FUMUKU International

[Eisenhorn]

Spoiler: Operation Gallows Humour 3

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."