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Naked Snake

CS Story - Inferno

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The sun beat down hard on the Turkish village, the temperature was easily 100 degrees and the humidity was unbearable, especially in a jumpsuit with lots of ammo and packs strapped to you. But a Counter-Terrorist must endure such things, especially on a dangerous mission like this...

The Terrorists checked and loaded their weapons. They grabbed hand grenades from an old banana box, carefully avoiding the rusty nail that protruded from the bottom. They all carried knives of various models, sizes and conditions. Some were cheap and rusted pocket knives, others clutched expensive knives that were large and very sharp. A few even had the money for some NVGs for the operation. The crew of 7 huddled in the back of an old hay truck, sweltering in the intense heat, all jelous of the driver and passangers, who had the comfort of AC. However, heat or no heat, they were determined to send a message.

They were mainly from Russia and the Middle East, a few from South America. One was from the United States, he had joined up with the Islamic Warriors. He was the one with the C4, the brick sat in a dirty old camoflauge backpack. The CT team had a satalite image of the group of Terrorists that was so clear they could see that one of them had a scar on his cheek that looked kind of like a check-mark. Their objective was to prevent the fanatics from setting their explosive payload near the pipeline for the village, or near the oil storage crates, which contained massive amounts of the precious crude. The village was cleared beforehand, the Turkish government felt this team of Counter-Terrorists were better equiped to handle the job than an entire group of their military units. Besides, the US portion of the unit sure would love to get a few of them alive. They collected their weapons of choice and several clips of ammo, a selection of grenades and a standard-issue Ka-Bar Combat Knife. There were only two on the team that specialized in explosives, so they carried defusion kits in case the bomb was tickin' when they rolled up. Everyone was equipped with gas-masks and NVGs and all the operatives wore special markers that would easily identify them in the dark with NVGs going. They had trained for years at the expense of their respective governments for this and not a single one of them had a doubt they would succeed.

The battered Toyota rumbled to stop, the worn tires planted firmly on the fine sand below them. Within seconds the cadre of righteous warriors clambered out, hastily readying their weapons. They had quite an assortment of firepower among them. Two carried AK-47s, very well known Soviet assault rifles, though one had a bayonet on his, the other had a scope and folding stock as well as a 40 round banana clip. Another carried a Galil 5.56mm assault rifle from Israel, he had a sawed-off Remington 870. Two were suited to the Sig 552, a 5.56mm assault rifle with an acog scope. One had an LR-3000 which was fully decked out with a LAM, tactical flashlight, scope and a 40mm grenade launcher and he carried a sawed-off db shotgun. The marksmen carried a Remington sniper rifle with a supressor and a tripod. One carried an Angram 2000 SMG with a 32 round clip and a detachable silencer. The other carried a P90 SMG, 50 rounds of 5.7mm bullets. A lanky terrorist clutched a Calico M960, a 100 round SMG that fired .22 Long Rifle bullets and could fire in full-auto, burst and semi-auto. The new guy carried an AWP .338 Winmag. Finally, the old terrorist carried an M-16a2 with .223 Remington (instead of 5.56mm) and an M203 grenade launcher. They all carried pistols, a few carried sawed off shotguns and small SMGs as backup weapons as well. They knew they were well prepared to defeat any resistance.

The Counter-Terrorist team was equipped to meet and react to any situation they could face, their arms were quite expensive and for good reason. They were effective and specially made for combat in their respective scenarios. The unit of 10 carried a plethora of modern firearms. 3 carried the M4A1 carbine, but with 3 very different configurations. One had taken off his carrying handle and installed a Remington 870 shotgun under the barrel to form the so-called Master-key system. The other had a scope on his, his silencer had a LAM on it. The other had a grenade launcher as well as a scope and a silencer. One carried a Famas, a bull-pup style assault rifle with a 25 round mag, burst and full auto fire. One carried a Steyr Scout, it didn't have a silencer because the operative disliked them on his sniper rifles, he always said that it didn't matter if his gun was loud, his target wouldn't hear it anyway. The other sniper carried an SL-8 with a silencer attached as well as a LAM and a folding stock. One of the pointmen carried two primary weapons in addition to his sidearm, he carried a M3 Super 90, a pump-action / semi-automatic shotgun as well as a Steyr TMP compact SMG with a detachable silencer. The recon specialist carried an MP-5 SD/10 which was chambered with 10mm Auto instead of 9mm, full auto, burst and semi-auto firing and an integrated silencer, it also had a bayonet, LAM and flashlight as well as an AWP .50 BMG. The last CT carried an M249 Light Machinegun with a scope, tripod and grenade launcher. The last soldier carried a Steyr Aug. They ran from their staging grounds and went to actively hunt their enemies.

