FUMUKU International: Security Operation: Gallows Humour
Status: Declassified
Authorisation 3514 A/OJA


It was June that's when the detail began, the sun was high, beating down mercilessly on the concrete jungle beneath. The people sprawling beneath, scurrying like insects or vermin, continuing their pitiful lives, caring not for the truth if it clashed with their liberal ideals of the world.

He hated them, nearly as much as he hated the weather. Zaeed reasoned it was Irish heritage that made him detest the weather, and people in general, as he opened another packet of paracetamol to deal with the growing headache he felt behind his eyes. Swallowing the pills, he wondered how he ended up in this shit-hole of the world, Johannesburg to be precise. Spending his day sat in a beaten up old Volvo, observing the same location, taking mental notes to build an intelligence picture, for the possible eventuality. Zaeed had already spent three months in country, preparing, gathering a feel for the land, the combat indicators, the native tensions, all of this to prepare for the coming protection detail. He had already done all the necessary prep work, the escape routes were planned, and practise runs had been done with his security team. They all knew the routes off by heart, where to go in the event of the operation being compromised, where to avoid, and where to detour. That was taken care of, the one problem Zaeed had noticed was one they couldn't make a direct move against. The gangs, hundreds of them, armed to the death. Whilst the gangs were untrained soldiers, armed with third world discards, they could be a problem, a problem so big it could cause a bloodbath.
Mr Malkrin had given Zaeed discretion to act as he saw fit, that suited Zaeed fine, but meant one thing, this was a plausible deniability operation. If shit hit the fan, FUMUKU wouldn't be implicated, there was no paper trail, nobody knew Zaeed and his team were in South Africa.
This meant limited support, and bribery. Knowing that if the local gangs weren't on side, they could try to compromise the operation, Zaeed had approached the current controlling gang, he needed their approval. That would cost him, the gangs wouldn't do anything unless their back was suitably scratched. This is how Zaeed found himself sat outside a shit hole street, watching a bunch of oxygen thieves, he was primarily a problem solver, and the local war boss Matthias had a problem.
One of his sub lieutenants had been double dealing his 'product' due to certain implications Matthias couldn't just eliminate the guy, and this is where Zaeed came in.

Having spent the last two days living in this car, waiting for an opportunity, Zaeed was half asleep when the opportunity came, intelligence had been half-accurate, the target was travelling with three security vehicles, the opportunity however was that the target was travelling at the head of the convoy, counter to all standard security drills. Such hubris always costs man thought Zaeed.
''Two this is One, how copy?'' stated Zaeed as he pressed the throat-bone microphone key.
''One this is Two solid copy, send traffic over'' came the reply. ''Two this One, target is Oscar Mike, is diversion in place over?''
''One this is Two, solid copy, diversion is in place, ready for anything over''
Good thought Zaeed, this would go smoother than he had hoped, he turned over the engine of his Volvo, and gently idled out onto the road, it was dark now, so he called his headlights, switching over to his NVG monocle, following at a distance of 300 yards, stealth was his best asset at this
point. Especially as the enemy convoy included a belt fed .50 mounted on a pick-up truck.

The dirt road wound for what seemed like hours, the convoy never halting, until like a star burst, bright and brilliant, 20 tonnes of steel collided with the lead protection vehicle of the convoy. Wiping it off the face of the earth, and off the bridge it was due about to cross, the refuse truck skidded to a halt, as four armed men disembarked, these men weren't the normal gang members however, they were FUMUKU International security agents, equipped with level IIIA body armour, NVG goggles, equipped with L85a2 assault rifles, and the latest in group communications technology. The rifles they wielded were modified for night time operations, equipped with suppressors, and PEQ/2 boxes, they covertly targeted the convoy occupants, firing in controlled bursts, killing the convoy operators quickly and succinctly. The suppressors concealing their muzzle flush, and distorting the sound of their shots, the convoy occupants sown with confusion. They tried to defend themselves, firing off sporadic bursts in random directions, the whole event occurring in less than 5 seconds. Then they targeted the Volvo, before firing they noticed the IR reflective IFF markings on the door, invisible to anyone without NVG, the markings read Taxi, a form of camouflage even in camouflage, a testimony to Zaeeds' foresight, in the event they encountered anyone with NVG capacity, the marking wouldn't immediately arouse suspicion.

