SHADOW OPS

 

 

 

The faint white shard of moon shone like a jagged beacon in the thrashing waves of the uneasy ocean waters just off of the west shore of Cobra Island.  A virtual blockade of thick forest cut off the central part of the island from the crashing, angry surf on the west coast.  The water mixed with the land to create a thick, marshy swampland, which quickly became plentiful wet forest.  The somewhat dark night was made almost pitch black under the plump canopy of trees.  Trees of many different shapes and sizes grew here, thriving off of the strong, fresh soil from the relatively newly formed land.  A lack of constant use and misuse did nothing but help the prosperous woodlands’ growth.  So thick were the trees that even only a quarter mile from the former Command Center of Cobra Island, the ruined, broken buildings were all but invisible.  From inside the woods, there appeared to be miles and miles of nothing but nature, which is exactly how Cobra wanted it.  The nature of the west coast of the island made it very tough to defend, so the raging woodlands helped keep the Island safer.  Not only that, but the southwest corner, where the island was so hard to defend from was almost impossible to reach without travelling through Cobra’s powerful, but undetectable radar umbrella.  This very strong satellite dish was embedded in the towering volcano on the eastern side of the island, the powerful waves of sound and light broadcast through the open top underneath a thin, lava colored façade.  By any conventional forms of radar or detection, the island did indeed appear uninhabited.  Nothing but a vacant airfield, unmanned machine gun nests, cracked and deserted watchtowers and a graveyard of concrete bunkers and other constructs.  Deep beneath the thick cover of treetops and the even thicker cover of dark night, near the west coast, a small group of Night-Vipers roamed through the trees.  There were five of them, each one similarly equipped.  They wore the standard issue green and black uniform, a large backpack carrying the necessities.  A shotgun was securely strapped to each man’s right thigh, and they all carried small submachine guns, fully automatic, but easy to carry and use.  The weapons were small and lightweight, with a large handle, even longer clip and anther smaller handle near the front of the barrel to steady the aim.  A scope traversed the length of the gun, starting thin, then broadening out towards the barrel.  The sight was not a necessity for the Night-Vipers, as their powerful night vision goggles were covering the top halves of their faces, a small telescope jutting out from each one, bringing the otherwise pitch blackness of night into the eerie green haze of focus.  A thin black helmet covered their heads, and in this environment, they were all but invisible.  A large Night-Viper led the group, the man close to six and a half feet tall and tipping the scales near three hundred.  Even not equipped with state of the art imaging equipment and an automatic weapon, he would have been quite intimidating.  The group was operating under silent signals only and the large man at the lead commanded his four troops through the thickness of the forest.  They were far enough from the shore so that they walked on dry land, and amazingly, the men tread through the thick underbrush, making barely a sound.  They carefully pushed thin branches aside and skillfully ducked around the branches too thick to push aside, each man cradling his weapon with ease and assuredness.  The front man halted suddenly and held up his hand, the signal having its effect immediately as every other man stopped short as well.  He tapped the side of his head three times and the third man in line eased out and slipped up next to him.  The Night-Viper crouched to one knee, and swiftly slung his backpack off of his shoulder, then whipped out a small instrument with a thin metal antenna protruding from the top.  He held the instrument carefully in the palm of his hand and pressed a small button with his thumb.  The antenna jerked and unfolded into a miniature radar dish, thin segmented metal unfolding from it like a steel peacock’s silver feathers.  Keeping the dish still, he unhooked an unseen switch, then pulled a jack out from the bottom, a cord unfurling silently with it.  With a soft click the Night-Viper inserted the jack, which was reminiscent of a stereo headphone jack, into the side of his thin fiberglass helmet.  Immediately a luminescent Heads Up Display blinked into focus in his goggles.  This little contraption had been the pride and joy of Destro, who eventually wanted all Night-Vipers equipped with the portable radar system.  A grid spread out inside the goggles of the Night-Viper and calculations immediately began processing inside the small box in his hand.  Still keeping his eyes glued to the lit HUD inside the helmet, the soldier quickly tapped his skilled fingers over the small, but effective keyboard built into the small object.  As the Night-Viper manually filtered out the background movement and wildlife noise, the HUD slowly focused in on the moving object just to the east of their current location.  The target was located.  The Night-Viper quickly relayed the coordinates to his leader via quick hand signals, and seconds later the portable radar was back in the backpack and the small group of night warfare experts were on the move again.  The leader signaled the change from night vision to thermal readouts, hoping to hone in on the one object in the forest at a healthy 98.6 degrees.  Even as they approached the location of the moving object, its heat read out still had not shown up.  The Night-Viper squad leader looked around, feeling somewhat foolish and perplexed.  With a quick hand signal, he ordered everyone to switch back to night vision and they did so, spreading out slightly to cover more ground.  The leader branched out first, wading thick into a bunch of dark trees.  The next two wandered off slightly to the right, the radar operator walked off to the left and the one holding up the rear dropping back to cover their path.  Quite suddenly, as soon as the team had separated, a blur of movement caught his eye.  The rear guard twisted quickly, trying to follow it, but it disappeared.  He lifted the walkie-talkie to his facemask, but halted, remembering the order for radio silence.  He thought better of it and pressed the talk button, but too little, too late.  A thick, bare arm wrapped tightly around his throat and pulled fiercely, yanking him from his feet.  He felt himself tumbling backwards, his night vision goggles, spiraling through the air only feet away.  Those feet had might as well been miles as he felt the air blasting from his struggling lungs, as his legs quivered under his weight.  His eyes rolled back and he caught a quick sight of the moustached man in the black beret before the last of his oxygen dissipated into the cool air.  The man’s large, bare arms laid the Night-Viper down slowly on the grassy surface of the ground.  He twisted his head curiously in each direction, silently taking in the lay of the land.  Even in this pitch-blackness, the man did not wear goggles, but his eyes scanned as if he could see everything with crystal clarity.  He remained crouched and duck-walked skillfully, checking his watch.  Five minutes until the meet.  He began proceeding west, hoping that everything else was proceeding smoothly.  An Arabian made Uzi machine gun equipped with silencer, flash suppressor and starlight scope was slung over his shoulder with a leather strap that was tied to hooks on the weapon.  A large black backpack sat on his back over his black, sleeveless shirt with brown criss-crossed straps over his broad chest.  His legs were covered in gray and black camouflage, which complimented his dark uniform and completed the night-camo pattern.  A thin black sheath wrapped around on of his large biceps and a thin, straight Ka-Bar knife sat snugly inside.  He moved with an almost unnatural fluidity and silence proceeding cautiously towards the meeting place.

