NationStates Jolt Archive

The Decayed

Easter Island is an island rich with history, cryptic and mysterious history. Located 3,600 km (2,237 statute miles) west of continental Chile and 2,075 km (1,290 statute miles) east of Pitcairn Island, it is one of the most isolated inhabited islands in the world. With a size area of only 163.6 km² (63 sq. miles), and a population of 3,791 (2002 census), 3,304 of which live in the capital of Hanga Roa, the island is nothing major in terms of world influence. However, there lies something deeper, something more mysterious.

For example, the island is lined with Moai, which are massive, monolithic statues that line the coasts of the island. Many of them are massive, some exceeding twenty feet in height and twenty tons in mass. Some 887 have been identified, hundreds still lying in the Rano Raraku quarry where they were abruptly left, many uncompleted. Although often identified as "heads", the statues actually are heads and complete torsos. Some upright moai, however, have become buried up to their necks by shifting soils. Many questions loom as to why they were erected, why they were suddenly stopped, and why many of them were knocked over. Many theories center on a complete and sudden breakdown of the social order of the island, possible civil strife. Much of the history of this island is unknown.

Further reading. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Easter_Island) Without further procrastination, I invite you to read but just remember one thing, please read the notes below.

Lastly, before you read please do not pass any judgement that this will be a pathetic post. If you must have a reference, please go to to the list below and you will see the abilities of me to tell a story. I am a writer.
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Legend
All text in red type is top secret classified. It is unknown to the normal reader and even anyone else other than those present in the text. All are loyal to the government so please none of that, "We had spies" nonsense because I'm going to ignore it.

Italic text is text that is speech. It is italic to differentiate from normal text.

Italic underlined text is thought.

Orange text is a memory.

Green text is documents, communications, etc.

Bold, green text in quote form is used to mean something that isn't in the document.

Blue text is just a minor announcement.

Bold, blue text is a service announcement meant in OOC form

Bold, gray text is a translation.

Small, bold text is OOC.
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Notes

This will be updated on an irregular basis. If there is ever something that violates NS rules (and no nothing illegal will be had here) please inform me and I'll take care of it. However, please do not expect this RP to be written for a first grader. Many of the situations, scenes, and pictures you will see will be grotesque and frightening. You should not read this if you are not of a mature mind. In addition, if you are offended don't read! Simple as that. Be warned.
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Other Role-Playing Stories

Ascensión (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509447)
Down with the Sickness (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=432254)
Isla del Enfermo (Earth II) (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=398102)
La Guerra que no Hombre Debe Saber (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=434657)
Ride the Lightning (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=448866)
Sehnsucht für das Glück (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=386920)
Tale of the Time: Ancient Secrets Found in Yucatán... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=409829)
Tale of the Wicked: An Empire Within... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=486764)
The Forsaken Island (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=442286)
The Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors (Earth II) (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=380343)
The Knight of Dark Chaos (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384906)
The Layartebian Chronicles (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384916)
The Praetorian Project (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=450228)

Table of Contents


Chapter I: Unanswered Questions (Page 1)
Chapter II: Tortured Souls
Chapter III: City of Lights
Chapter IV: Poisoned Hearts (Page 2)
Chapter V: Tainted Visions
Chapter VI: Echoed Nightmares
Chapter VII: The Mysteries of the Past (Page 3)
Chapter VIII: Spoken Truths
Chapter IX: Revelation
Chapter X: The Final Hours (Page 4)
Chapter XI: Conflict
Chapter XII: Anger
Chapter XIII: Hanga Roa (Page 5)
Chapter XIV: Salvation

Map

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/easterisland-05.jpg

Chapter I: Unanswered Questions

Governor's Island was quiet and peaceful, the way it should be at 1900 on a Sunday. The sun set low on the horizon and cast the sky a type of red, purple, black meld of colors. Layarteb City was like that on Sunday's, peaceful and traditional. Most people were home, with their families, eating dinner, watching the news or some television programs, many just relaxing. Capitalism had invaded the Empire long ago but it had not stolen Sunday, the one day of rest and relaxation that everyone enjoyed. People relaxed, they went for walks, they went to the beaches, they did things most people did as a family. Nonetheless, despite being a day off for the rest of the Empire, it wasn't for the Emperor and his Cabinet, no day was.

The Emperor had called in Colonel Jack Delaney, leader of Force Falcon Team One, the most elite and most secretive group in all of the Imperial Layartebian Military. The 1st Black Operations Unit, Force Falcon, consisted of only a few hundred members, barely one hundred of those being actual fighting soldiers. They had twelve teams, each of eight men. Usually, Team One, the most elite, did bodyguard duty for the Emperor. When they weren't they did his dirty work. They were in every theater of operations within eighteen hours of the actual onset of a problem and they were the last to leave, often their presence being a complete mystery to the remainder of the military, including the commanders on the ground. Their existence was kept secret and should it be surmised, it was denied, flat out.

Colonel Delaney sat outside his office now as he wrapped up a conference call with his Joint Chiefs, the Chairman being in his presence along with the Minister of Intelligence. Something big was happening and they had to figure out what and they had to immediately! The phone of the secretary buzzed. She was a slender woman, barely forty. Married and with two children she was covering a shift for the usual Sunday secretary who was out sick with a horrible case of bronchitis. She didn't mind, the job paid well, there were benefits, and she was treated better than she would have been in any other job she worked, even the most highest paid in the Empire. "Angela. Send in Jack alright?"

"Yes sir." She replied and she smiled at Jack. They had come to know each other, him being in there far more than most people, and they were quite friendly. "He'll see you now. I wonder what it is this time that is going on. Sometimes the whole world seems to have lost its mind."

"I agree." He smiled and turned off his cell phone. He had sent a text message to his girlfriend only minutes prior, telling her not to expect him tonight. It would hurt her but she knew to expect these sort of things. His job required him to be on call, all the time. He entered the office and saluted the Emperor. Though not in his military uniform, he was always on duty and this was the Emperor. "Sir. Reporting as ordered."

The Emperor laughed, joined by the Minister of Intelligence and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. A cracked window in the corner let in a chilling breeze that made the room smell fresh. "You and that nonsense."

"I figured that you would get a laugh out of it sir." He took a seat at the main table, next to the Minister of Intelligence. "Alright sir, I take it this isn't a social call?"

"I'm afraid not. It seems we have a pretty graphic situation on Easter Island."

"Easter Island? Sir that's in the middle of nowhere."

"Understandable. I gather you are aware of our 'under-the-table' acquisition of the island?"

"I am sir."

"Good. Then I don't need to fill you in on the background. Chairman?"

"Yes sir. Alright Colonel. Two weeks ago we sent in a team from Force Spectre to recon the island and scout out the situation. Within forty-eight hours of their drop onto the island, which went by HALO, we lost contact with them. Their gear was picked up so we know they made it onto the island without incident. Resistance was expected to be minimal. We're talking 3,000 natives, barely any weapons on the island, nothing we would even need a cruiser for, understood? Well after we lost contact we dropped in another team. They landed safely and once again forty-eight hours later, nothing. We're ten days now from that point, fourteen total. We fear that there is a rebel contingent on the island, something we didn't know about, and that this place is far worse than anyone could expect." He laid out some pictures on the table of reconnaissance pictures and pictures obtained from the computers of a few locals, most of which were illegally hacked into, after all this was a intelligence game.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/easterisland-01.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/easterisland-02.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/easterisland-03.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/easterisland-04.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/moai-01.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/moai-02.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/moai-03.jpg

"It looks peaceful. And deserted."

"Quite right Colonel. It is a problem now." The Minister of Intelligence interrupted. "We're going to need you to HALO in with your team and find out what the hell is going on with this island. Reconnaissance flyovers have revealed nothing except the same. We can't detect any electromagnetic interference or anything along those lines. We're talking 2,240 miles south-southwest of the Galapagos Islands, heading 211. It isn't close but it isn't far either. We need to know what has happened? As it is now we have sixteen Black Ops soldiers lost, possibly captured, possibly dead, possibly who knows what. You understand?"

"I do sir. This isn't sitting easy though. We're walking into a possible death trap."

"I understand your sentiments Colonel. I myself do not need to lose you as an asset. Your team is my personal security force but I can't send in anyone else. You and your men are the best Colonel, without a doubt. The Minister and the Chairman both agree that if your team cannot successfully find out what is going on with this island that we will abandon our claim to it. However, it will not be done easily. This is an important island, it is very strategic. Our plans for the island are large and will be costly. We must ensure that whatever is going on can be stopped so that we may initiate Operation Siphon, which I am sure you know about?"

"Yes sir. I have read that Op."

"I know you will not let me or the Empire down."

"Sir."

"I understand."

"When do I leave?"

"You and your team should be ready to go by 0200. There is a transport leaving from your usual airbase. You will go in via C-17 and you will HALO into the same point as the other two teams. We are counting on your Colonel."

"I won't let you down sir."

"Make no mistake. Kaliningrad, the Yucatán, both of those were cake walks compared to what this could be. You will be the only forces on the island for days. We are going to have a supply drop in seven days for you but that is pending your finding out what the problem is. Naval elements are underway but don't expect them there for ten days, minimum. Rough seas have slowed their transit to a mere twelve knots. When they arrive you will have a full Amphibious Assault Ready Group and a full Carrier Escort Group off the island, surrounding it. We're talking 2,421,607 tons of naval prowess."

"I understand sir. We have roughly six hours until then. I will personally call my men on my way back to my house. I have to at least say goodbye to my girlfriend. You understand."

"We do Colonel, very much so. You understand the normal rules?"

"I do sir. She is cleared to the highest level, you do realize?"

"Understandable."

"Minister I am completely aware. Sir could you please?"

"It's alright. He's fine. There isn't another man in this universe I would want as my personal bodyguard."

"Good. I don't want another mess on my hands."

Infuriated by his comment, Colonel Delaney stood and slammed his fist down in front of the Minister of Intelligence. "You had better hope I don't die out there. This mission has shit and fuck written all over it. I will serve my duty to the Empire and to the Emperor, it is my sworn duty but if I find out that there is something you didn't tell me, so help you. Now before I break your nose, you had better come clean. What mess?"

"Colonel. Relax."

"Sir. I am calm. Do you see him dead?"

"No I don't." Gripped in a staring battle, the Minister of Intelligence and Colonel Delaney neither breathed nor blinked. The Chairman sat back, although uneasily.

"Minister. What are you not telling me?" He looked at the Emperor. "Don't you dare look to hide on this one. I will kill you."

"Colonel. There is something that I neglected to tell you."

"Spit it out, now!" Colonel Delaney barely moved. He kept his stature. Then, he was passed a transcript from a transmission. "What is this?"

"The last transmission from the first team."

"And did the second see this?"

"No."

"Have these two men seen this?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" He picked up the transmission but did not move. "No answer?"

"Colonel. I felt it would make you uneasy?"

"Uneasy? Have you read this? Cannibalism? Human torch? Liver? Sir."

"Colonel. I need you to complete this."

"Eight versus three thousand sir."

"Colonel. I have no one else."

Colonel Delaney retracted. "I will do this because it is my duty but here my protest right now. This mission is FUBAR. You know what that means? This is no reconnaissance, this is going into the depths of Hell. There is no return from this."

"Colonel."

"Chairman?"

"None of us in this room believe in God. Yourself included correct?"

"Yes."

"I would like Him to be with you, if He does exist."

"That's comforting."

"Colonel. You will inform your men directly?"

"I will sir."

"Very well. May the best of luck go with you."

"Thank you sir." He pulled back and gave one last look to the Minister of Intelligence and crumpled up the document. Just before he walked away he threw it at him. "I hope you are still alive when I get back."

"(Inaudible)...Help...We've...(Inaudible)...heavy...(Inaudible)...They're eating people...(Inaudible)...Oh my God!...(Inaudible)...liver is gone...(Inaudible)...The place smells...(Inaudible)...flesh on fire...(Inaudible)...End of Transmission

Colonel Delaney left the office, annoyed, failing to say anything to the secretary as he walked out. He exited the castle and got into his car, which was waiting outside. To hell with this crap! He thought to himself as he sped away, accelerating down the bridge in his 1970 Chevelle SS. His car roared as he tore the pavement up, flying down the causeway at nearly 85 miles per hour. He had to slow down at the end, for the guard booth. When he passed through it, it was back up to speed again and he flew all the way home, well over the speed limit. His frustration of this mission alone was being slowly burned off as he flew down the roads, cornering well, passing in and out of the other cars. Any police officer could arrest him on sheer principle and his only way out of it was the fact that he had a direct line to the Emperor.

When he finally got home he had looked at his girlfriend with the standard look of "It's going to be a long day." She knew as he dialed his team, each one answering. "Hey, it's Colonel Delaney. We've got an Op. Meet at the airbase at 0100. We're going at 0200. Pack for long-range, reconnaissance patrols, heavy weaponry, maintain lightness and stealth. Climate is subtropical. Vegetation is subtropical broadleaf forests." He said that every time, seven times, alerting each member of his team that they had a mission and they didn't have very long to prepare. With only five hours to go until the time he had to leave he had at least three hours left before he actually had to leave for the airbase. He could be there in twenty minutes and he could be loaded out and ready to go by 0100. The logistics personnel at the base were already preparing his and everyone elses gear, ammunition, and weaponry.

"Honey. You know I can't."

"I know. I know. You've never been this tense before a mission before." He sat down on the couch and relaxed, slightly, as his girlfriend began to massage his shoulders. "Something isn't right?"

"No. It isn't. We've known each other a while. You've got clearance. I can trust you?"

"I don't want you to get in trouble Jack."

"I won't."

"If you need to tell me then do it. Please. I don't know if I really want to know but I think I would rather know than not."

"Easter Island. God knows how many thousands of miles away. We've lost sixteen men already."

"Dead?"

"We don't know. Communication loss. There's just one problem. Their last transmission had liver eating, flesh burning, and cannibalism. We're eight against three thousand, minimum. Resupply won't be for seven days and the navy won't be there for ten. That's ten days in the midst of an enemy, far outnumbering us, far outweighing us, far outgunning us."

"You guys are the best though." Jack smiled. "What?"

"How worried are you?"

"If killing the Emperor meant keeping you from going I would. I hate it when you leave like this."

"Yeah. Me too."

"How bad is this?"

"They told us Kaliningrad and the Yucatán were nothing compared to this. I've done some messed up shit. I've been party to the worst of human kind, some of it my own creation, some of it the enemy. Tricia, I just don't know about this one. I've never, I...I can't." He stood up and looked back down at her. "I can't guarantee I'll come back sweetie."

"Like hell!" Anger filled her up instantly. "You better come back!"

"This isn't like anything else."

"How bad outnumbered were you guys in Kaliningrad? When you rescued me? When all of that went down?"

"Resupply was miles away. Not days."

"The eight of you could topple a single country. You weren't worried when you went to Bolivia. Whatever the hell..." She paused. "Wait a second...Bolivia...Jack?"

"I pulled the trigger."

"Can I ask you something?" A look of horror filled her face. "Jack. How many people have you killed?"

"You'd think I know the number?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"A hundred? Don't shake your head. More? Yes? A thousand. More? Christ Jack."

"It comes with the line of work."

"I love you. I really do. There's just one thing I can't. You are two people. I don't want to see the side you give those people. Jack I can't. I like the side you give me. But how can I know? Jack which person are you?"

"I don't even know any more."

"What do you...Come on...Don't leave this way. Jack. I love you, please."

"I love you too. You're about all I love anymore. The only thing I want to do is come back. Honey you have no idea." He sat back down and rested his head in her lap. "I just, I can't promise anything."

"It's really that bad?"

"I hope not."

"What happens if you don't?"

"You're my only family. There won't be a funeral, there won't be a wake. I doubt I'll have a body left." Tears rolled down her face as he reached up and put his hand on her cheek. "If anything happens I have measures in effect that makes sure that even if something happens to me you won't, well you will be able to keep going."

"How? Keep going? You think this stuff means anything to me?"

"I know. I know. Listen. I have a brother. He's alive but you know I'm dead to them. Promise me that you'll find him and tell him everything. There is stuff for him too but I don't want him to not know the truth. Tell him everything. Here." He pulled out his wallet and opened it. Inside was a picture and he gave it to her, on the back it had a number on it, a long number. You can find him there. It's the one that isn't crossed out."[/i] He smiled because six numbers were crossed out. "He has children, a family, a life. Promise me you'll tell him."

"I."

"Promise me."

"I will. I won't let you down. But promise me you'll come home."

"I can't. I can promise you one thing though. As long as I am alive I will be fighting to get back to you. I will come back from the dead, if I can, and come back to you. You're all I have." She fought a smile, tears rolling down her face. "I love you." She smiled.

0028 Local Time

Colonel Delaney pulled up the airbase and parked his car in a designated hangar. His men were all waiting for him, though they were awaiting an update on what was going on. "Gentlemen. Gather around." He said as he stepped out of the car. "Alright about this one. Gentlemen. You have made arrangements?" They nodded, uneasy with the question. "We're going to Easter Island, recently acquired by the Empire. Fourteen days ago eight men from Force Spectre dropped off on the island. Forty-eight hours later, with communication lost, another team went in. We lost communication with them forty-eight hours later. The last transmission of the first team was this '(Inaudible)...Help...We've...(Inaudible)...heavy...(Inaudible)...They're eating people...(Inaudible)...Oh my God!...(Inaudible)...liver is gone...(Inaudible)...The place smells...(Inaudible)...flesh on fire...(Inaudible)...End of Transmission.' I memorized it word for word. Nobody told that to the second team and I almost had to kill the Minister of Intelligence to get it. Our mission is to go in and find out what the fuck is going on. We've got at least three thousand natives, probably all heavily armed, maybe helped by foreign powers. We also have sixteen Black soldiers down there. They could be dead, they could be with the enemy, they could be hiding. Who knows. We have to find out what is going on and find out exactly if this place is worth keeping. Resupply is in seven days and the navy will be here in ten. I know. I know. It's a long time. Men. I don't like this. I don't like this one bit! But we're coming back!" Silence gripped the hangar. "Anything?" Nobody said much, they rarely did. "Alright we're going to HALO in so let's see what gear you guys have. Mark?"

"Sir. M73A2 Enhanced Carbine, C-Mags, four hundred rounds; Grenade launcher with sixteen rounds; M33A2 Pistol with ninety-six rounds; four M57s, three M58s, two M61s; two Claymores."

"Alright. Dennis?"

"Sir. M52A1 Carbine with C-Mags, four hundred rounds; Grenade launcher with sixteen rounds; M33A2 Pistol with ninety-six rounds; two M57s, three M59s in red, two M61s, and two M62s."

"Good. Luke?"

"Sir, M35A2 LMG with one thousand rounds; M33A2 Pistol with seventy-two rounds; two SLATDoWs; two Claymores; four M57s and two M58s."

"Mike?"

"Sir, M41A1 Sniper Rifle with dual loaded magazines and one hundred and sixty rounds; M33A2 with ninety-six rounds; two M57s, two M58s, and two M61s. Two Claymores."

"Roger?"

"Sir, M47A1 LAR with C-Mags, four hundred rounds; Grenade launcher with sixteen rounds; M33A2 with seventy-two rounds; two M57s, four M58s; two Claymores."

"Steve?"

"Sir, M42A2 SAW with six hundred rounds; M33A2 with seventy-two rounds; four M57s, two M61s, two M63s; two Claymores."

"Sandy?"

"Sir, M47A3 LAR with C-Mags, four hundred rounds; Grenade launcher with sixteen rounds; M33A2 with seventy-two rounds; four M57s, two M59s in red, two M61s, and two M62s."

"Alright. We're sticking with .45ACP and 5.56 except for the sniper rounds. Fine. Everyone have C4 blocks? Good. I'm taking heavy ordinance myself. M73A2 with C-Mags and sixteen grenade rounds; I'll take the M33A2 with ninety-six and the same grenades as you Mark. Alright we've got an hour until we depart here. Anyone who has anything last to take care of, make sure your packs are in order. Chutes are packed already so you might want to give them another once over."

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/jdelaney.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/mwilkins.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/drigalo.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/lwilson.jpg
http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/msteel.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/rhoward.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/sjackson.jpghttp://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Knight%20of%20Dark%20Chaos/smilton.jpg
From left to right (top): Jack Delaney, Mark Wilkins, Dennis Rigalo, Luke Wilson
(bottom): Mike Steel, Roger Howard, Steve Jackson, Sandy Milton

Jack Delaney was the team leader. A former Delta who was previously one of the best snipers in the entire military. Delaney is well educated, having graduated college with a having a masters of science and a bachelors of arts in political science. A theorist at first, he joined the Layartebian military when the first civil war broke out. The final war saw ultimate independence and saw him enter Force Falcon.

Mark Wilkins was second in charge. He too was a former Delta and was a career military man. He was also the best computer technician in the group, having the ability to break into most systems and steal what data he needed. He was never married nor had any children. His family was notified of his death just days after the war ended when his Black Hawk crashed into the sea on a training mission.

Dennis Rigalo was the radioman. He was also the communications technician. A former SEAL, he had served with the military for several years before the last war for independence broke out. He was previously injured in combat but the injuries were minor. Of the eight team members, he was the oldest.

Luke Wilson was one of two demolitions experts. Additionally he was the heavy gunner of the team, often carrying a heavy machine gun into combat. He trained for several years prior to the last war for independence as an Army Ranger and had a masters of science in engineering and a bachelors of science in chemistry.

Mike Steel was the sniper of the team. Aside from Delaney, he was the only man to have served previously as a sniper. He was a Marine in the Layartebian military and was also trained extensively in reconnaissance operations. Additionally, he was also an expert is computer operations as well as Wilkins but not as extensively trained.

Roger Howard was the medic. He was previously a nurse before being conscripted into the military and was also well trained in communications equipment. He served in the SEALs prior to his inception into Force Falcon and also served as a combat medic.

Steve Jackson was the other demolitions expert, having a masters of science in engineering and a bachelor of arts in physics. Additionally he was another heavy gunner and often used a heavy machine gun as well as Wilson. He had been a Delta prior to coming to Force Falcon.

Sandy Milton was the second half of Steel. Steel was the sniper, he was the spotter. He too served in the Marines and was extensively trained in communications, reconnaissance, and weapons. Of the team members he had served the longest in the military prior to Force Falcon and had also been wounded in prior combat, breaking his leg in a HMMWV accident. Luckily, he was able to return to combat status without any limitations.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Lobster%20Claw/c17night.jpg

They boarded the C-17 and were in the air in a few minutes. The flight would be quiet, their gear laid out inside the crew bay while they sat or slept. Colonel Delaney wrote in a small journel that he had the pilot deliver to his girlfriend, more or less by dropping it off at a location where she could pick it up. He could trust him and he knew that he wouldn't read whatever was written. Colonel Delaney saved his life once. They were downed by enemy gunfire and for six days he and the Colonel evaded capture and made it safely out of the hot zone. He owed Colonel Delaney his life and he intended to make good on that.

Colonel Delaney wrote his feelings, whatever he couldn't say to his girlfriend as they passed through their waypoints at 36,000 feet, moving at 450 miles per hour. The trip down would see them refueling over Nicaragua and then the C-17 would refuel again on the way back, once again over Nicaragua. It was only 5,220 miles from Layarteb City to Easter Island and it would take them almost fourteen hours to get down there. They'd be down ther around 1500, local time, broad daylight. They didn't have the time to waste to drop in at night and they were counting on heavy cloud cover to shield their way in. They would use GPS to get to their destination and then they gear would be picked up by another aircraft, which would follow behind the C-17, arriving three hours after they landed. They had that much time to get their gear together, get what they needed, and pack it all inside of a crate type device, which would use an inflatable balloon to alert a low-flying, high-speed aircraft of the gear. The aircraft, using an arrestor hook, would grab the gear and return to the Galapagos Islands, where the gear would be returned to the Force Falcon base in New York.

At 1447, at an altitude of 38,000 feet, the eight men dove out of the rear door of the C-17, oxygen and full gear on, weighing far more than they weighed, almost maxing out their parachutes. They glided down, using their bodies to slow their descent through the clouds, keeping their heading focused on the GPS waypoint, which was miles upon miles away. When their chutes opened, they had been in the air for a long time, long enough to count the minutes. The C-17 was long gone by then, on its way back to the mainland.

"Team, report in." Colonel Delaney whispered into his microphone. Everyone reported in and everyone was okay. "Meet me in the clearing by the scarred tree, I think it's the only tree on this forsaken island." Within minutes everyone was there, weapons raised, gear with them. "Let's get this up and ready to go. The aircraft is inbound, we've got about an hour to go. They moved a little faster than expected, especially on the refuel."

The men went to work, hiding covering up their gear, sorting out what they didn't need anymore. The aircraft inbound was keeping low to avoid being tracked by radar or anything of the sorts and it was moving quite fast, almost five hundred miles per hour, near maximum speed. It was a small aircraft, modified for this role, made out of the A-14 Buzzard, which had a maximum range of 1,300 nautical miles and a maximum airspeed at sea level of 715 miles per hour. They had refueled twice already on the way down and they would be refueling twice more on the way up. The two-seater aircraft was lightly loaded with only four AIM-204A Escape missiles, external fuel tanks, six Brimstone missiles, and four Mark 82 bombs, just in case. The two pilots chatted quietly to each other as the autopilot kept the plane straight and level, flying towards their destination, which was another four hundred and eighty-five miles away. They would slow down to 300 miles per hour and descend to a mere 50 feet AGL to get the gear, very dangerous, but the pilots were well trained for that task.

Sitting cautiously at the clearing, Colonel Delaney couldn't help but feel over exposed. "Alright let's get up a recon. Sandy, Mike, get up on that hill up there and set up a sniper perch. Mark and Luke, you two take up a defensive position near those rocks. Dennis stay with me. Roger and Steve, I want you two to go to the coast down there and tell me if you can see anything there. We'll wait for the bird here. Stand fast and keep down. If we were seen getting in here we've got more problems than we can surmise. Thermal scans show most of the people on the western side but stay sharp." They landed at the extreme eastern end, gliding in from 38,000 feet, landing perfectly. After all, insertions like this were what they were trained for, amongst other mission roles. They trained constantly so when they actually had a combat mission they had the skills they would need so fresh in their heads that it was like routine.

The hour went by slow and stressingly. Colonel Delaney kept his head down, completely masking his profile, his weapon shouldered, looking through his scope for any sign of movement. The other six men reported in that they got to their positions. Sandy and Mike reported a silhouette at the top of the small mountain, which was named Volcán Puakatike and to its peak meant going up 370 meters. From their angle they couldn't make out the silhouette at all. They would have to get a lot closer but it was static so they worried not, it could have just been a moai. They did have a great view of the area around where they had landed so they would remain in that position until they were tasked with leaving.

With only minutes to go, the radio buzzed alive. "Sir. Duke 6 is on the radio."

"Roger that." He took the radio reciever. "Duke 6, Duke 6, this is Mad Dog Charlie. Report in, over."

"Mad Dog Charlie. This is Duke 6. Authenticate, over."

"Roger. Alpha-Juliet-Charlie-Niner-Niner-Echo-Mike-Foxtrot-Bravo. Over."

"Roger that. Confirm. Over."

"Report status. Over."

"We're ETA nine minutes. Airspeed target. Altitude target. Awaiting signal. Over."

"Roger that. We're deploying in four. Over."

"Roger that sir. Out." The A-14 Buzzard soared over the water at 300 miles per hour, 50 feet above the ground. Both pilots were alert and their weapons armed. The arrestor hook was lowered and the clamp opened. Once they had the package, they would close and lock the clamp and they could carry the payload ten thousand miles if they had to, though they would only have to go to Peru or the Galapagos.

As Colonel Delaney prepared the inflatable balloon, the radio stayed silent. Nobody reported anything, not even a visual on the aircraft. The sniper team should have at least reported that but they hadn't so either the aircraft was still too far out or it was coming from a very different angle. Either way, it was coming. Then, with a quick release, he hit the balloon inflate and instantly, this massive, red balloon inflated and rose high into the sky, well above the package. Two thin, easily breakable lines held the balloon to the steel cable that the aircraft would grab. Once the aircraft flew between the lines and grabbed the steel cable line, the lines would snap and the balloon would instantly deflate and distintegrate, leaving no evidence behind.

Then, with a roar, all of a sudden, a plane appeared and roared overhead, increasing in speed once the balloon began to float away. On the ground it was like a flash as the Buzzard soared overhead, grabbed the gear, locked down the clamp, and pulled the whole payload off the ground. Then, the Buzzard banked hard and climbed gaining speed and altitude without so much as a single movement flaw. As it banked northward, to turn out and over the ocean, things seemed oddly surreal. "They got it men. We're set now." Colonel Delaney said as he watched the balloon vanish from visibility.

"Roger that, we've got visual. Aircraft is climbing out." The sniper team reported. Then, as the plane banked out of view, there was the sound of a dull thud. "Oh shit." There was nothing to see but there was only one conclusion, something happened to either the payload or the plane.

The radio came alive with fervor, "Mad Dog Charlie. We're hit. We're hit. Losing engine power. May day. May day. We're going down. We're going down. OH SHIT!" The transmission cut out and an explosion shattered the calm, still, quiet air. The plane crashed on the northern side of the peak, completely away from where they were.

Franctically, Colonel Delaney tried to raise them on the radio but it was no use, the plane was down. "All teams, report in. What do you see?" All reports came in negative. "Alright. Quietly and smartly move up to the snipers. We have to find out what the hell went wrong." He kept prone and looked at his radioman. "I think I'd rather be in the Yucatán."

"Me too sir. I don't like the looks of this ONE bit."

"You and I both. Look sharp here they come." Everyone joined with with Colonel Delaney except the sniper team, which stayed vigilant and alive. "Alright guys. We've got a downed aircraft, who knows who is alive but we need to get to the top of that peak and bear down. The plane is on the opposite side of that mountain, on the northern side, but who knows what is around. We've got a silhouette still up there so we need to check that out first!" They went into a crouch and began moving, weapons shouldered, moving quickly through the thick brush, up the peak base. They darted upwards, through the terrain, where they would meet up with the sniper team and begin to advance to the peak, another one hundred and sixty-seven meters.

The top of the peak would be unpleasant and they knew it. As they neared the peak, they slowed their advance. The silhouette on the top didn't move nor did it sway with the wind. It was definitely something unusual. Crouched and alert, the men crept up the peak and towards the silhouette at the top. It was darkened by the shadow of the sun, whatever it was. "Keep it up men. We've got something up here and I see smoke rising. The plane is definitely down, cargo with it. Men we're not going anywhere anytime soon." They moved to the peak and looked right at the silhouette and the grotesqueness of it turned them nearly white. "Jesus fucking Christ! This can't be!" He nearly fell over at the sight. This was nothing he was prepared for, nothing he could even imagine. "Check the plane." He turned around and looked towards the west. The island was quiet from there but it wasn't innocent.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Sir, the plane is down. I doubt anyone is alive sir, its in flames down there."