Zaeed skidded up along inside the four men, and simply stated ''in''. They embarked the vehicle, and the pursuit began, the target had no more than a 6 sec lead, but was driving off road, and besides the target didn't have a 6.0litre petrol engine, and a car covertly modified for off road pursuits.
''We have ten minutes'' barked Zaeed, ''before that fucker gets into the next town, we end him now''
Pursuing the target wasn't hard, he was driving in a straight line, in a state of panic, he had no direction, and his gear changes were sloppy due to the massive hit of adrenaline and shock at his whole security team dying, further shock set in when Zaeed, pulled alongside his rear quarter, and slammed his car violently into his own, the police call it a PIT manoeuvre, but at the speed both vehicles were travelling at, it was death. The target vehicle, spun, twice in the direction of the impact before it wrapped itself around the nearest roadside. Cutting into the passenger side of the vehicle, and trapping the driver. Who was by now screaming. Zaeeds vehicle also spun, and rolled, once. Zaeed unlocked his seat belt, and fell with a groan onto his head, adding more scars to his scalp from the shattered glass littering the roof. He kicked at the door of the car, and staggered out, getting his bearings. He withdrew his pistol, a HK MK23, loaded with 12 rounds, double stack of +P ammunition. Cautiously walking towards the target vehicle, he constantly checked his vectors, the four agents from earlier joined him, following in a dispersed diamond pattern, constantly scanning the horizon, and keeping him covered. Approaching the target vehicle, he was greeted by a stream of abuse, and then pleading, as he drew up upon his target, he saw him, a boy, no more than 17, begging for his life. Pleading that he has a mother, a sister, a daughter on the way. Zaeed would never forget that face, the child’s face, wide eyed, frightened, and vicious, so much hate in those eyes, they didn't belong to any man, the same fear in those eyes as one would find in a dying animal. Whilst he would never forget the face, he felt nothing, he had walked this path too long, to feel anything resembling, remorse, pity, empathy, or guilt. The child pleaded one more time, begging for his life, screaming that any human wouldn't do this, offering money for his life, a wealth of paradise, asking if Zaeed was a human being. Zaeed simply raised his pistol, and fired three rounds into the kids face, before quipping, ''we're all human kid''.
With that, the first stage of the operation was completed. Now they just had to return, without being killed, and the radio Zaeed had picked up out of the kid's car, was picking up with chatter about what had just happened.
''Looks like the nights still young boy's, brass check, fresh mags, defensive posture now, prepare to repel'' barked Zaeed, as his unit prepared for the long night ahead.

FUMUKU International: Security Operation: Gallows Humour II
Status: Declassified
Authorisation 7332 A/IA

''Looks like the nights still young boy's, brass check, fresh mags, defensive posture now, prepare to repel'' barked Zaeed, as his unit prepared for the long night ahead.
Jericho McAndrews' brass checked his rifle, one in the pipe already he thought, turning it on the side he glanced at the P-Mag, looking through the transparent window in the side, the etched number indicated he had 5 rounds left, he removed the magazine out of the rifle, and fitted a new one. He passed the nearly empty magazine to Gordon Leary, who was refilling all the nearly spent magazines, from the spare ammo in his bergen, and knelt down to help him. He knew it'd be a long night, Zaeed was right, all magazines were refilled, he glanced at Zaeed. Zaeed was prone, scanning the horizon with his NVG, tough fucker, to be out here heading an op at his age, but as much as Zaeed wouldn't admit his age was catching up to him, Jericho tapped his throat bone microphone, ''One this is Two how copy'' a moment of silence before the static of the microphone opened up to Jericho could hear Zaeeds gravelly voice on the microphone, a testimony to his smoking. ''Two this is One, send it''. ''One this Two, you might want some more firepower, want me to grab a long from the vehicle, over'' ''Two this One, good call, grab what you can, we haven't got long, and get Three looking for a working vehicle we need to exfil now, we got movement on the horizon'' Jericho, got up from his position and tapped Gordon on the shoulder, using scratch company hand signals he indicates that they need a working vehicle to exfil yesterday.