Only mere yards away two Night-Vipers had broken off towards the right and were carefully plodding through the underbrush.  The trooper in the lead spot eased through a thick curtain of tree branches and halted suddenly.  Another Night-Viper lay prone on the ground, his body splayed out, the man apparently unconscious.  His goggles were bent and smashed and lay a few feet away and he lay face down, his features buried in the dirty ground.  The front Viper turned to his partner and signaled him to come up closer.  They lowered their weapons slightly and stepped closer to the body, their heads bent down.  A small patch was on the right arm with the number twelve stitched into it.

“NV-12?” the lead man asked quietly.  “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be back at base.” He proceeded slowly forward, but noticed that the man was still breathing.  The second man in line caught up with the first and lowered down to one knee.  He eased the man carefully over onto his back, then stood up sharply.

“You’re not NV—“ The unconscious soldier’s eyes shot open in a fierce glare.  The two Night-Vipers stumbled back, quite obviously confused.  With lightning reflexes the lying man whipped his left arm out from under his prone body, a sleek black Glock clutched firmly in his fist, a long, slim black silencer extending from the stubby barrel.  With three quick jerks on the trigger, the small area of woodland lit up sharply with the muffled flashes of silenced gunfire.  Two nine-millimeter slugs barreled into the Night-Viper’s chest, throwing him fiercely from his feet.  The third shot strayed upwards and plowed into his forehead as he stumbled back, shattering the goggles and dropping him for good in a showering blast of glass, blood and chips of plastic.  The second Night-Viper growled under his breath and lifted his submachine gun, his finger pulling back angrily.  Another quick, muffled burst of gunfire erupted behind him and he halted, stumbled forward and collapsed face first in the dark dirt.  Behind the falling Viper another man stood, fairly non-descript face with dark gray pants and a thin black jacket draped over his sleek frame.  A small smoking machine gun gripped in both of his hands.  The whisp of smoke spiraled up into the sky from the long, black sound suppressor on the weapon.  He smirked and walked up to the man on the ground and extended his hand.

“Thanks, Generic,” the man in the Night-Viper uniform said with the slight twinge of a Canadian accent.  It was the type of accent that could be turned of and on at will, but even if he spoke with it, it was an accent of uncertain origin.    “I owe ya one.”

“Yeah, you do, C-Sis,” replied Generic, the smirk drifting from his hardened features, as he pulled the man to his feet.  C-Sis, named for the Canadian Special Forces organization, glanced over his comrade’s uniform.

“Did you ditch your suit already?”

“Yeah…being in that snake suit gave me the willies.  We got what we came for anyway.”

C-Sis nodded and peeled off the green and black body armor, revealing his deep blue uniform suit underneath.  He slipped out of the body suit, quickly smoothing out the wrinkles on his gray pants and looked down at the troopers at their feet.  “C’mon, Generic, lets get these boys hidden.  Don’t want anyone stumbling onto them before we get off this stinking island.”

“Agreed.  We have four and a half until meet time.”  Generic slipped the leather strap fastened to the machine gun over his shoulder.

“Well, lets get digging, then, eh?”

Off to the east, the third Night-Viper, the radar operator walked swiftly and quietly through the thick trees.  He twisted his head sharply all of a sudden, his ears straining.  Was that silenced machine gun fire?  He asked himself.  There had been quick whispering noises, but then silence again.  The Night-Viper shuddered slightly.  He felt honored to be the recipient of Destro’s new radar system, but he hated these nighttime practice sessions.  The forest was hot, especially in the body armor, and there were those rumors of nasty wildlife in these parts.  He crouched down to one knee and once again removed the radar apparatus from his large black backpack.  With another quick button press, the round dish extended itself again and he plugged the thin, snakelike cord into the side of his technological marvel of a helmet.  He pressed the correct keys to filter out background noise and other distractions.  With a start he drew his head back when he saw the HUD in his goggles.  There was no longer any movement on the screen.  There were no signals whatsoever, except for a warbled green reading just to his right.  It was a strange reading, not a signal of heat, movement or sound.  Just a strange, fluctuating glob of green light.  Is someone jamming me?  His mind wandered again.  He wouldn’t be surprised if someone was.  It would be just the thing that Aleph would pull to fully test the new equipment.  There was definitely something there, and something that would not be picked up unless it was this close.  The radar operator carefully walked over to his right where the strange reading was originating from and began investigating the area.  A thick tree jutted from the soil and reached up into the night sky, branches like numerous flailing arms reaching out to his numerous brothers.  But this one was thicker than the others were, a large round trunk firmly holding the young strong tree to the ground.  The Night-Viper approached the broad, wood trunk, his fingers tracing the rough bark, then struck cold metal.   He pulled his hand back quickly, gasping in surprise, then pressed his fingers to the surface again, and lowered his head to the tree.  A slim, metal plate was stuck to the surface of the large tree, with a small radar dish extending from the top of it.  From this close, the HUD in his goggles was a complete, swirling light green blur and he could barely make out the object in front of him.  He slipped the goggles up off of his eyes, which blinked rapidly in the darkness, trying to adjust.  Gingerly, the Night-Viper brought his hand towards the mysterious thing attached to the tree.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the voice came from behind him, soft yet firm.  The Night-Viper whirled around, his weapon brought up into firing position.  A single man stood in front of him clad all in black, with a narrow swath of red shirt just under his neck.  His tussled brown hair and smooth face gave the impression of kindness, but his eyes were cold, dark and mean.  “That’s government property, Snake,” he finished, his eyes narrowing to a slit.

“Who are y—“ the Night-Viper made the mistake of asking, but before he could finish the sentence, the man was upon him.  Before he could react, the weapon was thrown powerfully from his hand and bounced along the hard, dirt forest floor.  In a blur, the stranger’s arm whipped back around and caught the Viper in the side of his head with a thundering elbow.  His eyes squinted shut with the impact.  A pair of hands wrapped around his smooth helmet and he felt his head being yanked fiercely downwards.  He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t, so he didn’t see the knee coming up with deadly velocity.  It struck the bridge of his nose with blinding fury and dull snapping, throwing the Night-Viper to the side like a discarded bag of trash.  He landed and would not open his eyes again.

“Who’s the man?” the soldier clad in black whispered triumphantly to no one in particular.  “Wraith’s the man!” he replied to himself.  He began to drag the body under some brush so he could continue on to his meeting place.

 

Aleph crossed his large arms and rested his back on the thick tree that sat some yards away from where the trees actually formed into forest.  The airstrip ran west to east about a hundred feet behind him. But he was not concerned with being spotted out in the relative openness.  In this blackness, satellites could pick up little.  He glared into the forest and checked his watch impatiently.  His gray, black and blue tiger stripe camouflage covered legs rested comfortably underneath him, one bent and supporting his weight against the tree.  A single index finger tapped impatiently against his arm.