"Alright whatever shot them down is around here. It is probably man portable. Keep alert men. Get me command." He looked back at the silhouette and fought his stomach. "I've seen sick shit before. I've done sick shit before. This is beyond me."

"Sir, that, it, sir?" Dennis said, looking at the silhouette. Those were the only three words he could muster and he could barely look at the thing. It was, once, a person, or at least they hoped so. Whatever it was now was something that would only pave the way for what they were about to find. These were no amateurs they were dealing with and the concept of fanaticism was probably an understatement. The biggest question loomed now centered on motiviation. They hoped it wasn't going to be religious for that was the most complex to deal with, especially if they were doing stuff like this. Religious motiviations far superceeded anything logical or plausible and there were only two ways to deal with those: join or die. The men were not about to join any cult that would do anything so horrific nor were they about to die. They would respond to any questions with one simple answer, a bullet from their weapon, aimed true to their targets.

"Get a picture." Colonel Delaney said, his voice disgusted, low, and raspy. He didn't want to think about what he was going to find nor was he in any desire to look at this horrific image anymore. He only wanted to upload it to the Joint Chiefs and the Emperor to show just what was going on here. "The plane too. We're alone now." He smirked at the insanity of the thought. "Alright, listen up. This proves one thing to me and I am sure it has dawned upon you gentlemen as well. We're facing an enemy unlike any other. The cannibals in the Yucatán were infants and toddlers compared to these sick, twisted deviants. I want everyone to be extra cautious. I am not about to lose anyone in this place. This is Hell gentlemen. I have never asked you of your thoughts on God and I won't begin now and you are aware how agnostic I am. I can't deny one thing. All of the evil manifested in humanity is on this fucking island, this spit of land, no bigger than my ballsack! We're exterminators now. Once we find out what the fuck is going on we're going to get rid of every piece of life on this entire fucking island, if we have to burn the whole thing to the ground and unleash upon it the worst biological agent we have ever discovered. Stomach this. Burn this picture into your heads. If we fail this will be us! Fuck that shit!" He paced back to the silhouette and looked at it. I'm not in the mood for this! He thought as he looked at Dennis who was taking pictures of the plane wreckage. The smoke billowed up and the fire consumed most of the area down below. There was no way anybody survived and they couldn't really get to the wreckage yet. "Let's just hope they thought that was a reconnaissance plane." He muttered to Dennis.

"Yes sir." He finished taking his pictures and was prepared to set up the satellite radio when Colonel Delaney stopped him. "Sir?"

"Make sure it's encrypted to the highlest level."

"Roger that sir. Standard won't do?"

"I have to think that whoever shot down that plane definitely knows what could be going on."

"Roger that sir." He went about his business and handed Colonel Delaney the camera. He went around taking a few pictures of the men and of the land.

"Sir? We are sending all of those?" His second in command asked. "I thought we were under strict orders to?"

"This place almost looks like paradise." Colonel Delaney said, completely ignoring what Mark just said. "You'd almost want to make this place your home? Just look at the gorgeous water, the scenery. Everything about this place screams resort, hotel, paradise. Then you turn around and see that. That screams Hell. I don't believe in God Mark. I'm agnostic. I don't even believe in this stupid fucking mission." He spoke low, to avoid the men hearing him. "But I do believe in my job. I just need something to remember everyone by. I've got pictures of us, stored in safety, on digital servers that are well hidden, something that I can look back on when I am eighty and say, 'I deserve punishment,' for all the crimes I've committed. But I know one thing. This is pennance Mark. This is payment for my sins, for our sins. We're going to see the worst things we've ever seen before and we're going to see it here. We've got ten days before the navy gets here and with the look of things our supply plane is going to be shot down. I want to take a picture, smiling, so that Tricia, so that she has something to remember me by. You know? But how can I smile in this place." He took another shot of the terrain and turned to the satellite, where he plugged in the camera card and began to upload the images to his own digital server before connecting with the Joint Chiefs, where he picked up the microphone and looked directly into the camera port on the small transmitter. "We authenticated Dennis?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Leave me alone here."

"Yes sir."

"General. I'd salute but we're exposed here so I'm going to make this short and sweet. Our pick up plane was shot down, probably a shoulder launched missile. No survivors. We've identified one of the original eight men, pictures are included. No signs of hostiles but then again we're on the opposite end of the island."

"Roger that Colonel. What can you tell us?"

"Nothing yet sir."

"Very well. Colonel what do you feel is the cause, or can you not say?"

"Of what? The loss of communication? This place is fucked sir. Excuse the language. We're in the worst of the worst. You look at the pictures and tell me. OUT!" He slammed down the phone and cut off communication. The Joint Chiefs would forever remember the look on his face. It wasn't fear nor was it hatred. It was pure, unfettered and unprovoked anger. It wasn't directly at the natives. It was directed at them!

As he uploaded the pictures he looked at the silhouette once more. Two of his men were looking at it with the intention of burying the fallen soldier. "Leave it."

"Sir?"

"Leave it."

"But sir. This is wrong."

"If we move it they'll know we're here. It's a message, a warning. To whomever comes here to back the fuck off. We're going to leave our own message."

"Yes sir." They turned away and went back to their tasks, which more or less were surveying the area, looking for enemy soldiers. The silhouette stunk to no end. It had been up there for two weeks, at most, birds pecking at it and eating the flesh off of it, whatever flesh was left. It was a most grotesque and disgusting figure, perched upon a wooden spike, albeit the spike was more or less shish-kabobing the body. It was the team leader of the first team, Force Spectre Team Twelve, Major Charlie Greenbacker, a true man of stand-up proportions. He too served in Colonel Delaney's Delta Force unit when they were in the Republican military. Now he was dead. The natives did all manners of disgust to him. The wooden spike was stuck right through the body, going into his asshole and coming out of his neck. It would have come out of his head but there was no head to go through. His head was sitting in his chest cavity, a look of fear, shock, and horror, burned on the head. One eye was missing, obviously eaten out by a bird or worse, a human. Its feet were eaten and teeth marks showed that both thighs and part of his stomach were eaten out as well. His heart was missing, his arms bound behind him. His liver was on the ground next to the body, pecked away by birds and blood had stained his uniform, the ground, and the spike. He was half eaten as it was and half burned as well. Whether he was tortured or just punished like that was something nobody could tell but he had suffered greatly, that was evident. Colonel Delaney looked at it with disgust at the horror bestowed before him. A buzzard flew down to peck away at the neck but Colonel Delaney hit it with a rock, knocking it onto the ground, hard. It faltered a little bit, gained footing, and flew off. Filthy scavenger! He thought as he packed up the small satellite port, which was more or less a hardened laptop connected to a foldable satellite dish. It fit nicely and snugly into Dennis' radio pack, which also carried a powerful two-way radio, linked up to the satellite above. However, the laptop was not always hooked up and they needed to open it and the dish whenever they had to send a burst transmission or upload data.

"Gentlemen. Let's get down to the plane and see what we can find."

"Roger that sir." They followed and as they cautiously made their way, slowly down the side of the peak, they all gave the silhouette one last look. None had puked though all felt queasy for a few minutes. The fire burned almost uncontrollably down below but it was quickly running out of stuff to burn as the fuel was rapidly consumed by the heat, which they could feel at least one hundred and fifty meters away from the wreck. As they approached, they could see the cockpit and they saw both pilots, or rather their skulls, engulfed by flames. They may have died on impact because it appeared that neither of them had attempted to get out of the cockpit. The flames burned their flesh off instantly and it turned the canopy glass into slim, shattering it as the heat inside grew and grew. The warheads of the missiles had detonated as well, in the massive single explosion that must have been from the impact, which had to have been far harder than the Buzzard was designed to even take in a full crash. The rest of the fuselage was twisted and jagged, torn away from itself from the force of the impact and the explosion. They couldn't get close enough to salvage anything off the aircraft or even hit the locator beacon but then again, a satellite pass would show the wreckage and the fire, which would probably still be smoldering by the time the navy got there, if they ever got there.

After surveying the wreck, everyone took a knee. "Alright men. It's time to get on with this. Nobody splits up unless I tell them. Nobody goes off by themselves, even if just to piss. I don't care what the hell is going on, nobody goes anywhere alone. I want us to all stay together as eight men, because we're up against thousands. I want to get to the top of that peak over there, Cerro Terevaka, five hundred and seven meters to get the best view of this island possible. We're going to pass through this quarry down here, where there should still be a lot of unfinished moai. We're going to have to check that out. Thermal scans showed the possibility of activity so it's a requirement. We need to find out if any of the other men are still alive though I personally doubt it. Understood?" Everyone nodded.

The Imperial Layartebian Navy was a force to be reckoned with, to say the least. It sported nearly 75,000,000 tons of shipping, which manifested in 2,061 ships, of which 399 were submarines. The Navy was the second largest branch of the military in numbers but in power it was number one. It brought with it 12,095 aircraft and 450,000 Marines, a force alone that could topple even a medium sized country without effort. The ILN, as it was often abbreviated, was right there, at every battle the Empire ever fought. Naval Marines, ships, aircraft, and so on and so fourth were present at every conflict ever held by the Empire, even if it were against a landlocked country.

The task force heading to Easter Island had just come through the Panama Canal, a canal owned soley by the Layartebian government. Civilian ships were allowed passage, taxed as they came through according to their tonnage, but at the same time, military vessels gained precedence. When the thirty-four vessels of the 2nd Amphibious Assault Ready Group and the 2nd Carrier Escort Group left Mobile Bay, Alabama, they were a force unto themselves. They sped through the Caribbean Sea but were forced to slow down near the canal because of a serious storm that made them have to slow down to a mere twelve knots. They wouldn't go above twelve knots for the remainder of their journey, which was another 2,780 nautical miles. It would take them ten days to arrive off the coast of Easter Island with the full force of these ships, which was more frightening than it was wonderous. The sailors waved to children alongside the fences of the canal, who came out to the see the mighty Imperial Layartebian Navy pass through.

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The most impressive sight, as always, weren't the carriers. The Layarteb Class BBGN and the Earthquake Class BBGN, one for one group and the other for the other group. The battleships were very impressive, powerful, capable, and, by all means, menacing. The sixteen inch guns of the Layarteb BBGN and the eighteen inchers of the Earthquake were known to suck the air out of the lungs of any sorry son of a bitch that was caught on the deck when they were fired, including animals such as birds. When they roared, governments cowered.

The ships brought a ton of men, aircraft, and power with them as they menaced through the locks and into the Pacific Ocean. They were 2,780 nautical miles away at that point, moving at twelve knots, enough to make it there in ten days. Once they were at the island, they would move out and surround the island, moving to keep from being tagged by any type of patrol boat or terrorist dingy. There were a lot of risks for an operation like this and they didn't intend on getting caught with their pants down by a stupid native with a boat loaded with dynamite.

The goal was not to lay waste to the island but rather to subdue any hostiles. Marines would be tasked with that purpose, coming ashore on helicopters, LCACs, and amphibious vehicles. The island was very rugged and most of the population was in and around the capital, which was on the extreme western end of the island. That was the only major target aside from the airport, which would be secured by a specialized Marine platoon armed to the teeth and trained well. They would be deployed onboard a pair of Super Stallion II helicopters, defended by an assault force consisting of a pair of Stalkers and a pair of Typhoon fighters. The airport was a major requirement. Once that was secured, they could land resupply aircraft, namely a massive fleet of C-17 Globemaster IIIs and C-130 Hercules'. The aircraft would be in the air as the fleet and Marines made their assault on the island, city, and the airport. Once the airport and the surrounding areas were secure, the aircraft would be landing, continuously for thirty-six hours, dropping off countless tons of supplies.

That was still ten days away...

Chapter II: Tortured Souls

As the sun set on the horizon and the evening turned late, something brewed from the south, something unexpected. The Pacific Ocean was as unpredicatable as it was vast. A fierce tropical storm was stirring and beginning to move northward, towards Easter Island. March through June were the rainiest months of the year for Easter Island, which recieved rain for some 140 to 200 days each year, dropping around 43.3 inches of rain. The temperature never went below 57°F and never above 80°F. Winds usually kept the island cool, making it chilly sometimes, especially with an average temperature of 68°F and a relative humidity of 77%. The storm brewing north of them wasn't a cyclone or anything of the sort as the island was not in the belt but, nonetheless, it was subject to frequent storms with high winds. Natives on the island were accustomed to this and they knew a storm was coming days before it ever made landfall. For Colonel Delaney and his men, they would have to rely on the weather reports downloaded from the satellite and, at that, they were not always 100% accurate.

He and his men were currently walking towards the Rano Raraku quarry, which was situated south of a direct line between the two peaks at Cerro Puhi and Volcán Puakatike. The winds rustled through the grasslands of the island as they kept low and quick, not wanting to be caught in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle they couldn't see. With their weapons raised and safeties off, all they had to do was just aim and squeeze the trigger. An enemy soldier probably wouldn't last more than a quarter of a second if he or she was seen. Colonel Delaney knew that whoever shot down that Buzzard was probably still in the area and he doubted it was a single person with a MANPAD but probably a squad with at least two of them and probably some heavy weapons as well. He didn't want to get seen first so he made sure that he had men covering each and every direction as they ran on, keeping a close eye for movement and for the glare reflections that the sun made against sniper scopes.

He was trained to look for just that when he was in an open area like this. Snipers were a massive threat and a big danger. On open lands like this, they could fire at ranges of eight hundred to a thousand meters without any obstacles hindering them. All they needed to be able to do was fire that far. He knew that they would not hear the shot until the bullet hit its target so he made sure that any glares he saw were immediately investigated. If the snipers were highly skilled then their scopes would be configured so that they gave as little glass area as possible, which wouldn't allow them to give off a glare. If they were that skilled he figured that they could take them out from range, while moving, so what chance did they have except to hope that their body armor and camouflage were better than necessary.

When he saw a glare about six hundred meters to his eleven o'clock, he put up his hand and closed his fist. That meant "STOP!" Immediately, he hit the ground and the others followed, their weapon sights raised. "Mike. Six hundred meters. Eleven o'clock. Next to the rock. I saw a glare."

"Roger that sir." Mike turned the range knob on his scope a few clicks until it was set to six hundred meters. He raised the sight to the rock and looked. He had his bipod down and his rifle was steady, a round in the chamber, just waiting to be sent towards its target. "Scanning sir." He looked all around the rock, hoping to spot a sniper. Anti-sniper duty was a lengthy process. Snipers never made themselves known and one had to look for an object, sometimes only a few centimeters in size, that would give away the target as a sniper. He studied the area for the movement and saw very little but he didn't want to take a chance. "Sir, what side of the rock exactly?"

"About a quarter of an inch to its top-right corner."

"Roger that sir."

"See anything?"

"Looking sir." He had a suppressor fitted, which would enable him to hide both the sound and the flash of his shot. It would sound as if someone dropped an aluminum, garbage-can lid on the ground rather than a gunshot. "Sir. I think I have something. Stand fast." He identified a possible piece of glass. He saw a slight reflection in something that appeared to be a piece of glass and he knew that this was probably what the Colonel had seen. When he saw it move he knew it was a sniper. "Sir. Sniper identified. I'm going to check for his friends."

"Roger that." Colonel Delaney kept his rifle down as the other men did the same, to avoid the sun glaring on their optics as well. Night was falling and the sun glare was extra strong, meaning that the slightlest angle the wrong way could reveal their position. They wore extensive camoflauge that was more or less a massive ghille suit for this type of terrain and they were definitely hidden but they didn't want to take any chances, they were too cautious and careful for that. "What do you have?"

"Single target."

"Take the shot."

"Roger that sir." Mike already has his breathing steady and he centered the crosshairs on the head of the figure, which he had outlined by now. He held his breath fast and squeezed the trigger, sending the 7.62 x 51 millimeter bullet whizzing towards the enemy sniper, who was no amateur. "Target down." The bullet went right into the target's head and he could see the figure just slump over from the mortal wound, the rifle falling onto the ground. "I bet he isn't alone. Let's stay here for a few minutes." The shot had echoed for a second longer than they would have liked so they wanted to stand fast and make sure that if they got up and began moving again, they wouldn't be fired at and caught by surprise because they weren't patient enough. However, five minutes later, it thoroughly appeared he was alone.

"Alright. We're good. Let's move out and get to this quarry but let's find out who the hell that was." Colonel Delaney went back into a crouch, his weapon shouldered, sights up, and began to move towards the figure, which was more or less at the edge of the quarry edge, perched up on a slight incline that rose between twenty and sixty-two meters. They moved towards the dead sniper, cautiously, just waiting for an ambush situation. They figured that a normal MANPAD squad operating with the ILA would operate with a pair of shooters, two riflemen, a heavy gunner, and probably an ammunition carrying armed with a submachine gun or an anti-tank rocket. If the enemy was as organized, and it certainly appeared that they were, then they had to expect at minimum five or six more, if this sniper was even part of that group. "Target is forty meters ahead. Gold team stay down. Keep watch. Blue, on me."

"Roger that sir." The two teams split up and four of them climbed up the steep incline to the perch where the sniper had positioned himself on the other side of a decently sized rock. He was definitely professional and probably well-trained, meaning that the people they were fighting were definitely not just a band of semi-organized tribesman resisting the grasp of the Empire. When they finally got to the perch part they moved slowly towards the other side of the rock, weapons ready and searching everywhere, just in case.

Using soley hand signals, Colonel Delaney ordered his men to stop and he moved closer to the figure, his pistol drawn because of the close quarters of the perch. Nobody else was up there, that was a given, but if this sniper was just "playing dead" then he wanted to put a few .45ACP bullets in his heart to prove his point. Finally, he came up upon the body, which was definitely dead, slumped over in a pool of blood. Using extreme caution, he flipped the body over, only to find that the bullet went right through the snipers' right eye but also to find something far more spectacular. "Oh shit. Mike, you have got to see this!"

"It can't be." Mike said as he looked at the dead body. "Was he looking for us?"

"Do you see what's around his neck?"

"I...This can't be."

"It is. Let's get out of here and get to that quarry."

"Yeah." They left the body there, which was another member of the first Force Spectre team. He was definitely looking for either other members or new soldiers because he wasn't fighting for the Empire anymore, that was evident by the necklace he wore, which consisted of a vine cord with finger bones hanging from it. He wore a bracelet made of the same vine and teeth. Blood stained the upper part of his shirt. The blood was either from what he'd eaten or from himself, either way, he wasn't sane. He was converted to whatever ugliness raped the island. They took pictures and departed.

The eight men continued towards the quarry, expecting to run into either another body or another sniper or even that patrol that shot down the Buzzard. They kept low and fast, looking in every direction. Their scopes were up at all times and the glass hidden from reflection. The quarry was only another kilometer away when they ran into the next obstacle or rather "message." They approached another silhouette and cautiously but slowly, they approached this one, expecting yet another member of the elite Force Spectre. Using hand signals, Colonel Delaney told everyone to keep their eyes up and keep as low as possible. The silhouette was facing the quarry and the setting sun on the western horizon made it appear black, just as the previous one did. However, this time, they ran into something far sicker, in a way.

"It's dead." Colonel Delaney whispered. "Whatever the hell this is?" He approached it from the other side, so that the sun was behind them and the silhouette was in front of them, a ghastly reminder that they weren't supposed to be here. It was another person, or at least they thought it was. It wasn't a member of Force Spectre and it wasn't whole either. The person was crucified, their arms tied to the beams and ripped off of whatever torso had been there. The head was missing and the legs were nailed down into the crucifix post and tied to the wooden piece. The arms were ripped off at the shoulders, bloody and chewed. The legs were ripped off at the waist, bloody and chewed. Then, affixed to the center of the crucifix was a heart. It wasn't affixed with a nail though, not like the legs and arms but rather it was affixed with a bone, driven right through the middle, into the wooden beam, and out the back, sharpened between someone's teeth it appeared. It was almost as if it were a candy cane and someone made a very fine point, drove it through the heart and the wood, and left it there. There was nothing else, except the stench of death and a small inscription at the bottom of the crucifix, in some native language that none of the men could understand. They took photographs, as per their tasking, and kept moving onward, to the quarry.

"Sickening huh?" Colonel Delaney whispered to his men. They agreed, tacitly. They moved towards the quarry at a quickened pace, hoping to be there before the sun was completely down, though it was falling at a faster pace than they could keep up with, especially out here, in the middle of the ocean. It blanketed the entire island in darkness and Colonel Delaney could only imagine that when the sun went down, all the loons came out. "Night vision up men." They doned their NVGs as the suns' rays were no more. The island was cast into a shadow of darkness as they approached the quarry, which was more or less where all of the moai were created, many just left there, unfinished. Whatever disturbed this island way back when had come again and whatever that force was, Colonel Delaney could only hope that it was not going to permeate him or his men.

With a green tint to everything, they came to the rim of the quarry, which was covered in a low grass.

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The quary was something of a legend and obviously something that was well populated. Looking down, into the pit, they saw only figures, many of them, and a massive firing burning. It had to rise at least fifty meters off the ground and it was at least that wide. Within the quiet of the island and the dull roar of the tides in the background, they could hear singing and screaming. It was a party or a ritual or something they weren't sure that they wanted to interrupt. People danced around the fire and the beat of drums blotted the air. The crackling of the fire could even be heard, though it was barely audible. "Gentlemen. Take up reconnaissance positions. Two teams and break out the binoculars. Zoom in all pictures and make sure that there won't be any flashes. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The men broke into two groups again and spread out, eighty meters from each other, looking down at the festival through night vision binoculars and snapped at least a hundred pictures, at maximum zoom, without any flash. The starlight overhead and the light from the conflagration made the pictures come out very detailed and ensured that they would be quite visible to the folks back home. When the satellite uplink was brought out and the pictures uploaded, a message returned back, a new directive, so to speak.

Mission Parameter Adjustment

Investigate airport and main village at highest priority. Terminate all hostiles on way. No prisoners will be taken. Fleet through canal. ETA is 240 hours. Resupply delayed because of impending storm.

"Great. Now we won't have a resupply. Figures!" Colonel Delaney whispered into his two-way microphone to Mike, the XO of the squad. "Well you heard them. Let's get a move on. We'll use this darkness to our advantage. I guess this little party will have to wait. You see anything down there?"

"Nothing of significance except rifles, some cute women, and it looks like a massive fire."

"Roger that. Let's move out."

"Yes sir." They were up and moving again, towards the capital of the island and the airport, the inevitable den of Hades.

They were thirteen kilometers away from the capital city. They could be there in a mere two hours but they would have to go over some rough terrain after about eight kilometers. This would slow their pace but they could be there between three and a half and four hours. The path was through a largely uninhabited part of the island. It crossed the extreme south part of the Cerro Terevaka peak, which at its highest part extended some five hundred and seven meters into the air. They walked in silence, pondering just what the ceremony in the quarry was and, for the better, they were only thinking about the ceremony, not actually watching it.

It was a most grotesque ceremony. The fire was not there for warmth or entertainment but as a tool to appease the gods. They had a "convert," so to speak. More or less they had someone who refused to take part in their sick rituals of eating people, burning them alive, and torturing the living hell out of anyone who didn't agree with them. This individual, was about to become the next appeasement.

The sky overhead crackled as the storm grew closer. Lightning in the distance, miles upon miles upon miles away, lit up the background and thunder never made it to the island, having to come too far. The winds kicked up more and the storm, which was more or less about twelve to sixteen hours away. The lightning was fierce and the seas were rough, very rough. Colonel Delaney would have taken comfort in the fact that there was a submarine out there, spying on the island, ready to deploy a few boats to pick them up but that wasn't the case. Nothing was out there. They were totally alone, thousands of miles away from the Empire. Not that it was something that they weren't accustomed to, usually they had an enemy of feasibility to expect, not an island of natives who wanted to eat them. This was definitely not an enemy one could reason with, this was an enemy that could only be appeased. Appeasement for them meant their way and that was that, there was no other way around it, convert or die.

The walk was one of reminiscence. Their night vision goggles cast a green light on everything for about three hundred meters. If there were moonlight out they could go as far as four or five hundred but the starlight overhead hindered them slightly. As they neared the spine of the peak, they slowed down. The spine stuck out in the distance, stretching up towards the sky, leading into black oblivion, which was, more or less, the remainder of the peak. Up above, the starlight flickered down. There were no other lights around and so they were not going to see any bright white flashes on their NVGs, as usually happened when someone stared into a light source while wearing NVGs. It could almost blind someone if the light source was bright enough.

Then, as the spine came fully into view, they saw a light source, a minor one, off to the right, at the very edge of their viewing range. "Down!" Colonel Delaney whispered as he raised his rifle. They were prone now, in the grass, which was anywhere between a few millimeters and almost two meters tall. It was too easy to hide in the stuff and their camouflage was adapted for the terrain. By now, they had taken grass from the actual island and affixed it to their ghille suits. If they wanted to, they could crawl the whole way, all thirteen kilometers and blend in perfectly with the grass. Contact. Five, five, zero meters. Two o'clock." They went into prone position, the grass here being between a meter and a meter and a half tall. "It looks like a fire burning." As they approached they could see a minor fire burning. Whoever they were sneaking up on was definitely not there, it seemed. The closer they got, the slower they moved, going back to prone when they were within a hundred meters. It was a minor fire, not like the massive one for the ceremony by the quarry. They moved even slower once they got close enough to feel the heat of the fire. Slowly and cautiously, they walked around the side of it, crouched, their weapons drawn, looking for any signs of life. The fire wasn't old and it wasn't smoldering either. It was fresh and new and whoever was there was coming back, shortly. Did they go out to get food, did they go out to find something, or did they just walk off thinking that they would be seen? The question loomed. The answer, however, was only seventy meters away from them, on the other side of the spine.

Colonel Delaney crawled towards the voices, which were just over the top of the hill, maybe seventy meters from the fire. He wasn't sure what he would find and he and his men were exposed, unfortunately. Their night vision goggles gave them a distinct advantage over their enemy but at the same time, they were limited because of the light given off by the fire, which, in essence, nearly illuminated them. When the targets came into view they realized one thing, it wasn't seventy meters, it was twenty-seven! They were in a dangerous situation now, even worse than before. Spread out, weapons shouldered, down on the ground, prone, and silent, they watched as six men and two women sat in a circle, around yet another fire, and stuck sticks into the fire, roasting something, eating whatever it was right off the sticks. It smelled awful and Colonel Delaney could only surmise that it was human. Perhaps more people on the island were resisting this cannibal cult than he originally imagined.

Using hand signals, he gave off an order to his men, to just observe, for now. Using his digital camera, he zoomed in and took at least thirty-five pictures, saving them all to the memory stick loaded into the camera. When he put it back in his pack and looked back at the fire, he could hear them chanting something, something that he could barely understand because they talked softly and it was in some native language. What are they saying? He asked himself. He didn't see any weapons nor did he see any others in the distance. There were just these eight individuals. "Okay. Let's try to get some of them alive. Let's crawl around and get behind them. Understood? Silent!" He whispered into his mircrophone. Everyone heard him and slowly, they all began to move, like snakes, hiding in the half meter grass. The targets were all in a cleared circle, which they had probably cleared themselves. The fire was small but large enough to give warmth to all of them and also to illuminate the area well.

The snakes moved slowly, silently, using the wind for cover. Whenever the wind blew and flattened the grass out too much, they went still. Then, they were moving again, slithering towards their victims, ready to pop out with piano wire and knives, grabbing as many as possible. They wanted all eight and if one should manage to escape they would simply shoot them. The tension mounted as the milliseconds ticked away, the men inching closer and closer and closer towards the eight natives. They continued to converse amongst themselves, in their own bastard language, which Colonel Delaney wished he understood. These bastards have no clue. He thought to himself with a smirk of bloodlust. Inching closer and closer towards the eight figures, he watched the grass around him. It moved not. The other seven men moved quickly and effectively and when they were in position, they keyed up their microphones once. At the sound of eight key-ups, Colonel Delaney would do three quick ones, meaning, "On his signal." That meant, once he popped up, so would they. They had their primary rifles and weapons on their backs and they had their knives out. The goal was to pop up, grab the eight natives by the neck and jab the knife into their throat, putting them in a situation with two options: cooperate or die.

The first key up was Colonel Delaney, followed almost instantaneously by two more. With three down and five to go, he waited, his breathing silent, close enough to smell the natives. They stunk and he wasn't sure which stunk worse, the food that they were eating or them. The fourth and fifth were spaced six seconds apart and the sixth and seventh came another second later. The eighth took about fifteen seconds longer. Colonel Delaney momentarily closed his eyes and opened them. He clicked the microphone three times, quickly, as if sending the beginning part of an "S-O-S." Everyone held their breath and suddenly, without warning, he darted up towards his victim, one of the women, his knife drawn. He aimed with his left armed grasping around her neck, almost cutting off her windpipe. His right hand, with the knife drawn, came right up against her, the edge of the knife pressing up against her main artery. A simple dab inward would split it open and kill her in minutes. The others all jumped up with a half second delay, snatching their victims as well. Nobody even had a chance to scream and nobody could now, especially since they were all staring at each other and mysterious figures behind them, covered in camouflage.

"Who speaks English?" Colonel Delaney asked in a most frightening tone. Nobody responded. "Who speaks English?" He asked one last time. Once again, everyone looked at each other and looked at him. Nobody dared move or make a peep. "I don't like repeating myself so I'll ask just once more. If not then I am afraid someone's girlfriend here is going to be very dead. Understand?" He looked right into the eyes of a man who was looking around, he was probably the "alpha male" of the group. They all looked back to him. When no one answered him, he smirked. The fire light only half of his face and he looked more like a demon, rather than a person. "Fine." He slid his knife across her neck, slicing it clean through. The blood pulsed out instantly and squirted as he sliced into the artery and he released her. She fell down instantly, falling almost into the fire, grasping her neck, struggling to breathe.

Everyone looked scared to hell but once again they stayed silent. Colonel Delaney approached one of the men and made a nice, long, shallow incision down the cheek of him and looked into his face. "I'm not kidding around."

"I speak little. Spanish?" A whimpy voice called out from across the fire.

"Sí puedo hablar español. Ahora dígame lo que quiero, verdaderamente y honestamente y yo no recortaré el corazón." (Yeah I can speak Spanish. Now tell me what I want, truthfully and honestly and I won't cut out your heart.)