Glancing at the car they'd just dismounted, Jericho noticed how close to dying they'd been in that crash, the roof was almost completely caved in, barely enough room left for the occupants to not have their heads crushed from the impact. The smell, Jericho instinctively knew the car was useless, he could smell petrol, and it was dripping out of the car. Walking towards the car, he cautiously tried the boot, nothing, it was jammed, kneeling down, he slipped off his bergen, and took out a crowbar, he began to pry, still nothing, waving Gordon over, they both heaved on it and the boot gave popping open and spilling a miniature arsenal out. Jericho dragged the weapons grates over to Zaeed, who opened them with a swipe of his thumb, on the digital lock. Opening the hard cover weapons crates, Zaeed took out a L85a2 rifle, and 12 magazines of 5.56x45mm ammunition. ''Take what you need, you'll need a UGL, give one to Three too'' said Zaeed as he walked back to his observation point. Jericho grabbed an Under Slung Grenade Launcher and 3 rounds, clipping it to the bottom rail of his rifles RIS, the cold steel adding extra weight, but firepower too. Hefting his rifle up he walked over to Gordon, and handed him another UGL, ''that bad huh?'' smirked Gordon, as he finished drinking from his canteen, ''yeah looks that way, Zaeed spotted movement on the horizon, he's off watching em now, we need transport urgently Gordon, but we are stuck in this spitball desert, no cover, except two wrecked cars, and a dead kid'' Jericho said as he lowered himself down into a crouch leaning against his rifle, as he stared in the direction of Zaeed. ''How far do you think we came from the bridge Jericho?'' ''Sorry Gordon don't see the relevance, we can't fight from that position''
''Wrong but there's a transport there, remember the refuse truck, it's better than nothing''
''You wonderful bastard, it's about 2miles, I'd say, lets get Zaeed and get moving''

Zaeed looked over at Jericho and Gordon, both of them walking towards him, their posture upright, confident, lean and powerful, Zaeed was about to start waxing nostalgic about the days of his youth, when they spoke up; ''We've got a plan Zaeed''. Raising an eyebrow Zaeed gestured with his hand for them to share it, listening intently biting back the urge to cough up a lung, he gestured with a silent nod, that they were to commence planning, and held up five fingers, Jericho and Gordon knew this meant they'd be Oscar Mike in five, and sprinted towards Satrianni, who was busy prepping the groups bergens, food, water, and importantly ammo. When they got out of sight and ear shot Zaeed relaxed and collapsed coughing, damn dust he thought to himself, but when his eyes cleared he noticed blood on his hand, ''well shit'' he knew his days weren't measured with the halcyon eyed wistfulness of youth, he knew this'd probably his last active operation, he'd hoped by ignoring it, it'd go away, and leave him in peace, instead it's insidious influence just permeated and interfered. In truth he was looking for the reunion round, he'd seen too much and he just wanted to lay with those he'd lost, those he held dear. Begrudgingly he got to his feet, shaking the world weariness off his shoulders, and wiping the blood from his mouth, and jogged over to the team of men, to whom he would die for. Reaching down to grab his bergen, he noticed Jericho tense and stare, instinctively he flung himself to the ground as the first rounds flew over head.

How and who were the first questions going through Jericho's head, he shouldered his rifle as time seemed to dilate, firing controlled bursts in the direction of the incoming fire, he moved to cover, as the other men from the unit positioned themselves and opened fire. At this range, the incoming was just kicking up dirt, and they desperately needed to get mobile, taking cover behind the engine block of the crashed car, Jericho opened his left webbing pouch and clipped the thermal magnifier to the Spectre Elcan 4x Gunsight on his rifle. ''Contact 700m, unclear who, definitely hostile'' whilst the thermal magnifier allowed him to see the heat sources, as with all thermal sights, the resolution at that range was poor, he couldn't make out numbers, just a vague shape and the heat backwash from their fire. ''We need to move NOW!'' Jericho walked backwards firing, and with taking one hand off his rifle tapped Zaeeds shoulder, as Gordon did the same thing for Satrianni. At that signal, Zaeed and Satrianni both threw a smoke grenade each, and ran in the direction of the bridge. Covering bounds of one hundred metres, the two groups swapped role each time, one covering, one moving, until the enemy suitably harassed withdrew. With the pressure off for now, all men ran for the destination praying that they'd make it there in one piece. The truck was in one piece, however there was a large amount of steam venting from the front radiator from the impact earlier. ''Gordon, get that truck working now, everybody else defensive posture, prepare to repel'' growled Zaeed, as he took up cover behind the concrete revetment of the bridge, only an inch, but it should make me live longer. Scanning the horizon he saw nothing, it was quiet, but he couldn't shake that itch, the feeling he was being watched. Then the end game started, not with a bang, but the start of a truck. Gordon turned the truck engine over, and it spluttered to life with a loud bang, Jericho turned in surprise, and pressed his microphone ''One this is Two, trucks ready we are Oscar Mike, how copy''