“Someone’s in my swamp.”

Aleph turned, and jumped from where he was leaning, his heart pounding in his chest.  “For crying out loud!  How do you sneak up on a ninja master?”

The newcomer’s white, pupiless eyes narrowed to two thin shards as his gaze pierced through the trees into the heart of the forest.  “Being sneaky is in the job description.  You don’t infiltrate the Secret Service by drawing attention to yourself.”

Aleph smirked.  “Pretty proud of yourself for that one, huh?  I must admit, it was impressive.”  He calmed down a little and resumed his position against the tree.  Not only the Secret Service, but the squad leader in charge of presidential security?”

“That was the point.” His eyes continued probing the woodland in front of them.  His cowl draped over his head and down past his ears, the shadows mixing with the jet black, triangle face paint under each moon-white eye.  His mouth was twisted into a nasty sneer, his back teeth exposed slightly.  In his right hand he clutched a long, slender suitcase in a fierce, iron grip.

“Nobody doubted your abilities.  Your siblings, though…how did they weasel in there?” Aleph regarded the man he spoke to with great respect and even some fear.  Zarana and Zandar, however…they were nothing more than biker trash to him.

Zartan smiled thinly, still not moving his gaze.  “Once I was Rook…getting them into their positions was simple.” He knelt down on one knee; his clear chest plate rubbing slightly on the brown cloth that covered his legs.  His metal plated shoulder pads made no noise even as they scraped the chest plate when he dropped down.  Veins pumped through his large, muscled arms from the end of the jagged shoulder pads down his arm, and underneath his long black leather gloves.  He set the suitcase he was carrying down for a second and twisted his head slightly.  “Who is in my swamp?” He squinted almost angrily at Aleph.

“Just the perimeter guard, Zartan.  I sent them on a wild goose chase through there.  Just for kicks.  It’s just a small group of Night-Vipers, nothing to worry about.  Trying to beef up their night warfare skills.”

“No.  Something else.”

Aleph turned to face the strange shape shifter.  Over the few years they had participated with Cobra together, he had learned to trust Zartan’s bizarre intuition.  “The perimeter guard should have reported in by now.  I just assumed they were late.”  Aleph stood and stepped closer to the trees.  “Should we send in some Phantom-Vipers?” he asked.

“Not yet.” Zartan stood and walked towards the forest.  “Give me ten minutes, then call them out.”

“Understood.” Aleph said simply.  With that single word, Zartan yanked the case back into his tight grasp and launched himself like a jungle cat into the dense foliage.  He vanished into the trees and Aleph could no longer see or hear him.  He had become one with the swamp.  The ninja and Viper trainer shuddered uncontrollably.  “Good grief, Zartan…what has happened to you?”

 

 

C-Sis and Generic were the first to arrive in the small clearing at the exact designated time.  The trees formed around the small, grassy lawn in a dense, leafy canopy, shutting the bare area off from the rest of the forest.  The group had staked out this place on their way in, and had designated it the meeting area to plan their extraction.  The two tall, slender men were plain in almost every way, no distinguishing characteristics, no unusual features, average height and average build.  That helped them both in their respective occupations, C-Sis as an Intelligence Operative and Generic as an Espionage Expert and Infiltrator.  This was the rare exception when they were allowed to showcase their impressive military talents, without witch they would not belong to such an elite squad.  Their group, code-named: Shadow Ops, was quite simply the most elite fighting force in the world.  The men chosen were the best of the best in every facet of military skill, and each one had separate specialties which they put to use in the group.  Shadow Ops reported in one way or another to General Hawk, but was not officially connected to GI Joe, and very few members of GI Joe even knew they existed.  They were used for Tops Secret Black Ops, stuff the United States did not want the public to know about.  Kidnappings, deep intel, and even assassinations.  These men had willingly given up lives outside of their jobs, and even their names were not their own.  None of the men wore any tell-tale insignias on their uniforms to dictate what their country of origin was and they were all chosen based on a general appearance that could be identified as anything from Nordic, to European to Asian.  Accents were carefully masked and even in some cases, false accents were used to throw of the enemy.  Wraith, the Shadow Ops Interpreter even occasionally spoke in Russian or Arabic, just to throw things further out of whack.  He squeezed through a collection of branches, slipping skillfully through, careful not to disturb any of them or make unnecessary noise.  He joined his two comrades, crouching low on the mossy jungle floor and checked his illuminated watch.  He was mere seconds late, but it was apparently okay, because Black Bag was not yet present.  Black Bag was a career spook and had decades of black op experience, but he had worked alone for many of those years as a freelance mercenary.  Meshing with a group again had been taxing on him, but he was coming along pretty well.  Wraith removed his large backpack and set it down on the soft surface of the forest floor.  It was a mechanical marvel, a portable translator, mini-radar system and radio, tuned to a specific frequency used only by Shadow Ops.  He tapped his watch and shook his head, eliciting shrugs from his two partners.  Without warning, Black Bag appeared in the clearing, walking low to the ground, his knees pulled up tight into his chest.  His silenced Uzi was still at the ready as his eyes scanned the small treeless area.  Generic held up his watch and glared angrily.

“The perimeter’s clear.” He whispered, completely ignoring Generic’s annoyed glance.

“Radar confirms,” Wraith said softly, glancing down at the small screen.  A tiny radar dish rotated slowly from the top of the pack.  It was a good enough system, although only good for up to thirty feet or so.  He pulled a small receiver from the side of the pack and clutched it between his shoulder and neck.  With skillful punches, he keyed in the frequency.

“Pit Bull One to Watchdog One…come in, Watchdog One,” Wraith spoke softly, but steadily into the receiver.

“Watchdog One to Pit Bull One, respond.” The voice crackled over the phone and Wraith sighed a small sigh of relief.

“Mojo, give me a sitrep, bro,” Wraith asked.

“Looks clean and clear.  Just got to the watch point and all looks smooth.  We’ve got a new Cobra goon spotted leaning against a tree, but he doesn’t look worried,” Mojo reported.  “Is it almost evac time?  Me and Solution are downright bored.” They snickered slightly.

“You’d rather be in a firefight?” Wraith asked.

“Well, if one of you boys got shot up, it would at least give Solution someone to patch up.” Mojo chuckled again.

“Funny guy.  Patch me through to Top Dog.”

A thin click echoed from the earpiece.  “Top Dog, respond.”

“Top Dog, this is Pit Bull One…evac looks clear, what’s the word?”