"Yo le diré. Apenas por favor. Sálganos sólo." (I will tell you. Just please. Leave us alone.)

"¿Qué come usted?" (What are you eating?)

"El soldado. Uno de ellos que entraron el avión." (The soldier. One of them who came in the plane.)

"Dónde están los hombres que vinieron aquí originalmente. Dieciséis de ellos." (Where are the men who came here originally. Sixteen of them.)

"Ocho de ellos no cooperaron. Ocho de ellos hicieron." (Eight of them did not cooperate. Eight of them did.)

"¿Qué sucedió a ellos?" (What happened to them?)

"Nosotros los matamos. Los otros están con nosotros. Alrededor." (We killed them. The others are with us. Around.)

"¿Qué pasa aquí? ¿Por qué el jode es usted personas que comen a personas? ¡Sucedió qué demonios!" (What is going on here? Why the fuck are you people eating people? What the hell happened!)

"Permanezca lo suficiente y averigüe. Las respuestas que usted busca yo no puedo dar. Pero quien es Alto puede." (Stay long enough and find out. The answers you seek I cannot give. But he who is High can.) He started laughing and Colonel Delaney could tell that this was going no where and fast.

"¿Dónde está esto 'Muy Alto'?" (Where is this 'Most High'?)

"La ciudad." (The city.)

"Multa. Caballeros. Mátelos." (Fine. Gentlemen. Kill them.) With a quick swipe, all seven of them were dead, bleeding out on the ground. Colonel Delaney looked back at his men, none of them having any blood on them. Then, he looked down at the seven writhing people, dying slowly. The one he had killed before was dead already, probably from shock more or less. He looked back at his men. "You know this place is definitely a nightmare. Let's hide the bodies." They went to work immediately. While some dug a hole to bury them in, others covered up the blood stains with dirt, and yet one other, Colonel Delaney, searched them for anything important. He found nothing.

They were moving again, towards the capital city, Hanga Roa, where they expected to find nothing but a massive hysteria of insanity. Colonel Delaney and his men knew just what to expect, if what they had seen already was any indication of the course of the island. Once they were safely in a reconnaissance position, they could upload the latest photography and check back in with command about their standing orders. They were to recon the island and find out what was going on, killing anyone that they had to. They already found out, in essence, what happened to the sixteen men from Force Spectre and they had already killed one of the ones who had turned and found two bodies of those who hadn't. Whether or not they would find the other six men from Force Spectre was something they weren't betting on. Chances were that they had been eaten, long ago.

As the naval forces steamed towards the island, in the rough seas of the Pacific Ocean, Colonel Delaney could only hope that they would get there sooner. He didn't like the idea of being down here for ten days without cover and without reinforcements, especially on an island crawling with people who wanted to eat him and his men. This place is Hell. He thought to himself, over and over again. Kaliningrad was a nightmare and the Yucatán was a mess and a half but this place, this place was off the charts. Nobody in their right mind would venture here, willingly. Had it been closer to the mainland it wouldn't have been like this but, at the same time, it would not have been on the list of "potential territories" for the Empire.

Easter Island was to join the Pacific Republic, one of five republics of the Empire. The other four were the Atlantic, Caribbean, Icelandic, and Irish. They were part of nine parts of the Empire, the other four being the main provinces: Layarteb, South Eastern Virginia, Dnalkrad, and Ynoga. That was how the Empire was divided up, almost five million square miles of land that was populated by just over five billion people.

However, the entire balance now of this miniscule island, no more than sixty-three square miles, and a vast plan for the Pacific Republic hinged on whether or not Colonel Delaney and his team could survive this mission and pave the way for the Marines to safely secure the island for colonization. The original plan involved the construction of a major and significant naval base on the eastern portion of the island, a major air force base on the western part, a major space unit towards the center, and also the presence of a major submarine base, which would be underneath the island. Almost a trillion dollars were going to be spent on this entire project, which would displace the majority of the populace. They would, naturally, be deported back to the mainland and the island turned into a floating military fortress, housing between ten and twenty thousand personnel, perhaps more. Food would have to be brought in as well as supplies because the island was, unfortunately, not self sustaining because of the massive erosion and deforestation that had occured over the past four hundred years. If Colonel Delaney and his men failed, so too could the project, even before it began.

The walk towards the city was uneventful. They encountered no further hostiles, saw no fires, and no bodies. It was quiet and calm, the exact opposite of just what the whole island was. They set up a position overlooking the capital city, which wasn't very large. It wasn't well built up and the airport lights were off, which was the largest single object inside the city. Moai dotted the coast, standing watch over the island and its sickened inhabitants. The 2,903 meter runway was long enough to handle the old STS models of the Imperial Layartebian Space Division but now that the NG-STS was in service, it was, sadly, too short. However, this would all be expanded once the project began.

There were some lights on inside the city, mostly torches it seemed, and a large bonfire had been built on the southern edge of the city. It was easily as large as the one in the quarry, if not larger, and it had hundreds of people around it. Whatever pagan rituals they were doing throughout the island was enough to creep out Colonel Delaney enough to send back an encoded message to the Joint Chiefs demanding reinforcements. Nobody bit.

Chapter III: City of Lights

Day Two

Overlooking the city was grim and surreal. Torches burned and fires were lit. People were feasting and worshipping. Overhead, the moonless night loomed, carrying the prayers of thousands of worshippers. The fallen were in the night too, their spirits that was, looming over the island, wishing nothing but revenge upon those who killed them. The eight men of the first Force Spectre team loomed with each step, each gust of wind, each breath. They wanted nothing more than the defeat, death, and mutiliation of those that did it to them. The men who were sent to reinforce them, to find out what happened, loomed too, but not for revenge, for blood, the blood of those who were coming to kill them, the blood of Colonel Delaney and his men.

Smoke rose from the city. Some of it billowed, from the bonfires; some of it trickled, from the torches. The city was alive, full of lights. It was full of natives, eating, drinking, laughing, burning, and partying. While they did, Colonel Delaney and his men watched them. They stalked them. They sat, in perfect silence, their bionoculars and cameras reading and recording as much as they could. Prone, comfortable, weapons on the ground, near them, the eight men kept silent and still. They powered up the satellite radio and reported in to the Joint Chiefs, uploading more photos and data. They had not reconned the airport yet and they would have to, at first light, from nearly a kilometer away.

That was three hours away and it would take all of twenty to forty minutes to get to a position, which they had already scouted out with reconnaissance satellites and thermal analysis. Colonel Delaney would lead his team to the spot while Major Wilkins and his team would remain overlooking the city. They were basically going to stay here for the duration of their deployment, for the most part, keeping a close eye on everything and anything, ensuring that the natives on the island weren't backed by some large, well-equipped, and dangerous mercenary force of some kind.

The three hours were merciless. Each second ticked away and each minute drudged onward. Some of the men rested while others kept vigilante, listening to the wind, hoping to not hear anything like a stick cracking or any sound that would mean "company." The Joint Chiefs, once again, denied any type of support and insisted that when the naval task force arrived, it would be there, in force, to help, with extreme prejudice. It was bringing hundreds of aircraft, thousands of soldiers, and tons of supplies, including food, water, ammunition, and everything else necessary to keep an army of that size equipped for ninety days. Relief would be on its way after a mere thirty. Once the airfield was secured, cargo aircraft would be landing at regular intervals, dropping off supplies and returning to base. Colonel Delaney and his men would be on the first on that took off again, heading back for home, away from this "infested island," as Colonel Delaney was now calling it.

"Alright. We're out. We'll report in when we get to the recon point."

"Roger that sir. Best of luck." Colonel Delaney and Major Wilkins shook hands as they departed. Colonel Delaney and his blue team moved cautiously and quickly through the grass, towards the airport, towards their destiny. The wind quickly kicked up, flattening the grass down, as the monsterous storm loomed, pulverizing its way towards the island. It would be there by noon the next day, having changed its speed along the way. Once it arrived, it would loom for four days, or so the weather report stated. It could do anything that it wanted, regardless of what anyone else wanted.

Colonel Delaney and his three men, the men of blue squad, moved towards the airport quickly, keeping as low as possible. They reached their overlook point in exactly twenty-nine and a half minutes. When they did, they slammed down, onto the ground, looking around for any signs of movement. The sun was rising behind them, casing an orange glow on the airfield, illuminating the metal, camoflauged finishes of sixteen aircraft and twelve helicopters. Colonel Delaney peered through his binoculars and passed them off to Captain Rigalo. "So who sees what I see?"

"Sir, this isn't what I would call, 'Resistance Absent.'" Captain Steel responded, looking through his sniper scope. "I definitely don't like that."

"No. Me either. We'll have to make due. Rig, get the satellite up, we need to phone this in right away."

"Roger that sir. You think they'll send a mission?"

"I'm not even sure that the task force is coming." He laughed. "Get me up the satellite."

"Roger that. Give it six minutes."

"Counting." The satellite radio linked right up to both the sun and the satellite above, charging its power cells and establishing a full signal. When the six minutes were over, Colonel Delaney picked up the reciever/transmitter and pressed the key-up button. "Command Bravo. Command Bravo. This is Lion One, request transmission, over."

"Roger that Lion One. Authenticate Charlie Alpha Bravo. Over."

"Echo Niner Niner Seven Four Foxtrot Uniform Echo. Over."

"Cleared over."

"Transmission of photography of airport reconnaissance. Count the presence of sixteen fixed-wing aircraft, type MiG 1 point 44. Count the presence of twelve rotary-wing aircraft, type UH-1 Huey. Aircraft are armed on the tarmac, appears to be air to air missiles and bombs. Hueys are equipped with rockets and Miniguns. Zero activity at airport. Over."

"Did you say fighters, over?"

"Roger that. Unknown origin. No markings. They've got pilots. Over."

"Yes they do. Report troop levels. Over."

"None seen yet. Hostiles in city were partying last night. No real details. Pictures show all that we know. Over."

"Keep wary. No changes to ETA of task force. Over."

"Roger that. Requesting further orders. Over."

"Continue reconnaissance. Over."

"Lion One. Roger that. Out." He disconnected the satellite and looked around. "Boy am I glad we took that C4. We're going to try tonight to get those aircraft. How many blocks do we have?"

"Sir. Between all four of us, we've got sixteen. We can probably split them in half. I doubt we'd need that much to take out the aircraft. All we have to do is place them on an area to take them out. We can put them on the wing gloves of the aircraft and sever the wings from the fuselage and ignite the fuel lines. On the helicopters, we can place them on the tail rotors and knock out their ability to fly."

"Alright." Colonel Delaney heeded Captain Jackson's advice and was well aware of the situation. They could split up the C4 blocks and remote detonate them, from their safe location on the perch. Two of them could run down and plant the explosives, both Colonel Delaney and Captain Jackson could do that while the other two remained vigilante and alert, covering them with their weapons from up high. The detonator that they had gave them an operating range of two and a half kilometers. Their perch was only eight hundred and ten meters away, which gave them plenty of distance to detonate the bombs, safely.

"Sir. Colonel. What time are we going to plant?" Captain Steele asked. "It looks quiet down there."

"Understood. We'll do it when we can safely all get back up here."

"Roger that sir." The sun rose and cast its brilliance down onto the runway, the airport, the aircraft, and Hanga Roa. The sky would soon turn gray with overcast as the storm rolled inward from the south. At 0830, the sky turned to that looming gray.

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Colonel Delaney and his men figured that they would be in for a real uncomfortable time with all the rain that was about to fall onto them and so they made sure that any gear they had that was water sensitive was properly kept and that they were going to be safe as well. There was little need to stand over the city and watch it all day so Colonel Delaney ordered all his men back to a single cave entrance that they had seen six hundred and fifty meters away from the city, on the nearest peak. There, they could avoid the rain, for the most of the day, and stay as dry as they could, even as the sprinkles of the pre-storm hit them.

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The cave was something else. They entered into it, weapons drawn, wary of the possibility of patrols. It was deep and from the way it was carved it had to have been there for centuries upon centuries and probably played a major role in some catastrophic event in the island's past. "Pretty cozy huh?" Colonel Delaney remarked as they entered the second chamber of the cave, which was overgrown with vines and other habitation. "Almost makes me want to leave the civilized world and come down here."

"Yes sir." Joked Major Wilkins.

"Alright. This is fine. Steele, set up a Claymore at the entrance and rig it to a trip wire.

"You got it sir."

"Wilkins. Take two and do a sweep of the rest of this cave. I have a feeling that it runs deep."

"Roger that sir. Howard, Jackson. On me."

"Alright. The rest of you. Get some rest. I'll take first watch."

"Roger that sir." The soldiers got cozy and though they never slept, they could use this time to relax their bodies and shut their eyes. Even if they weren't going to fall asleep, they could at least lower their brain activity and heart rate enough to replenish their energy somewhat. They hydrated as much as they could and watched as the storm turned the outside entrance of the cave into a waterfall. Whoever entered that cave wouldn't be able to see anything if they came into the cave. The tripwire would be a surprise they never saw. The Claymore would take out whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing in front of the entrance.

As Major Wilkins and his two men entered the third chamber, they moved quicker now. They had their pistols drawn because of the tight quarters and because of the relative short range of any possible engagement. Their night vision goggles were on because of the complete lack of light inside of the cave chambers. It had to be at least eight hundred meters deep and contained seven chambers, most of them probably dating back to the original inhabitants of the island, those who were wiped out in the centuries past.

The third chamber was rather empty except for some discarded weapons, mostly pikes and swords made from island materials. They weren't centuries old, probably months, and they had not been disturbed in some time, or so it seemed. When they entered the fourth chamber, they finally found what they had been looking for. "Colonel. You better come back here." Major Wilkins said into his radio system.

Colonel Delaney rose from his seat. "Steele, take watch." He darted towards the fourth chamber, pistol raised, head spinning from the adrenaline. "What? What is it?" He said as he came into view. "Holy shit!" Those were the first words out of his mouth. There were five bodies lying on the floor, all of them devoured, definitely by people. These five bodies were all men of Force Spectre, the first team that had gone to find the island. With the two bodies they found outside that accounted for seven of the eight men. They were sure to find the eighth man inside this cave. The bodies were grotesque, their organs eaten out, through their skin, their heads severed, eyeballs gone, brains bashed in, half eaten. Their legs and arms were gnawed at, probably while they were still alive. The bite marks showed signs of struggle and it was apparently that they were held down while they were devoured alive. Two of them had their stomaches half eaten, open so that the maggots and flies could feast upon whatever was left. The stench alone made them want to puke but, for some odd reason, it remained inside the chamber, which was, more or less, a sacrifical chamber, probably from the olden days. "Let's keep going."

They entered the fifth chamber, probably a housing of high priests and found most disgust. Blood and parts were everywhere, probably discarded. There was feces and the place stunk like urine. Whatever group did this had made this place their home for the time being. There were no more bodies inside the fifth chamber and it appeared as if there was little else.

However, once they entered the sixth chamber, they found something that they didn't expect to find. It jumped right out at them, knife drawn, nearly catching Colonel Delaney in the neck. Only a few millimeters difference and he would have been dead. He reacted quickly though and with a simple hand movement, disarmed the individual and flung them into the stone wall. Blood dripped from his teeth as he looked up, his eyes widened and his breath labored. The man looked right into Colonel Delaney's eyes and...

"What the hell! Colonel Delaney yelled as he threw the man against the cave wall. He raised his pistol and pointed it right at the man's head. "Go ahead. Move again and I'll put this one through your brains."

"No. Stop! I thought you were them! The man squirmed, through the massive amount of pain he had just endured. "Stop. Stop!" He reached up. Apparently this man was scared for his life, it was quite evident.

"Who the fuck are you!" Colonel Delaney refused to lower his pistol and through his night vision goggles he could see that the man wore the same uniforms as the rest of the Force Spectre teams. "Huh!"

"Lieutenant Benjamin O'Healy."

"Force Spectre?"

"Yes."

"Which team?"

"Team Twelve." Twelve was the first team to go in whereas thirteen was the second team. "And who might you be? Relief? Please tell me you're here to rescue us."

"Who else is there?"

"I'm it. Those five in there and there's two more impaled on the rest of the island."

"Yeah we found them all. Who else is in this cave?"

"Just me."

"Alright. Continue your sweep men. You. Come with me!"

"Okay."

"My rank is Colonel."

"Yes sir."

"Better. Now let's move." As the remainder of Force Falcon continued their sweep of the caves, Colonel Delaney and Lieutenant O'Healy returned to the second chamber, where there was significant amounts of light still coming in through the waterfall. It was enough light to completely light up the whole second chamber enough to actually see from one side to the other, albeit not well. "Sit down over there and keep your hands where I can see them."

"Yes sir." He sat down and motioned to the Colonel that his hands were in clear view, on his knees. "Sir. What group do you represent?"

"That's not important at the moment. Now tell me what the fuck happened here!"

"Sir. We did a HALO in. Our mission was to recon the island in advance of an assault. There was no intel on the island and satellite photos showed little detail. We were to estimate troop strength and possible resistance. We're down here two days and we get captured by some rebels. I don't know how it happened sir, maybe we walked into an ambush, maybe they saw us come down. Who knows. We're captured and we figure that we're out of communication, they'll send help. They tortured us to hell sir! They ate some of the others, you can see. Well they ate two, in front of us, to get us to crack, they ate them alive sir. It's horrible."

"Go on."

"Sir. Well yes. So they send the second team. Two days later they get caught!"

"How the?"

"Sir. I can't possibly explain. They bring them in and put them with us and show us the bodies right. Well, time goes on a little longer you know. We're in there for two more days sir and well. I don't know how to explain it but the others, the second team, they turned sir. They started eating the already dead. I don't get it sir. I just don't get it. So they moved us all to here right. The eight men who turned, they went with the natives. I don't know where sir. But the natives they took the size of us here and restrained us all. Then, over the past few days they've slowly eaten away at the others. I'm next sir. They haven't been back for two days but I imagine they'll come back sir. I broke free of my restraints sir. I don't know what else to do. I was waiting for them, to ambush them. To kill them!"

"Understood."

"Roger that sir. You're hope aren't you?"

"Well we have some bad news."

"What's that sir?"

"Relief is still nine days away!"

"Navy?"

"Yes."

"What a joke sir."

"You got it. Now listen to me. How many are there and what are they like?"

"Sir. There are four of them. They're pretty tough and badass and they are well armed. They've got AKs and they're pretty brutal."

"They are you say." He smirked. "Well. We'll just see about that."

"Sir. The cave is clear." The other patrol returned. "What do you want us to do?"

"Bury the bodies gentlemen."

"Roger that sir."

The rains continued throughout the afternoon and into the early evening. The men inside the cave sat quietly and rested while they plotted and planned their attack against the airport and, at the same time, their escape off the island. Colonel Delaney was currently penning into his journal, if it could be called that, it was more or less a log book of his encounters. Some of the men rested their eyes, two played cards, and another sat reading. The Force Spectre soldier had finally begun to rest, knowing that he was in protective company for the first time in two weeks.

Colonel Delaney had never allowed his journal to be seen by any member of the team nor anyone else and he had strict instructions on what should happen to it should he be killed and it be found. He wanted only one thing, for it to be delivered to his girlfriend. He wrote his most inner thoughts, fears, albeit there were rarely any of those, misgivings, and desires. He described, in detail, this entire island. Every blade of grass he came in contact with, he had noted in the book and he wanted only one thing, if it were ever to be read by her, and that was for her to know that even though he was in the middle of hell, doing the worst things imaginable, he still had a human side to him, albeit it eroded more and more as he penned each new sentence.

Finally, around 1850, he stopped writing and put it inside his pack. Suddenly, no more than thirty seconds later, he heard a crack outside. Instinctively, his head snapped to the right and peered right out to the entrance of the cave. He drew his pistol and tapped some of the men sleeping. With hand signals he motioned that there was noise outside and as he woke the Force Spectre soldier, he heard voices, at least four of them. Whatever language they spoke it was some native tongue and he thought he heard a fifth voice but he couldn't be sure, the rain was providing to be a massive hindrance to him and his men.

They took up extremely defensive positions inside of the cave, lying on the ground, prone, their pistols drawn, spread out and ready to shoot. The voices got closer, four distinct sets of them, with the possibility of one to three more. Each of the men controlled their breathing instantly and pulled back the hammers on their pistols. The Force Spectre soldier lifted Colonel Delaney's M73A2 Enhanced Carbine, C-Mag loaded. Everyone's training kicked into overdrive and everyone stared down at the cave entrance, just waiting for the bad guys to enter. The tense moments began to continually add upon themselves, only making the seconds last that much longer. Come on. Just come on. Colonel Delaney thought to himself, waiting for the right moment.

Each second ticked away, moving slower and slower and slower. The voices quieted a little as they neared the entrance and, finally, all the waiting was done. The first man popped through the cave, a shotgun in his hands. The second was through in another quarter of a second, toting an Uzi. The third and fourth lagged in just behind them, both carrying FAL "Paratrooper" rifles. The fifth and sixth lagged behind. It almost took them too long to get into the cave entrance. Come on. Where are you? Colonel Delaney thought again. The four who entered first were still in the first chamber, waiting on their friends. They came in together also, cigarettes burning in their mouths. One carried an AKS-74U assault rifle and the other carrying a PP-19 Bizon, submachine gun.

With silencers attached to their pistols, the men were just sitting in waiting. They had clear shots against the men and they could take them all out, quite quickly and effectively but they waited, just to make sure that there wasn't another couple that could come in behind them and open up with their assault rifles and annihilate the living hell out of them. Finally, after waiting a few more seconds, they began to move inward. That was when Colonel Delaney gave the order, albeit through action rather than words. He fired the first three shots, putting the leader down with two in the chest and one in the head. The rest followed suite and before any of them realized what happened, they had .45ACP shots throughout their bodies. Unfortunately, was one tapped down onto the ground, his FAL went off and a single shot burst into the chamber and echoed loudly, richocheting off the walls and ending up imbedded in the ground. Fuck! Colonel Delaney kept still, waiting for others to rush in on him but, so far, nobody did. Quietly and carefully, he got up to his feet, his pistol still raised, and approached the cave, making sure everyone was dead by stepping on their throats, real hard. Nobody budged and now with cracked windpipes added to their days, they weren't going to be moving, at all.

He moved to the edge of the entrance and motioned for two men to come up beside him. Using strictly hand signals, he motioned that both of them should come out and pounce dead ahead and to the right. He was going to come out to the left. All three moved in total unison and scanned everything for as far as their eyes could see. There was nothing to see and nobody was around. "Clear." He said as he entered the cave again, passing through the waterfall. "Alright men. We've got six bodies here. Let's find out who they are." He turned on his flashlight and looked down at the bodies, looking at them. They weren't part of the second Force Spectre team so he knew that they were definitely natives. The night bore onto them and they looked around at the cave. They couldn't spend all night here, more were going to come looking for them.

"Alright gentlemen. It's 2300. Let's get moving. I'll take blue team to the airport and plant the explosives. Gold team remain here. Keep your guard up and make sure that whatever comes into that cave, unless it is us, does not get to walk back out. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. We'll move to the airport and plant our C4 blocks on the aircraft. For the fixed-wing craft we will place a block on the wing roots and for the rotary-wing craft we will place them on the tail, underneath the rotor. The blocks should be enough to not only sever the wings and the tail boom but also ignite whatever fuel is inside. We can plant them all within a few minutes, get back to the overlook point, and detonate. You'll hear the explosions from here. Then we'll get back here, on the double."

"Roger that sir."

"Alright. Are we ready to go?"

"We are." The men from blue team moved out. They kept low, their weapons shouldered, their night vision on. The rain hampered them significantly and though their vision was limited, because of it, so was that of the enemy. As they moved, sleekly and skillfully, towards the airport, they made sure to keep a look out in every direction. If there were hostiles out there that were looking to shoot at them, they would have to get the drop on them and fire first. Their suppressors were fitted, which would enable them to hide their muzzle flashes and mask the sound of their shots. The torrential rain and its lightning only made their night vision goggles that much more hampered. Each flash of lightning lit up their goggles and they had to turn on their bright light filter, which hampered their range a little. The thunder claps from the lightning were loud enough to shake the island and they knew that if there was a gunshot fired during a thunderclap, they would never hear it, and vice versa.

The sprint to the overlook point was quick and uneventful. They could see the airport with their binoculars and it did not appear that anyone was down there. This was good news. "Alright. I'm going and so is Jackson. You two, stay up here and keep a close eye on what the hell is going on. You see anything you let us know!"

"Roger that sir."

"Alright. Give me the blocks."

"Split them up. You take the rotary-wing, I'll take the fixed-wing."

"Roger that sir."

"Let's move!" With his pistol drawn, Colonel Delaney sprinted down towards the tarmac. Right behind him was Jackson, moving as fast as he could, with all the weight he carried. They had left their packs inside the cave and they were just down to bare necessities but his weapon was heavy enough to walk with, let alone run, bogged down by multiple C4 blocks, equipped with radio detonators. They had blacked out the lights of the detonators so that they wouldn't be seen. Quickly and cautiously, they approached the first sets of aircraft. The runway was abandoned and nobody was patrolling for at least two hundred meters. This was more than easy, they thought to themselves as they moved from plane to plane, planting the C4 explosive blocks.

It took them about twenty minutes, all together, to get down to the runway, to plant the explosives, and to get back to the overlook point. Those were twenty very tense minutes and though they were never within danger being discovered, it was still the intensity of the situation. If they were discovered, it would jeopardize the whole mission, let alone them. "Alright. We've got them planted. Stand by for detonation."

"Roger that." On the other end of the radio was Major Wilkins, who was standing by the cave. They had their weapons out and they were crouched and prone around the entrance, to make sure that nobody was coming inside.

Colonel Delaney armed the detonator and a green light lit up on the detonator, which signified that all of the charges were linked in together. "Charges armed. Detonation in five...four...three...two...boom!" He pushed down on the trigger and the radio signal shot out of the detonator at light speed. The signal reached all of the charges nearly simultaneously, differing by nanoseconds, if even that much. The bombs exploded and the desired effect was definitely achieved. The C4 charges on the fixed-wing craft severed the wings at the roots and ignited the center fuel tanks, sending up nothing but small fireballs. On the helicopters, the explosives severed the tails and made the aircraft completely useless. It would take more than a few nuts and bolts to fix these aircraft. "We have a success. Returning to the cave." The runway was littered with more than a dozen little fires, where each aircraft smoldered in its wreckage. They began to move back towards the cave and they did so quickly. They didn't want to be caught outside when the patrols started to flood everything for a kilometer or more. Only six hundred and fifty meters from the cave, they began to sprint at full speed. Then...

Chapter IV: Poisoned Hearts

Day Three

Colonel Delaney and the others in blue team were running one minute and the next, they were stopped, at the bottom of a small pit, covered in mud, contorted from slamming into the pit at high speed. Nobody moved at first, feeling the pain shoot through their bodies. The walls almost caved in on them as they sat there, pained from the six foot fall. Colonel Delaney had twisted his right ankle, Captain Steel broke two fingers, Captain Rigalo only bumped his head on his weapon, and Captain Jackson had lost a tooth. Thus far, none of them were seriously injured and the worst, Captain Steel and Colonel Delaney, could fully move under their own power, even if it hurt a little. Unfortunately, for them, they wouldn't be moving very far.

They heard voices approach the edge of the pit and Colonel Delaney struggled to pull out his pistol and look up. The others tried to do the same but they were hindered just as much. "Look what we have here." The voices were English and that was a bad sign. The only other group of warriors on this island that spoke English were Force Spectre soldiers and they were now looking down at Colonel Delaney and his men. He counted seven of them and he saw their weapons. They wore bone necklaces and their clothes were stained with blood. "I presume you aren't here to have fun with us."

"Relax those weapons and I won't order you dead."

"Colonel is it? I presume that would mean you have others out there. It is a shame that they too have been captured. Major Wilkins sure put up a fight. I'm afraid his leg will never be the same."

"Fucking son of a bitch."

"Lower those weapons. We outnumber you and have the advantage." This was the first time in his entire military career that he made a mistake and Colonel Delaney was none too happy about it. Son of a bitch. He thought to himself as he lowered his weapon.

"Go ahead. They've got us."

"Good. Good. Jones. Help them out. We've got a few people who want to meet them."

"You just wait. When I get the chance I'm going to twist that little neck of yours to nothing."

"Colonel. Idle threats. For now you all will live. Until there it is reason to kill you, at least."

"Right." When Colonel Delaney managed to get out of the hole, along with his fellow soldiers, he and his men were restrained with plastic zip-ties and ushered into awaiting vehicles, which was, more or less, two trucks escorted by a pair of hard-top jeeps. The five men from the cave were in one vehicle and they were in the other. It was a good way to keep them separated, after all, these were Black Ops. They were brought through the hills, down a muddy, lopsided, and rough dirt road towards the city. Lights in the distance were mostly from houses and they were also burning torches. There weren't any outdoor activities, given the massive storm, but there were plenty of indoor celebrations. The feastings continued.

Colonel Delaney and his men tried frantically to escape during the ride but they were just too heavily restrained. Force Spectre knew that they were doing and they certainly knew that these men were no joke. While it was a big unknown what group they were, to Force Spectre, they were a level or two up or down, who knew, for sure.

The trucks puttered on in the rain and the dark, coming to a halt outside a dismal looking building in the northwest corner of the city. This was the police station, or at least whatever was left of it. There were fourteen jail cells inside of the police station, all of them in the basement and all of them in horrific conditions. All nine men were put into their own cells, all of them weary from the beatings they recieved getting into the trucks, out of the trucks, and down the stairs, into the cells. They were definitely not going to be treated "nicely," nor did they expect it.

"Colonel. I am not entirely sure just what branch of the ILM you work for. I am certain you are a Black Ops agent. You are not Force Spectre and I doubt you belong to any other group that I personally know about. So let me not be rude. My name is Harry Francis, I am a Major for Force Spectre. You?"

"Colonel. That's all you need to know."

"What fun is that?"

"You see. I am well aware of the plans of our government and I personally saw to the destruction of those who came before me. You see. This island, this society. This is freedom. This is everything that we will stamp out. You see sir, if I may be so polite, the navy that is coming, the military that is coming, you see they will fail. You think that we don't have some sort of secret weapon here? Why else would I turn to the 'enemy,' so to speak."

"Because you're a loon." Colonel Delaney sat in the corner of the cell. Water dripped into the bars on the left and kept the floor sufficiently soaked, draining down a hole in the middle of the floor. It was cold and a rat chewed on something in the opposite corner. The bars were rusty but there was no way to kick through them. The walls were stained with dried blood and graffiti was everywhere. It looked like someone tried to count the number of days they were in there but they got bored around six hundred and fifty-four, as far as he could count. Lighting was dim and it was tough to see even across to the other side. The torture would be next, he was sure of it. "What is it that you are here to gain?"