Silence, that was all that followed, ''Repeat One this is Two, One this is Two, trucks ready we are Oscar Mike, how copy'' still nothing, Jericho felt the bile rise in his throat, that feeling that something was wrong. Sprinting over to Zaeeds position he knew before he saw Zaeed what had happened, he could see Zaeeds rifle on the floor, as he got closer he saw a singular hole in the concrete wall, immediately diving into cover next to Zaeed, he pushed the microphone key and yelled one word ''MEDIC''. He knew instinctively what had happened, one round, fired as the truck started, that meant at least two eyes watching them, and a high powered rifle, possibly a .338. The round had punched clean through the wall, and clean through Zaeeds stomach, who was now lying on his side in the dirt. As Jericho pulled at Zaeed trying to drag him into cover, Zaeed said one thing ''Don't bother kid, save yourselves, I'm dead either way.....terminal.....it's been a pleasure'' before slipping out of consciousness. Before Jericho could say a word the world turned to hell, gunfire flying overhead, tracers filling the air, like luminous wasps, buzzing overhead. He saw the masses of them, at least 30 men, and a small convoy of vehicles approaching, flat beds with mounted weapons, clutching Zaeed with one hand, he felt his blood chill, as the concrete started to spray into shrapnel, cutting his face and slicing at his skin, he felt his heart sink, as he saw the metal of their truck buckle and split as it came under fire. Then and only then he knew what it felt like to face the instrument of his death.

FUMUKU International: Security Operation: Gallows Humour III
Status: Declassified
Authorisation 7332 A/IA

Jericho saw the whole world, slow to a standstill, he could see the bullets kiss the air, as if in slow motion, he didn't see anything as corny as his life flash before his eyes, no he saw his future, and what he'd have to do, to make sure he had one. He had survival coursing through his body and loyalty, loyalty to his men, and his friends, he would not allow the memory of comrades years past to be tarnished by cowardice, and indecision. Even if it meant he would die tonight, he would fight.
The sting of a bullet caressing his shoulder brought the world sharply back into focus, the pain blotted by adrenaline, he dragged Zaeeds limp body back from where it fell, and regrouped with Satrianni and Leary. Gordon started emergency first aid, to try and save Zaeeds life, sterilising the wound, and applying pressure with medical dressings. He didn't bother with morphine, Zaeeds heart rate was too low, and he was clearly in no pain, he did however have little time left. Jericho slammed open the UGL mounted to his rifle, and fired a 40mmHEDP round at the bridge, right now
that concrete bridge was all that was between him and death. He repeated the procedure twice more, each time cratering holes in the bridge, it wouldn't stop them, but it'd slow them down, and it meant their vehicles couldn't cross the bridge either. Only a distance of one hundred metres separated Jericho and his men, from the enemy, whoever they were. ''We need to kill those .50s now'' yelled Jericho as the guns slowly chewed up the sky and the road, trying to get range on the target, their accuracy limited not by the blood-lust of their operators, but rather the crude mountings bolting them to the pick-up trucks, struggling against the recoil. All four men were lying in the dirt, down a slight slope, with a thin concrete crash barrier separating the more accurate small arms fire from them. Satrianni, unslung the cloth case from his bergen, and removed a Brugger Thomet APR rifle, popping the covers from the thermal scope he simply stated one word, ''smoke''. Jericho hurled the smoke over onto the bridge, obscuring the advancing men, as Satrianni held his breath and counted to ten, waiting for the cloud to cover the bridge. He then rolled sideways onto the bridge, laying prone, even with a powerful thermal scope it was hard to see the targets through the smoke, but one thing was unmistakable, the heat of the barrel of a .50cal on full auto. Satrianni knew however not to aim for the barrel, he adjusted to just above it, and slightly to the right, ''pause and boom, one down, two to go'' quickly readjusting, he succinctly dropped each gunner, and calmly rolled back to his previous position, as he began repacking his rifle, he simply stated ''done''.

