FUMUKU International

[Eisenhorn]

Spoiler: Operation Gallows Humour 2

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.