Eclipse was crouched low among a thick cluster of trees.  He was the team leader and was currently situated about halfway between the meeting place and the shoreline where the evacuation was waiting.  He and Rumble were pretty much blind to their surroundings, with no radar or intel. Eclipse stroked his thick black beard softly and squinted.  Rumble lay mere feet away, a pair of night vision goggle strapped over his green helmet.  His gray, black, and white camo blended in perfectly with the dark, wooded surroundings.  A strange looking weapon lay on the ground beside him, a thin wire connecting it to his backpack.  He scanned the area, making sure it was clear.  He could barely make out the end of the treeline, mere yards away from the soggy swamplands and marshes that led to freedom.

“Rumble, what’s the word?” Eclipse asked.

“Clean and clear, Bossman,” Rumble said, not worrying about masking his thick southern accent when there were no enemies around.

“Top Dog to Pit Bull One, everything is a go for evac.  Proceed to shoreline, we are moving out.  Go smartly, though…there could be snakes still in the jungle.”

“Roger, Top Dog,” Wraith said confidently.  “We’ll pass the word on to Watchdog.  Pit Bull One out.”  Wraith set the receiver down with a soft click.  “All right, radar’s still clear.  Black Bag, you took out one Night-Viper?”

“Yeah,” the moustached man almost hissed.  “You?”

“Same.  C-Sis?  What about you and Generic?”

“One apiece, Wraith,” C-Sis responded.  “Well, not counted the two we waxed to steal their uniforms.”

“Got you.  Standard perimeter guard is four, correct?”

“Correct,” replied Black Bag.  “Unless they have a specific target.  Then the radar operator goes with them.”

“Right.  No reason for them to be looking for anyone was there?” Wraith glanced over the other troops.  Everyone shook their heads.  “Everything should be clear.  Let’s move out, boys.”

“Who croaked and made you boss?” Black Bag asked as he stood. 

Wraith scooped up his M-16 fitted with a Starlight Scope and pulled his black helmet down tight over his head.  He slung the backpack over his back and made sure the Uzi was secured tightly to his belt.  “Fine.  You’re the boss.  Age before beauty and all that,” he sneered, snickering.

“Smartass,” Black Bag said softly.  “You guys proceed to the shoreline and I’ll hang back to make sure we’re not being followed.”

“Yes, sir!” the men whispered and snapped off mock salutes.  They all stifled back laughter and vanished into the thick trees.  Black Bag glared at their backs as they left, then disappeared into the woods on the other side.

 

Eclipse clutched the AR-15 tightly in his hand as he stood, with Rumble joining him on his feet.  His eyes glared out from underneath the black face paint as he scoped out the immediate area, making sure it was clear.

“This went a little too smoothly,” he said.

“You, complainin’, boss?” Rumble asked, checking the readout on his weapon.

“No.  Just being cautious.  Let’s take an indirect route to the shore.  This path is a perfect ambush site.”

“Yes, sir.” Rumble nodded and followed Eclipse’s hand signal to the west, right before he ran nose to nose with the largest Night-Viper he had ever seen.  Before he could even react, the large Cobra’s right hand shot out like a piston and plowed into his face.  Rumble stumbled back into Eclipse who shouted in surprise.  The Night-Viper’s eyes grew wide underneath his night-vision goggles as he turned and ran into the forest.

“Shoot!” Eclipse shouted angrily.  “We let our guard down and he waltzed right in here.  You okay, Rumble?”

“Yeah, boss.  Feel like a dang idgit.  But he punched me in the helmet…just surprised me is all.”

“Well, let’s go take his ass down.” Eclipse snarled as he leapt to his feet in pursuit.

“Yes, sir!” Rumble replied and followed.  They ran fast and furious, and Eclipse quickly caught up to the trooper.  His heart lurched in his chest as he saw the Cobra pulling out his radio with his left.  He threw himself into the air, not wanting to stop and try and get a good shot.  With a hard thud he struck the running man clumsily in the back and they both crashed to the soft ground.  Eclipse was the first to his feet and stomped fiercely on his enemy’s wrist, which caused the hand to open by reflex and release the radio.  His AR-15 was pointed directly at the man’s large barrel chest, which heaved slightly.  His other hand hovered at his thigh, where the shotgun was strapped.

“Don’t try it, Snake or I air condition that armor for you.” Eclipse sneered, his finger pressing slightly against the trigger of the machine gun.

“You gonna shoot me in cold blood?” the Night-Viper hissed.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Eclipse reiterated and the Viper’s eyes lost some of their hardness.

“Hey, man, I give…” he stammered, lifting his hands.

Eclipse shook his head.  He was honestly hoping for an excuse to perforate the Night-Viper.  “Get up, scumbag,” he said signaling with the small rifle.  The Night-Viper stood, leaving his submachine gun, radio, and goggles lying in the damp grass.  Eclipse kept the weapon directed on his chest and turned slightly to Rumble.  “Any more out there?” he asked briefly.

“Negative, sir,” Rumble replied, lowering the night-vision binoculars from his eyes, the only part of his face visible from under the dark helmet.  Suddenly, the Night-Viper was no longer interested in being a prisoner.  His hand shot skillfully down and wrapped around the handle of the shotgun.  He lifted it from the strap on his thigh and got it waist high before Eclipse hauled back on the trigger, cursing himself as he did it.  The silenced AR-15 purred in the darkness, the weapon shuddering violently.  A blast of 5.56 millimeter plowed into the Night-Viper’s chest, sending him reeling back.  The shotgun flew from his hand and hit the ground, but instead of falling, he snarled and charged aggressively.  Eclipse blinked as he leapt towards him, somewhat unbelieving.  This guy didn’t just look intimidating.  He was a powerhouse.  Eclipse knew he had a bulletproof vest, but he figured the machine gun would at least take him out of action for a little while.  Instead he took the punishment and was coming back for more.  The gun was thrown from the bearded man’s hand as the huge Night-Viper plowed into his full force.  Eclipse staggered back, gasping, but remained standing, although barely.  His left leg shot back and his boot dug into the wet, grassy floor, but it kept him standing.  Rumble lifted his weapon, but grimaced angrily when he saw that Eclipse was directly in the path of the weapon.  Obviously, the Night-Viper realized it as well and charged again, bringing himself closer to the Shadow Ops squad leader.  But Eclipse was ready this time.  If he learned anything in the military, it was that size didn’t mean anything.  He’d seen boys twice the Night-Viper’s side sent home crying to their Mommas after only a day during Hell Week.  At that point, he knew he could take him, AR-15 or not.  He grinned meanly and cracked his knuckles as the man hurtled towards him.  With a slick twist, Eclipse sidestepped and drove a hard knee directly into the attacker’s midsection.  The reversed momentum threw the Night-Viper for a loop and he stumbled clumsily.  Eclipse slid in with a stepping sidekick and slammed the heel of his combat boot into his ribs.  The Night-Viper reeled further and Eclipse stepped into his range of attack, skillfully grabbing one of his flailing arms.  He spun and twisted, roughly jerking the man’s shoulder from its socket resulting in a sharp shout of pain.  In the same motion, Eclipse elbowed him in the same place as he kicked, then lifted his leg into ready position.  He fought the urge to shout as he thrust his foot downward, sending it blasting into the trooper’s knee with a crunch.  The leg twisted and bent the wrong way, then buckled, forcing the Cobra to one knee, his eyes open and stunned with what Eclipse had just done.  He clutched his leg, bent at an awkward angle, and just lay there, not moving.  Eclipse stood in a dramatic fighting stance over his fallen foe, sweat running from his brow and coursing over his face in a series of small, clear rivers.

