The Tales of Raythia: Trojan Horse | Chapter 1: "Ambush"

The Tales of Raythia

Trojan Horse

Chapter 1  -  Ambush

    “MOOOV-“

    WHUM-WHUUUMPH!

    Whatever Sergeant Fenrick was trying to say was lost in a deafening explosion. The grenade going off at his feet cut the man short in more ways than one before near-simultaneously detonating the fuel tank of the jeep he had been trying to take cover behind. The ensuing fireball billowed and burst, creating a column of flame and smoke that shot up into the desert sky.

    “FUCK!” Olvera assessed intelligently.

    The Sergeant hid behind the low wall. Next to him, Pvt. Johnson panted and coughed trying to get his breath back. The explosion had clearly knocked the wind out of him and his head was likely ringing just like Olvera’s. All around them, rifles chattered and barked as rounds chewed up the stone walls and buildings.

    Shit had gone sideways quick.

    “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” Olvera bellowed over the sound of gunfire.

    “PEOPLE ARE FUCKING SHOOTING AT US!” Pvt LeRoux shouted from a few dozen meters away.

    As if to punctuate her point, Spc. Merrick popped up over the wall next to the Automatic Rifleman, trained his M24 on something, and fired a single, booming shot before ducking back down.

    “NO FUCKING SHIT!” Olvera snapped.

    “Hey man, stupid questions get stupid answers.” Johnson coughed out as he primed his M320.

    Olvera growled but said nothing further. Now wasn’t the time.

    Staying low, he rushed past the still recovering Grenadier Rifleman over to the other two in his FireTeam. Merrick and LeRoux were trading off popping up over the wall to take pot shots, Merrick with his long-range M24 rifle and LeRoux with her M249 throwing every piece of lead known to man down range at whatever poor sap was in the building down the street.

    The Team Leader couldn’t help but be amused at the difference.

    “What’ve we got?” he asked as he reached the two of them; a moment later joined by Johnson.

    “Three hostiles.” Merrick reported coolly. “Two in the blown out three story at the far end of the street that LeRoux is turning into swiss cheese…”

    LeRoux roared as she popped up over the wall for a moment, letting loose another volley from the light machine gun.

    “…Got one more in the little two story on the west side here.”

    “Where’d the grenade come from?”

    “East side two story building. Had a couple in there but FireTeam Alpha started lighting them up the moment that their TL got hit.”

    Olvera grimaced but didn’t comment on that.

    “One in the west side?” Olvera confirmed.

    Merrick gave a nod.

    “Alright, that’s target one. We’ll move to clear and then deal with the building at the end. LeRoux: you’re gonna light ‘em up. Johnson: send ‘em a present while they’re reconsidering their life choices. Merrick: cover our move.”

    “Right.” They all said in unison.

    “Let’s go, Bravo.”

    Moving like four parts of the same organism, FireTeam Bravo quickly shuffled along the low wall to get a better vantage point on the western building that Merrick had indicated. They had trained relentlessly and knew they could rely on each other to be right where the other one needed. FireTeam Alpha was already dealing with the other side of the street and the booms and barks of gunfire were starting to die down just as quickly as they’d started moments prior.

    This was no longer an ambush.

    This was barely a training exercise.

    Olvera got to see a flicker of glass from a scope in one of the windows a moment before LeRoux roared again behind him. The lithe woman hefted the LMG and let loose a volley of hot lead that turned the building’s façade to dust and sprayed it with red hot tracers. A hollow Whump followed a second after the machine gun chatter quit.

    BOOOOOOM!

    The bullet riddled face of the building exploded outward in a spray of glass, concrete, and dust as Johnson’s grenade hit home.

    Olvera was already moving.

    The Team Leader moved behind cover, his M4 trained on the door to the building, flanked by LeRoux with her M249 ready and daring anyone in the building above to challenge her fury. A moment later, they would be joined by Johnson and then-

    CRACK!

    The report of Merrick’s M24 rifle told him all he needed to know even before the Marksman spoke.

    “Target neutralized.”

    “Roger. Move to Clear the building at the end. Stay behind cover.”

    One down, two to go.

    As FireTeam Bravo moved down the decimated street past the convoy they’d been a part of only a few short minutes before, Olvera got glimpses of things in the wreckage. Shattered stone. Wrenched and bent metal. Small fires burning. Scraps of paper and cloth. A human hand. All pieces of a world destroyed but endless war. Endless fighting.

    Endless chaos.