"Colonel. Perhaps I am being a bit too vague. Let me start from the beginning."

"Please do."

"Colonel. You are not here as a guest. Keep that in mind."

"Just remember what I said." Without any weapons or tools he felt naked but his own martial arts and hand-to-hand combat skills would be enough, if he ever got the chance.

"Very well. You see sir. We were sent in second. Nobody told us about anything except that a team ahead of us had gone missing. What a lie had they told. They were captured and soon so were we. The natives. They're very good. They know this island inside and out. You know we saw you land and we've been watching all of you since? The cave was a dead give away when the patrol never returned. When we got here they had already killed several of them and put us in the same area with them. In fact. If you could see to your left, that massive holding cell. Those. Well you understand.

"We began to see what was going on. We saw the freedom of this island and the freedoms that we could have here. There is no religious prosecution, no horrific consequences of anything that would otherwise be seen in the Empire. Sir. You can see as well as I can that this place, this anarchy, this is what we need. This is nothing more than pure freedom. My men and I, we saw that. The natives, they beat us, they tortured us. I admit that. We did crack. Who doesn't. So we joined them. We've been living amongst them. There is one of my men unaccounted for, should I have you to thank for that?"

"You should."

"Very well. The seven of us. We are most delighted that you found the missing eighth man from the first team. We've been meaning to engorge ourselves on his flesh." He had a twinkle in his eye. This man was the sight of evil, pure, unbridled evil. "So you are now here. We will get what information we need from you and your men Colonel." Suddenly, the basement erupted in screams. The voice was that of the last man from the first team and Colonel Delaney could only figure out that he was meeting his end. "Now if you will excuse me sir. Enjoy your stay." He got up and walked towards the end of the room, where the screaming continued, for six hours.

"Major. You out there?" Colonel Delaney called from his cell. He didn't want to use names, that was what they were taught when they were in training. They would just address themselves by rank. Unfortunately, since everyone else was a Captain, it would be difficult. For situations like that, everyone was assigned a color. It was unusual but it worked. "Mr. Green?"

"Mr. Blue?"

"Yes sir. How are you holding up?"

"Sir. They broke my leg. I don't know if it's going to heal right."

"Very well. Anybody else hurt?"

"Not that I know of. We're all the same as when you last saw us sir. I think they broke my leg because I fought them."

"That would make sense."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"If it doesn't."

"Hang in there Major. You don't think about that. We're going to get back to our home and get out of here. Trust me."

"Yes sir." They fell quiet as footsteps echoed into the basement from the stairs. There was only one set of them and Colonel Delaney figured that it was the main guard, a big brute of a man who could probably bench press a small helicopter. He was definitely more muscle than he was brain but that was to be expected. Regardless of all that muscle, Colonel Delaney could break his neck faster than he could swing a punch and he planned to do just that, if he got the chance. He sat quietly, plotting, brooding over what he would have to do to get him and his men out of captivity. They had never been captured and held by an enemy. In training they were subjected to the worst of the worst and they never imagined that would end. It lasted seventeen days and not only did they sleep one minute, they were abused, beaten, electrocuted, and all sorts of horror. They all survived and none of them cracked. It was a feat only they could accomplish. Appointment to Force Falcon required them passing that course, which, more or less, was a disgusting breech of human rights. In order to do the deeds that they would have to do, they had to pass the worst of the worst. Remember your training. He told himself and he knew that everyone else were thinking the same thing. They had to remember their training and whilst they never had to deal with the element of cannibalism, they would be able to overcome that little addition.

The screaming stopped about three hours ago and the Force Spectre soldier was dead, very dead. He had been devoured and his body consumed by at least a dozen other men, seven of which were part of the second team. They feasted on him alive. There was definitely something about consuming the living, some aspect of it that gave them life or power or some other concocted idea.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/guard.jpg

The guard stood next to the cell door and looked down. "You know." His English was clear and Colonel Delaney understood him through his accent. "You are going to be a fun thing to play with."

"Don't get too excited. I'm not going to stand around and let you eat me."

"You think you can fight me?"

"I do." He laughed as the guard looked down. "You're neck breaks like anyone else."

"If you think you will do anything. Just wait."

"You wait." He smirked as he sat there, against the corner. He wanted the guard to come into the cell to try to kick his ass but the guard wouldn't bite, he only laughed and walked away. He would be up and around his neck without so much as a second thought and then he would be able to escape.

Captivity was a test of patience and Colonel Delaney had plenty...

Outside, as the storm raged, the navy pressed on. They kept their speed and would be arriving on the tenth day, seven more away. They were pushing through the punishing waves and the winds, moving towards the island with complete impunity. Sailors were already making their vessels ready for warfare, stocking ammunition where it would be most necessary. FAC controllers were studying the terrain of the island while artillery spotters were doing the same. All flights had already be assigned codes and the aircraft carriers were the most active, plotting flight plans and supply drops. Once Marines were on the island, the aircraft would be moving constantly, flying around and over the island, dropping supplies and bombs. They expected resistance, high resistance but of what nature, they were unsure. They expected tens of thousands of armed natives, probably on par with militias. They would be nothing for the Marines, nothing...

Back inside Layarteb City, the Joint Chiefs were in a fury. Contact with Force Falcon had been lost. They were on their way to Governor's Island, inside a large limousine. The Emperor would not be happy about this new development and neither were they. Force Falcon was the elite of the elite, the top soldiers of the country. Losing them would unfortunately mean that the Empire would be severely crippled. Losing a single Force Falcon team was on par with losing an entire battalion of soldiers and equipment, they were just that important.

JOC in Layarteb City was swarming with brass and aides left and right. Satellites were unable to get any reliable imagry of the island because of the thunderstorm above it. Weather wouldn't play a factor in the cutting off of communication, it never did. The radio sets they used were just too powerful and too capable to be interrupted by a thunderstorm. Lightning flashed and thunder roared all over the island but communication continued, had they been there to communicate.

"Lion One. Lion One. Command Bravo. Command Bravo. Report in, over?" The must have repeated the command over the air for a half hour straight. It was evident, communication was lost. "Lion One. Lion One. Command Bravo. Command Bravo. Report in, over?" On and on they called but there was no answer. The satellite was quiet and the airwaves silent.

Thirty minutes later, the Emperor was being called down into JOC from his office. The phone rang at his secretary's desk with an ominous feeling. "It's the Chairman. We need to speak with the Emperor."

"One moment please." She pushed the buzzer and his office echoed. It was silent in there and he was sitting behind his desk, looking down at a piece of paper, a letter he recieved from the mother of a fallen soldier from the Yucatán War. She wasn't angry at him, not in the letter. She was only angry at fate for casting her son away from her because of a bunch of uncivilized bottom feeders, as she called them. He read it over and over and, being in the military once before, he knew what it was like to deliver such a letter. "Sir. The Chairman is on the phone. It is urgent."

"Very well. Transfer it in."

"Yes sir."

"Go ahead General."

"Sir. We need you down in the JOC."

"What's wrong General?"

"Sir."

"General. Spit it out now. I don't have time to waste."

"Sir. We've lost contact with Force Falcon."

"What!?"

"Sir. We have no contact with them. They are forty-five minutes late on their check-in sir. Weather is bad but the satellite diagnostics show that the radio set is on and that it is transmitting."

"How far out is the navy?"

"A week sir."

"Can they get there faster?"

"No sir. We can't. The seas are heavy sir."

"What about paratroopers?"

"Weather is too bad sir."

"What other options do we have?"

"Sir. Unfortunately. None."

"What do you mean none?"

"Sir. We never expected anything to happen to them. When has something like this ever..."

"General! You plan for every contingency!"

"I understand sir."

"We need that team. General. You do whatever you can."

"Understood sir."

"Update me if you have something."

"Yes sir."

The Emperor hung up the phone and looked around his office. He stood up from his desk and put the piece of paper back inside of an envelope and put it inside of his desk drawer. He walked over to the window and looked outside. This isn't good. He thought to himself. Before he could think even more, the buzzer rang. "Sir."

"Yes?"

"Dr. Wilson is here."

"Very good. Send her in please."

"Yes sir." The doors opened only a few seconds later and standing there was Dr. Rachael Wilson, a major individual in the Ministry for Paranormal Activities, a very secretive and concealed part of the government. A stunning figure, she stood 5'8" and weighed not more than 130 pounds. Her long, dark black hair flowed down over her shoulders and her glasses sparkled in the dull light of his office, showing her green eyes. She had just returned from a three month investigative mission in the Yucatán, where she was sent to check out some Mayan pyramids. She was, in short, the Emperor's girlfriend, for lack of a better word. They weren't engaged or anything of the sort but they had been seeing each other for some time now, unfortunately they rarely saw all that much of each other some times, mainly because they were kept apart by their work.

"Hi." She said with a smile. She walked inside, her heels echoing inside the office. The doors shut behind her and the dim, dull lighting of the office cast her almost in a shadow. "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing out of the ordinary. How was it?"

"It was uneventful." She smiled and hugged him. "I missed you."

"I don't know how I keep going on these long treks without you. I have some bad news."

"Bad news?"

"Easter Island."

"What about it?"

"We're adding it to the Empire. There's just a problem. We sent in Colonel Delaney and his team."

"Yeah?"

"We lost communication." The look of shock on her face surprised him. "Listen. It's not for you to have to worry about. Come outside." He walked over to the small balcony door and unlocked it. It led to a balcony situated quite high up on the castle. "It's almost night time and yet there has to be something out there."

The sun set on the horizon. Easter Island was only one hour behind Layarteb City and whilst it was 1929 and the sun would be completely down in twenty minutes. Its rays streaked right into the prison cells inside Hanga Roa, casting light onto Colonel Delaney and his men. The prison cells were dank and dark and only the setting sun managed to cast light inside of the gloomy basement of the police station. All throughout the day, footsteps upstairs and the native tongue of the island, Rapa Nui. They didn't understand it and they couldn't make anything out of it that they could mildly understand.

They were all plotting their escape though. They needed to get out of these cells and the city and move back into the countryside and they had to do it before the bombardments began. The police station was a prime target and set to be obliterated by either air-dropped JDAMs or battleship guns. They didn't want to be in there when the munitions hit or else they were going to be reduced to dust. Smartly, they left the radio on and inside the muddy pit, which told JOC that they were in trouble. If the radio was on and recieving but not transmitting, JOC would run diagnostics on the set. When they came back they would know that Force Falcon was in trouble. Of course, the storm overhead would only hinder their efforts. The sun that peaked through was only a short interlude. The rain would begin again in an hour as the eye of the storm passed over them.

The storm is down. Colonel Delaney thought to himself, checking the cell around him. This was the brighest light, thus far, that came into his cell. Until then, the darkness of the clouds overhead kept the cell dark and damp. Smoke rose on the horizon, from what he could see, and he imagined that something was on fire. In reality, the natives of Easter Island had filled a barn on the outskirts of the city with confidential documents containing information about Easter Island, its populace, and their military capabilities. The barn had been covered in gasoline and lit aflame once the eye passed overhead and the flames licked the sky. The smoke billowed even higher and they hoped that it would burn thoroughly, before the storm began again.

When the storm started up after sunset, the city once again became deluged by the rains, the winds, and the torrents of the massive thunderstorm overhead. The smoke on the horizon was silenced and muted by the rains and the zero visibility from the powerful storm. Colonel Delaney slumped back down against the wall and threw a small rock against the wall. It bounced off and he caught it, continuing this activity to keep his senses alert.

Then, a load echoed erupted through the basement and he could tell that the door had been unlocked and someone was on their way down. It was probably the guard with food or some form of barely edible solids. The last feeding they got had been slop. There was no other word to describe it and while they thought they were being fed people, they knew not what they were eating. It tasted awful and it was definitely not going to agree with any of them over any period of time. He was right, it was definitely the guard with food, albeit it wasn't really food.

"Food." The guard called as he set out bowls of more slop inside their cells. There were no spoons and they had to slurp it out of bowls there were probably never washed. "Eat up." He smirked as he looked down at Colonel Delaney. "Still trying to escape?"

"Trying denotes failure."

"Exactly."

"Don't worry. I'll get out of here and you'll know it."

"Oh I will?"

"For a split second, just before I snap your neck."

"Go ahead. What color are you? Pink?"

"Only in your dreams."

"I dream of food." Colonel Delaney was definitely having fun playing with the guards' head and playing his game of deception. He made it out to be a joke, a big joke.

"Bring me the commanders. Hurry it's almost ten! We need to get this squared away now!" The man said in his walkie-talkie. He was inside of a gymnasium, one of the largest structures in the city, primarily because it was attached to the only school on the island. The man was Major Francis, leading Force Spectre's team. The island was planning something major and something capable against the onslaught of the Layartebian military. There was supposed to be a briefing of the militia leaders and he wanted to get them set and organized. It took about twenty minutes for them to assemble in the gym and when they did, there were about four hundred of them. "Alright men. I must speak in English. I hope you don't mind. The Layartebians are coming. They will be here in seven days and until then we must lay low so their satellites cannot see our plans. Your men must be ready and prepared. We're getting reinforcements tomorrow, during the storm. These are men who have fought the Empire fiercly and bravely in Kaliningrad, the Yucatán, and Quebec. They are seasoned warriors and veterans and they know urban and guerilla warfare better than our enemy does.

"Our plan is the same. We will draw them into fighting. They have superior firepower and numbers but we have the advantage. We know the land. The tunnels will guide us and help us. We will shoot down their planes with our shoulder launched missiles. We will kill their soldiers before they get to the beach with our mines and our booby traps. We will do whatever we have to do. This island will NOT go down without a fight! Inform your men directly. Avoid radios. They are listening with signals satellites. Keep daytime movements limited when there is no overcast. We will have 6,000 men when they come to attack us and we will have them all armed and hungry for blood. Your reward will be the flesh of your enemy and the freedom you will get from their defeat.

"Are there any questions?" Few people raised their hand and those that did had simple questions. When they were done and it was over, Major Francis returned to his men and their small basecamp inside of the school. "Men. The time is drawing near and the weapon is almost complete. Terevaka will open and swallow our foes like they have never seen before!"

Chapter V: Tainted Visions

Day Four

The first transport arrived shortly before 0600 and landed perfectly well on the runway. The runway was mostly used by Boeing 737s and 767s but had been used to land several types of Airbus aircraft. What had just landed was a Boeing 767-300ER, carrying 300 men, all of them heavily armed and thirsty for action. The plane had flew low, fast, and kept on a course that kept it mostly away from the prying eyes of the Layartebian military. Because of the massive storm over Easter Island, its landing was shielded from prying eyes.

It screamed down onto the runway and halted with plenty of room to spare. When the three hundred mercenaries, as they were, for the most part, poured out, they were greeted by militia leaders and ushered out of the rain to various assembly places. This would be done all day long, with ten flights of various aircraft being recovered. The aircraft would remain there for three days, before taking off again and leaving the island. At that point in time, there would be over six thousand individuals on the island, all armed, mainly militamen.

Tunnels became populated and active as fighters learned their ways around the island. There were thousands of miles of tunnels built underneath the island leading from all three peaks to the main city, the airport, the ninety-four weapons caches, the holding caches, and the various other bases that they had built inside of the earth. The Empire would be completely caught by surprise by the ingenuity island natives.

The damage to the aircraft and helicopters was severe and that was a major problem to the natives. They had hoped to catch Force Falcon before they could but a lull in their monitoring, hence laziness, did them in poorly. The destruction to their aircraft made them change their whole battleplan. Originally, they were going to keep their aircraft at very low altitude, underneath radar coverage and fire anti-ship missiles, en masse towards their enemy. They had a lot of weaponry stocked up for the attack but now they would have to improvise. They were down on aircraft but high on weaponry. Whatever they could do to use their weapons they would.

The rains kept coming. The island was so drowned that any more would only weigh it down and sink it. It would keep going like this for at least another two days, long enough to shield everything they were doing down there. In the prison, Colonel Delaney and his men sat in boredom, keeping themselves as occupied as possible, trying to overcome the necessity to break down. They were fighting hard, very hard. The meals were something to look forward to, in a way, since it allowed them something to do, albeit the food was nothing more than mere slop. They were served by the large guard, who cracked jokes as he gave them their food, mostly that what they were eating had once walked on two legs but the men knew this only to be a joke. The guard was toying with them, trying to keep them from eating, which would only serve to wear them down more. Colonel Delaney couldn't figure out why they were even being fed but he figured it was something to do with any form of torture. He knew that Major Francis still had some semblance of military attitude in him. He always saluted the Colonel whenever he came in, whether out of jest or seriousness. Colonel Delaney only returned the salute.

However, this morning, he didn't salute. "Pick him up." He said to the guard. "We're going for a walk. Ready Colonel?"

"Are you?" Colonel Delaney smirked as the guard lifted him up. He saw his move to act and he did, immediately, and without warning, shoving the guard down onto the ground, grappling him. He kept his hot bowl of slop hot and uneaten and tossed it right at the guards' face. The scolding liquid stuck to his face and the roar of the guard deafened him as he drove the guard down, onto the concrete ground. He kept one hand on his neck and the other into his gut. The massive guard toppled back, obviously being caught off guard. He slammed down onto the concrete floor, the back of his skull cracking under the force, and his windpipe snapping, under Colonel Delaney's hand. His other hand remained steadfast right in the center of his chest and when he fell, he drove it down. He didn't pierce any skin or do any significant damage except break a rib or two, enough to cause enough pain to slow down the guard, if he got up. Colonel Delaney had fire in his eyes as he drove his hand downwards, crushing the guards' windpipe. He grasped the guards' neck and after he crushed him, he riped upwards with all of his strength, pulling a chunk of is throat out, severing his main artery. The guard would bleed out within minutes, if he was even still alive.

As Colonel Delaney shot upwards, to grab Major Francis, a bullet echoed through the room. He never heard the gunshot, deafened by the guards' screams. When the bullet ricocheted off the wall and whizzed past his ear, it caught his attention. Heaving from the kill, throat in hand, blood on his arm, Colonel Delaney looked up to find Major Francis, six feet away, his rifle raised. "Colonel. I wouldn't if I were you." He said nothing, only dropped the guards' throat into a puddle of blood, which was getting bigger by the second. "Nice work. I didn't expect that. I was sure you were done for. Well. No matter. I do believe that you will be coming with me?"

"I will?"

"Yes. Come down here." He yelled and four more of his team came down, weapons drawn. "Watch him while I restrain him. Here. Take my weapon."

"Sir? What the fuck?" Their reaction was instant when they saw the dead guard, who was, at minimum, ten times the size and mass of Colonel Delaney. "Sir?"

"WATCH HIM!" They kept their weapons pointed as he moved around back and tied Colonel Delaney's hands with a plastic zip-tie. "You're dead meat motherfucker. That was my friend." He whispered with a smile.

"What I did to him was too quick for what I am going to do to you."

"Just try it ninja." They began to escort Colonel Delaney out of the cellar and up to the top of the stairs. He saved his energy for a time when he would need it and avoiding putting up much of a fight simply because he was at a disadvantage so great he couldn't win. "Outside. We're going to the altar." The rain kept up and they escorted him outside, to a parked jeep. All four of them climbed in, him inside the middle, between two of them. "It's a half hour drive Colonel. I hope you don't have to piss."

"I'll manage." For those thirty minutes he was nothing but dead weight, bouncing up and down and all around, falling all over the guards, crashing into them, butting their heads. He was such a nusiance, one of them almost shot him but was ordered not to by Major Francis. He was really getting on their nerves.

"Alright. It's over there. Pull into shed there." Major Francis said to the driver, whom Colonel Delaney had never seen before. He had bounced all around the cab with the jeep as it moved over the trecherous terrain. He had nearly knocked himself out with one head butt to the soldier on his left. It made him wince a little bit and the soldier had to blink a few times to get his own bearing. He continued to bounce around in the cab the entire thirty minutes, becoming the biggest nuisance ever.

When they stopped in the shed, he looked around and saw a farm house that looked more or less like it was about to fall over from a good gust of wind rather than anything else. "Let's get him inside and into the basement."

"Alright sir." They pulled Colonel Delaney out of the car and dragged him into the house. They had walked through a near river of mud and grass, which was inundated with water from the rains. As they pulled him up the stairs and into the front door, he looked around at the place. Nothing seemed to be pleasurable about this place, at all.

"Nice place here. Needs redecorating."

"Does it?

"I think so."

"Well. Wait until you see the basement."

"I can't wait." They opened a steel, bolted, and heavily locked door and began to drag him down the stairs to the basement. The place was cold, damp, and disgusting. It stunk like moldy cheese and stale water. The lighting was poor and he thought he had smelled blood. They brought him down and slammed him down in an old, wooden chair, stained with dried blood. "Comfy." He remarked as they tied him to the chair with plastic zip ties.

"Well. Colonel. I'm sure you can figure out what's next. I am going to ask you some questions. You can tell me the answers or you can suffer. So. Hook him up." They pulled a bucket of cold, rain water from the other side of the room and put it underneath him. They forced his boots and socks off and put his feet in the water. Then, they attached a pair of electrodes to his temples and hooked them up to a machine on the table. "Why don't we try two thousand for right now?" He turned the knob on the defribilator up to 2,000 volts and looked down at Colonel Delaney. "What group do you work for?"

"I work for the Easter Bunny." Major Francis smiled and hit the power button, immediately sending 2,000 volts of electricity into his body, straight through his temples. He instantly tightened up but this was nothing compared to what he had taken in training. He had been hit, numerous times, with tazer guns and stun guns, which delivered far more energy than this single item.

"What group do you work for?"

"I told you. The Easter Bunny." He turned up the knob to 3,000 and hit him again, making him tighten up, again. Tazers and stun guns put out in excess of 50,000 volts and he knew that this machine could certain give more. A few seconds later, the current stopped and he could release himself.

"Apparently you aren't listening. What group do you work for?"

"Fine. Fine. I'll tell you. I work for Batman. I'm sorry but..." He got hit again, this time with 10,000 volts, which really made him bend inwards. The voltage had been doubled and it certainly made its presence known inside his body. Having his feet in a bucket of water certainly didn't help. He wasn't sure if the water was salt water or not but it certainly made everything hurt more so he could only imagine that it was salt water.

"Colonel," he released the current. "Colonel. I don't think that you understand how much of a serious matter this is. Jokes like that just aren't tolerated here. You do realize that with enough voltage here I can stop your heart. I bet you have a headache by now."

"I'm fine. Keep going. I get off on this shit."

"Smile all you like Colonel. Perhaps I will ask further. Since you won't tell me just what group you work for, perhaps you will tell me what is coming?"

"Tomorrow?" The voltage was up to 20,000 and he was buckled over again, this time the current being applied for a full four seconds. He was on the verge of losing consciousness and each and every muscle in his body tightened up. He breathed heavily and tried to tighten them up further to get the adrenaline flowing but it was already going.

"Colonel, Colonel, Colonel. You won't cooperate will you?"

"I am trying but you won't believe me."

"How about forty thousand?"

"I'm game." With a smile, the voltage immediately went into his body and brought him right over. He was almost asleep by the time the voltage stopped four seconds later. "Really...Give...You...A...Rush..." He barely muttered.

"This hurts you much more than it hurts me. Fifty thousand is next. Much more than that and it's lethal."

"I'm aware."

"So. One more time."

"Oh go to hell."

"I've been there." The fifty thousand volt current, lasting three seconds, put him into a realm of dizziness. When he snapped to, a few seconds later, he looked around at a blurry room. The water was cold and his feet had gone numb, whether from the temperature of the water or the voltage. "Colonel. Further?"

"Further what?"

"Let's take a break. Shall we?"

"I was having fun." For his wise mouth, he got another jolt of 50,000 volts, which took the smirk right off his face. Major Francis and his men removed the tub of water and the electrodes. That hadn't worked so they were going to try something different, something worse.

Four hours passed and Colonel Delaney was feeling the aches and pains not only of the electrocution that he was given but also by the car ride. He had bounced around a lot, making a lot of bone on bone contact, especially with his shoulders and his skull. The electrocution only amplified that pain and made more of his body hurt. He had been sitting in the chair, trying to maintain a clear, logical thought in his head, to keep from getting overwhelmed. His feet were no longer cold and he didn't think he had frostbite or any type of other affliction because of the immersion so he figured that he was pretty fine.

Then, in walked Major Francis, with a coffee can. He was mixing something inside of it and he had a sick, sinister grin on his face. "Hold his mouth open." Immediately, Colonel Delaney tightened up as two of the men grabbed at his jaw and tried to open his mouth. It wouldn't work and he managed to bite one of their fingers quite hard. "Hold his nose. He'll open." He tried to hold his breath but it was tough and eventually, he opened his mouth, gasping for air. They reacted quickly and shoved a stick in, just wide enough to hold his mouth open. A splinter jabbed right into his lip as Major Francis took a spoon full of a black powdery substance and shoved it down his throat. He dropped in a small amount of water afterwards and motioned for them to take out the stick.

The taste flooded his mouth and he felt like he was going to puke. They had put charcoal into his mouth. It would absorb liquid and acid in his stomach and, sure enough, it did and he puked it right back up. It severely dried out his stomach and now his stomach and his entire throat hurt, burning from the acid that had come up with the charcoal. "How do you feel now Colonel?" Major Francis joked as he put the can down. "That ache is only going to get worse. If you tell me who you belong to and what is coming then I will surely let you be."

"Fuck you." He struggled to say, spitting out bits of vomit and charcoal. "You can just go to hell."

"Colonel. I've been there. Why don't we start fresh. I am Major Francis. You are?"

"Colonel Blue."

"Nice name. It's a shame you don't want to cooperate." He nodded and Colonel Delaney recieved the butt of a rifle to the back of his skull. The inflamation swelled immediately and his head burned from the pain. "Seering pain. You know in training. We. Well I am sure you too. We get beaten and tortured like this. We learn how to beat the torture but at the same time, we learn how to counter that. Get what I mean?"

"Vaguely."

"Colonel. I know your training. I am aware of your counter. I have all the time in the world."

"That's what you think?"

"How long Colonel?"

"Six years."

"Amusing." He pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and made sure it was quite tense and motioned for them to hold his mouth open. They did and he quickly sliced the piece of paper across his mouth between where his lips met. The wound bled immediately but he didn't let them release him. Instead, he drew some salt and dropped it on the wound. A paper cut, for such a superficial wound, caused a grave amount of pain. Salt only amplified the pain and as he dumped more on, he dropped rather hot water on it as well. Things could only get worse and they did. Six more hours of miniscule, tactical torture drove Colonel Delaney almost to unconsciousness, from the shock of the pain that he experienced throughout his entire body. He had ammonia dripped on a superficial wound on his thigh and he had the electrodes reattached, to various points of his body, with another 20,000 to 50,000 volts given for durations of us to three to six seconds. He was holding firm though. Torture or not, he wasn't going to give up the information that they sought, nor was he going to let them kill him. He would have his revenge.

The sun was set when Colonel Delaney began his fifth round of torture. His bones ached and his muscles were sore from the electrocutions that he recieved, his mouth hurt whenever he moved his lips from the salt-ridden wounds, his ribcage ached at every breath from the punches he recieved, and a sliced wound underneath his diaphragm went numb from the sheer amount of pain that he recieved from the ammonia that had been dripped into it. His head hurt from the hits he recieved, all of them straight from the butt of a rifle, and his feet were cold and wet still. He wasn't in the best of shape anymore and he had lost consciousness three times already from the sheer amount of pain that he recieved from the electrocutions and the knife wound to his diaphragm. He knew that they weren't going to kill him, he was way too valuable for them, but he also knew that they were sick and twisted.

"Colonel. I am getting tired of you. Do you know what Pancuronium bromide is? No? Let me enlighten you." He pulled out a small bottle and a syringe. "Pancuronium bromide is a paralytic agent that can effectively stop muscle activity, including that diaphragm of yours. I would give you Beroglide but I don't have any. One hundred milligrams of this stuff is lethal so perhaps I'll give you, let's say twenty-five? Are you aware of what will happen? First it will distort your thinking as it relaxes your muscles. In a few minutes you will feel total paralysis, including having difficulty breathing. It will hurt. You will suffer. It will last hours. Now. If you give up information, I will gladly give you this stuff over here. It negates the effects within ninety seconds and will return you back to normal without any damage. Looks tasty doesn't it?"

"That needle clean?"

"Clean enough." He smiled and stabbed the needle right into his vein and injected the stuff. He went limp almost immediately and began to writhe in pain as it went to work. "Hurts doesn't it?"

"Fuck yourself."

"Maybe. Now. Colonel. What is your name?"

"Santa." The injection worked effectively and his body began to swell with pain as he lost feeling throughout his body. His breathing became labored and he was having a difficult time saying anything within two mintues. The dosage was quite effective and put him in a completely incapable state. He screamed in pain, tried to writhe but was unable due to the paralysis.

"Colonel. This doesn't have to hurt? What is your name? Who do you work for? What is coming this way? How long? Come on Colonel. We don't have all day here. You'll be dying soon."

"No." He couldn't utter much more as the pain engulfed his body and shot through him as if it were liquid fire in his veins. His head felt as if it were going to explode and he wasn't even sure if his heart was beating anymore.

"Come on Colonel. You've got little time." Minutes ticked on as he bore insufferable pain, trying his best to lose consciousness so that the time would go faster. He did, twice. Unfortuantely, both times, he was awoken. The drug wore off, eventually, but put him in such a state that he could barely move again. The pain was insufferable and unbearable and he wasn't going to go through it again. He just hoped that his show of force had shown them that this particular avenue wasn't worth exploring. He missed the opportunities of them putting a gun to his head, those were easy to deal with, but these, these were no laughing matter.

Major Francis looked down at his face, covered in sweat, worn with the ordeal he had endured. "Colonel. You aren't being very cooperative." He said in a very low voice. "You are frustrating me and I do not like to be frustrated. You will give me what information I need and you will do it before sunrise. Do you understand?"

"No."

"You don't? Or you won't?"

"I won't."

"Fine then Colonel. I'm going to have to think for a little bit. Enjoy this release, for now."

"Remember what I told you?"

"You're going to kill me?"

"I am."

"Good. One day I'll take you up on that."

"Before sunrise."

"Perhaps. Colonel I don't think you understand. I'm not willing to give up on this. It is too important."

"Very well then. Perhaps you will learn how futile this attempt is."

"Perhaps." He walked off towards the stairs. He left two guards, armed with submachine guns in the basement as he retreated upstairs. He had to think what he was going to do next. Pain and certain death didn't work and he knew that he had to try something else. He had nothing else though. His only hope was to keep with the pain and the suffering for longer and longer. He didn't know how long he could push him or how far before he died but he would get to that brink.