The terrorists ran through the streets, oddly surprised that they were empty. This puzzled them, a few whispered amongst themselves that there was possibly some military presence. They were not aware of any spying being done on them. They one in front motioned for the others to come down the long hallway near the employee sidewalk cafe. There was the sign of the oil storage and the gate that was never locked, the rusted links held up a long faded sign written in New and Old Turkish.
"Hey," one said and pointed to a white patio table with a colorful umbrella. There was a bag of pot, a bowl and lighter haphazardly strewn about, a spilled cup of soda and a half-eaten Snickers. "I think these people were in a hurry..." he said slowly. "Somebody knows we are here, I'm sure of it" he said in a hushed tone.
"Who, the local police? Turkish special forces?" the American asked, a hint of hope, hope for combat and bloodshed.
"Shit," one of the Russians said, "maybe it is the US Seal Team 6, they are still actively huntiing terrorists with ties to Bin Laden." They all started catiously surveying their surroundings, studying every window, scrutinizing every shadow. A few decided to fall back around the bend and go the other path. Two of them walked out and looked around, there was the hallway they went through near the apartment building, it had a crusty old dumpster with festering garbage in it. There was a fire escape ladder near the entrance to the bend. There was a storm ditch to the left of the bend's opening which also had a crawlspace to the next street. If the two had not partaken in the smoking of marijuana earlier, as it was quite common in Turkey, they might have noticed the Counter-Terrorists drawing a bead on them and carefully aiming for their heads. Before they could finish their banter and laughs they were dispatched of with 5.56mm death, one had his jaw mangled into a mass of broken bone and gore and the other had the bridge of his nose burst outwards in a violet spray of destroyed flesh. Suddenly the Counter-Terrorists heard quite a response and a volley of gunfire erupted from around the bend and through the doorway. Their bullets were worthless as they did not come close to the fire escape or the crawlspace. The operative in the crawlspace pulled the pin from his flashbang grenade and lobbed it against the doorframe. The loud pop and groans informed him that the grenade had at least disoriented a few of them. The second trooper, a GSG-9 trained one, dropped a smoker from his perch. He climbed down quickly and threw another flash, there was at least one groan from behind the haze. Then he threw one of his frag nades and ducked around the corner. The explosion rocked the corridor, the scream and thud announced the grisly death of a terrorist and the clattering of tables said that it had bounced near the cafe. The GSG-9 CT clicked his radio on and raised it to his mouth.
"Need backup" he said in a low voice.
"Roger that" came the reply.
They waited. They heard another CT call "fire in the hole" and a far-off explosion. The roar of an AK-47 and other firearms yonder were heard, the AK-47 staying loud and one then two rifles going silent. "Teammate down" came a somber voice over the com.

Two jump-suited individuals had been in the administrative offices of the Turkish Oil Co. and they had not suspected a thing as the terrorist and his partner opened fire with their weapons. The two were Counter-Terrorists, one from the SAS and the other from the Russian Spetsnaz.
"Enemy spotted, multi-national Counter-Terrorist units" the Arab said in a deep voice.
"Roger that, Comrade" replied the slightly drunk Russian. The dumb bastard still had the habit of refering to his fellows as Comrade. The latino with the arab offered to take point and grabbed the dead infidel's M4A1, he took the magazines and grenades from his belts and found the carrying handle and silencer for the carbine, he loved the prospect of the M203. They walked up the steps, a sign in N/O Turkish and English said "Living Quarters / Administrative Suites". They could hear a fan whirling and the slight buzzing of a faulty lightbulb. The swarm of bugs was quite annoying and the floor was slippery with wetness and filth littered about. The latino looked out the open door through his scope as the arab man grabbed a flashbang from his belt. He tapped the dark Brazilian and motioned for him to arm a grenade as well. They both popped the pins on their flashes and hurled them up the stairs. They went off and they rushed up and were quite surprised when they got to the top. Suddenly they were blind and deaf, one dropped his gun and the other fired blindly, without result. They lost their lives without any means of defending themselves, although the shots inflicted on them were precise and therefore they did not suffer for very long.