''We ain't home yet, how's Zaeed Gordon?'' Looking up his hands and uniform covered in blood Gordon simply shook his head, ''unless we get him to a proper medical facility, he's dead''. Something snapped Jericho's attention away, and he quickly turned to face behind, they had contact to the rear, three vehicles. The spotlights on the armoured vehicles illuminated the four men crouching by the bridge, seemingly ignorant of the gunfire now directed at them from the opposite side of the bridge. ''Now none of you fucking move, or that'll be the end china'' came a thick South African accent, the hostiles on the bridge, understanding that their quarry would be lost, and not needing to wait for their vehicles, decided to charge firing blindly. The three armoured vehicles sat at the opposite end, were Marauders, ten ton armoured combat vehicles. Sitting next to the spotlights on each vehicles, was a fully loaded .50cal m2 browning, all three of which were now tracking the men charging down the bridge. With a roar like the thunder god Zeus himself, they split apart the nights sky, and rendered the threat of the armed men, negligible. As the rounds found their home in their targets, limbs were torn off in violent puffs of pink mist, and bodies were unrecognisably brutalised, in the space of ten seconds, it was all over. The men in the vehicles alighted in tight military fashion, covering all vectors, and moving with intent towards Jericho and his men. Wielding R4 assault rifles, there were twelve of them, more than enough to kill Jericho and everyone else, not to mention the brownings still trained on Jerichos' position.
''This man here is wounded'' said the man at the point of the group, pointing towards Zaeed. He obviously hadn't shaven in a week, and was clearly non too fussed at the whole affair, he wasn't oozing professionalism, rather oozing an ambivalence at where he was, as if this was nothing new, or worrying. ''And you would be?'' asked Jericho his brain racing as to how he was going to get out of this situation, and how he'd gone from being fucked, to being fucked with chalk as a lube.
''mind ya own business, we're here for you, and got no choice'' the man signalled to one of the men behind him, and pointed towards Zaeed. ''Radio the FOB, tell em we got one near-corpse needs an urgent patch job, and let em know we got 3 other prisoners'' he then looked at Jericho, and knelt down eye to eye, face to face. ''Know this, you are coming with us, you have no choice, you can try to shoot you're way out of this, but you will die, and where you sit will be your grave, come with us, you're man there will get medical attention, and y'all can rest, and in case you're wondering what the fuck happened tonight, the grenades you fired, we heard we were on route to raid a local warboss, and we diverted, those men who were shootin at ya? Those were the bastards we were sent to hit, and we want to know who the fuck you are, why the fuck you're here, and why they were shooting at you''. Jericho nodded, it was a painful situation to be in, but he had no choice, if he was alive, and Zaeed was alive, they could turn this cluster-fuck on his head, but he was hoping these next words, would turn the situation in his favour. ''You're South African military right?'' the man nodded. Jericho stood to his full height, and saluted, ''my name is Jericho McAndrews, I work for FUMUKU International security division, and I am hear on behalf of Jacob Zuma, performing a security operation for him, that is all I will say at this point until my men have assurances for their safety'' The man stood to his full height and stated, ''Captain Julius Motlanthe, Army, you have such assurances as far as I can give em, now we ain't got time to argue the toss, get in the trucks, we need to stitch your man up so we ain't got to bury em k?'' Jericho nodded, and motioned his men towards the trucks, Gordon tapped Jericho on the shoulder, ''I don't like this'', ''neither do I, but we play the hand we're dealt''.

The convoy sped towards the nearest military outpost, the FUMUKU operatives, torn between concern for their dying comrade, and their own personal safety, they seemed to constantly move from one danger to another, not 5minutes ago, they were about to die, now they were being taken to a potentially hostile military base, and were firmly in that militaries custody, with no line of support, no back-up, no one to come looking for them, and a multi million dollar contract potentially in ruins. Jericho realised he hated June. When they arrived at the outpost, the Captains men, rushed Zaeed off into a medical tent, and refused them entry, saying to give it time, and let the doctors do their work. This nearly escalated into a full blown fire-fight, and it was only for the intervention of Julius Motlanthe, that no-one else died that evening, he told Jericho that until such time as Zaeed was stable, he couldn't see him, but as soon as he was, he'd make sure they were informed, and allowed to see him. None of them slept that night, Jericho was sick with guilt and worry, and he couldn't understand what Zaeed meant by terminal, the guy had been a good friend to him, and a hell of a teacher, but now he was as good as dead. When Julius finally came to see Jericho, he told him Zaeed had died three times clinically in the night, at one point it took ten minutes to get his pulse back, but that he seemed stable for now, he'd had a blood transfusion, after they'd found a match in the medical centres blood bank. Julius also had some bad news. He told Jericho that either way Zaeed was dead, whether he survived the gunshot, or succumbed to it, he had throat cancer, they'd run his blood to find out his blood group for the transfusion, and found the traces then. It was then Jericho fell to his knees, in the military cells he and his men were kept in, and pounded the walls, with his fists till they bled, the news shocked everyone, Gordon went silent, and the world seemed to slow to him, the words he was hearing sounded distant, as if he was underwater, and time lost all meaning. Satrianni, calm as ever just said Well shit. Jericho found himself lost, his mentor and friend would be gone, one day, he knew the risks, but not like this, it wasn't fair, and why hadn't he told him, the more he thought about it, the more distant and alone he felt, his only thought was a poem Zaeed had once told him, when he first met him, just like the old guy to talk in riddles, he'd been so shocked at the time, it was his first time meeting the guy after all, and it was all Zaeed said to him after he'd introduced himself. The poem went something like this;
"The mirror is a window
through which we see ourselves--
Reversed and without form.
Our deepest lies reborn, true."