When he walked down the stairs again he looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to midnight. "Colonel. Did you enjoy that?"

"What?"

"Your little ordeal?"

"You mean the injection? That was it?"

"Colonel. I told you one hundred milligrams would cause death. I gave you twenty-five. Perhaps I shall try fifty."

"Bring what you have. Just don't use up your supply."

"No worries Colonel. I still have two hundred milligrams left."

"Good. You'll need it."

"Will I now?" He drew fifty milligrams and looked right back at the Colonel. The needle was cleaned off, dipped in alcohol, just to make the wound hurt as he gave the injection. He pushed all fifty milligrams into his veins and midnight came...

Chapter VI: Echoed Nightmares

Day Five

Colonel Delaney lasted two hours before it was just too great to bear. He couldn't breathe as he struggled to gasp in as much air as he needed but was unable. "Alright. Stop. Stop." He gasped. "I'll tell you. Just stop." Major Francis looked at him with a gleam in his eyes.

"Is this a trick?"

"No Major."

"Then what is your name?"

"Colonel Delaney."

"And your unit?"

"First BOF. Force Falcon."

"And what is coming?"

"Two battlegroups. One with Marines."

"Colonel. Are you sure?"

"I am."

"Fine." He drew a needle and injected him with an antidote, which took effect immediately. It took another ten minutes for him to recover but when he did, he was able to breathe far better. "Now. Colonel Delaney. I'm interested in something here."

"What?" He kept gasping still.

"Colonel. Are you hungry?"

"I gather."

"Eat this." He produced piece of meat, wrapped in tin foil. It had been cooked and he could feel that it was still warm. "But do leave some for me."

"Okay." Major Francis began to unwrap the meat and Colonel Delaney was about to enjoy it, until he find out that it wasn't meat but rather an arm, missing a hand. He nearly threw up at the sight and smell of it. "Are you mad?"

"Colonel. Do you want some more?" He pointed to the bottle.

"No." He immediately stiffened up and took a bite. It was awful and he knew that whomever this was, they were sure not happy about it. He ate a few pieces before he could stomach no more and put his head back, away from the meat. Major Francis began picking it away with his teeth as if it were a BBQ rib.

"You'll get used to the taste."

"Perhaps."

"Colonel. Where do you stand?"

"The Empire has left me and my men here to die. Those in the Ministries have not told us anything. We are lied to, sent here to fail. I cannot fight for that cause anymore."

"Colonel. Are you messing with us?"

"No."

"Excuse me if I don't immediately begin to trust you."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because I am speaking the truth."

"And I have your word on this? You did kill my bodyguard there in the jail using trickery too."

"He deserved to die."

"Perhaps."

"The Empire will come to this island. We will probably lose. I wish to at least fight against the Empire in order to make its victory that much more laborous."

"Colonel. You'll come with me." He motioned for them to pick him up and they followed Major Francis back to the vehicle. Colonel Delaney was weary and tired, worn out from the torture. "Colonel. I'm not inclined to believe you, just yet. But this is over here. I can do no more to you that I wish to do."

"I'm still hungry."

"Fine then sir." The vehicle began moving and he handed one of the guards in the back the arm again and Colonel Delaney took several bites more of it. The meat was disgusting and he loathed the fact that he was eating human flesh but he needed sustenance and he needed it immediately. They began driving, probably back towards the jail, the rain and thunder still pummelling the ground with the lightning illuminating most of the countryside.

Colonel Delaney thought he was being driven back to the jail but he was wrong, very wrong. They were heading up the mountain, towards some sort of secret den or cave or something of that sort. He wasn't entirely sure what they were doing, whether they were going to execute him or let him join them. The road up to their destination was barely traversable and the jeep bounced and shook, splashing through mud puddles, using its four-wheel drive to the maximum potential. They needed as much power as possible to get up the steep and muddy terrain.

It was a half hour ride that he didn't intentionally bounce around to knock into people. Unfortunately, for him, it was something he couldn't help against. The seat belts only held people so much and everyone was bouncing around, all into each other. They were past apologizing, now they were just trying to hold as stiff as possible to avoid as much bouncing as possible. It wasn't working very well.

At the top of the dirt road was a cave, a large enough cave to house a pair of helicopters, large helicopters. As they pulled in, Colonel Delaney could see two flickering lights at the end of the cave, at least one hundred meters away. The car came to a stop, its lights illuminating a pair of powerful and beast like Mi-24 Hind helicopters, stored and kept secret and hidden from the satellites and prying eyes. However, both of them appeared to have been specially modified for something or another but he didn't know what. Tools were lying all around as well as large spotlights but they were all off.

"Alright. Let's go." They turned off the car and the lights and stepped out. With the engine off, he could hear much more clearly than before and, from a distance, he heard some chanting, though it was too low to make our just what was being said, even if it was in English. They walked towards the two flickering lights, which, as they got closer, appeared to be large candles. "The candles of the elder gods. Bow." All of them bowed and Major Francis looked upwards at them. "We bring this convert here today with the hope that he shall join our ranks. We are not worthy to enter this den of spirituality and perfection. Please bless us that we may be allowed the priviledge to do just that." He looked at them and nothing changed, as it should not have. Then he stood upright and the others followed suit. The cave was carved by hand, they could tell just by looking at the walls. It had been carved centuries before.

The old cave was a temple, a secretive temple built to the elder gods back before the initial extinctions on the island. Now it had been transformed into both a secretive temple, the most high temple at that, and a helicopter hangar. "Helicopters?" Colonel Delaney asked as they walked into the first pathway.

"In time Colonel. If you pass." They kept walking, at least another twenty meters before they came to a massive chamber, with an altar at the other end and at least three hundred people between them and the altar, where two high priests stood, facing the altar, candles burning everywhere. Everyone was on their knees, bowing and humming now. The chanting had stopped. "Sit down here Colonel." Major Francis whispered and they all joined in the ceremony.

It looked as if it had been going for at least two hours. It would go for another four more. The candles burning at the altar were mysteriously burning green. Colonel Delaney thought he could see some commotion at the end of the room, inside an inlet or something at the back of the ceremony room but he couldn't be sure.

Another hour later his suspicions were confirmed. The high priests both stopped the ceremony and everyone sat up. "We will commence our sacrifice." One of them said as he departed towards the inlet and returned, pushing a girl in front of him. She couldn't have been more than twenty-four years old and she was restrained and gagged, obviously a prisoner. "Our sacrifice. She will not convert to the worship of the elder gods and she must be punished. This woman is a vile, sinful creature!" They dragged her to the altar, while she struggled to break free. She was worried and crying, struggling and mumbling underneath her gag. Major Francis stood and dragged Colonel Delaney up with him.

Everyone looked at him as he dragged the Colonel to the high priest. When he got to the altar, he bowed and the priest summoned him to hold down the girl. They spoke to each other, whispering in their ears. When they were done, the high priest turned to the room and held up his hands. "We have a new convert today men. It will be he who will take the first blood of our sacrifice." Everyone bowed their heads as he produced a long knife and looked back down at the girl, who was being held down by three men, all of them stronger than she could ever be, yet she still writhed and wiggled, trying to get free. "I will pray to the elder gods that our sacrifice may be deemed worthy. Fear not my child. Your death shall be quick." Her eyes widened and she screamed underneath the gag as the high priest began to chant in the ancient language, praying to the elder gods. The congregation followed suite.

Holy shit! He thought to himself as the high priest drove the knife into the heart of the girl. It pierced through her skin without any resistance, driving down, deep into the most important muscle in her body. Instantly, she twitched so severe that those holding her down almost lost their grip on her. She screamed in pain but it was muffled from her gag and a look of pure terror came over her face, tears dripping from her eyes, as he heart came to a grinding halt. She squirmed like a dying animal, struggling to hold onto the very last breath of life in her but she couldn't hold on for long. Blood squirted out instantly but did not remain a fountain, slowly just pulsing out as her heart stopped, turning from a pulse into just a open bottle, pouring out as the bloods' momentum pushed it out, through the wound. The high priest removed the blood soaked knife and stepped back. Blood had soaked the altar and was pooling in front of it yet, surprisingly, neither him nor anyone around him got any of the blood on them.

"It is done." He said, as the girl stopped moving, dead from a knife through the heart. Her eyes closed and her breathing stopped, she struggled not, and everything within her body came to a stop. "The fire is prepared and we shall roast her sinful flesh and consume it to appease our gods. The elder gods have spoken and they demand this." The congregation mumbled something in response that Colonel Delaney couldn't make out and so he just mumbled something inaudible back. The body was carried away to the inlet again and within seconds, the pungent and putrid smell of roasting flesh filled the cavern. It wasn't long before a chunk of her thigh was brought out, steaming and smoking, cooked well, almost burnt. The high priest looked at Colonel Delaney and offered the piece. His hands were still restrained behind his back so he could do nothing but Major Francis fed him the piece as he ate six large pieces off, before it was passed around. It was grotesque. He admitted that much. The congregation feasted until it was time to leave and as they did, the sun rose. Many would go to sleep while others went to prepare the legions for the fight against the Empire.

However, the two high priests, Major Francis and his two Force Spectre teammates, and Colonel Delaney were left. The high priests looked him over, from head to toe, looking for reactions as they made their decision. They whispered to each other, muttered phrases in a language he couldn't understand, and gave nods of both approval and denial. Finally, twenty-eight minutes later, the sun high on the horizon, peircing through the passing and dissipating storm, they made their decision, unanimously. "He is true to his word. Let he be free to walk with us."

"Very well." Major Francis removed the plastic zip-tie and Colonel Delaney could feel his wrists for the first time in days. "Colonel. I hope you understand that there are no hard feelings between us."

"Certainly brother."

"Very well. I will leave you back at the jail so you may convert your men. We might not be able to completely defeat the Empire but alas, we have different objectives than they do."

"I agree." The car ride back down the mountain, to the city jail was silent. Colonel Delaney was unrestrained and though he had every possible opportunity to strike back and to take each and every one of them out, he didn't do a single thing. He was one of them now, a convert of Satan, cast down to the depths of Hell, where he currently rested. The jail was a gloomy place from his point of view and when he entered it a free man, so to speak, it looked far worse than it had when he was captive.

Quietly, he walked down the steps into the basement and sat down in a chair. "Gentlemen. I have news..."

Colonel Delaney sat and spoke for hours. He and his men went back and fourth, discussing what it was to be free, to defeat the Empire, and so on and so fourth. The general consensus was that he lost it and was turned. They were right. The Colonel had eaten flesh, he had tasted the Eucharist of evil and it had consumed him. This island and its infernal damnation had infested his soul, turning his body into nothing more than a living corpse, destined for the worst punishments any man could recieve.

It was evident though that he wasn't going to be able to turn anybody else and so, without wasting any more of his time, he departed the jails and returned to the surface, to the fighters, to freedom. Another set of aircraft had landed between midnight and 0600, dropping off the last rebels, approximately 400 more of them. With some 6,237 people on the island, all of them armed, Easter Island prepared to make its stand. In the cavern, mechanics worked on the two Mi-24 Hinds, transforming them into something else, something menacing. They were reducing weight, making it fly faster, adding armor, and allowing for some sort of special cargo, which had yet to be announced. Major Francis and a select few knew what this cargo was and knew where it was on the island.

As the navy sailed towards the island, making best speed, unable to get there inside of the 10 day time period set after they hit the Panama Canal, the island natives worked furiously to ready themselves. They set up their tunnels, stored their weapons, prepared their defenses, set mines throughout the waters and on the beaches, set booby traps throughout the vegetation of the island, and cleared the wreckage from the runway, hoping to draw away from its importance. They needed that runway, it was their lifeline, and the last bit of supplies were going to be flown in overnight, which would give them at least thirty-six days of constant fighting. Preparations were definitely being made.

When darkness fell, a pair of aircraft landed, almost right behind the other. They taxied to the end of the runway and men waiting for them began to offload the supplies, which included food, water, ammunition, maps, and fatigues. The men loaded it all into trucks and prepared to drive it all to the main headquarters of the island, which was an elaborately dug and built bunker underneath the main city. It was underneath the sewers and underneath the access tunnels, making it one of the most deeply buried fortifications of the island. From the HQ, commanders could see the entire island, more or less, using radios and encrypted satellite feeds to spy on everything going on, including the incoming Layartebian fleet, sailing onward at just under twelve knots.

Computers, radios, and television screens were being set up. The snaked tunnels meant that incendiary munitions would have difficulty destroying the whole tunnel network, since the constant twists and turns would negate the effects of the fire. Thermobaric munitions were another story and there was little defense against them, even with windy tunnels. They could only hope for the best when it came to them.

Everything would be ready by the eighth day and from then on, two days, the entire island would be sitting, tense and stressed, just waiting for the onslaught to begin. The Mi-24s would be ready, the bunkers, the tunnels, the command center, the city, everything would be ready. Militia leaders had their men dispersed throughout the island, laying mines and setting booby traps. Most of them were from the Yucatán and Kaliningrad but many Quebecois and Hispanics were mixed into the ranks, mostly from disaffected areas where the Empire made some sort of unwanted intrusion that damaged a family or a village or something of the sort. Six thousand, two-hundred, and thirty-seven men and women would all fight to their deaths on this island, protecting it from the claws of the Empire. Most knew that they wouldn't be able to hold on forever, this was the Empire, after all. They only hoped to make the situation seem so perilous that the Empire would be forced to rethink the fate of the island. Any victory by them would be Pyrrhic and they hoped to make any Layartebian victory as just Pyrrhic, if not mroe.

Chapter VII: The Mysteries of the Past

Day Six

Dawn rose on the island. The storm was completely gone now and the sun had begun to dry up the water logged terrain of the island. The sun that beat down on the island was something that they hadn't seen in days, something that they welcomed now. Unfortunately, this also meant that the spy satellites could see once again and because of this, movement was kept at a clear minimum. The wreckage of the fighters and helicopters on the airfield had been completely removed so now the spy satellites would show no aircraft, something that would definitely scare the living hell out of the intelligence planners. It did just that when the first pictures were taken at 0800, when the sun was up and the Ministry of Intelligence expected the island to be fully busy. It was fully busy but not on the surface, on the subsurface, where soldiers, militamen, and natives ran through the various tunnels, through the miles upon miles of them, delivering supplies, training, and getting ready to unleash hell upon the Layartebian military.

Inside the hangars, the Mi-24s were loaded with their "special" cargo, which was something of extreme importance. Very few people still knew what it was that they were loading them with and very few people were allowed access to them. The people who had been at the ceremony had gotten there through different tunnels that passed not through the hangar bay like Colonel Delaney and Major Francis but rather through the other side of the moutain, through different tunnels. The caverns that led into the hangar bay were twisty and the men were told that they led no where and, on faith, they had taken that to be true, whilst it was the total opposite. They were twisty but they certainly led somewhere, somewhere important.

The island was settling into place. They still had four days before the Layartebian battle group arrived off the coast. The initial plan involved the use of the helicopters and a single, unmentioned piece of hardware, powerful enough to really put a massive dent in the carrier task force. This was their "secret weapon," so to speak and it wasn't situated at Cerro Terevaka like the helicopters were. It was situated somewhere else, on the eastern end of the island. It was dug into the mountain on an elevated lift mechanism, deeply camouflaged to avoid detection. The system was codenamed the "King Moai" and it was what turned Major Francis to the "dark side," so to speak. Colonel Delaney knew not of it but he had been turned through a different persuasion, pain and flesh, which worked quite well, for him that was. His men, on the other hand, could not be persuaded and Major Francis had no desire to turn them, he wanted to use them as bait for the enemy, to use them to lure in as many of the Layartebians as possible and kill them, brutally and without mercy.

Daylight brought salvation to none. There were still forty-two people being held prisoner who would not convert to the debauchery and evil that engulfed the rest of the island. The girl killed the night before was the forty-third. The remaining forty-two consisted of eleven men and thirty-one women, all of them under the age of thirty-two and over the age of fourteen. They were future sacrifices for the converts and they would join the soldiers that were captured or killed, as food and sustinence for the converts and their sick, evil, and twisted practices.

Easter Island was an island that changed many hands before it became part of the Empire. It was transferred from Dweladelfia prime to Ottoman Khaif and then to the Empire. Before that, it was a disaster. Liebermonk was the previous owner of the island but when the Liebermonk government turned into anarchy and social disorder, the island turned into the nightmare that it is today. Dweladelfia prime had sent a naval group to the island following the descent of Liebermonk but, unfortunately, they never got there. Neither did Ottoman Khaif. The Empire was now the first foreign country to come to Easter Island since Liebermonk dropped to nothing. That was at least two years prior. In two years, the island had turned to cannibalism and anarchy. They still received what shipments they could from those who provided them with resources but eventually those stopped too.

The island grew worse and worse over time. Cannibalism was the last resort. The paganism that the island embraced so long ago came back. Four Catholic churchs on the island were torched, their priests and nuns brought into the streets and murdered by decapitation. The entire island embraced the paganism that, centuries before, and turned the inhabitants to cannibalism so many centuries before, before any foreign settlers came there.

When the island descended back into that level of mysticism, everything changed again. The populace, their faith in the gods changed, they began to worship the Moai again, sacrificing to them and the ancient, elder gods that first captivated the island. Now, with the threat of the Empire and their law and order, the island was set to fight. Their old ways could not be altered nor could they be defeated. Whether or not they would survive the impending Layartebian onslaught was something that only the elder gods knew. They hoped that they would but should they fail, they all prepared to give the ultimate sacrifice and let themselves die if they could take just one Layartebian with them.

They started with 3,791 inhabitants on the island when the Liebermonk government descended into anarchy and into insanity, when the island turned into the den of the devil. By the time the first Force Spectre team had arrived, 482 people had been killed because they refused to convert. Another 77 were held captive, slowly sacrificed over the months and weeks. When Force Spectre arrived, the first team was captured and the second too. The first team failed to convert and when the second did, they were sacrificed as well. Nothing could prepare Colonel Delaney or Force Falcon Team One when they arrived.

Now, with 6,285 people, all ready to fight the Empire, the island was a fortress and a half. Arms, booby traps, tunnels, and might filled the island. Those ready to fight were men and women, young and old, children and parents, all ready to fight against the onslaught of the Empire, who wanted nothing more than to disrupt and annihilate their way of life. Nothing could prepare them or the Empire for the epic battle that the island was about to see, nothing...

The Layartebian fleet was still 1,008 nautical miles away and moving at 12 knots, 84 hours away. They moved with stealth and precision, keeping themselves hidden from prying eyes. They kept their active sensors off and maintained only their passive sensors, listening and looking. Submarines kept staggered positions underneath the fleet, some deep and some shallow. They used their passive and high-frequency SONAR systems to search for and locate any possible enemies. Sixty-four ships were headed towards the island with brutality and with resolve.

The massive amount of firepower that was coming towards the island had enough might to completely annihilate the island forty times over. The task force was bringing, with it, several nuclear weapons, albeit none were expected to be used. The submarines would be the most important, arriving twenty hours ahead of the task force in order to survey and recon the island using their sensors. The mighty battleships and battlecruisers of the fleet would put a major dent in the island, should it be necessary.


Amphibious Assault Ready Group (AARG)


Arsenal Class MMGN: 1
Dnalkrad Class FFGN: 2
Emperor Class AS: 1
Falcon City Class LHDN: 2
Hampton Class AO: 1
Heretic Class FFGN: 2
Indefatigable Flight II Class DDGN: 2
Jackal Class LSDN: 2
Layarteb Class BBGN: 1
Liberty II Class AKN: 4
Mexia Flight III Class BCGN: 1
Mexia Flight IV Class BCN: 1
New York Class SSGN*: 1
Ocean Class CVHAN: 1
Odin Flight II Class CVAEN: 1
San Antonio Class LPD: 2
Seawolf Flight III Class SSN*: 1
Supply Class AOE: 2
Unforgiven Class CGN: 2
Verrazano Class DDKN: 2
Virginia Class SSN: 1
Wilson Class AKRN: 4
Ynoga Class CVLN: 1


Amphibious Assault Ready Group Air Wing (AAW)


AH-94B Stalker: 44
AV-8C Harrier III: 10
CH-53N Super Stallion II: 45
F-35B Raven: 26
HV-24C Bulldog: 26
MC-11B CSA: 2
ME-11C CSA: 2
MH-60R Sea Hawk: 25
MH-60S Knight Hawk: 15
RQ-8C Fire Scout: 54
SH-97A Serpent: 2
SH-97B Serpent: 8
UH-95A Huey II: 32


Carrier Escort Group (CVEG)


Arsenal Class MMGN: 1
Dnalkrad Class FFGN: 2
Earthquake Class BBGN: 1
Emperor Class AS: 1
Hampton Class AO: 2
Heretic Class FFGN: 2
Hunter Class SSN*: 1
Indefatigable Flight II Class DDGN: 2
Liberty II Class AKN: 2
Mexia Flight III Class BCGN: 1
Mexia Flight IV Class BCN: 1
Odin Flight II Class CVAEN: 1
Seawolf Flight III Class SSN*: 1
Supply Class AOE: 2
Unforgiven Class CGN: 2
Vampire Class CVN: 1
Verrazano Class DDKN: 2
Wilson Class AKRN: 1


Carrier Escort Group Air Wing (CEAW)


AH-94B Stalker: 14
AV-8C Harrier III: 6
CH-53N Super Stallion II: 19
F-26B Typhoon: 16
F-35B Raven: 14
HV-24C Bulldog: 4
MC-11B CSA: 2
ME-11C CSA: 2
MH-60R Sea Hawk: 19
MH-60S Knight Hawk: 13
RQ-8C Fire Scout: 36
SH-97A Serpent: 2
SH-97B Serpent: 5
UH-95A Huey II: 8


Marine Cavalry Brigade (MCB)


Marines (Cavalry Crew [included in Marines Officers/Infantry]): 2,580
Marines (Cavalry Dismount Carriage): 7,676



M777A1 LW155: 8
M2005A1 Boar: 16
M2008A1 Dingo APV: 128
M2010A1 Bushmaster IMV: 128
M2011A1 Scout: 36
M2011A2 Scout TD: 36
M2012A1 Marauder APC: 36
M2012A3 Marauder TD: 36
M2012A4 Marauder C3: 16
M2012A5 Marauder MRTR: 16
M2012A6 Marauder EW: 16
M2012A7 Marauder AT: 16
M2014A1 Howitzer: 16
M2015A1 Cobra APC: 96
M2015A2 Cobra MRTR: 16
M2015A3 Cobra AT: 16
M2016A1 LAADS: 16
M2017A1 Frog: 60
M2018A1 Wolf LBT: 48
Five Ton Truck: 144


Marine Infantry Brigade (MIB)


Marines (Infantry): 6,788
Marines (Logistics): 15,000
Marines (Officers): 712



Brigade (BG): 7,500 (4 regiments)
Regiment (COL): 1,875 (3 battallions)
Battalion (LTC): 625 (2 companies)
Company (MAJ): 312 (4 platoons)
Platoon (CPT): 78 (6 squads)
Squad (LT): 13 (2 Fire Team, 1 Sniper Team)
Fire Team (SGT): 5 (2x Rifle, 2x Grenadier, 1x Machine Gunner)
Sniper Team: 2 (1x Scout, 1x Sniper)

The plan of battle for the battle group was quick and easy. Harrier IIIs, Ravens, and Typhoons would make the initial strikes on the island, dropping bombs on several key sites, identified by the satellites. They wouldn't unleash a total bombardment of the island since they weren't sure what was friendly and what was enemy. Marines would come in two groups, half by air and half by sea. Helicopters and transports would come in and drop off the Marines at six key positions on the island. Each position would take a full battalion and they were, Hanga Roa, the airport, the three peaks, and the harbor on the southwest of the island. Marines landing by way of LCAC and amphibious transports would land at another six points on the island, most of them to the southwest, near Hanga Roa and the airport.

Attack helicopters would assist in providing air strikes for the Marines, assisted by naval artillery. Cavalry would have a tough time traversing the island and would put down at several locations as well, mostly around Hanga Roa and the airport. Their goal would be to secure the airport and the city first, to ensure that supplies could be delivered. C-17 Globemaster IIIs and C-130 Hercules' transports would be arriving within hours of the initial strikes and raids, delivering much needed supplies. KC-10A Extender and KC-26E Condor aerial refueling tankers would be providing the refueling support for the transports coming to the island. Once everything was secure and the island in the control of the Empire, the island would be returned back to civilization. The transports would leave, the battle group would draw back, and the supply lines would be returned, from the Galapagos and Hawaii to the island.

The plan for the island was set in stone though. It was to become part of the Pacific Republic, that much was given. However, as for the rest, the island was going to be turned into a massive military fortress for the ILAF, ILN, and ILSD. As for the civilian population, that much that survived, they would be transported elsewhere. Those who fought against the Empire, if they even survived, would be carted off to prisons throughout the Empire, many to Nova Prospekt on the "Forbidden Island." Little did the planners know that the entire island would be fighting against them and the entire island would be either killed or carted off. The few hostages who managed to even survive the onslaught would be the few that survived and were spared the wrath of the Empire. Leaving the island would be an easy decision for them, especially with what they had seen and with what they had experienced on the island. It truly was the den of the devil.

"Sir. We have the latest intelligence reports from the island. The storm is done with so we were able to get as many satellite photographs as we could while we had the bird overhead. They are most interesting sir." The Minister of Intelligence was speaking to the Emperor over the video phone. He was sitting in the Ministry of Intelligence HQ, in downtown Layarteb City. The Joint Chiefs were in the JOC, deep underneath Governor's Island, the Emperor was in his office, and the cabinet was scattered around the Empire, all of them video conferenced in. The Emperor was pleased to hear that the new satellite photographs were in but the findings were less than satisfactory.

"Where are the aircraft?"

"Sir. That's a problem. We cannot find them. The airport is empty. We do not know if they were destroyed by Force Falcon before they were captured or if they were moved. We know that Colonel Delaney was going to destroy them but we cannot be certain that he succeeded. We lost contact with them before we could verify anything."

"Are there any signs of them?"

"Sir. For the most part, the island is empty. There is surface activity, all of it civilian. We know not what happened to Colonel Delaney and his men sir. We have the downed Buzzard and we can get detailed images of what the Colonel was talking about when he talked of the silhouettes. Sir. We just don't know what happened."

"That isn't enough."

"Sir. We cannot ascertain what happened to the Colonel and his men unless we get on the ground sir."

"Understod. How long until the navy is in the area?"

"Sir. They're three days out."

"Can they go faster?"

"No sir. Unfortunately the seas are not permitting anything faster than twelve knots."

"Very well. I want to know the instant that they are there. I want the Colonel and his men out of there if they are captured. Understood? It is a top priority!"

"Yes sir. We have a SEAL team onboard the fleet with that objective sir."

"What was their initial objective?"

"Sir. It was to secure the governor of the island."

"And that will be done by?"

"An advance Marine recon team."

"Very well. That is sufficient."

"Yes sir."

"Alright. I believe we are done here for the night. I will speak to you all in the morning."

"Yes sir." Everyone saluted and the video connections were dropped. The Emperor leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. The sun outside was down, long down. At 2200, the city was dark and calm, peaceful and tranquil. He was almost at a level of tranquility himself when his buzzer echoed in his office, startling him.

"Sir. Dr. Wilson is waiting for you."

"Thank you. Send her in."

"Yes sir." The doors opened and once again, Dr. Rachael Wilson was standing in them, smiling as she strided towards his desk. He stood and embraced her, all to happy to have some sense of solitude in his life at the moment.

"You look bad."

"It's been more stressful than usual."

"I can tell. How much longer?"

"Three days. Then however long after that."

"How long?"

"Maybe a week, at the most."

"Long."

"I know. I know."

"Well. I owe you a rematch in pool."

"You do."

Chapter VIII: Spoken Truths

Day Seven

Colonel Delaney sat in the police station, looking out towards the sea. It was night time and he couldn't see any further than the edge of the block. It was pitch black out and the street lamps were off. Candles and torches burned around the island, mostly by those who were moving throughout the city. It was peaceful there and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only sound to be heard. "It's peaceful isn't it Colonel?" Major Francis asked as he stepped into the office. Colonel Delaney had made himself a cozy area inside of an office on the second floor, looking to the west. It was one of the most peaceful places in the building, secluded and cornered off. "Makes you want to stay, raise a family. Live life."

"Correct Major. But what I don't know is why?"

"Why what sir?"

"Why? Why did you turn and fight for these people? What made you turn and fight with them?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Colonel. I may not have been tortured sir. But I saw. I saw the peace and freedom that we have here."

"That wasn't it. You're a military man. You know the difference between a slaughter and not."

"I do sir."

"Then you can be honest with me. Come on. You still don't trust me I see?"

"Colonel. Forgive me if I am cautious around you."

"Understandable."

"You seemed to have killed my guard without effort."

"No. There was effort. That was pleasure Major."

"Why?"

"Major. You would not understand."

"I would not?"

"No. You see those waves out there. You see this city?"

"Yes."

"You honestly think that a pair of helicopters armed with whatever you have in them could put a stop to the Marines?"

"No sir."

"Then?"

"Sir. The helicopters are there for a reason. They will serve their purpose and serve it well. Our purpose is to draw them in. To make them fight here. What level will morale be at if they see their enemy eating them, wearing the bones of their fallen around their necks."

"These are Marines. It is all too easy to simply react and engage. You honestly think that they won't come here and bomb the living hell out of everything?"

"Sir. It is obvious that they will. That is why we have our own defense."

"What is that?"

"King Moai."

"King Moai? You put too much faith in your gods."

"Sir. King Moai is not a god."

"Then?"

"Sir. You will know."

"I will, you say?"

"Sir. Take into account something that I cannot tell you right now."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps what?"

"Perhaps you don't want to tell me because you still don't trust me."

"Sir. It might..."

"Fine. I understand."

"Sir."

"We have less than three days before the navy gets here. You had better be sure before that day comes."

"Understood."

"Now leave me. I want peace."

"Yes sir." Major Francis departed as Colonel Delaney continued to watch the outside, listening to the sound of the waves against the shores. The darkness of the night was quite peaceful. Overhead, millions of stars shone with such brilliance that they took the place of the moon. The millions of them above told stories that nobody could hope to ever learn in full. Some of them had just appeared on this night, others had died on this night. Many others had died hundreds of millions of years before. Some had just been born.

When dawn broke, Colonel Delaney returned to the jails in the basement of the police station. "Gentlemen. I come to you one last time."