    More rifle fire could be heard chattering away here and there from the building they were approaching, but it was quickly dying down; becoming more sparse as those that would use them against his team were snuffed out. Frantic bursts of rounds and suppressing fire were coming from the third floor, but nothing hit near them. Compared to the sounds battle earlier, it was practically peaceful.

    “Alpha moving to Clear.” came through clearly in his earpiece from PFC Talbot.

    “Roger. Bravo moving to Overwatch.”

    Up ahead, the now three-man FireTeam could be seen appearing from an alley to their right, bridging the gap and kicking in a wood door of the building before disappearing inside. PFC Talbot now lead after Sgt. Fenrick’s unfortunate demise.

    Olvera and his team quickly spread out, their backs to the stone, watching for anyone else who would dare try to continue the fight.

    No one did.

    And they didn’t have to wait long.

    Several brief exchanges could be heard from the building above, but it only took a few moments before Tablot spoke again.

    “Targets neutralized.”

    “You alright, man?” Sgt. Olvera asked with a grimace.

    PFC. Talbot let out a deep sigh and nodded, glancing up at him as he spoke. The Team Leader for FireTeam Bravo was dirty, covered in dust and mud with streaks of sweat cutting deep grooves in the mess on his brown skin. Olvera’s dark brown eyes were hard set, clearly feeling just as worn as he was, and the TL’s thin black goatee and mustache were matted despite their short length.

    “Yea, I’m okay.” Talbot said softly.

    “I’m sorry about…”

    “I know. I know.”

    In his hands, Tablot held his former Sergeant’s dogtags; gently rolling the little piece of metal between gloved fingers.

    There was nothing more to say.

    Tablot glanced out as the convoy rolled along. They were out of the city and rushing through open terrain towards Bawaba Air Base. They’d be there in just a few minutes.

    Safe and sound.

    For everyone but Fenrick.

    Talbot and Olvera locked eyes again. They just sat there and stared at each other, both of them clearly debating if there was something that could be said here. If there was some way to make the other feel better about the situation.

    There wasn’t.

    They rode in silence until crossing the fenced walls of Bawaba Air Base when Olvera finally spoke up.

    “At least…” Pvt. Johnson spoke up from a few seats down.

    “Don’t say it, David.” Talbot said shortly.

    “I was just gonna…”

    “Don’t say it.” Sgt. Olvera echoed, more sternly.

    “Come on, I was just gonna say that at least things can’t get any worse today.”

    Reaching over from across the aisle, Pvt. Stamovich slapped the burly black man on the head to the grunts and groans of the two fireteams.

    “You HAD to say it, didn’t you?” she growled.

    “What? I’m just saying…”

    “We all know what you’re saying, Johnson.” Pvt. Jimenez barked from down the way. “And we’re saying that you’re inviting bullshit when you say shit like that.”

    The two teams nodded and muttered in agreement.

    “Oh, come on!” Johnson replied dismissively.

    “Look, man.” Merrick commented quietly. “If you ain’t learned by now, saying shit like is just asking the universe to dump shit in your lap.”

    “You too, Merrick?!” Johnson glanced over in surprise. “Never took you for the superstitious type.”

    “It ain’t superstitious if it’s true.” Stamovich snapped.

    “Enough!” Olvera barked. “I don’t care if you’re superstitious. A man died today and you’re gonna shut the fuck up or I’m gonna break my foot off in your ass.”

    “Yes, Sarge.” Johnson muttered.

    And they did.

    A few minutes and a squeal of brakes later, the teams were clambering down out of the transport onto a hot airfield. The sun shone brightly overhead, the whole place stunk of jet fuel, and the heat was terrible. And, to their surprise, their non-comm was standing there waiting for them, eyes locked and jaw hard set.

    But, to Talbot’s surprise, the NCO didn’t approach him.

    “Sgt. Olvera.” The non-comm said in a clipped tone. “I know you just got back, but you and FireTeam Bravo have a second assignment that must be carried out immediately. Please follow me. FireTeam Alpha, hit the mess and get cleaned up.”

    Olvera looked shocked for a brief moment before giving a curt nod, adjusting himself, and following in behind the NCO. Merrick was right behind him as was LeRoux. Only Johnson lingered with a look of shock before Stamovich leaned over with a smile.

    “See, I was just saying…” she said mockingly before smacking him upside the head again. “It ain’t superstitious if it’s true. Enjoy your assignment. After all, things can’t get worse today.”