“Dang, sir!” Rumble shouted, driving his commanding officer out of his adrenaline induced haze.

Eclipse stood straight and picked up his rifle.  “Put him out of his misery, Rumble,” he said simply.  Rumble nodded and pointed his strange weapon at the fallen Viper.  He adjusted the dial slightly, aimed and squeezed the trigger.  The gun didn’t buckle or jerk and no bullet fired.  Instead a rippling wave swam through the air like an invisible speeding shark and struck the Night-Viper with a strange splashing motion, washing over him.  He grunted and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“I set it at eight, sir.  He’ll be out for at least a day.”

“Good.  I gotta admit, Rumble, I wasn’t too sure when they put a ‘non-lethal force’ trooper on my team, but I’ll tell you…that wavelength emitter weapon is a beautiful thing.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“C’mon, let’s get to the extraction site.”

 

Wraith ran through the forest, keeping his head low and his legs pumping.  Generic and C-Sis followed close behind, everyone’s weapons at the ready.  It had been about ten minutes and they were drawing pretty close to the evacuation site, but were still covered by trees.  A thin buzzing emitted from Wraith’s backpack and he skidded to a stop, a look of annoyance settling over his face.

“What, is he nuts?” he asked.  He threw off the pack and scooped up the phone.  “Mojo!  What are you thinking…don’t use the call signal in a hostile sit—“

“Bust my ass later, Wraith!” Mojo shouted frantically.  He sounded out of breath.

“What’s going on?” Wraith asked into the phone.

“I don’t know, but that mysterious snake?”

“Yeah?”

“He just sicced a dozen other snakes on us.  They’re flooding into the woods as I speak. We are pulling back to the evac site.”

“Man!” Wraith shouted.  “Black Bag is still out there.”

“Well, he’s gonna have to fend for himself.  These guys are loaded to bear!  AK-47’s, infrared, tiger stripe camo, the whole nine yards.”

“New guys, huh?”

“Looks it…not Night-Vipers, that’s for sure.  Move a heck of a lot slicker than them!”

“All right, understood.  We’ll meet you at the evac…hopefully Black Bag will be there, too.”

“Mojo out.”

Wraith shook his head and looked back into the woods.  He drew in a nervous breath and continued on, C-Sis and Generic tight on his heels.

 

Zartan peered through the thick infrared scope out into the darkness of the jungle.  The man in black stood among the trees, talking frantically into his radio.  The crosshairs inside the scope were centered right on his chest and the shape shifter drew back the taught bowstring with skillful precision.  A slender sliver arrow sat perched on the bow, it’s broadhead long and large, and very, very sharp.  Two leather-gloved fingers gripped the shaft against the string, the powerful compound bow bending smoothly under the force of Zartan’s arms.  The starlight scope sat against the thick part of the bow, and Zartan’s eyes were focused right in the center.  Wraith filled up his sights like a deer to an orange clad hunter.  He drew in a long breath, his body keeping perfectly still even as the man began to run again, towards the west side of the island.  Zartan kept the crosshairs zeroed in, even as he moved, the infrared keeping track through the trees.  His fingers began to relax until a body lurched from the trees just to his right.  He spun the bow around to track the moving person, but it was too late and Black Bag descended on him, Ka-Bar in hand.  The man in the moustache struck him with a powerful impact, throwing him to the ground, and sending the bow sliding away.  The Ka-Bar pressed tightly against Zartan’s tensed muscles of his neck.

“Nothing like a “wetwork” to get the juices flowing,” he said with some satisfaction as he pressed the blade in.

“You obviously don’t know whom you’re dealing with,” Zartan hissed, the blade cutting into his flesh slightly, but not phasing him.  His right hand moved with blinding precision and slammed into Black Bag’s grimacing face with the force of a cannonball.  The black clad soldier was thrown to the ground, blood foaming to his curled lips, but he still clutched the knife in a desperate grasp.  Zartan was already to his feet and stared down the other man, a thin stream of crimson rippling down his neck and over his chest plate.

“I still got first blood, freakshow,” Black Bag sneered, wiping his blade on his darkly camouflaged pants.  His fingers moved anxiously on his empty hand, and Zartan’s did the same.

“You’re in over your head, soldier-boy,” Zartan spat.  Black Bag wasn’t looking and hurled himself forward at the shape shifter.  Zartan whipped out a vicious, straight as an arrow sidekick and struck Black Bag directly in the face.  His feet flew out from under him and he landed uncomfortably on the ground, the knife flying.  With a shout, he swung a leg around and clipped Zartan in the calves, dropping him down to the ground with him.  He jumped at the fallen Cobra, but Zartan wrapped his hands around Black Bag’s wrists like steel vices, then curled his knee and tossed the soldier like he was nothing.  Black Bag hit the ground and rolled, coming up to his feet and spinning to face his attacker.  He dashed forward again, but again Zartan caught him, then spun and slammed him back first into a thick tree.  Pain roared through Black Bag’s spine and into his shoulders as leaves sprinkled down around him.  His eyes closed fiercely shut as if to block out the pain and his mouth curled into an uncomfortable grimace, blood practically pouring from his cracked and red lips.  Without warning, the soldier whipped his leg around in a wicked roundhouse and pounded Zartan in the ribs, making him stagger.  He followed it up with a left jab directly into Zartan’s angry face, then a right hook, which connected solidly with the side of his head.  The shape shifter’s head rocked violently, and he stumbled, but did not fall, his hands clenched into angry fists.   Zartan shook his head furiously, clearing up the cobwebs, then squinted his eyes into a deadly glare, drilling deep into Black Bag.  The Shadow Ops Night-Fighter swung for another blow, but Zartan dodged easily and grabbed his arm.  He wrapped it in a tight grip, keeping it curled tightly to his body so Black Bag couldn’t move.  With devastating ferocity, Zartan plowed punch after punch into his adversary’s face, relishing in the crunching of bone against bone.  He drew his fist back for one more strike, but felt a pair of hands wrap desperately around his large, bulging arm.  The shape changer cursed himself, realizing that his preoccupation with the soldier had allowed someone to sneak up on him.  He spun, but not before Mojo swung his radio backpack and sent it crashing into his skull.  Zartan reeled backwards as Mojo lifted his submachine gun.

