Thank God I wasn't lost, I mean, the mall is huge. If it wasn't for McCord's undying patience with my constant need for navigational guidance, I'd probably end up on the other side of the planet.
Regrouping with the rest of squad wasn't difficult as half of first platoon had already established a solid perimeter on the North Entrance; the marksmen on the upper floors, the weapons squad dug in behind the corpses of our enemies, and the rest were hidden in plain sight, on alert, weapons raised.
For me, it wasn't easy to miss because one, I'd made use of the neural implant and pinged the platoon, just so that they don't riddle me with bullets. Two,
Raptor 1-1 had the bar covered, while 1-2 and 1-3 took the two restaurants opposite us.
"So, what are we here for exactly?" I asked softly, with one eye on the red dot, trained on the entrance.
"I dunno, waiting?" Amber replied.
"There wasn't any gunfire since the last thirty minutes," I added, "We should be clear."
Punctuated by careful and discrete footsteps, pieces of glass cracked from behind as Jackson lugged his SAW slowly towards us. With a soft thud, he placed his bipod on the counter, muzzle pointed at the door, "I didn't hear no gunfire too, but that don't mean that they ain't out there," he said
"So, then why aren't we going out there to get them?" I asked.
"Hey who knows? They might be looking at us right now," Jackson said, "But it doesn't matter, we've killed most of them on the way in. Third platoon's probably wiping the floor with the last of them right now."
"Rumour has it that the enemy took a bunch of civilians hostage," James whispered, "Human shields."
"Why do you think they're sending us into hot zones without fire support?" Jackson added, "No airstrikes, no collateral damage."
"Collateral damage?" Midnight said, "You mean acceptable casualties?"
Jackson chuckled, "I like this guy."
"All Raptor 1 callsigns," Gideon's voice sounded over the company's comm net, "We're in the clear. I say again, all Raptor 1 callsigns, the AO is secure."
"Already?" James said, "I thought we were gonna be here a little longer."
"That's how the Raptors operate, mate," Jackal said as he stood up from the clutter of flipped desks, "Two and a half hours is all we need to send these conscripts running back to their mothers."
"So what now?" Midnight asked, "We take the next FOB?"
"Oh, we're not going anywhere anytime soon," McCord said as he casually strolled past the four of us who were still behind the counter with our guns on the door. He then paused to look at Jackal, "Or not, sir?"
"Our CO has something to say about that," Jackal said.
------------
Meanwhile, aboard the USFS Stormbringer.....
A long trail of blood dragged along the blackened floor. The lights above flickered ever so slightly. Flanking the walls were elements from Mendoza's platoon, rifles in hand. The air was heavy and with it, a subtle metallic smell of blood.
Suddenly, a scream echoed across the hallway, drawing the attention of the Marines. However, as if this had been a normal occurrence for the past hour, their unfazed focus was directed back at the cells.
Their duties include watching a handful of captured enemy marines who were hastily placed in the brig. The Stormbringer did not have many cells, so the dozen or so prisoners were packed tightly into each room. The Marines were there to discourage them from doing anything stupid, and to give them whatever food they could find from the mess hall.
Another scream cried out, followed by bloodied curses. Johnson quickly walked past the Marines, acknowledging them with a salute and moving towards the end of the hallway. The last cell door was open, with a another marine standing just outside.
"You're gonna talk, or we'll shoot your men," a voice said.
"Go ahead," a reply came, "They don't matter."
"Pass me the gauntlet again," the same voice said.
"Captain, sir," The marine said as Johnson turned into the cell.
As Johnson's irises scanned the cell, he heaved as the smell of blood and piss assaulted his nose.
The Naval Infantry officer who had chipped off one of Johnson's front tooth was now strapped to a chair. Trails of blood hung from his sweaty face as he hunched over. He took a quick look at Johnson, and before he could spit at the captain, he was cut off by a punch to his gut. He yelped as the force knocked the wind out of him.
Standing around him were a detachment of Marine Raiders who were attached to Mendoza and his unit. Their digital black camouflage pattern painted on their EVA suits made them stand out amongst their regular Marine counterparts. They carried carbines similar to that of the other Marines, albeit with heavy modifications such as smart suppressors and self-propelled aiming modules attached on their weapons.
The Marine who punched the prisoner stood away from his living punching bag, and turned towards Johnson. Together, the rest of the Raiders did the same.
The blue holographic skulls etched on the Raiders' EVA helmets greeted Johnson, as they welcomed a new guest to the dimly lit cubic room. The only face that didn't have a ominous blue skull was his XO.
"Captain," Richard said.
Johnson paused to look around once more, "Gentlemen," he said, as he catches a glimpse of three water jugs sitting at the corner of the room. One has already been emptied.
He had no qualms when it came to 'extracting information' from enemy crews. But waterboarding was a little much.
Johnson pointed to said corner, "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"
The Raiders paused and looked at each other, each seeking an answer or a cover story from one another. Even with his face shrouded by a holographic skull, Johnson could tell the Raider next to him hesitated to answer the question.
"We're using it to clean the floor, captain," one of the Raiders said.
Johnson knew he couldn't do much here. These guys were MARSOC, and they won't take orders from him
He shrugged it off, "If he doesn't talk, try the enlisted, they might. We don't have much time."
You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net