"Sir. With all due respect. Fuck off."

"You think I am a traitor?"

"Sir."

"Listen to me and listen to me well Mr. Green. What traitor am I if we are victorious?"

"Sir. There is nothing you can say that will make me and these men. Nothing. We will not join in this fight. We serve the Empire."

"Very well. Then you have sealed your fate."

"Far less than you have sir."

"Understood." He ascended the stairs and returned to the first floor. At any given point, there were twenty-four individuals inside of the police station. At most, there was forty-two. Since preparations had begun, it wasn't uncommon to see under twenty-eight people inside the police station. Militiamen and natives were studying the island and the tunnels, preparing their men for battle. There were at least thirty-six different groups, all independent of each other. However, they were all linked to HQ, which was situated deep underneath the island, inside caves and caverns that were dug and crafted quite well and elaborately.

Major Francis usually kept to the police station nowadays. His men were scattered around the island, grouped with natives and militiamen, teaching them how to fight, schooling them on tactics, and preparing them for what was about to face them. They knew how the Marines fought and they knew how best to counter them. The Marines were powerful and they were tactically and strategically equipped to fight long and hard. They had one disadvantage and that was the terrain and the vast subterrainean tunnel network throughout the island. This would be used to their advantage. They would pop up through the tunnels and attack the Marines on their flanks, where they were weakest. The Marines would certainly not be expecting that type of attack and they would definitely not be ready to deal with it, if it were to present itself.

Major Francis would be coordinating and directing the attack against the Empire. That was a given. He was the most tactically sound individual on the island and he had plenty of time to become acquainted with the island the militia leaders. He would fight until his last breath and kill as many of the enemy as possible, even if it meant hand-to-hand combat. He had plenty of arms stored in the HQ and he was definitely going to attack the enemy with each and every bullet that he had.

The navy would be there in three days and with enough firepower and force to level the island. Major Francis knew that and so did Colonel Delaney. What they had to throw at them, on the other hand, would do enough to fight back, or so they hoped.

It was quiet at Volcán Puakatike. The rumble of Major Francis and his jeep was the only sound around. "Why are we out here Major?" Colonel Delaney asked, bouncing up and down on the track along the way. "I had a nice nap to attend to."

"Colonel. Please be patient." The jeep bounced along the rough and uneven track, which was carved more for animals it looked, rather than a jeep. "This is certainly going to be worth it."

"You had better be right. I don't like being dragged out into the middle of nowhere for nothing."

"It is funny you should say that Colonel. This island is the middle of nowhere."

"True." The jeep bounced around another ten minutes before it came to a halt in front of another cave. However, this one didn't appear big enough for the jeep. "That place?"

"Yes sir. You'll have to crouch down a little to get through. It was carved at least five hundred years ago. I suspect by people just looking for a place to sleep, perhaps to avoid the rains."

"Probably." They turned off the jeep and exited, walking towards the small cave, crouching as they traversed through it. Major Francis led and they walked only about five meters in before they came to a passage way that took a steep down angle. Major Francis turned on a flashlight and the whole cavern was illuminated. "Light. Finally I can stand." They were able to as the cavern became tall enough to stand but barely wide enough to walk through. "It's too bad this place is narrow like this."

"I agree sir. It's just a little bit further."

"Where are we going Major? This had better not be another ceremony where I get to see someone die. If I want that I'll just sit around for the Marines."

"It isn't sir."

"You had better be right."

"I am."

"Fine." They walked another hundred or so meters until they finally came to an ominous steel door. "That isn't normal."

"No it isn't sir." Major Francis banged six times on it, paused, then banged another three, then paused, and did two very quick bangs. The door opened and a man stood in front of the now opened door, with an Uzi in his hand, pointed right at Major Francis. "We enter." The man grunted and let them pass. It was obvious that he didn't speak English. "Colonel. May I present to you the secret."

"What do you mean?"

"Sir. You see that. That is King Moai."

"Mother of God!"

King Moai stood before them, inside of an area dug into the side of the mountain. It was as big as a small airplane hangar, probably big enough to fit at least a dozen F-35 Ravens. No less than ten meters ahead of him was a large platform with a large gun sitting on it, large enough to cause damage to anything than any bomb or missile. "Sir. The island natives were building it at the time when Liebermonk vanished. Since neither Dweladelfia prime nor Ottoman Khaif got to the island, it was never discovered. It was originally to be built for the defense of the island, in favor of Liebermonk. I see it will serve just that purpose."

"It's a rail gun isn't it?"

"Similar sir. Powered not by electric or oil or nuclear. No sir. It's powered by a massive steam pocket. That is why it is so warm in here. You see sir. This island has a dormant volcano on it. That's a lot of geothermal power sir. It is enough to store energy enough for up to one hundred shots before the batteries have to be recharged."

"Impressive. What's the range on this thing?"

"Well sir. It's rather small and it operates on a pulse-type principle."

"Huh?"

"Well given its size, it can fire just under a hundred kilometers sir. However, what it fires are large projectiles that are, in essence, superhot orbs, in a way, I guess that is a good description, that impact at speeds approaching one and a half kilometers per second. It takes a vast amount of energy to do that sir."

"It would and of the effects?"

"Sir. A single destroyer in the navy could take five hits, tops, before the superheated projectiles destroyed it. The projectiles pierce right through the armor and keep going, burning their way through the hull."

"Understood."

"I imagine the main targets are the carriers. What can this traverse?"

"A full three hundred and sixty degrees and it has elevation up to sixty degrees."

"Can the shots be regulated?"

"As far as speed. Yes. It's very sophisticated. Apparently they were planning on a major defensive unit here and also near Hanga Roa. I imagine this was the test facility and it was never tested."

"It raises on a platform huh?"

"Yes sir."

"Completely camouflaged huh. Ingenious."

"Yes sir."

"Now. Are you happy?"

"Do you trust me?"

"I showed you our secret, have I not."

"Understood."

"Sir. We're going to sink their fleet."

"What protection do you have against the fleet, against the guns?"

"Well sir. After a single shot, the gun is dropped down again, the recoil itself being the main mechanism. The fleet would have to bombard it for days."

"And of their timing? What if they get it while it is raised?"

"Sir. It is raised for only thirty seconds."

"And if there is an aircraft overhead."

"We have many shoulder-launched systems for defense."

"And if they are too high?"

"Then it will take longer than thirty seconds for the bomb to hit."

"I'm impressed but it is defeatable."

"And do you think it will be?"

"That depends how many ships you sink."

"Correct sir."

"How many do you think you can get?"

"Between eight and fifteen."

"Including carriers?"

"Sir, if the carries are within range then we shall hit them."

"Okay."

When dusk fell on the island, Colonel Delaney was back in the police station. Major Francis was nowhere to be found. He was probably at some ceremony or something of the sort, which Colonel Delaney joked about to himself as he watch the sunset to the west. Nothing obstructed his view of the setting sun and he definitely enjoyed the sight.

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He watched it go down and then got up from his desk. They had finally entrusted him with weapons again and gave him back his gear, all of it. The rest of the gear, for his men, was held in the armory, inside the police station, which, at the moment, had only twelve people inside of it. It was the perfect opportunity for something to happen but he was definitely not going to try anything.

"You. Where is Major Francis and everyone else?" He asked casually, annoyed that the Major wasn't around. The man looked at him and shook his head. He asked again, this time in Spanish. "Usted. ¿Dónde está Francis Mayor y los otros?"

"Ellos están en la ceremonia. Ellos regresarán mañana por la mañana. Somos la tripulación de la noche. ¿Necesita usted algo señor?" (They are at the ceremony. They will be back tomorrow morning. We are the night crew. Do you need anything sir?)

"No." He walked away and headed down towards the basement. His men were trying to keep themselves alert and awake. The slop was definitely taking its toll. It only provided just enough calories to stay alive but not enough to keep the brain and the body in full work. They were unable to think clearly and they were almost dillusional, a side effect of both starvation and the lack of any type of activity. They tried to keep themselves as inactive as possible, to conserve their energy and store it for when they could use it to escape. "Gentlemen. I understand you are all being cooperative?"

"Sir?"

"That you aren't fighting your captors."

"Sir."

"It's alright Mr. Green. I understand. It won't be long now. We have just over two days to go before the navy arrives, before this island will make its stand. I have seen what this island has to throw at the navy and I can say that it will not be weak."

"Sir."

"Yes Mr. Green?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you with them sir?"

"Mr. Green. This island represents freedom and peace. Tranquility. It is everything we can't have. We've done some disgusting and awful stuff in our tenure with the Empire. There are faces and screams that still haunt me. The Yucatán, Kaliningrad. I can't erase that Mr. Green."

"Sir. Then why join the enemy. Why eat the flesh?"

"There is no alternative. I cannot run from my crimes anymore. Punishment must I have."

"And that will be?"

"Death Mr. Green. Death."

Chapter IX: Revelation

Day Eight

With the navy only two days away, the island became a hum of activity. The navy could cover 288 nautical miles each day, moving at 12 knots for 24 hours. The islands' defense were officially dubed the Freedom Warriors, but they were nothing more than militiamen, insurgents in the way of the Empire. They would be steam rolled.

Colonel Delaney had remained at the jail and the general area around it, armed to the teeth, waiting for the right moment to attack the Marines and the paratroopers. He had put in a call to Major Francis for him to come to the jail as soon as possible. There was something of extreme tactical importance that he wanted to discuss with him and he hoped that he would come quickly. The police station was nearly empty, just a few people inside of it, most of them natives who were finishing up their duties. Many had prepped the police station with grenades and other booby traps. They would leave the seven men of Force Falcon alive as bait. When the Marines were drawn into the police station, it would turn into a den of horrors, with claymores and fragmentation devices galore.

Colonel Delaney had moved from his office spot and relocated to the other side of the second floor, somewhere private and where he could not be disturbed. There was a small interrogation room up there, sound proofed and sealed off from the rest of the building. He had turned to there and found an old radio that he hooked up. Aside from listening to the news and trying to pick up some information about the incoming fleet, he did little but sit and plan. He was most upset that his men would not join him but what could he do, he tried as much as he could and they would not be swayed under pressure like he was. There just wasn't enough time to put full energy into the task.

Sitting there, listening to some music station in Peru that he managed to pick up, Colonel Delaney looked totally relaxed. He had his pistol on the desk, silencer fitted, a full clip loaded, and his knife was at his side. His assault rifle was on the other side of the room along with the rest of his gear but otherwise he was definitely well barricaded in there. His two-way radio kept quiet, for now, though occassionally it would pick up some burst transmissions between groups. It had a long range and could pick stuff up from one end of the island to the other and, unfortunately, it could also be picked up by the fleet, when they arrived. There would be very little radio contact at that point in time, especially because it was too easy to listen. Any contact after that would be by natives, speaking in the native language of the island, which they hoped the Empire would not be prepared for but it was possible they would have a few translators on board.

Then, his radio buzzed alive. "Colonel. Colonel. You out there?"

"Yes Major."

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"I have something I want to show you. I found a possible weakness in our stronghold."

"Alright. I'm on my way. Give me twenty minutes."

"Hurry it up Major."

"Yes sir." Despite having control of the island, Major Francis was still subordinate to Colonel Delaney in terms of rank and everything else. He would have to maintain that level of military respect to Colonel Delaney, or else he would get in deep trouble with him and that wasn't a good thing.

Major Francis walked into the police station to find only four people around. He wasn't shocked but he wasn't entirely confident that the rest of the men of Force Falcon wouldn't try some sort of escape so, as he walked in, he demanded that they keep the prisoners secure. "Where are they?"

"Downstairs sir."

"And have they tried to escape again?"

"No sir."

"Well don't you think you should be watching them?"

"Yes sir. We'll do that right away. You. Go watch the prisoners and make sure they don't escape."

"Yes." One of the men darted for the basement and Major Francis, annoying, headed for the stairs. He walked upwards quickly and when he got to the second floor, he found it deserted. He looked in the usual office but found nothing and shook his head.

"Colonel. What's your 20?"

"Other side of the building."

"Second floor right?"

"Yes Major."

"Alright sir." He turned and began walking towards the other side of the building when he noticed a light on in a room that he wasn't headed for, so he changed direction. "Colonel?" He asked.

"In here." Major Francis got even closer and came towards the edge of the door and stopped. "In here Major. I want to show you something on this map."

"Yes sir." As Major Francis entered, straight and stiff like any officer should when addressing a superior one, Colonel Delaney, still behind the desk, with his feet up and music in the background, raised his pistol and put a single shot through the air. Major Francis barely knew what hit him until he was on the ground, reaching for his own sidearm. "Colonel? What the..."

"Touch that sidearm and the next one goes through your chest."

"Sir?"

"Kick over that weapon now and everything else you have." Major Francis was sitting on the ground, a bullet through his right shoulder, bleeding onto the ground, unable to move his right arm at all. Tactically defeated, he removed his side arm, released the chambered round and the magazine, and threw it over towards Colonel Delaney. Then he removed his knife and threw it over, followed by his assault rifle, and his grenades. "Good. Good. Now you are going to tell me everything I want to know and maybe I won't kill you. I'll leave you to the Marines."

"Go to hell Colonel. You traitor son..."

"Traitor? You are the traitor Major. It's pained me that it too this much deceit to get out of that hole but I am assured you will cooperate. Do you know why?"

"Why then Colonel?"

"Because this room is sound proof and that bottle on my desk isn't jelly."

"Go ahead, inject me with it. I've seen the effects."

"You have. But you haven't felt them. Your whole chest collapses, it's quite painful. Now get up." Holding his wound he did and he walked over towards the chair. "You know something about Force Falcon?"

"What?"

"We're so secretive. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because we are the most elite of the elite."

"You think?"

"Major. If I want to I can put another bullet in the exact spot I put the last one and I can make it hurt twice as much. Care to try me?"

"No."

"Fine. Cuff yourself to the chair. Hands behind it smart ass." The Major prepared to cuff only one hand to the chair and he almost got away with it, had it not been Colonel Delaney he was fighting against. Little did he know that the chair was bolted down into the floor. It wound't move even if a bulldozer hit it.

Still bleeding, unable to do much, Major Francis remained still in the chair. Colonel Delaney had used two zip ties to secure his legs to the chair and he made sure that the handcuffs on Major Francis were tight enough to cut circulation to his wrists. They dug in, causing him to bleed from his wrists. "Now Major. I will start with my first question."

"Go ahead."

"What is in those helicopters?"

"Tin foil."

"Major. You will find I am far less merciful."

"Tin foil."

"Fine." He whacked him in the cheek with his hand hard enough to loosen a tooth. "I'm just warming up. Scream if you want. Nobody will hear you."

"I know the room."

"I am glad. What is in the helicopters?"

"I'm not telling you." Major Francis turned out to be a worthy opponent but not a very smart one. Colonel Delaney had dealt with people worse than him and he succeeded on every single one of them. He pushed in on the bullet wound and made him scream out of pain. "I'm not going to tell you." Colonel Delaney stood back and, just as he said, he put another bullet right into the previous one, only making the wound that much more painful and unhealable. After screaming, cursing, more writhing, Major Francis came to the realization that the chair would not budge. He had to stall. "I'll tell you."

"Fine. Do it."

"But you have to promise to let me go."

"Why would I promise that?"

"Because I won't tell you otherwise."

"Even if I said I would, what guarantee can I give you? Do you want me to call the Emperor now and ask for a pardon?"

"Yes."

"Fine." He picked up the phone and began dialing. Before he completed the numbers he threw the reciever against Major Francis' skull, catching him right in the left eye. "He says 'No.' Now what is in the helicopters?"

"Nothing."

"That's not what I saw. What's in them?"

"Something then."

"I have all day. Hell. I have two days."

"You're going to need them."

"I'm not that patient." He took a drag of the Pancuronium bromide and stabbed it right into his main artery in his neck. The stuff went into effect immediately. "I gave you fifty. I bet that feels great." Major Francis immediately began feeling the effects. He struggled to breathe as the stuff took effect, collapsing his whole chest cavity. He had the antitode sitting there as well, just in case he needed to use it. "Now. What is in the helicopters?" He had to ask another six times, each time smacking or punching Major Francis until he finally gave up the answer.

"It's a weapon. Incendiary. We will fly them out to the carriers and detonate them midair, over them. It will send gallons and gallons of thermite onto the decks, melting them and warping the ships. It will be enough to attack them so that King Moai can continue the charge." He gave him the antitode and waited about twenty minutes until Major Francis had regained himself.

"Now Major. I have plenty more of that stuff to inject you with so we can do it the hard way, if you like, or the really easy way."

"Fuck you."

"The easy way, I hope. Now. King Moai. How can I disable it?"

"Fuck you."

"Fine." He began drawing the needle again. "How is seventy-five?"

"No. No."

"Ninety?"

"No. Fine. I will. You have to cut the main power to it."

"How?"

"Underneath it. The cables run from the volcano to the weapon. There is an access tunnel near the one we entered. Its about eighty meters west and hard to find but its there. It is just near one of the Moai statues. He has a symbol tattooed to his chest. I can't describe it but its the only one with one in that area."

"Fine. What is its range?"

"Eighty-seven kilometers. Maximum."

"Fine. Who operates it?"

"The technicians there."

"How many?"

"Eighteen. Heavily armed."

"Good."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"You will not get in."

"Leave that up to me. Now just a few more and we're done Major. When is the counter attack planned?"

"The helicopters will fly out during the night and stay as low as possible. Under the radar. King Moai will fire once the ships are in place. They won't come over the horizon and we can use that to our advantage."

"Alright. And of the milita?"

"What about them?"

"What is their plan?"

"To kill. They'll use the trap doors to get everywhere on the island and attack the Marines from behind."

"How many doors?"

"Hundreds. I don't know exactly."

"Finally. Where's the HQ?"

"Sixteen kilometers to the east of this building. There is a tunnel that leads directly there. It's by the main church. Well. What's left of it. You can get to it by going underneath the church."

"Alright. Where are the rest of your men?"

"All around."

"Where?"

"Two at the helicopters. Two at King Moai. Two in HQ."

"Good. That's what I wanted to know."

"Fine. Then let me go."

"No. No. I'm done with you yes. But I'm not done."

"No? Not even after I call tell you that this was a set up?"

"What!?"

"That's right Colonel. I've been carrying around a small microcasette in my pocket. Go ahead and pull it out."

"What is this?"

"Colonel. The Minister of Intelligence is a crafty man. Go ahead and listen to it. I think there is a casette player over there, by the file cabinets."

"Fine." He walked over to the corner of the room and found a tape player, its batteries still good. He inserted the casette and then rewound it. He pushed play and quietly listened. The Minister of Intelligence was speaking directly to Major Francis, telling him that a secretive, Layartebian group was on its way to the island with the sole purpose of finding out what happened to everyone. The Minister of Intelligence was obviously in bed with the organizations that conspired against the Empire and for the Republic. He knew that Major Francis and his group would be turned. The truth was that they were never captured. They had volunteered to join the enemy. They had saw to it that the previous team was definitely dead, to erase their tracks and whereabouts, especially after they had found them. "That slimy motherfucker!"

"You see Colonel. You'll never leave this island. If you do."

"If I do? This son of a bitch will be dead."

"If you wish Colonel. But you will fail."

"Why is that?"

"Because. This whole mission will fail. Who do you think supplied the thermite?"

"That..."

"Yes Colonel. You see. This mission was meant to fail from the start."

"Where are the Stingers?"

"What Stingers?"

"That you shot down the Buzzard with?"

"Low-flying MiG. One of which you destroyed."

"Fuck."

"We've got shoulder missiles Colonel. You have to find them."

"I do?"

"Yes Colonel." He took another strike against Major Francis, breaking his nose instantly. "Colonel. I won't tell." He struck him again and again but he would not give up the information. He took a long drag, ninety milligrams worth, and injected it into Major Francis. "You are hereby determined to be a traitor to the Empire. You are guilty of treason and as such will suffer the greatest pain I can deliver. I will use these drugs to cause you much suffering as a form of punishment. If you survive I will execute you myself. I have plenty of time."

"F...u...c...k...o...f...f..." It wa simpossible to speak and he tried his best but Major Francis could barely breathe. His whole diaphragm had collapsed and he was slowly suffocating to death. It would take at least forty minutes but after that, he was dead. Just to make sure, Colonel Delaney snapped his neck and shot him through the head. He took the body and stuffed it inside one of the closets.

Colonel Delaney picked up his weapons and began heading downstairs. He had his pistol with the silencer equipped in his hands and he slowly crept down the stairs. He knew that there were four guys left inside of the police station and they were amateurs compared to even Major Francis, who was an amateur compared to Colonel Delaney and his team. He had the microcasette and the player in his pocket, it was all the evidence he needed to put a bullet right through the Minister of Intelligence. He also kept the Pancuronium bromide and the antidote, having about one hundred and twenty milligrams left. He planned to use them on the Minister, when he got back.

At the bottom of the stairs, he peaked around, noticing that three of the four men were planting an explosive in the corner of the stairs. If he shot any of them, they would fall down the stairs, which would be bad. He didn't know where the fourth was and he could be down the stairs. Alerting him to his presence would be bad. Colonel Delaney decided to use his cover to his advantage. He holstered his sidearm and walked towards them, stopping at a desk to pick up a piece of paper. "How is it coming?" He asked. They straightened up and turned around.

"Good sir. Almost finish."

"Excellent. Major Francis asked me to come down and get some sort of document. I think he called it the Moai?"

"The Moai Report?"

"That's it."

"I have here. I get."

"Okay." One of the natives walked over as the other two went back to rigging the bomb. They had their backs to the Colonel. As the native brought him the document he prepared to do what he had to, making sure that he was clearly in the advantage position, behind a desk that meant the native would have to come around the other side to give him the document and when he did, he quickly, in one swift movement, snapped his neck and dropped him gently behind the desk. None of the other two heard him and so he walked closer to them, acting as if nothing happened. Quickly and efficiently, he grabbed them both, his superior strength allowing him to get both of them, cover their mouths and drag them back, towards an office where he broke their necks as well, leaving them hidden. He would come back and hide the bodies when he had his men. The fourth one had eluded him so far but he could only guess that, perhaps, he was downstairs, guarding the prisoners. He slowly began walking down, his sidearm holstered. As he came down he saw the guard and breathed a sigh of relief. "Major Francis told me to execute one of them. Leave them as bait." He told the guard, who spoke barely any English. He merely nodded and as Colonel Delaney removed his side arm he smirked, only to be shot three times in the head, at point blank range by the Colonel. "Gentlemen. Shall we get out of here?"

"Sir?"

"What Major?"

"Sir. How can we?"

"Tortured me so what else could I do. I had to play evil. Come on. Help me with the bodies. You didn't pick up on me did you?" He began to open the cells with the keys he took off the guard. "I addressed you by our codenames, not your names."

"No sir I did but I didn't think."

"You?"

"Sorry sir."

"I'll forgive all insubordination. I've got something you all need to hear. But first. The bodies."

"Yes sir!" He and his men gathered their arms and quickly hid the bodies, moving out of the building as fast as possible, all of the bodies hidden inside closets, all of them locked. When he played the tape for them, they all felt the heat and fury against the Minister and the situation. Revenge would be theirs.

Chapter X: The Final Hours

Day Nine

Midnight cast a dark shadow over Easter Island. The navy closed to their final leg of the journey, a mere 288 nautical miles to go, within range of cruise missiles and fighters. It was because of this that the navy was about to send a reconnaissance flight over the island. The flight, codenamed Shinedown 1, would consist of three F-26B Typhoon fighters, armed heavily with a mixed loadout. On their centerlines, they carried a single 265 gallon fuel tank. That was surrounded by four AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles, recessed on the fuselage. On the innermost wing pylon, they carried up to four 1,000 pound JDAM II bombs. Moving outward, they carried a pair of 400 gallon fuel tanks, one AARGM Block I and one Maverick missile (one on one side, the other on the other side), and finally, four AIM-204A Escape missiles. They could take out air and ground threats equally and they had enough fuel to get there and back at high speed, which would help them if they got jumped by those twelve fighters, which had vanished during the storm.

The deck of the Vampire was quiet as the aircraft took their places. The electromagnetic catapults would provide enough force to get them from a speed of 0 knots to a blistering 165 knots inside of a mere four seconds. Capable of pushing aircraft twice as heavy as the Typhoon to speeds even faster, the catapult's intensity would have to be dialed down, in order to provide a safe amount of G forces to the pilot and to stop from damaging the aircraft.

The catapults were driven by very powerful generators underneath the deck that hummed, louder as they built up pressure. Then, when they were just about to launch they hummed loud enough to block out even the engine noise on the deck. Deckmen wore earphones rated at almost 130 dB it was so loud. Finally, without any delay, the catapult operator flipped a switch and the Typhoon rocketed towards the end of the deck, accelerating faster and faster, finally being flung overboard, at 165 knots. With afterburners on, the pilots retracted the landing gear and arched upwards slightly as the Typhoon began to accelerate and climb, both at the same time. It wouldn't take long before the other two aircraft were in the air as well and they were all at 18,000 feet for their ingress to the island. They kept their active sensors off and used their IRST to search for enemy aircraft and watched both their passive radar and their RWR for any radar activity.

Radio silence was a must and the pilots got comfortable in their cockpits and set their autopilots to take them in at 420 knots, which would take them all of 41 minutes to get to the island. Their weapons were eager to find targets and they were eager to get air kills, which they figured, at best, could provide for 12 victories, if SAMs from the fleet didn't get there first. The fleet was equipped with the latest SAM to grace the navy, the RIM-188E Crow, a development of the land based MIM-188. This missile had a 304 nautical mile, maximum range against aerial targets and 328 nautical miles against ground targets. A four-stage missile, the Crow was one of the best surface-to-air systems in the world and it had an unheard of success rate of 99.72% in training and some 96.55% in combat. There had only been six failures, all of which were determined to be mechanical.

The Typhoons kept a tight formation, hoping to attract radar attention so that they could fire their missiles and do some preliminary damage to the island and whatever defenses it had. Eighty nautical miles out, they finally picked something up, a radar, coming from the airport. It was definitely the radar of the control tower, their AARGM sensors told them and it was within range of their missiles. Shinedown 11 took lead and locked onto the target. Moving at least one hundred feet ahead of his two wingmates, he turned "Master ARM" on and released his only AARGM missile. The firing process was simple. The missile's rocket fired, got up to full throttle in under a half second, and the missile released, headed out five hundred feet, accelerating, and then took a steep climb up to 85,000 feet. The missile would expend its first volume of fuel in the ascent and another fifteen nautical miles. Then, it would coast for some time, using its kinetic energy to move towards the target at a speed of Mach 3.0. The missile would use its GPS guidance to move towards the target and, finally, about 20 nautical miles out, it would use its millimetric wave radar and HARM sensor to pinpoint the exact location of the radar, ignite its second motor, and dive towards the target. The missile would airburst over the target, sending its powerful and deadly payload of tungsten spheres towards the target, followed by the explosive force of its HE. No radar could survive a hit by an AARGM and this one was no exception.

The Typhoons kept in tight formation and went active with their radars, hoping to attract even more attention but, unfortunately, it didn't come. They would complete their patrol without being fired upon, without finding any aerial contacts, and without incident. It was a most boring flight except for the part where they annihilated the radar of the airport but other than that, they had a most boring flight.

The explosion rocked the island and Colonel Delaney immediately turned about face to see the end of the explosion in the way of the air control tower. "I think the navy is getting close. That's probably the radar." He said to his men as they moved into seclusion. "I know of a cave about eight hundred meters that way. If we can get to it, I can explain everything. We need to get our radio set as well."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"Our radio set is definitely useless by now. I left it running and I am sure they destroyed it by now."

"Understood we have to get to it though or else the Marines are going to come broiling in on us."

"Quite right sir but the chances of it being useful are low."

"Noted. Let's move." They made their way to the small cave on the edge of the smallest peak, which overlooked the city. They checked it for any trap doors and got comfortable, even if for just one minute. "Alright men, I've seen the devil and this island is it. We've got two weapon systems to deal with. The first are a pair of Hind helicopters, secluded, and about seven kilometers away, in a really elaborate and dug out cave. They're loaded with incendiary thermite, planned to drop them on the carriers. We cannot let that happen. Secondly, the King Moai is a major weapon system on the opposite side of the island, a thermally powered rail gun. It has a range of eighty something kilometers and they'll be using it once the fleet is off shore. The enemy has tunnels everywhere on this place and we're looking at 6,000 plus men, all of them bloodthirsty. Also. The tape." Everyone looked around and the answer was simple and clear. They had to disable the helicopters first and they had to get to King Moai and disable that as well. It was almost sun up and they couldn't move during the day, that was a given. The island was too held down by the enemy to be even thinking about moving during the day, especially since, this time, if they were captured, it would mean instant death. "Alright. Sun is almost up so we can't do much except plan our attack and relax a little. We're closest to the helicopters, even though King Moai is the largest threat. I think it would be foolish to ignore the helicopters though, they do, technically, have the longest range. We will need to get our hands on Stinger missiles or whatever these people have here. I know of a small arms cache about fourteen hundred meters from here. We can hit that on the way. It is manned by at least twelve individuals, all of them armed with assault rifles. They will, well maybe, be sleeping, but who knows. We have to act carefully. The fleet will be here just before dawn so as soon as the sun goes down we're moving!"

"Understood sir."

"Now. Gentlemen. I want to speak seriously now. I understand I have confused you slightly. It appeared that I joined the enemy. I assure you that I have not. It was the only option I had. Trust me on this one. Secondly, I gathered a significant amount of intelligence on their forces. We are not dealing with push overs. They are a seasoned and trained enemy. Keep this in mind. They know the terrain of this island like the back of their hands and they are well prepared for the Marines and the navy. We cannot allow them any measure of success. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Let us relax. We need it. Food is limited to only our MREs, which is a gourmet meal after that slop. Conserve your energy men. We'll need it."

With less than twenty-four hours to go until the cosmic battle of the ages, both sets of warriors, island militiamen and Layartebian Marines, took their final hours with care and caution. Marines wrote letters home, slept, read, and just wound down to ensure that they would be fully ready when they were thrust ashore by way of helicopter, LCAC, or amphibious vehicle. On the island, militamen prayed, ate, slept, and wound down as well, preparing for their advantage. Both sides imagined they had an advantage over the other, whether it be terrain or technology and both sides acknowledged the advantages of the other but it mattered not, neither side would take a loss.

Colonel Delaney and his men were unable to communicate with the fleet and they were definitely not in a good position. The police station would be investigated eventually and the prisoners wouldn't be there, inciting a possible manhunt throughout the island. They didn't want that and so they had to make sure that they weren't seen. Daylight was their enemy and currently, it was winning.