“You were too close to Black Bag to use this before…but not now!” he squeezed off a barrage of silenced gunfire into Zartan’s chest, his chest plate cracking and splintering under the bullets’ impacts.  He dropped to one knee, then sprang up suddenly throwing a wild kick, which connected and sent the weapon scattering.  He slammed into Mojo and drew his hand back to strike, when a sharp prick flared in the back of his neck.  He shouted and stumbled, mumbling incoherently.

“Wh—what did--?” he turned and saw another man standing there, a hypodermic needle in his hand.  His face twisted and contorted until his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground with a thud.

Solution smiled broadly, twirling the needle in his hand.  “I wasn’t real comfortable with shooting him in the back.  The Geneva Convention doesn’t say anything about hypodermic needles, though.”

“We don’t follow the Geneva Convention, pal,” Black Bag huffed, pulling himself slowly to his feet, his face a puffy, bloody mess.

“Maybe so, but I still have to look in the mirror every morning.”  He glanced down at Zartan, who lay prone at his feet.  “That little cocktail will keep him down for a while.”  Then he walked slowly over to Black Bag, slipping the needle into a protective plastic case and putting it in a pouch on his belt.  “Let’s have a look,” he said and placed gentle hands on Black Bag’s face.  Black Bag winced and pushed his hands away.

“I don’t think we’ve got time for that…I’m not sure how long this guy will be out.  There’s something a little…more than human about him.”

“He beat you in a fistfight, Black Bag,” Mojo said.  “Doesn’t make him inhuman.”

Black Bag glared meanly.

“You are right, though,” Mojo continued, changing the subject.  “Before we jetted, a bunch more Night-Vipers were sent into the woods.  I think those other guys are just spotting for them.  We need to get moving.”

“Agreed.” Black Bag untucked his shirt and wiped it across his blood-smeared face.  He bent over and picked up his Uzi, then pulled out the clip, checked it, and slammed it back home.  “Let’s jet.”

 

“…So then the guy says…’That’s not the Rabbi, that’s my wife!” the bearded man laughed heartily at the punch line of his own joke and slapped the metal object just to his left.  He looked at the man standing next to him who wore a baseball cap and had a pair of binoculars securely attached to his eyes.

“Man, Proteus…what, did you have your sense of humor surgically removed or something?” he asked, the broad smile fading from his hair covered lips.

“Nope.  Enough years in this business, and it’s tough to find anything funny, Killroy.” His finger tapped a small button on the top of the goggles and he scanned a little to the left.

“I don’t know about that, man…better to laugh than cry, know what I mean, happy-boy?” Killroy ran a hand over the smooth round metal helmet that covered his head.  It was form fitted and fit snugly, with an extension lowering down just over his left eye.  He wore a deep red and black bodysuit that bulged slightly over his massive physique.  It was ironic, really, possibly the most physically fit member of Shadow Ops was the one always out of the action, firing from afar.  Killroy was the Shadow Ops sniper, and even without the cybernetic eye enhancement, he was among the best shots in the world.  He had honed his skills as a Coast Guard sniper, personally taking a big chunk out of various members of the South American Drug Cartels.  He had participated in a joint mission with the world renowned Drug Elimination Force quite a few years before, and had gotten the contacts through Cutter, a skipper for the GI Joe team, who had apparently been quite impressed with Killroy’s skills.  Or possibly, his jokes, Killroy wasn’t sure which.  He chuckled a little to himself.  Actually, Proteus reminded him a little of Cutter in a strange way that thin brown moustache, the baseball cap permanently attached to his head, but in the heat of fire, on of the best darn watercraft pilots Killroy had ever been involved with.  And in the Coast Guard, that was saying a lot.  Proteus didn’t quite have Cutter’s sense of humor, but his dedication and downright frightening driving abilities more than made up for that.  Plus, he went into the heat of battle armed only with a nine millimeter Glock and a SEAL Combat knife.  Killroy had to admire the guts it took for that!  Plus, if Proteus carried those weapons, he obviously had some degree of SEAL training or experience and Killroy decided that that alone made him a welcome ally on the battlefield.

“It’s go time, joke-boy,” the thin whisper of a voice spoke suddenly.  Killroy snapped immediately out of his memories and dropped to the ground, stomach first.  He reached over to his right and wrapped his hand around the trusty Swiss sniper rifle that he had used since the early days.  Of course, this one was specially modified, but that was of little consequence.  His fingers danced quickly across the hidden buttons and dials on the side of his helmet, quickly bringing up a HUD inside the eyepiece.  The helmet was a marvel in technological design.  Killroy had helped develop it; actually partnering with a starlight scope specialist named MacBride.  Together they had constructed a one hundred percent user friendly sniper interface.  It was worn comfortably and fit snugly, and its image intensifier equipment was the best in the world.  With a small twist, the dark night sky lit up as if it was high noon, all of the surroundings coming into clear focus to Killroy.  With a small adjustment, he shifted perspective to the scope on his rifle, and quickly scanned the treeline, searching for friendlies.  He saw Eclipse first, dashing from the trees, running very quickly, with Rumble right on his heels.  Rumble dropped suddenly and spun around into a firing stance, holding his position as Eclipse ran across the open swampland towards the two men.  Proteus ran to meet him, his pistol pulled out.  Killroy held his spot as per his orders, mostly as a lookout, not really planning on shooting anything.  With some more adjustments he switched to thermals and zoomed in and out, scanning the woods.  Hie eyes grew wide under the helmet.

“Uh, guys?” he shouted out at the two men who chatted a few feet away.

Eclipse and Proteus both turned.  “What is it?” asked Eclipse and walked over to where Killroy was lying, in inch deep swamp water.

“I’ve got about twenty blips out there, sir.  Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we didn’t authorize some full out attack without my knowledge, did we?”

“Blast!” Eclipse shouted angrily.  “Do you have visuals on our boys?”

“I think so…I’ve got three blips pretty close to the treeline…moving together, in rough formation.”  Killroy moved his rifle to the left, adjusting more dials.  “And another group of three blips just west of them.  One of them is moving kind of sluggish.  Like he might be injured.  The others are scattered all over the place like they’re looking for someone.  Mostly single blips or groups of two.”  As if one cue, the first group of three burst from the treeline.  Wraith was in the lead with C-Sis and Generic close behind.  The night was quiet except for crashing brush and the seagulls swarming over the ocean.  Then a sharp whistle pierced the air and the silence was over.  The whistle was shrill and harsh to start, then became a vibrant hum, then a blast of orange and red ripped through the open ground between the trees and the swampy shore.  A cloud of smoke spiraled from all directions as moist chunks of loose soil sprayed in all directions.  Proteus and Eclipse were thrown to the ground and Wraith was sent somersaulting through the air, landing in a rough and clumsy heap on the ground.  Machine gun fire suddenly tore through the quiet ocean air and every member of Shadow Ops dove for cover.