Things at the bend were not looking good. Two fellow militants lay dead or dying, gunshots and frags taking their toll. The remaining crowd had recovered the C4 and advanced up the bend. They opened the doors and looked around. There was the objective, the stacks of crates and in them, the barrels. The gear for moving them was there and many had indeed been taken out before the evacuation but so many had remained that it was still a viable target. The one with the C4 had two follow him and the others decided to go through the archway to the right. The stacks of crates had all sorts of different labels with many different languages on them. They were worth billions. They were about to be destroyed in a massive explosion.

The two militants aimlessly wandered, noting the jeep and small flatbed truck with crates next to it. With proper training they would have recognized the crates as ones made by the SAS's special crate division. The jeep was from a local US airbase and the flatbed truck was being rented from a farmer for $250. The two clumsy terrorists didn't even notice the sniper casually taking aim from a window. The sniper, with a smirk, aimed for the crotch of the terrorist with a ski-mask and stupid arctic camo in the middle of a fucking town. The .50 BMG round, made to penetrate the engine blocks of enemy vehicles did its trick and ripped the man's lower torso from his legs. He dropped his SMG and his partner jumped down an incline where a garage door was. The sniper worked the bolt and waited patiently.

The terrorist held his SG552 tightly and then lobbed a smoke grenade to the top of the incline. The puff of smoke spread and he threw another into the haze to the left and then another to the right. The area was filled with smoke and he put his assault rifle away. He pulled out his two Beretta 92FS pistols and walked into the cloud. In the drifting mists he saw a vague shape moving. The bulges alerted him that this was not a friendly. He opened fire at the shadowy figure and felt the recoil as the rounds popped from the ejection port. Suddenly the mass returned fire, the muzzle flash bright through the thick smoke. The flash went wild as the figure collapsed, the clatter of metal striking the brick and the thud of a fresh corpse signaled the enemy's downfall. The terrorist ran quickly to the right, his vision clearing as he saw stairs leading to a door that said "processing" in 3 languages, all foreign to the terrorist though one was English letters. He walked in silently like a creeping cat, his shoes barely making a sound on the hard-wood floor. He saw a desk and a computer that was off and there was a wall with a shelf and a poster of a very lovely woman in a bikini. Around the corner the terrorist heard the static of a radio and a voice.
"Report in team" which was followed promptly by a clear voice with an unmistakable American accent.
"Reporting in, I'm watching the primary pipeline." the man said, crouching on one knee and hold an M4A1. The terrorist slowly took his knife out of its sheath and crept ever so carefully towards the crouching figure. The young man was right behind the veteran soldier with his knife raised high. He sharply inhaled and swung down and didn't expect the blazing-fast reaction of the CT. He whirled around and put his gun up, blocking the knife. He struck the terrorist with his gun and pulled out his own knife. Without a second thought he lunged forward and slashed the kid's face, ripping his neck open. He dropped his gun to clutch the wound and the CT finished him off with a stab to the heart. He collapsed like a puppet that has lost its strings, his heart pouring out blood in steady spurts. Soon his brain would tell the heart it was dead and stop pumping, he would die slowly but unable to really react. "Enemy down"

The terrorists stood in the middle of the storage yard, one was opening the blood-stained old as dirt backpack and the others were keeping a careful eye out for any movement. Their orders were to shoot at anything while it was ticking, if it was one of their own then too fucking bad. The one with the bomb pressed in the 6 digit code and set the bomb on the ground. The timer flashed with a red LED and it beeped slowly, it was set to 7 minutes. The one who planted it said into his radio "The bomb has been planted". Unknown to him, the CTs that overheard this message quickly passed it on.