They had an overview of the city from a small angle and they could keep tabs on it, if they wanted, but to avoid being caught by someone with bionoculars, they kept to the back of the small cave. This meant that they were in almost complete darkness to the outside and they used their small, red flashlights to read the maps and plan their attacks. They would be working overtime, like bolts of lightning, striking their targets without fear of punishment because if they failed it meant that they failed the Empire as well and they might as well be dead.

The day labored on and on and on, each minute seeming like an hour, each hour an eternity, and the full breadth of the day an immortal lifetime. The fire at the control tower burned throughout the day, obviously burning through the tower and tearing down the whole structure, which was well built. The AARGM strike was definitely from an aircraft too far away to be detected but it gave away one thing: the enemy was here.

Throughout the day another two flights of three aircraft buzzed the island, both at medium altitude, trying to attract SAM attention, if there were any. The first flight was another group of Typhoons whilst the second was a flight of Ravens. All aircraft carried a mixed loadout, making sure that they could dogfight as well as strike. Satellite scans showed no traces of the aircraft or helicopters that were once on the tarmac, meaning that they were gone and Force Falcon succeeded in that, at the very least, or that they were hidden, under camouflage. Reconnaissance identified no other possible airstrips and nothing could be seen. This was dangerous, very dangerous.

When the sun collapsed that night, the navy was only eight hours away, steaming towards the inevitable. Colonel Delaney and his men began their push towards the Mi-24s. Militiamen prepared for the final battle. Everything turned silent throughout the waters, the ships, the island. It was as if everyone just went deaf.

"Alright. We're moving!" He said to his men as he picked up his M73A2 and checked the magazine. He still had eighty-three rounds at the ready and he was prepared to fully use them. Everyone fitted suppressors and silencers, prepared their Flashbang grenades, and moved towards the arms cache with the sole purpose of stealing six MANPAD launchers, with missiles, to use against the helicopters. They would fire three at each, hoping to ignite the thermite inside their modified cargo holds, causing them to explode in a brilliant ball of fire, midair. The cache was fourteen hundred meters away and they moved quickly through the grassy terrain, keeping low but keeping quick, weapons shouldered, night vision equipped, and ammunition hot. They had their safeties off and their target set. They made little noise as they ran, almost at full speed, towards the cache, which would be identified by a large rock on the ground that was, more or less, the marker for the trap door, which was just to the north of it.

In silence they ran, as fast as they could while still keeping low. When they arrived at the rock, it was nothing but hand signals, which read, "Open door. Drop two Flashbangs. Slam lid. Prepare weapons." Wilkins had one of the M58s ready, the pin out but safety engaged, and Wilson had the other. As they prepared, Colonel Delaney opened the door and they dropped in the grenades, which each had a mere three second fuse. They hit the bottom of the cache and startled the eleven men inside. Without warning, they went off, blinding all of them and making all of their ears ring. With his assault rifle shouldered, Colonel Delaney dropped in, firing. He hit the ground with perfect form and went to a crouch. Eighteen rounds later, all eleven militamen were dead and the cache secure. "Secure." He whispered up as the rest came down. The cache was dug into the ground, at least six feet, and it was big enough to hold at least thirty men with weapons and it appeared that it led nowhere. There were no visible tunnel door ways and they checked everywhere.

There was a small radioset on the opposite side of the cache and they seized the mobile walkie talkie, hoping it would come in use at some point in time. They found what they were looking for though and they found more than what they needed. The rebels had stocked up on fourteen MANPAD launchers in the tunnel, all of them Stinger launchers, FIM-92Cs from the looks of them. These would be easy to fire and the men lifted six of them out of the cache and shouldered them, adding another 35 pounds of gear to them. They needed them though and they would be slower running towards the helicopters but they would be able to knock down both of them with one salvo. The missiles had a 4.8 kilometer range and a ceiling of up to 3.8 kilometers. They would; however, have to wait until the helicopters were at least 180 meters into the air or else the missiles would not be able to lock onto the aircraft.

The ascent towards the cave was arduously slow, unfortunately. The terrain had been affected heavily by the rains and they weren't about to stick to the roads, which would put them way out in the open, without cover. They traversed through still muddy and soft ground, that was not the easiest ground to move over, even when it was dry and solid. Carrying the extra weight did not help either and several times they went prone, thinking that they heard movement and voices. None of the times actually turned out to be anything but the possibility did exist.

They would take up a position near the peak of Terevaka, which would enable them to fire any which way they needed. They would definitely be able to attack the helicopters as they headed out to sea to meet the carriers and they would also be able to attack them if they hovered over the island, waiting for Marines.

The peak of Terevaka was not receptive to their arrival. It was just as muddy and soft as the way up and they were up there way behind schedule. They planned to be up there by 2300 but instead, they were up there around 2340, with barely any time to spare. The navy would arrive in four hours, more or less, putting them just over fifty nautical miles away. They would be able to launch punishing attacks against the island at that range. The carriers would stay further back while the amphibious ships moved closer, to allow them to deliver their LCACs and amphibious vehicles to the shores. By 0800, the navy would be fully assembled around the island and the Marines would be landing. This was no joke!

From their vantage point at the top of Terevaka, they could see for miles upon miles upon miles. If it were daytime, they would be able to see the task force from this altitude, even if they appeared as nothing more than a few specks. The Ravens and Typhoons flying CAP overhead were definitely not visible and the island was under constant survelliance by the fleet. King Moai would have a field day before the Colonel and his men could ever get to disable it. They had not made an unwise choice but they were hampered too much by time.

As they arrived at the peak, things began to change. The situation took a major turn as the whole area began to rumble and the echoes of helicopter engines and rotars filled the area. "They're taking off! Get the missiles ready!" Colonel Delaney said, shouldering one of the systems himself, trying to warm up the seeker and disable the safety. They had to wait time before the missile was warmed up and ready to fire and they needed that time to go faster and faster and faster but it just wasn't helping them. "Alright. You three go after the lead. We'll take the trail. Identify with night vision."

"Understood sir." It would be difficult to spot them with their night vision goggles but they would have to do their best and hope for the best. Their missiles would do the rest.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/mi24-01.jpg

The two helicopters took off and began an outward turn, moving towards the north, dropping down towards the ocean. They had one shot and they all locked up their targets, waiting for the missile seekers to send out a high-pitched whine, meaning that they locked onto the target. All they did was growl, until 2359, when they all began to whine, the Mi-24s well within sight, descending towards the ocean. "FIRE!" Colonel Delaney ordered as he squeezed the trigger. All six missiles accelerated rapidly as they headed towards their targets, which were moving slowly, descending, being careful with their payload.

Chapter XI: Conflict

Day Ten

"They're tracking!" Colonel Delaney yelled as the missiles arched upwards and then took a curve downward, moving eagerly towards their targets, the two Mi-24s, which were moving faster now and lower. "Come on hit!" He said as the missiles grew closer and closer and closer. The missiles tracked dangerously and the first impact was achieved against the outboard Mi-24, followed by a second impact on the same chopper. The other four were distracted by a combination of flares, launched from the inboard Mi-24, which took a steep down dive, and probably infrared jammers. The inboard Hind managed to evade the missiles whereas the outboard Hind, got tagged, and blew up midair, brilliantly, as its cargo ignited and turned the entire helicopter into a giant, smoldering, and crashing wreck of twisted metal and failed dreams.

"Son of a bitch!" The second helicopter evaded all of its missiles and began moving much closer towards the sea, accelerating to maximum allowable speed, which was, at this moment, 185 miles per hour. The helicopter was moving quickly, moving too fast for the men to aim and fire another shot, even if they had the rounds available. "Alright men. We've got a job to do. Let's just call this a draw. Now we have to get to that generator and shut down King Moai. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Let's move!" They were off and running again, moving quickly towards the generator, which was some fourteen kliks away, at minimum. They had a long way to go and they definitely could be there before dawn, if they kept up running, but who knew, the terrain and the island wasn't exactly friendly and receptive to them and they were most certainly found out now. They had about 7 ½ hours until the navy would be on the coast and that meant that they had to have King Moai completely disabled by then. It would take all of their remaining C4 charges and whatever they could pick up along the way by raiding a few arms caches. Their goal was not only to take out the main power feed lines that went to the weapon but also to take out the main generator. The explosion would be so massive that it would be seen from the fleet and, at that point, they could bring down their artillery and their guided munitions, which would reveal the location of King Moai and, finally, allow them to train their guns and bombs on the massive railgun.

Fourteen kilometers was a jog and a half and, at a full run, they could move almost double that distance in an hour but they were completely incapable of running for that long and that far with all the gear that they had. They could; however, get there far faster than the navy could get to the island. "Alright men. We've got at least fourteen kliks to go and we need to get there in under four hours. It won't be easy. We've got a few arms caches along the way that we've identified and we're going to take them all. We need explosives and as much of it as we can get. We have to take out three, giant cable lines that lead to the main gun, they have so many cables in them that it will be impossible to sever them all with what we have. We need to find as much plastic explosives as we can find to sever them all. We could use det chord, but we're going to need a lot of it and enough to blow through feed lines at least four feet in diameter. Then we have to blow the generator with whatever we have left. Blowing the feed lines is crucial. We can always paint the target for the navy to take out the generator but if we take out the feed lines, they can't do squat."

"BOGEY! BOGEY! Bearing 2-0-0. Speed 160 knots. Atltitude low. 300 feet. Moving towards us. Bearing 2-0 degrees. Range 9-5 nautical miles." A panel operator on the Odin Flight II Class CVAEN, the task force command ship. There, the task force commander, Rear Admiral Jason Stryker, stood, vigilant in his CIC. "Immediate identification processing!"

"Good son. Good. What's the time on that?"

"Current processing speed limits us to forty-six seconds."

"Aye. Keep it up. I want identification immediately."

"Yes sir." The processors running through the system immeidately worked to identify the target based on its radar return and its plot. The system didn't just identify the target and provide a visual rendering, it also transmitted the information to central command and tried to process its past flight path based on turbulence already in its wake.

Those forty-six seconds went by quickly as the radar return was analyzed and identified. The flight path was also identified and the plot and information was immediately processed to the panel of Chief Petty Officer, First Class, Stevens. "Sir. It's a Hind. Origin is spot on the Terevaka peak sir. Recommend we engage immediately sir."

"What solution has the best chance of hitting?"

"We've got the Unforgiven at the lead with a full load of SM-4MRs and SM-4ERs. Yes."

"Designate two SM-4ERs to the bird. Guidance on active with midcourse. Terminal to be IIR."

"Yes sir. Transmitting orders now." With another push, the orders zapped to the Unforgiven CGN at the lead of the battlegroup and panel operators went to work, activating their missiles, which were already warmed up and locked onto the target by the time the authorization went through and the "RDY" light lit up. "Sir. Report Birds affirm."

"Fire!"

"Aye sir. BIRDS AWAY!" From the Unforgiven CGN, two VLS doors immediately opened and filled with fire and smoke as the two RIM-185B Standard SM4ER Block II missiles tore through the air on their upwards climb. They would go up to 20,000 feet and barrel towards their target, approaching Mach 4, then dive on their target, and impact powerfully. The missiles arched upwards and turned towards their targets as they leveled out at 20,000 feet. On the panel now, the missiles were displayed on a small icon with their status, time to impact, speed, heading, range to target, range from ship, altitude, and guidance mode in current use. It was supremely high tech and supremely capable.

The CIC remained tense as the missiles closed in on their target, an out-dated, low-flying Hind that was definitely well within the engagement envelope of the Standard missiles but, unfortunately, they still had to ait until the missiles arrived, and those seconds and minutes were tense, slow, and extremely suspenseful.

Finally, the missiles arched down in their terminal modes, just the kill vehicles separated, moving towards their target at Mach 4 and maneuvering as much as 60°/S, guided by their IIR seekers. The Hinds could drop as many flares as they had and it still would not spoof the missiles. They could also turn their IR jammers to the maximum potential and they would still lose. The missiles were dangerous, deadly, and unforgiving. The explosion from their impact lit up the sky and was seen from the task force. "That's a SPLASH!" CPOFC Stevens said, the missiles showing a double impact.

"Alright. We're eight hundred meters from the first cache. We're going to hit it and hit it hard. Flashbangs ready." They closed on the very first arms cache, one of three we're going to hit. This one is manned by six men, all of them natives. They'll be easy. We just need one Flashbang. Pounce with rifles hard. "On my count." They reached the hatch and immediately prepared to attack, dropping in a single Flashbang and then, immediately, dropping in no fewer than five but no more than fifteen seconds afterwards, three of them dropping in, guns blazing. Single shots managed to take out everyone. They weren't able to find much in the cache, only some detonator chord and four pounds of Composition B, plastic explosive. It wasn't enough but it was a start. They would move against the second one soon, getting what they could from them.

They were in and out of the cache in six minutes, enough time to shoot the six militiamen dead and get on the move again. The second cache was only a kilometer and a half down the pathway and it promised to be bigger. From what he had studied on his plans, leading up to his betrayal of Major Francis was that this one was a large one, manned by up to twenty soldiers, all experienced and trained from Yucatán fighting. Flashbangs alone would not do it for them so they would have to drop down a Flashbang and then pounce hard, very hard and very fast.

They came up to the hatch, loaded and ready, dropped in their first Flashbang, and immediately caved downward. Colonel Delaney went first, firing off his rounds at anything that looked like a person, whether it was or not. He used up close to twenty rounds in the initial chamber, of which there were three, but he had, together with his men, killed seven enemies. The arms would be in the last chamber and the second chamber would definitely have a radio set for communication. If they could use it to contact the fleet they could have some hope to look forward to but, they were without the codes, the frequencies, and time. They moved quickly towards the second chamber, six of them down with two on guard up top still. The second chamber was empty, obviously the third would be loaded with the remaining soldiers, just waiting to ambush the soldiers. They wouldn't fall for it and, instead, shot through the cruddy door with their weapons, wounding or killing at least half of the soldiers inside, before they kicked in the door and began firing their weapons from around the door frame. They had killed everyone and still had ammunition left over, though most of them changed out their magazines because they were too low on ammunition, just in case they got into a major firefight. They netted at least another twenty pounds of explosives and detonator chord, which would work for them. The last cache would definitely be raided and they would have plenty of Flashbang grenades since the second cache was loaded with them.

The third cache was a kilometer from the generator bunker and they were there far quicker than they originally imagined. The cache was small, just like the first one, and easy to handle. They could be in and out of the cache inside of a few minutes and, with that, they could also net more detonator chord and even 5.56 x 45 millimeter ammunition, which either of the other two caches didn't have, though they had plenty of 7.62 x 51 millimeter ammunition. Apparently those caches stocked heavy weapons. They were through this cache in minutes just as well and then, with at least a half hour to spare, they reached the mysterious and well-hidden entrance to the main generator plant. This was definitely not going to be easy and they needed to make sure that they proceede carefully. Or else....

Colonel Delaney and his men assembled near the entrance to the main generator plant. It was just after 0400 and the navy was already beginning to encircle the island. Ravens, Typhoons, and Harrier IIIs were already airborne, dropping their payloads against targets whilst the Marines prepared to embark. The island shook with each bomb hit and flashes of light and sound echoed across it as bombs fell at the airport, barracks, and communications points. The navy wouldn't be dropping in a lot of ordinance and so the strikes were very limited. Aircraft would be on patrol throughout the duration of the campaign, keeping an eye on the sky, just looking for enemy aircraft, if in fact they were existent.

"Alright men. Hear that? The navy is here. We can finally go home! There's just one problem. There's a railgun between us and getting the fuck off this island!"

"Yes sir!"

"I want to go home!"

"Yes sir!"

"Let's GO!" They opened the entrance and dropped in two Flashbangs, followed by a concussion grenade. They followed right afterwards, guns blazing. The generator plant was extensive, some 5,000 ft² with two levels. They had to take care of it and they had to take care of it immediately. Colonel Delaney and his men descended on the first area with stern resolve. All eight of them went in and all eight of them would be coming out. The first area was a master entrance room, which was something like the entrance to an ICBM base. Security checks would allow those who entered to pass through. They weren't cleared; however, but they would still be passing through. With four enemies down from the grenade and two more from gunfire, they passed into the main entrance way, which was, more or less, a long corridor. This led to the main generator, which took up both levels, at the other end of the complex.

The complex was filled with enemy soldiers, between 100 and 200, the precise number unknown. Eight of them would take out that many and much, much, much more. Their siege of the Layartebian missile base in Tennessee was nothing in comparison to what they would be facing here, especially since the enemy wanted to eat them rather than kill them. They pounced through the corridor, checking every door they came to and moving on after it was secure. The rooms were mostly control rooms and barracks rooms but they all contained enemy soldiers, each and every one of them. With four here, six there, eleven here, four there, they moved through the corridor, room by room, taking out everyone that they could, until they came to the main generator room. The concrete and reinforced walls were dank and dark. Lighting was minimal to conserve energy and sounds echoed for as far as they could travel. The plan was simple though. Blue team would strike the room from the upper floor entrance whilst gold team went down to the lower entrance and attacked. This was the largest room, with a dome like structure in the middle of it, resembling that of a nuclear reactor. This was no nuclear reactor though and blowing it up wasn't going to cause an ecological disaster.

"Gold team in place!" The radio echoed.

"Roger that. Go!" Colonel Delaney and his men threw open the door and began firing at enemies walking the catwalk. Some were scientists, monitoring the powerplant and others were just henchmen, for lack of a better word. With at least forty-five individuals in the generator room, the eight men of Force Falcon Team One had a lot of killing to do and they did so quickly. They engaged their enemies with single shots and double shots, using their rifles to take out individuals even hiding behind soft and thin objects. The 5.56 x 45 millimeter bullets could penetrate through as much as 6 millimeters of RHA steel, allowing it to punch right through the soft sheet metal that most of the soldiers took refuge behind. The firefight lasted all of eight minutes but when it was over, the enemy was gone, none of the Force Falcon soldiers had been hit, and the complex was secured. "Let's get these charges set!" They worked to get everything set. They would use the det chord on the main feed lines, all three of them, and through detonation, sever them all with one quick strike. They would use the rest of their C4 and Comp B explosives on the generator, which was extensively shielded against explosives. They would have to use a significant amount of explosives, and they had only that much left.

"Hurry up! Get that stuff planted!" Colonel Delaney worked to place the Comp B charges while Gold Team worked to place the det chord. It took only eighty-five seconds to get all of the explosives planted and they were armed in another five. Then, they had a mere thirty seconds to get out of the complex and get as far away as they could. "EVAC!" Colonel Delaney yelled as he set the last timer and pushed the countdown button, which synchronized all of the detonators as one. They ran, as fast as they could, moving towards the exit of the compound, the seconds ticking away and away and away.

With eight seconds to spare, they reached the surface and began a sprint, moving as fast as they could, away from the generator and from the explosives that they had placed. Second after second, they ticked down, fewer and fewer, whilst they got further and further. In 6 seconds they were 50 meters away. In 8, they had gotten another 16 meters further, moving at almost 19 miles per hour. Then, the explosives went off. The det chord went first, severing the lines in two places, each line being torn through at a velocity of 8,000 meters per second by the explosive chord. The Comp B and C4 charges went off next, cracking the dome of the generator and causing it to overheat and go into a massive mechanical failure. The heat alone would rupture the remainder of the dome and set the entire place on fire. However, that wouldn't happen immediately, that would take some time.

The explosion and its force threw the eight men towards the ground and took the air out of their lungs for a fraction of a second. The power alone turned the ground into a massive crater, through which the fire and smoke of the explosion would penetrate and reach skyward. The ground shook once again and now the men knew, the railgun was out of power. Or was it...

To the Populace of Easter Island
From the Empire of Layarteb

The Empire has amassed a naval force of unstoppable proportions around your island. Our goal here is for annexation. Easter Island will join the Empire as part of the Pacific Republic. Its populace shall come under no duress or harm should they choose to lay down their arms and come peacefully. However, resistance will not be tolerated. Those who resist will not survive to see the Empire claim victory. Resistance is futile.

We hereby initiate our request for surrender of this island. These are the conditions by which surrender will be accepted. First and foremost, all arms and militiamen will lay down their arms and raise white flags to approaching Marines. Second, the Easter Island flag will be lowered immediately. Third, the leader of this island will meet the Layartebian representative in Hanga Roa, when the Marines arrive. Fourthly, there shall be absolutely no hostile action taken against Marines and naval personnel.

We demand a reply within one hour.


To the Imperial Layartebian Military
From Easter Island

Our answer is no.

And so it began...

Chapter XII: Anger

Day Ten

It was 08:00 hours, the navy was in place, the Marines were embarking, and the aircraft were charging. Attack helicopters and Raven fighters were clearing the paths for Marines travelling by way of helicopter and Bulldog. They had, thus far, killed approximately two dozen militiamen, most of them with Stinger missiles, trying to down the helicopters. Though four missiles had been launched, none of them hit and did any damage whatsoever. Super Stallion IIs would bring in the majority of the soldiers and land them at various points around the island. All of the kills went to the Stalkers, wo had achieved their victories with a combination of CRV7 rockets and their 30 millimeter main gun. The enemy militamen were nothing more than paper for the Stalkers and their powerful weapon systems, which were undeniably unstoppable.

The first Marines to touch the ground did so at the airport, landing in force aboard twelve Super Stallion IIs, escorted by Stalkers and Ravens. Fighting commenced immediately and nearly eight hundred militiamen converged on the airport from various locations underneath and around the bombed out airport. Hangars, the terminals, the entire airport had been bombed by Ravens and Typhoons using JDAM II bombs and Maverick missiles.

Gunshots, grenades, mortars, and RPGs streaked across the burning battlefield as a full battalion of Marines encountered the enemy onslaught and advance. This was no peacekeeping operation or simple annexation, this was a full fledged invasion and the enemy was all around them, with reinforcements everywhere. Leading the battalion was Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Wayne, a veteran of sixteen wars of the Empire and one of the most decorated Marines still in active service. He was a fighter, starting out enlisted but earning his officer's commission through time and through battle. Now he was in charge of one of twelve battalions from the Marine Infantry Brigade aboard the task force. He was a vigilant man, armed with a pistol and an assault rifle, never charging into battle anywhere but from the front. Now, he stood, with his men, inside a hangar that was nothing more than a smoldering shell of metal and concrete. A large blast crater not more than ten yards away was where the 1,000 pound JDAM II pierced through the roof and went off, decimating the hangar. Saber 1-6 was his unit name and he was definitely not going to lose this battle. "Saber 1-6. Saber 1-6. Come in command. Come in. Over."

"Go ahead Saber 1-6. Over."

"Situation at airport is multiple hostiles. Battalion strength, at minimum. Armed heavily with RPGs, machine guns, mortars, grenades, rifles. Request immediate air support. Over."

"Roger that Saber 1-6. Stand by. Out." Orders transmitted through the ranks and immediately two groups were vectored onto the airport. The first was a pair of F-35B Raven fighters, armed with incendiary and iron bombs. The second was a four-ship flight of AH-94B Stalkers, armed with a full load of Wizard air to air missiles, eight AGM-177B Brimstone missiles internally, two 19-round CRV7 rocket pods externally, and another eight AGM-177B and C Brimstone missiles externally. They were the first to arrive and they did so with a dramatic fly over, passing over the enemy at an altitude of only 100 feet, full speed, guns blazing. The roar of their engines and their guns deafened the Marines as they fought on, hard and powerful.

Entrenched throughout the airport, using everything they could for cover, they fought hard against the onslaught of militiamen. The Ravens arrived in the neck of time, stopping a full charge with their iron bombs and incendiary bombs. It was almost as if 800 people were suddenly erased from existence by six aircraft and 625 soldiers, all of them ironed to the teeth. That's who Marines were, the most powerful conventional force within the ILM. They were better than the army and the paratroopers were unconventional, just like SOF and BOF. They were trained longer and harder than the army and they were paid better. They were far more rugged and, in order to get to any rank higher than captain, they had to have battle experience. It was easy that LTC. Wayne would be a Colonel by the end of the conflict, especially if he and his men secured the airport and assisted with the capture of Hanga Roa.

It took two hours to secure the airport, not a record but certainly not a lot of time. The Marines saw 70 casualties, of them 22 were fatalities. The enemy saw at least some 800 casualties with 16 POWs taken by Layartebian Marines. Elsewhere, throughout the island, things were just as complicated. Hanga Roa had been seiged by four battalions and they were all fighting resistance numbering between 1,200 and 2,000. Another battalion was heading through the countryside, encountering enemy forces left and right. The final two battalions were securing and investigating the quarry and the countryside as well. Everyone was taking enemy fire and reports of tunnels were going throughout the airwaves.

The SEALs on the island were already inside Hanga Roa, looking for the missing BOF team but were unable to find anything as of yet. That was because Force Falcon was busy, engaging between 60 and 200 enemy soldiers inside the countryside. They were making their way towards King Moai, to flag it for the fleet but were ambushed by militiamen. They couldn't see the ships on the horizon, for they were between 30 and 52 nautical miles off shore, well over-the-horizon. One of the closest ships was a Heretic FFGN, sailing alongside at 30 nautical miles, using its 155 millimeter ETC cannon to suppress enemy ambush positions attacking Marines. The ship only had one gun with a 335 round magazine. They still had 280 rounds to use.

They had already fired 4 RGM-165 Standard SM-5 LAMs against enemy positions, taking out three major tunnel junctions and one decently sized arms cache that lit up like a fireworks factory, throwing smoke, flames, and earth everywhere as it impacted the ground at a speed of Mach 3.5. Without radio contact, Force Falcon had come dangerously close to that particular strike, which had, thankfully, taken out a dozen enemy soldiers moving to ambush their flank.

They were fighting hard through the swarm of bullets that flew through the air. Hundreds of them came through the air, barely any making any impact on any of them. They returned fire, with a significant less amount of bullets, though theirs hit their marks. They planned to be at King Moai by 08:30 hours but it was 10:00 and they weren't anywhere near it yet. They knew it was decommissioned from their strike against the power generator yet they still wanted to be at the site to further see its continued decommissioning.

Though it took some fighting, they managed to squeeze their way out of the ambush point and make their way back towards King Moai, with an ETA of 10:30 hours, if they didn't get jumped again. At 10:22 hours, almost within range, the ground shook violently and the air echoed with the loudest explosion any of them had ever heard. Something had happened...

OOC: The pictures of King Moai are from Unreal II. Please ignore the weapon, the heath meters, the scope optics, and all of that stuff. The cannon is the primary focus. All of that other stuff doesn't exist but I can't Photoshop that all out so you'll just have to suffer.

"What the fuck!" Colonel Delaney shouted, seeing King Moai out of its firing chamber, and firing! The first round that left the device had come down right into that Heretic FFGN and tore through its aft helicopter pad and bay, killing 28 sailors instantly and wounding another 40. Badly damaged and losing power and speed, the Heretic FFGN made desparate pleas for help. Using their over-the-horizon scanners, they desparately tried to lock onto the source of the projectile but they were losing electrical power too fast and were unable to get an accurate solution plotted in time to fire their weapons, leaving them near dead in the water. "Son of a bitch! We disabled it!" He shouted again. "Come on!"

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The cannon was out and firing. Quickly they approached it, hoping that the navy would hone in on the device and open up a full barrage before it could fire again. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to happen that way and the cannon reared up for a second firing. The hum of the device grew and grew as it charged its firing chamber. Another projectile was loaded, molten hot and prepared to unleash in full veracity.

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The ground shook again and the cannon belched another round. The noise was so deafening that the men had to shield their ears from it, as the round arched upwards, towards its target. They couldn't see where the round was going and what it was hitting, if it was even hitting anything, but they could tell one thing, the more rounds it fire the worse it was for them. They wanted to go home.

Onboard the Heretic FFGN, the scream of "INCOMMING!" came too late to do anything. The round struck the aft again except that it struck further towards the middle of the ship, blowing it in two pieces, the aft section immediately tipping down, into the water, sinking. The forward section, still some 70% of the hull, rolled over onto its port side, smashing down as it burned and exploded from the effects of its roll and impact. Some 80 more sailors would die and another 70 would be left wounded and floating in the Pacific Ocean. This marked the first time a Layartebian ship had been sunk in ages but, at the same time, the navy honed in on the coordinates of the railgun. The closest ship with any major power to fire was a Mexia Flight IV BCN, with 9 203 millimeter ETC main guns, with 415 rounds per gun. A full salvo was being prepared of those guns and its secondaries, which were 8 155 millimeter ETC guns with 750 rounds per gun. A full broadside would consist of those 9 main guns and 4 of the secondaries. The power of the strike would be phenomenal but not nearly as powerful as the secondary strike, which would be provided by an Earthquake BBGN. Its full broadside would consist of 9, 16" main guns and 6, 5" secondary guns.

Onboard the Mexia, everything shuttered as the rounds flew out of the barrles, all of them flying at high speed. The 13 rounds were placed well and struck with unprecedented accuracy, turning the area around King Moai into a dust cloud. Colonel Delaney and his men immediately went prone and took cover. They were prepared to charge the cannon but had now been dissuaded. The Layarteb came next and opened up its full broadside.

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The more powerful and just as accurate rounds of the Layarteb BBGN struck with force and with accuracy. They hit with far greater force and annihilated the entire cannon with one pummelling strike, though a pair of Ravens and Typhoons were vectored onto the position of the gun and they would engage themselves. Just before their bombs hit, Colonel Delaney began cheering with his men, the concussion of the bombs from the jets nearly sucking the air right out of their lungs. Their heads ached and throbbed from the explosions and they were definitely beaten and worn but the battle raged onward!

Colonel Delaney and his men knew not of the consequence of King Moai's revenge. They had disabled the generator but the weapon system still had enough juice stored in its batteries to power up to sixteen firings. It got two off and with devestating potential, severing a frigate in half and sending it to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Its survivors were being picked up by rescue boats and helicopters.

"Alright men. She got off two shots. It hurts. We're worn out and we're ready to get the fuck out of here. But there is something more we have to do. We have to get in communication with the fleet and find out what the hell is going on. Chances are that the Marines are in firefights they never imagined to see here and we can only do so much. We've taken out a lot of bad guys and we're low on ammunition. We can keep hitting arms caches but I don't know where there are more around here that we haven't taken care of. So. We're..."

"Sir. Look. A helicopter."

"Good! Get that flare ready. We have to signal to it!"

"Roger that!" They loaded a flare into a flare gun and watched as an MH-60S Knight Hawk came inbound at low altitude, alone. It was armed with a pair of M74A1 Miniguns fed by a 6,000 round magazine and it was definitely carrying soldiers, up to 13. Colonel Delaney fired the flare upwards, in the hope of raising its attention. He and his men were on the ground, kneeling, not hidden by the grass because there was little, waving to the bird with a reflective panel deployed.