“Eclipse lifted his wet head from the grass and barked orders at Killroy.  “Give me a sitrep, Killroy, now!”

Killroy kept his head down as tracers and deadly invisible lead buzzed like angry hornets above his head.  He squinted, looking at the readout in his helmet and scanned the treeline. 

“We’ve got ten snakes with machine guns…”he halted for a second, and shifted his aim a little.  He yanked the trigger once, sending an echoing KRAKK reverberating through the air.  The gun kicked, but remained focused.  He twisted slightly again, and another KRAKK blasted through the air.  “…actually, we’ve got EIGHT snakes with machine guns…one of ‘ems got an RPG or LAW, but I don’t have him in sight yet.”

“Keep plugging away, Killroy!  Proteus, are you hurt?”

“No, sir!  But someone’s got to get to the other three!” Proteus stood and dashed off across the marsh towards his fallen friends.  A smoldering crater and piles of debris sat a few feet from where Wraith lay, but a quick look by Proteus confirmed that he was slightly injured but nothing too severe.  The watercraft operator scooped up Wraith and threw him over his shoulders, keeping low to avoid the deadly crossing paths of machine gun fire.  The snakes had smartened up, and he found himself cut off from returning to the group.  Proteus had to think quick and softly dumped Wraith inside the crater, then crawled in himself, ducking behind the piles of soil and earth, hoping that would serve as enough protection.  He glanced over to his right and saw C-Sis and Generic lying low on the ground.  They seemed okay and were returning fire.

“C-Sis!” Generic shouted to his Canadian compadre.

“What is it?” C-Sis also had to shout to be heard over the gunfire.

“Proteus needs cover to get Wraith back to the ASDS!” he jerked his head in the general direction and C-Sis nodded.

“What are we waiting for?”  With a shout the two men leapt to their feet and hauled down on their triggers, pounding the treeline with hot lead.  Proteus caught on and as the gunfire redirected towards the new threat he picked up Wraith and dashed towards the ocean, the man’s unconscious body over his shoulders.  Eclipse ran forward and rattled off some cover fire, ditching the silencer and going full auto.  Another whistle pierced through the air, then faded before another thunderous blast shredded more of the swampland.  The night sky light up with the bright flash of light, but the explosion was off target and put on one in danger.

“That did it!” Shouted Killroy.  “We’ve got a mortar out there, and he’s filling up my sight!” he sat up slightly to adjust aim and soon regretted it.  A stray bullet blasted into the side of his head, throwing him back into a somersault.  Chips of metal blasted into the air as the helmet was thrown from his head and hit the swampland with a quiet, but final splash.

“Killroy!” Eclipse shouted as Proteus laid Wraith down in the wet grass.  The red and black sniper lay stomach first on the ground, and wasn’t moving.  Eclipse looked around frantically.  Rumble was pinned down by the treeline and he couldn’t see Generic or C-Sis.  Two of his men lay at his feet, not moving.  “Where the hell is Solution?” he asked no one in particular.  He and Proteus both hit the ground as gunfire erupted around them again.

“Yo, boss…I’m okay,” the voice said from a few feet away.  Eclipse looked up as Killroy pulled himself from the ground.  “I think the helmet’s scrapped, but I’m still kicking.”

“Good.  Grab Wraith’s Uzi…”

“With all due respect, sir, it’s just the helmet that’s trashed.”  Killroy dragged his Swiss rifle back over to him.  “My eyes and the gun work just fine.” He pressed the sight to his eye again and continued to scan the treeline.  “I did plenty of sniping before that helmet was invented.”  He centered the scope on a green blur in the thermal imaging.  It was hunched over a cylindrical object.  “There he is.”  KRAKK!  “No more mortar, sir.”

Eclipse couldn’t help but smirk a little bit, but he continued to keep his head down.  Across the marsh, Generic and C-Sis lay low at the very edge of the trees.

“Well, that worked,” Generic said sarcastically.

“Hey, Proteus got back didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but if we move, we’re swiss cheese.”

“Unless we do the last thing they expect.  There’s a group of ‘em about ten feet in.  Wanna rush ‘em?”

Generic glared at the man lying next to him.  “You know, death in battle is honorable, you know, but I’d rather live to see the day that my medals get de-classified!”

“There’s plenty of tree cover, and they won’t expect it.  Slap on those night-vision goggles, and let’s do it!”

Generic shook his head.  “We’re intelligence and espionage for crying out loud!  We’re not frontline infantry!”

“I’m going.  You can either follow, or let me die and be haunted by your conscience your whole life.”

Generic rolled his eyes and slapped a fresh clip into his machine gun.  “Let’s do it.”  They jumped to their feet and immediately threw themselves back first against the trees.  Generic peered around the trunk, focusing his night-vision in one the group of four Night-Vipers that sat crouched, their scoped weapons pointed outwards.

“Remember…aimed fire!  Pick your targets…we don’t have a lot of spare ammo.” One of the Night-Vipers said to the others.  Generic signaled to C-Sis, who plucked a green grenade from his chest strap.  He yanked the pin, dropped it and threw.  The grenade exploded with a sharp bang, a tiny yellow blast giving way to thick clouds of smoke.  Two Night-Vipers screamed and fell under the shrapnel barrage and the two Shadow Ops men charged.  The other two Night-Vipers dove to the sides and whipped their weapons around, but before they could fire the two soldiers drilled them with automatic fire.  An M-60 on a tripod sat there, unattended.  It was miraculously unharmed by the grenade.  Generic grabbed it eagerly and fed the ammo belt through, then took two more belts and quickly strapped them over his chest.  The “hog” felt smooth and cold under his grip, but it was comfortable, and he felt secure.  Suddenly chattering machine gun fire burst from the trees to their right and C-Sis dropped like a stone.  Generic stumbled backwards, clutching tightly to the M-60.  He ended up in a seated position and could only see the mysterious glow of think, slender infrared goggles in the darkness.  There were three of them, walking slowly towards him.  He shouted and blasted away with the powerful heavy machine gun, barely keeping it under control as it jerked wildly in his loose grip.  The yellow blast from the barrel plowed into the dark woods and cut down trees like a chainsaw, but the red goggles vanished from view.  A slender figure dropped from the trees and landed in a skillful crouch, a sword in hand.  Generic turned, but the sword lashed out and struck the gun from his hand quickly and definitely.  The man stood tall in a gray body suit with black and dark blue tiger-stripe camouflage running from head to toe.  He had a gray hood with red goggles and a menacing red Cobra symbol on his chest.  His hands and lower legs were wrapped in dark bandages and he moved like someone born for combat.  With swift skill he spun the katana in his hand in a figure eight, then lowered it to Generic’s throat, the shape of a smile forming just under his skintight facemask.