The squad had regrouped and then executed a plan. Three would go through the bend, three would go through the apartment area to go from the gate that goes from the road while one would go through the area they unloaded. The two light-caliber snipers went with the soldier with the Masterkey M4A1 around the bend while the M4A1 toting Sergeant, the recon specialist and the support MGer went through the apartments. The trooper with the Aug went through the unloading area. "Keep in contact" the Sarge said before leaving.

The lone SAS PFC casually glanced at the jeep and flatbed, he didn't really notice at first the man leaning up against it smoking a cigarette. He still had his gun ready but his composure was one of relaxation. The slight zoom on the Aug allowed the CT to target the idiot's temple, calmly blowing a 5.56mm ball round through his brain. "Enemy down" he reported. He heard the bomb beeping off in the distance. "I hear it ticking."

They heard the gunshots but not from where. The Russian had his M-60 on a bipod on a crate, his M-16a2 next to him and a Colt .357 on his hip. The other had loaded two 40mm smoke grenade rounds and launched them to provide smoke cover, then they all threw their remaining smokers to provide additional cover. The other one was hiding in a corner behind another box, he was scared even though his gun held 100 rounds. He was the one who was (as he was told, wrongly, by his lying masters) obligated by religion to go down with the bomb if he had to. It had 5:53 to go. Suddenly he heard a fury of combat, explosions of grenades and flashbangs, more smokers and heavy gunfire. The M-60 sang its song and the other terrorist launched a 40mm grenade, it exploded and produced a scream of agony. The bomb beeped loudly but was drowned out temporarily by the loud report of a heavy-caliber rifle. The cracking of wood suggested a miss but it was unceartain to the hiding terrorist. Those bullets could rip right through a person. He was expected to go down with the bomb?

The M-60 had run dry and the M-16 was now earning its pay. He had it set on burst fire and began firing at two shapes that had appeared near the gates. They returned around the corner and the other terrorist ran to the controls and closed the gate. A flashbang popped in front of him, providing a painful experience. He uselessly rubbed his eyes to remove the blinding white and then the imprint of what he last saw.

The flash exploded in mid-air, catching one of the CTs off-guard and he was blinded. The others led him back through the apartment hallways. They were going to go out the window the recon sniper had sniped through before. He could take out the heavy gun if it was where he thought it was mounted with his sniper rifle while the others crept up. They ran past the buckets, empty cigarette packs and other refuse and went into the apartment. It was sparesly furnished, a couch that was also a bed, a cot, a TV and a table. The window was open and the sniper looked out it, he put his eye to the scope for a few seconds then his rifle sounded off.

The team advancing around the bend were doing so slowly, but for good reason. They knew they had to wait for the right moment to pounce. They waited for the commander's signal each time before moving to the next cover. They waited with infinite patience for the second that would determine the whole outcome of this event.

The two terrorists that remained were panic-stricken. There was 3 minutes or so left on the bomb. One responded to the rifle with a few 40mm grenades and a volley of gunfire to discourage the brave. He didn't expect the twirling orb flying towards him to appear from the cloud of black smoke. It took him about 2 seconds to realize it was a 40mm grenade that was sort of like his. This realization was fruitless however as this transfer of neurons occured the grenade struck the slow-minded terrorist in the chest, exploding with brutal force. The one behind the box ran out in a desperate attempt to see what was happening. He almost cried when he saw the 6 jump-suited combatants huddled around the bomb. He let out a slight whimper as he opened fire, his shots hitting a few but the others drew on him with the quickness. His body was penetrated many times by varying caliber bullets. The bomb's beeping was fast and steady and suddenly it cut short. The crisis was over.

The losses were minimal but the damage could have been a lot worse. Without this precious pipeline, nations of the world would suffer greatly. The disaster averted at the pipeline in Turkey helped save quite a few nations from an oil draught. However, there are more terrorist out there and sometimes, they get away with it...

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Thanks. Another CS story is in the works and it is going to be written more natural in style, so it should be better.

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