I'm writing a story, I'll post the first chap. Tell me what you think, thanks.


Down South

A hot, arid wind blew fine grains of sand into 66’s eyes. But he didn’t notice. Instead he involuntary pulled down his black flame resistant facemask. Deep in thought 66 could not hear any movement around him; he only focused on the job at hand. The five other heavily equipped Gen-Egs were mirror images of him; no one would move before the signal was given, it was the discipline. They had been waiting in that stinking, shallow hole for hours in the blazing desert heat. Strike Six was waiting for their prey.

Strike Six had infiltrated into the Northern Territory of the Central American Union the day before. The objective area was a small series of buildings and an adjoining airfield, ten miles from the coast. Dropped into the sea by helicopter, the team had to swim over the horizon to the beach. It had been a hastily planned out mission, but not one beyond the capabilities of the Gen-Egs. That’s what they were designed for.

Strike Six’s target was a drug shipment for the powerful Martinez Cartel, identification and timing was critical. The cartel was one of several that had been operating for decades in one form or another, without any significant interference from the Central American Union government. Money talks. These organizations were earning as much money as their country’s government. The repressed population of 66’s country religiously paid top dollar for various smuggled illegal products. At home the Internal Security Directorate was in mortal combat trying to cope with the ever-growing drug/ black market trade. It was beyond the I.S.D. to handle the source of the drugs, that’s were the military came in.
Operation Ghost Walker was intended to inflict damage on all of the cartels operating in the CAU. Targets ranged from drug shipments, to distribution centers, to individuals, 36 targets all to be hit tonight.
The Gen-Egs were created for covert missions, including infiltration into foreign countries. So Gen-Egs were sent into the C.A.U. to destroy a scheduled Martinez drug shipment. Strike Six was only one of several dozen direct action teams in place against the cartels.


“Strike six… convoy ETA two minutes, over.”
“Roger, Skywatch.”

The Gen-Eg in charge was named 485; he had medium build, blue eyes and was very withdrawn. Slowly 485 lifted the camo roof of the team’s hide position so he could peer out. A gust of fresh air swiped into the stinking hole, reviving everyone. Vibrations and a low rumble created by diesel engines could be felt. A slight tenseness flashed over 66; he knew combat would happen soon. The passing trucks blew dust into the team’s hide, as they roared by. Slowly 485 lowered the cover of the team’s hide, a smile crossed his face.


“Two trucks, same as before… arm the mine!” Bellowed the leader over the loud trucks.

“Check.”

Two green and blue lights appeared as 117 activated the hidden land mine with the remote. Outside two huge diesel trucks labored along a well-worn dirt road moving toward the airfield. The first truck held twenty heavily armed gunmen detailed to protect the ten tons of white death. Right at the point where the road met the airfield, Strike Six had planted explosives hours ago. Once activated, the mine directed a photoelectric sensor upward toward the sky. All that was needed was for something to block out the light. The lead cartel truck slowly drove over the sensor and in a blinding flash the mine detonated. Two hundred pounds of explosives tore upward ripping thru the lead truck, and the gunmen riding in the back. The five-ton truck was lifted up in a heap and crashed down onto its side in a wrecked ball of flame. Fragments of the truck, and its human cargo rained down on Strike Six as they rose up out of their team hide, guns blazing.

Strike Six moved as one well practiced entity. Everyone moved into a previously assigned and executed fire lane. The second truck had swerved to a stop by the fiery destruction of the first truck. Several of the men in the back of the second truck were stunned by the blast, others weren’t. 66 quickly shifted his submachine gun onto two gunmen standing dazed in the truck bed. A short burst from 66’s sub gun tore into two now lifeless gunmen. A Gen-Eg next to 66 tossed an oblong fragmentation hand grenade into the truck bed with the remaining cowing gunmen. Screams mixed with the gut retching explosion as 66 turned the corner around the stalled truck. The blast momentarily slowed 66, as bits of flesh, blood, and metal sprayed him. A falling body landed in front of 66; instinctively he fired a burst into the moaning gunman. Pausing to reload his sub gun 66 looked for his comrades. Two others came up even with 66, behind the truck. The other three were rounding the front of the truck. Almost as one the team began to fire at the fleeing survivors. Within seconds it was over.

“Team check!” Shouted 485
“2115, one magazine used.”
“390 two mags used!”
“23 one mag and two grenades used!”
“117 one mag used, hit twice, no damage!”
“66 one mag used, blast hit, no damage!”

117 quickly employed more explosives among the drug shipment as the others set up a temporary perimeter. It was going to take several minutes as he worked. 66 watched his sector as he ran his hand over his gear. He checked his equipment vest, and found several ragged holes in it. As he checked further he found grenade fragments stuck into his thick body armor. As he pulled them out he found a three-inch fragment had even lightly bruised his chest. Time passed slowly until finally the charges were set.

“All set!”
“Let’s move!”

Strike Six quickly reversed their positions and ran back toward the way they had come. They passed the team hide position and the surrounding buildings. Once they reached a nearby hilltop the team heard the engines of the untouched antique cargo plane start up. Pausing at the top of the hill, the team looked down at the plane as it began to taxi. Without a word they stood watching. The aircrew had been sleeping in one of the outer buildings of the airfield; Strike Six had discovered them the night before. The team had left them alive and ignorant of the Gen-Eg’s presence. It was 485’s decision. A little twisted Gen-Eg fun. Once the plane completed its taxi it began to race down the lone runway. The aircrew was obviously very happy to have survived the raid. As the plane rose into the air, 390 lifted a portable surface to air missile that he had been carrying. The cargo plane began to bank right as the missile shot upward in pursuit. It was like a sick joke, a plane older than the team members combined was unknowingly trying to outrun an advanced unfeeling robot. A sharp explosion followed by a larger second one marked the death of the cargo plane and crew. Debris that had once been the cargo plane fell as the truck and the shipment erupted in a fiery explosion. Without a word the team turned and raced down the backside of the hill, to the pick up point, and home.

Within two hours all assigned targets of Ghost Walker were destroyed or assassinated, with no casualties among any strike team. The Gen-Egs had once again executed their missions perfectly. The property operated as advertised.

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