KRAKK!

The figure fell in a heap, a red mist floating softly towards the ground and his sword hitting the grass almost noiselessly.  Generic’s heart beat powerfully in his chest as he crawled over to C-Sis.  There was a red stain on the left of his chest.  Far enough left to be more of a shoulder wound than anything, and he was already regaining consciousness.

“C’mon, C…we’re outta here.  We took out their have machine gun nest.  We should be okay.” He wrapped C-Sis’ shoulder over his own and pulled him to his feet, then grabbed his small machine gun with his other hand.  No way he could handle the M-60 with one hand and C-Sis with the other.

Back near the ocean Killroy scanned the treeline again.  “Somebody had the drop on Generic, but I nailed him.” He reported to Eclipse.  “Hold on, boss…I see Solution, Mojo and Black Bag!  They’re coming from the trees over to the west!” Eclipse pressed night vision binoculars to his eyes and zoomed in.

“Good!  I think they neutralized the men who were pinning down Rumble.  They’re all making it across the swamp.” He glanced back at the two others, as if finally realizing something.  “Where’s Obsidian, anyway?” he asked.

“Running some humint, last I knew,” Proteus said, ducking down as another burst of fire roared over the marsh.

“There’s a bunch of torqued-off snakes hurling jacketed lead at us!  That’s all the human intelligence I need!” Killroy shouted and squeezed off another well-aimed shot into the brush.

“All right, Boys!” Eclipse shouted.  “Everyone into the ASDS, we’re blowing this popsicle stand!” he pointed at the slim black torpedo like object that sat in the water, bobbing slightly up and down.  The Advanced Seal Delivery Submersible was quite the watercraft.  It measured sixty-five feet by thirty-five feet and was slim and streamlined like a large torpedo.  The angled sides deflected radar to shield its approach, but there were so many angles, that the craft still appeared smooth and rounded.  A small hatch sat upright, beckoning the men inside.  Killroy tossed his helmet in, then picked up Wraith and helped him inside, then entered himself.  Generic and C-Sis limped over to their comrades, and Eclipse directed them inside.  The last three men were about halfway to the shoreline when it hit the fan.  Machine gun fire exploded from the treeline in a huge, constant burst, showering the air with orange and red tracers.  Two Night-Vipers emerged from the woods, automatics in their hands and pointed at the last three men as they hit the ground to avoid the fire. 

“Proteus!” Eclipse shouted.  “Get in the ASDS, I’ll take care of this.”

“No, sir!” Proteus shouted.

“Excuse me?” Eclipse looked towards the usual obedient man with question in his eyes.

“With all due respect, sir…you are the leader.  You’re too important.  Get in the ASDS, I’ll lay down cover fire!” he had to shout to be heard, and they kept their heads down.

“But—“

“You know I’m right, sir!”

Eclipse nodded and handed his Uzi over to Proteus, then ran over to the submersible and dove inside.  Proteus stuck his Glock in his belt at the small of his back and clutched the Uzi in two hands.  With a quick breath, he charged forward, gun blazing at the treeline where the majority of the gunshots were coming from.  He ran crouched, low to the ground and the tracers zipped over his head, but didn’t miss it by much.  Pretty soon the Uzi responded to trigger pulls with an annoying click and Proteus cast it aside, ducking and weaving as much as possible.  The two Night-Vipers finally realized how close he was and lifted their weapons, firing sporadically.  Proteus threw himself to the ground, pulling the Glock swiftly from his belt.  He hit the wet grass shoulder first, squeezing off three well placed shots directly into the face of the first Night-Viper.  He grunted and dropped to the ground.  Proteus somersaulted, fountains of soil and grass blasted into the air just behind him, then rolled up into a kneeling firing stance and fired again.  The Glock thrashed as he fired, but held its aim and dropped the second Night-Viper with a shout.  Proteus was kneeling by the four men, who dared not move or be cut to pieces.

“What do you think you’re going to do with a pistol?” Black Bag asked angrily.  Proteus looked over the men and saw that none of them had weapons.

“We all ran out of ammo fighting our way out here,” Mojo said.

“Yeah, and one of those mortar shots DX’ed my wavelength weapon!  It’ll take forever to slap another one of those together!” Rumble shouted.  Proteus glanced over the men lying before him.

“Okay, Rumble?  You’ve got the body armor, so you’re elected to give us cover fire.  Not a good assignment, but I don’t know what else to do.” Proteus handed over the nine-millimeter and a fresh clip.

Rumble nodded.  “You got it.”  He winked at Proteus.  “See ya back at the submersible!” he lifted the pistol and glared into the treeline where tracers hurtled from at blinding speeds.  “Go!” he shouted and the three others jumped to their feet and dashed off.  Rumble jumped forward.  “YEEEEHHHAAAAAAW!” he shouted shrilly as he blasted towards the treeline with the pistol.  With violent suddenness the whole treeline erupted into bright, unexpected blasts of light and clouds of smoke.  Explosions rocked the swamplands as the whole front row of trees was swiftly reduced to vapor by thundering successive powerful explosions.  The rocking booms echoed through the air and over the ocean’s surface, illuminating the night and knocking over trees for a good half mile.  The blast knocked Rumble on his rear end as his shocked eyes looked at the now vaporized, smoldering, flaming treeline.

“Daaaamn, Proteus…what kinda ammo you got in here?” he asked, staring at the pistol with confusion.  Then he saw the dark figure walking slowly towards him, framed in smoke and thrashing tentacles of fire.

“Heh, I shoulda known it was y’all,” he said, climbing to his feet.  The man didn’t answer, but just continued to walk past him, his facial expressions a mystery behind the black metal mask and opaque goggles.  He wore a jet-black bodysuit with spider-webs of silver across his legs.  It was a strange design, yet somehow worked.  He spun the detonator swiftly and skillfully in his hand, then hooked it back onto his belt like a cowboy in an old western.

“Coming, Rumble?” he hissed as he walked towards the ASDS, where Proteus and the others were now entering.  The occupants’ heads poked up out of the hatch wondering what the racket was.  They saw the dark figure and instantly knew.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Obsidian…that was some light show!” he glanced back as they boarded the submersible to head back home.