alarms went off, as well as the sprinkler in the elevator.

'What the fuck!?'

Simon attempted to raise an arm to the railing bolted in the walls, but to no avail. His arm flinched back and a sudden pain shot up through his forearm up to his shoulder, causing Simon to shout in reaction. His vision started to get blurry as he heard screams around, on the floor he must've stopped at. But eventually, all he could see was the somehow still intact cell phone in front of him, with a text message lighting up the screen.

"I said brace. -Unknown Number, 19:14:24 17/10/44"