The red flare arched upwards and popped in front of the helicopter about a few thousand meters in front of it and it definitely got the attention of the pilots and their crew. The Knight Hawk banked slightly towards the direction of the flare when, without warning, a Stinger streaked up towards it and struck it on its starboard side, right behind the engine nacelle. "No! No! No! God fucking damnit! Kill that fuck nut!" Colonel Delaney shouted to his sniper as the soldier with the Stinger rejoiced from the opposite end of the clearing. The sniper was all too happy to kill the soldier and did so with a quick headshot, dropping him to the ground hard and fast.

The Knight Hawk belched smoke as it came down hard. The Stinger had definitely disabled its engines and it was coming in for a crash landing and coming in hard. Inside, Marines and crewmen held on tightly as they prepared for the crash landing, which the pilots weren't thrilled at all to make. Colonel Delaney and his men could do nothing and watched helplessly as the helicopter twisted its way down, to the ground. It had not gone into a spin and it but neither was it coming in straight.

It finally crashed, just 200 meters from Colonel Delaney and his men, landing sideways and flipping over onto its side as it skidded to a stop. The rotors spun, chopping up the dirt, eventually shattering themselves, sending jagged pieces of metal spinning through the air at hundreds of miles per hour. "Come on. Let's move!" They stood up running, their weapons drawn, towards the wreck. Smoke drifted up from the crashed helicopter and as they got closer they could see two men climbing out, struggling as they did. "Friendly forces. Coming in. Don't shoot!" Colonel Delaney yelled as they came towards the helicopter. They could see that the men had pistols drawn and they didn't want to be dead as a result of blue on blue. "Don't shoot!" He yelled again as they came across the side of the wreck. The helicopter crashed hard on its port side and slid about 60 feet before coming to a stop on its side. The pilot and co-pilot were dead instantly. Of the two crew chiefs only one managed to survive but was badly injured. Inside the compartment were eight Marines. Three of them were alive, though injured as well, and the other five were dead on impact. "We're friendly. Don't shoot!" The crew chief was slumped against the underside of the bird with one of the Marines by his side. Two others climbed out, helping each other.

"Who are you?" The crew chief asked, blood dripping down his head.

"Forward advance group. You guys are hurt. Howard. Check them out. You got a radio in there?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Just call me Colonel."

"Yes sir."

"Men. Help them away from the helicopter."

"Yes sir."

"Did you guys send a distress call?"

"Pilot did. Just after we were hit."

"Good. You guys are going to be fine. Just let's get away from the bird."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Sir. You guys. You look worse than us. What?"

"Don't worry about it." Colonel Delaney climbed into the helicopter to find the mangled corpses of eight other people. The pilot was decapitated and the co-pilot had been impaled by the flight stick. The crew chief had the helicopter land on him, severing him in two, the bottom half at the impact point. The Marines who died went through similar fates. Blood was everywhere and Colonel Delaney just wanted to get the radio and get out. He had to pull it off the back of a dead Marine but he did it quickly. He needed that radio more than anyone else.

Colonel Delaney climbed out of the downed helicopter and met up with his men and the four wounded soldiers about a hundred meters away. "How bad doc?"

"Well. The crew chief has a bad cut on his head but we're going to get that stopped. He probably has a concussion too. Two of the Marines have broken arms and probable internal bleeding. The other appears to have a broken leg. I'm not sure yet."

"Alright. We've got a radio."

"Yes sir."

"Men! You're going to be fine!" He picked up the radio and turned it on. "What's your callsign?"

"Tiger 2-2."

"Command. Command. This is Tiger 2-2. Over."

"Roger that Tiger 2-2. Go ahead. Over."

"Aircraft down. Eight dead. Requesting immediate MEDIVAC, over."

"Roger that. En route. ETA 2 minutes."

"Roger that." Colonel Delaney and his men kept the wounded crew chief and Marines comforted as the MEDIVAC came in, which was another Knight Hawk. It landed near them and two medics came out, meeting Colonel Delaney and his men, taking the wounded into their bird. They inquired about who they were but the Colonel just shoved them off and took the radio, along with his men, towards the bird. Another helicopter was en route to collect the dead adn they would use a Thermite grenade on the helicopter to destroy any sensitive electronics that needed to be destroyed. He picked up the radio and turned it to a secure frequency. "Command Bravo. Command Bravo. Lion One. Lion One. Requesting transmission. Over."

"Roger that Lion One. Authenticate Charlie Alpha Bravo. Over."

"Echo Niner Niner Seven Four Foxtrot Uniform Echo. Over."

"Cleared over."

"Report FUBAR! Report FUBAR! Over."

"Colonel. What is status? Over."

"Escaped capture. Downed Knight Hawk at my location. Enemy force estimated at 6,000 personnel. Armed and trained heavily. Single Mi-24 Hind unaccounted for, last seen heading towards fleet just after midnight. Railgun on island fired two shots. Disabled by artillery and aircraft. Enemy railgun powered by a thermo generator. Disabled generator. Over."

"Roger that. Over."

"Request immediate EVAC. Over."

"Colonel. Airport secure. Hanga Roa is seeing intense fighting. Countryside is seeing intense fighting. Report capability to assist. Over."

"None. Low on ammunition. Worn out. Over."

"Have you suffered any injuries? Over."

"No. Request immediate EVAC. Over."

"Denied Colonel. Assist Marines in Hanga Roa. Over."

"Say again. Over."

"EVAC denied! Assist Marines in Hanga Roa. Over."

"Negative. We need an EVAC. Over."

"No can do. You must assist the Marines. Over."

"Negative. Request immediate EVAC. Over."

"Colonel. You have your orders. Out!" The airwaves went dead and the Colonel slammed the microphone into the ground.

"Fuck this shit!" He yelled out, pissed beyond imagination. "This can't be happening. After all this. We can't get the fuck out of here. Seven thousand Marines and they need the eight of us to kill a few militia soldiers. I can't fucking believe this."

"Sir?"

"Sir what. I've had it with this place. I fucking hate this mother fucking place."

"Sir."

"WHAT!"

"They're coming for us."

"What?"

"Over there."

"Get the fucking radio and some ammunition out of the helicopter. If I have to kill every goddamn fuck on this island myself then I'm going to do it! And when I get off this island! So help them! So fucking help them!"

"Roger that sir." Two bullets slammed into the helicopter fuselage and they were, once again, in an ambush situation.

The metal of the fuselage plinked with the sound of impacting bullets. The men were nearly pinned by the bird. They could use it for cover but that wouldn't help them fully against the 60 or so men approaching them, all having come out of a tunnel entrance just 300 meters away. They had to crawl through the death and disgustingness of the inside cabin of the Knight Hawk and were able to get their hands on a significant amount of ammunition, all of it 5.56 x 45 millimeter rounds. They would be able to fight longer but they weren't going to solve being worn out. They had been through a lot and they definitely weren't planning on staying any longer than they had already. They thought the rescue helicopter was there as a relief for them but they were stuck there, they had to follow orders, as pitiful as they were.

"Goddamn these rats. I hate them! I hate this island. I hate this job!" Colonel Delaney lost it and lost it completely. Without fear and without worrying about being shot, he peaked around the helicopter and fired off a full thirty rounds, each one of them connecting with a target, dropping at least twenty soldiers with one firing. His men followed suite and the sniper himself got another sixteen kills, easily made and easily done. "Goddamn these rats!" He kept firing, advancing away from the bird, shooting the enemy soldiers. His adrenaline level was so high that when he took a shot to the left arm, he didn't even feel it. He just kept firing and within a few seconds he and his men killed the entire ambush squad, at least sixty men, most of the kills going to Colonel Delaney. "Fuckers!" He said, spitting on one of their bodies.

"Colonel. You're hit."

"I am?" He looked at his arm and saw the blood coming down. "You're right.

"Let me look at it."

"We're exposed."

"And you're bleeding. Get down sir."

"Alright. Gold team, provide perimeter."

"Roger that sir."

"It's a flesh wound doc."

"Don't be so sure."

"My arm doesn't hurt."

"I bet." He pulled off his sleeve and looked at the wound. It was a superficial wound, that was a given, and the bullet had gone clean through, but it had grazed the bone on its way out and chipped it. "Well you're right. But it'll still have to get tied off and it's going to hurt eventually. Sit still." The medic bandaged up the wound tight, to stop the bleeding and he knew that it wouldn't stop or slow Colonel Delaney. He just hoped they could get out of there as soon as possible. "Fine sir. We can go."

"Yes we can. We've got a city to get to."

"Yes sir." They advanced into the countryside, moving at a quickened pace, towards the center. They knew that Marines were fighting through the countryside and they encountered two groups along their way, both groups astonished that there was a SOF team in the theater. Colonel Delaney kept his team under the guise of an SOF team. They kept moving though, hoping to encounter a vehicle unit so that they could get through, to the city, faster. There were a few light vehicles moving through the countryside, though the terrain wasn't very favorable for them and they were mostly on foot.

Finally though, Colonel Delaney and his men came up to a small group, equipped with vehicles. He immediately saw two M2011A1 Scouts, four M2008A1 Dingo APVs, and four M2010A1 Bushmaster IMVs. Colonel Delaney walked right up to a Bushmaster and looked the driver right in the face. "Sergeant. I am commandeering your vehicle."

"Sir?" He saluted but rejected the idea. "I. Sir."

"You have two options. You give me that vehicle so that I can get to Hanga Roa and save our boys or I shoot you myself for treason."

"No sir. You can have it." He dismounted and Colonel Delaney climbed into the driver's seat, his XO in the passenger seat. The rest of the men filed into the back. "Wilson. Take the MG."

"On it sir."

"Here we go!" They were off and moving towards the city. They were still rather far away and it was 12:39 hours. They wanted to be at the city by 13:30 hours but it was still a long way to go and they weren't sure how much resistance they were going to face along the way. Their vehicle could sustain 14.5 millimeter strikes as well as RPGs and mines but not forever. Their 15.5 millimeter heavy machine gun would provide them with a lot of firepower to use against the enemy but it didn't make them invincible.

Chapter XIII: Hanga Roa

Day Ten

They reached the outskirts of the city at 14:20 hours, being ambushed three times along the way. They took an RPG hit to the rear, right side of the truck and it nearly flipped them but they definitely were still moving when they arrived in Hanga Roa. It was a fierce battle, a house to house fight with Marines attempting to surround the city and cut off all possible routes of escape and flanks. Naval artillery was called with precision against serious enemy positions that they couldn't take out otherwise. Artillery came in the form of 203 millimeter, 155 millimeter, 16 inch, 5 inch, and 18 inch. Mavericks, Brimstones, cluster bombs, iron bombs, incendiary bombs, and the like all found their way against and into enemy positions throughout the city.

Light armored vehicles and armored trucks moved through the city, firing at various positions. The Marines inside the town numbered 2,500. The enemy forces inside the town numbered at least that many. Of 6,000 militiamen entrenched throughout the island at least 2,000 of them had been killed in fighting at the airport and around the countryside. Three thousand of them were left inside and around the city with the other thousand dispersed throughout the countryside.

The daylight over Hanga Roa was reduced by the vast amount of smoke that poured out of the city and reached skyward. Flames burned in some parts of the city as a result of the bombings and the attacks by aircraft and naval artillery.

Colonel Delaney halted the Bushmaster about three kilometers east of the city, along the bottom edge of the Terevaka peak. The vehicle was stopped, looking down at the city. Smoke and flashes shot out of the city. "Well that's a battle." He remarked to his men. "Ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Marines are holled up throughout the whole city. We're going to have to take up a position with Marines along that corner there."

"Yes sir."

"Keep the HMG prepped and ready."

"Yes sir."

"How many rounds do you have left?"

"Eighty sir."

"Alright. Ready then?"

"Of course sir. Let's move!"

"Good! We're going!" He pushed the accelerator down and the Bushmaster bolted into action. The gears shifted automatically from first to second and into third and fourth, as the truck accelerated to 40 miles per hour. The truck bounced up and down the trail as they closed in on the city. LAVs and armored vehicles launched missiles and used their guns on enemy positions and, as they got closer, things seemed to get more and more confusing. The Marines were holding their own against a numerically superior force but they were also at the technological advantage and could call in both artillery and air strikes.

"Saber 1-8. Saber 1-8. Come in. Over."

"Go ahead. Who is this? Over."

"Lion One. We're incoming. Over."

"Roger that. We've been waiting for you guys. Over."

"Countryside is a bitch. Out." Colonel Delaney drove the Bushmaster up to the Marine command post on the southeastern corner of the city and parked the vehicle, leaving the HMG manned. Strolling out, he entered a small structure with the Marine Lieutenant Colonel and his immediate HQ staff. They were under heavy fire but they could definitely have been doing better. He was disappointed with the Lieutenant Colonel but he knew that they were without the experiences that he and his men had. They knew one thing, death was far better than another minute on this island. "Lieutenant Colonel. I presume?"

"Yes. What is your rank soldier?"

"Colonel."

"Sir. I."

"Listen to me. Me and my men have been on this island for the past ten days. We've been tortured, captured, fed the most disgusting slop on Earth, and every hope that we can get to get off this wretched piece of garbage falls through. Now I have to help you and your men secure this city to leave this fucking island. I don't want to be here anymore. I hate this fucking island. So now let's secure this goddamn city so my men and I can go home!"

"Yes sir."

"Where are we getting hit hard from?"

"There's a mortar position with snipers about four hundred and fifty meters north of here."

"Can we direct artillery on it?"

"Too many friendlies in the area."

"Alright. Looks like we'll have to do it. Keep on that radio."

"Yes sir."

"Alright men. Let's get that mortar!" Colonel Delaney and his men took low positions and moved out of the structure, keeping crouched. Bullets echoed throughout the city and streets were nothing more than the most dangerous places to be, throughout the entire country. He and his men shouldered their weapons and moved sleekly through the streets, taking cover against vehicles and fences, making sure that they weren't caught in the crosshairs of a sniper or zeroed by a mortar. They kept moving faster and faster though, never staying still for more than a second or two.

The mortar position was well shielded and hidden and they would have to get there before their tubes cooled down and they could begin firing again. When Colonel Delaney and his men were only twenty meters from the position, which was in an abandoned warehouse, they split into their two teams and prepared to go in, guns blazing, grenades flying. The militiamen were firing their mortars out of the collapsed roof of the warehouse. It would also be their undoing. Three fragmentation grenades were throwing up and over the roof, landing inside, and exploding. The grenades exploded and began setting off the mortar rounds, shattering the entire warehouse. When they entered, there were only three militiamen left alive and all of them were wounded badly. Shots to the head finished them off quickly.

Saber 1-8. Lion One."

"Go Lion One."

"Mortar eliminated."

"Roger that. Roger that! We're advancing. Saber 1-5, Saber 1-7, and Saber 1-11 are all advancing. Saber 1-6 has the airport secured."

"Roger that. Where do you want us?"

"We need to secure the main governmental HQ. It's six hundred meters northwest of our position."

"Roger that. We're on it."

"Thank you sir!" Colonel Delaney and his men were moving again. They had only about one hundred and twenty meters to go to get to the main government building, which was going to be an easy capture, or so they thought. They had a flag with them that they would raise over the city when they secured the building but they were also going to have to fight their way to the flag pole on the roof. A hastily made flag had been placed there when the island descended into its primordial state. Whatever it was, it was an ancient symbol and it seemed that whomever was in charge was definitely a tribal leader or someone of that capacity.

Colonel Delaney and his men killed 24 militiamen fighting their way to the building, which wasn't a very tall structure. It was definitely a high value target that had not been structure by any artillery or aerial bombardment but it wasn't going to survive the onslaught of Colonel Delaney and his men. When they entered, they found the building manned by a lot of enemy militiamen, including two Force Spectre traitors, who were easily killed when Colonel Delaney used a concussion grenade against the main desk of the building. The desk turned into fifteen hundred spears of wood, which turned the two Force Spectre soldiers into liquid. They fought on, harder and harder. Pressing through the building, shooting everybody that moved, they converged on a main office that was occupied, not solely by militiamen either. There were several hostages in there as well, who would be freed as Colonel Delaney and his men exteriminating the last militiamen inside of the building. When they raised the flag over the roof, they took gunfire left and right but the flag flew high and Marines everywhere saw it. There was no stopping them now!

"Saber command. Come in. Lion One. Over."

"Go ahead. Over."

"Flag is raised. I repeat. Flag is raised. Have six freed hostages. Not enemy. I repeat not enemy. No POWs. Over."

"Roger that. Advance north, northwest. Link up with Saber 1-5. Over."

"Roger that. Out." Colonel Delaney looked at the six hostages. Two were women and the rest were men. "Who are you?" He asked but he got no response. They just shook their heads so he asked again. The reaction was the same. "¿Quién es usted?" (Who are you?)

"Nosotros no comeríamos a personas. Ellos nos dijeron ellos nos matarían. Seríamos sacrificados para ellos. Necesitamos salir de aquí. Por favor. Ayúdenos." (We wouldn't eat people. They told us they would kill us. We would be sacrificed for them. We need to get out of here. Please. Help us.)

"Sí. Ayudaremos. Hacemos. Los marina le ayudarán. ¿Hay más de usted?" (Yeah. We'll help. We will. Marines will help you. Are there more of you?)

"Sí. Más. Sí. Treinta y cinco más." (Yes. More. Yes. Thirty-five more.)

"¿Dónde están ellos?" (Where are they?)

"Yo no sé." (I don't know.)

"¿Seguro?" (Sure?)

"Sí. Ayúdenos por favor. Queremos salir. Queremos salir." (Yes. Please help us. We want to leave. We want to leave.)

"Bien. Usted saldrá." (Alright. You'll leave.) Colonel Delaney left the building with his men and began moving north, northwest. Marines would come by and secure the building further, evacuate the hostages, and they would then move northward as well. Colonel Delaney and his men moved throughout the city, the setting sun in the distance. They shot every enemy target on sight and none of them took so much as a single bullet grazing. It was 17:59 when they met up with Saber 1-5, a battalion moving towards the airport. The city was under siege and under the hammer of the Marines and the Navy. Bombs and shells rained down on the city, coupled with mortars, rockets, and bullets. When they met up with the unit, they helped them pounce through and to reach the airport, which had already been secured, hours ago. The runway was being repaired already as well and was only a day away from recieving traffic. One of the bombs had gone astray and hit the actual runway, which was a major problem. They had hoped to be able to begin landing supplies immediately but those would have to be held off another day. Marines would just have to make due, for the time being.

Hanga Roa was no easy city. The Marines worked throughout the night to secure the city but by 22:23, they had the city reasonably secured. They had 408 casualties though, 82 of them being fatalities. Another eighteen hostages had been freed during the time as well, all of them females. The airport was secured, the city was largely under their control. Throughout the countryside, Marines encountered militiamen left and right. They had gone into the tunnels and were fighting the militia on their own ground, engaging and destroying their tunnels as they progressed through. They blew up arms caches along the way and completely made it a nightmare for the enemy. Without their effective leadership, taken out by a JDAM II, the militia were ineffective. They had managed to kill another 64 Marines and wound 129. However, of the 6,000 that fought bravely against the Layartebian Marines, only 1,100 or so remained alive, most of them within the caves and tunnels of the countryside.

Day Eleven

At 02:22, the island was, for the most part, secured. The casualty report was higher than expected but far lower than in other conflicts. So far, 322 Marines and sailors had died, 622 were injured, 40 of the 42 hostages were rescued, one frigate was sunk, three helicopters had crashed, one fighter was downed, and everyone had changed. The truth of the island slowly came out as more and more was found. Mass graves would be dug up and everything that was going on throughout the island and its immediate history was revealed through time.

Hanga Roa, the only town, so to speak, on the island, was in the control of the Empire. Colonel Delaney and his men knew this and knew that now, possibly, perhaps, they could go home. They were sitting with the Marines at the airport, looking around, at the vast night sky before them. They were waiting for an update from command and they weren't happy about waiting at all. They were tired, worn out, overworked, and overstressed. Their bodies had crashed twenty times over by now and they were definitely looking that way. Their faces were covered in dirt and soot. Their bodies were covered by blood and dirt. Their bones ached. Colonel Delaney's wound had been cleaned again, to prevent infection, his other men were feeling the effects of their peril. It was time to go home and they all knew it, they all wanted it, they all needed it. The captured POWs numbered 58 and none of them could really say much except that there were two hostages left.

"Command Bravo. Command Bravo. This is Lion One, request transmission, over."

"Roger that Lion One. Authenticate Charlie Alpha Bravo. Over."

"Echo Niner Niner Seven Four Foxtrot Uniform Echo. Over."

"Cleared over."

"Requesting EVAC. Over."

"Negative on the EVAC. Over."

"Why? Why? We've secured the city! Over."

"EVAC denied. Over."

"What now! Over."

"Colonel. You are to proceed to Terevaka. Locate underground tunnel HQ. Two captured hostages there. Over."

"You've got 7,000 Marines! Use them goddamnit! Over."

"Colonel. You have your orders. Once again! Over."

"Out!" He put down the receiver and looked down at the radio. He wanted nothing more than to pummel it into the ground and destroy it. He wanted nothing mor ethan to destroy it and send it back to command with his name on it, written in blood. Their target was a tunnel entrance halfway up Terevaka, the last known enemy stronghold on the island, meaning that it could have as many as 600 soldiers within its walls. Colonel Delaney looked around at the airport. Of the twelve battalions, eight of them remained on the island, four in the city, two in the airport, and two at the other end of the island. Colonel Delaney needed assistance and needed it fast. "Lieutenant Colonel Wayne. Morning." He said, approaching the battle hardened commander near his tent encampment.

"Sir? I don't know who you are."

"Just call me Colonel. You're in charge of Sixth Battalion. Correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. You have new orders. Your battalion ready?"

"It is sir. Why?"

"You have new orders. You are to come with me and my team. We're moving up Terevaka. There's a stronghold up there. Possibly 600 armed rebels entrenched. We have to rescue two female hostages."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"Permission to speak freely."

"Go ahead."

"Sir. How long have you been here?"

"Eleven days."

"Understood. I'll get my men ready."

"Good. I want to get off this fucking rock."

"Understood sir." By 03:10, they were on the move again, heading up the peak. They hoped to be there before dawn and all of them were dead tired. The Marines hadn't slept in days and Force Falcon hadn't rested in over a week. They were all at wits end but they were professional soldiers, there to do a job and they would do it or die trying. Equipped with explosives, grenades, ammunition, rations, and everything else. Helicopters would provide some assault if needed but, for the most part, they were going to be attacking inside the tunnel system, without assistance from the air. They had eight entrances to enter and the men would be divided up accordingly, one platoon per entrance, with Force Falcon leading the charge. At 05:27, they arrived, ready for battle.

"Alright. Here is the plan. Split up your platoons to attack the entrances. We're all going to converge on the central chamber. Keep an eye out for friendlies and try to hit your targets. We don't need shells bouncing around in there like it were a pinball machine. Understood?"

"Right behind ya Colonel."

"Good. We do this right and I get to go home."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

"You too. See you inside!"

"Roger that. Commence assault." Everything went off instantly, at the same time, 05:32. Marines poured into the underground complex, weapons drawn, firing at everything and anything that moved. The shots echoed through the tunnels and precipitated outwards as well. It was plain and simple to those inside what was going on. Their last stand was going to be here, now, and against 633 Layartebian soldiers, 625 of them, Marines. The tunnels wound considerably, preventing any flame based weapons from taking out the whole tunnel in one shot. The Empire didn't use flame throwers anymore, they were obsolete, though there were several initatives to begin using them again. In this instance, they would have been helpful.

The Marines and Colonel Delaney forced their ways into the tunnel system. The militia held up hard and began engaging the Marines more effectively as the Marines were drawn into the cave. Deeper and deeper they moved, killing ten, twenty at a clip. The platoons were doing well, taking very few casualties, advancing hard as they pressed into the caves. Still, the militia dropped like flies. Grenades weren't used except for Flashbangs, which made the Marines' job that much harder. Fragmentation grenades would work wonders but they didn't want to comrpomise the structural integrity of the caves. A cave-in would do much more harm to the Marines than it would do the militia. They worried about booby traps and explosives but there was no time. When one was found, it was quickly deactivated. They moved at a slow pace because of this, but were still extremely effective.

Colonel Delaney and his men were stepping over bodies left and right, as they shot to kill with single shots. They may have had their weapons on full auto but they were also only squeezing off a round or two at each target, aiming for heads, hearts, necks. They were skilled shots and they were at near point blank range inside the cave system. It was wide enough for four of them to pounce, shoulder to shoulder, but they kept low, in groups of two, checking every available fork, nook, and cranny. The hostages were deep inside the cave and Colonel Delaney knew this, he knew he would have to fight through the whole of the cave to get to the hostages. They were easily prepared to do this.

Each step through the cave yielded more and more bodies, as the Marines tore through the tunnels themselves. Flashbangs went off, bullets tore through the dirt walls, and screams echoed everywhere. The complex was red when the platoons converged on the general area, which was cleared quickly by Colonel Delaney and one other platoon. Each bullet that found its mark had a name on it, the name of a fallen Marines or wounded Marine, or airman, or sailor. Anger fueled their fury and their fight. Hatred for what they experienced drove Colonel Delaney and his men through the tunnel network like a wildfire. When it was all over, another 22 Marines lay dead, 64 wounded, and all bad guys killed. There were no POWs and the hostages were rescued.

Outside of the complex, around 09:02, Colonel Delaney called in the mission, again. "Command Bravo. Command Bravo. Lion One. Lion One. Requesting transmission. Over."

"Roger that Lion One. Authenticate Charlie Alpha Bravo. Over."

"Echo Niner Niner Seven Four Foxtrot Uniform Echo. Over."

"Cleared over."

"Hostages rescued. Complex eliminated. Request EVAC. Over."

"Stand by. Over."

"Tell me no again and I promise you I'll burn this entire island to the ground, swim my way back, and burn your whole fucking CIC. Me and my men are LEAVING RIGHT NOW WITH OR WITHOUT ORDERS!! UNDERSTOOD! OVER!"

"Roger that sir. EVAC authorized. Contact Lima 2-5 for EVAC. Over."

"Out." He turned to his men. The dirt and grime, blood and guts, and horrors of the battle stained their skin, their hair, their clothes, their pores, their minds. They all had nothing but blank expressions on their faces. "Firebomb this whole fucking rock!"

"Yes sir."

"Lima 2-5. Lima 2-5. Lion One. Come in. Over."

"Roger that Lion One. Report position. Over."

"Terevaka peak. Over."

"Roger that. ETA 5 minutes. Out."

Colonel Delaney looked at his men. "Let's get out of here!" They were 50 meters from the peak, a flat enough clearing for a helicopter to land. Whatever type of helicopter it was they cared not, they just wanted to go home. It took them 4 minutes to climb there, which left them another minute of waiting, another minute of hell. They could see the whole island from there, the smoking, smoldering airport, the torn and shattered Hanga Roa, the burning generator complex, and the destroyed King Moai. Fires and smoke rose everywhere. Bodies decorated the torn and horrid landscape. It was surreal, at best.

When the slap-slap of the Knight Hawk's rotors echoed around the sky, they all turned east, to see a speck coming inbound. It was a naval Knight Hawk, nearly there, flying slowly, too slow for Colonel Delaney and his men, even if it were moving at 120 miles per hour. The two Miniguns stuck out from the side, looking for targets, just waiting to unleashed hundreds of rounds of bullets in a split second against their prey. They wondered, would a Stinger streak up again, destroy this helicopter like the last. Nothing happened this time. The helicopter came into a hover and descended onto the mountain, its rotor wash sending dirt everywhere. None of the men took any cover whatsoever. The helicopter, landing right next to them, spaced between 3 and 6 feet from their heads, plenty of room. Colonel Delaney only looked at his men as they boarded the helicopter. He took one last look and climbed aboard, sitting down against the back of the cabin, left leg dangling over the edge, rifle still in his hands. "Go." The helicopter lifted off and banked northward. They were going home.

Chapter XIV: Salvation

Day Eleven

The time was 11:48 hours. The Knight Hawk touched down on the deck of the Odin CVAEN flagship and powered down. An MC-11B CSA was waiting on the flight deck, preparing to bring a load of wounded Marines to the Galapagos. Noise was everywhere on the deck and when Colonel Delaney stepped off, he was met by Rear Admiral Jason Stryker, saluted, and looked around. "Admiral. I wish I could stay but my men and I have important intelligence documents that must be brought to the Joint Chiefs. Where is that CSA going?"

"Colonel. I have orders to debrief you."

"I can't have that at the moment sir. I hate to disobey superiors but these documents are of such high importance that I cannot allow any more time to be wasted."

"Colonel. You will be court martialed if they are not so."

"Understood. Where is the CSA going?"

"Galapagos."

"Very well. We're getting onboard it."

"Colonel. I will have to make a log of this."

"I understand. Have it sent to the Admiral of the Navy and the Emperor. I will answer to them on this insubordination."

"Colonel. I cannot allow you to get on that CSA."

"Admiral. You have two options and one of them involves me shooting you. I will bring these documents to the Emperor."

"Colonel!" He started walking towards the CSA. "Colonel!"

"Yes Admiral?"

"Good luck." The Admiral saluted and Colonel Delaney and his men boarded the CSA just before it was to lock up on the catapult. Then, with a rush, the CSA was in the air moments later, for its long journey to the Galapagos Islands. The MC-11B had a range of 3,000 nautical miles and it was just under 2,000 to get there. Moving at a speed of 500 knots, they would be there in 4 hours, not too bad. From there, they would take the journey to Layarteb City by C-17, another couple of hours. It was another 2,650 nautical miles to Layarteb City and they would make the trip onboard a C-17 moving at 400 knots. In roughly twelve hours, they would be in Layarteb City, ready to face the Emperor and deliver their audio tape. Finally, they were able to rest.

They left the carrier deck at 12:17 and their ETA in Layarteb City, after the switch over in the Galapagos was 02:00, local time. It was a twelve hour journey, more or less, but they were crossing two time zones, going from GMT -7 to GMT -5. The flight was definitely one of long, boredom. The men rested, read a few books they managed to find inside the CSA. One listened to an MP3 player of a wounded soldier, who gave it to him because he wanted to sleep. Another played cards with two wounded soldiers who were coherent enough to play Poker, though without money. Colonel Delaney, on the other hand, was resting, just relaxing, eyes closed, though unable to sleep.

Midway to the Galapagos, he picked up the secure phone and tried to get through to the Emperor, a task which took time. He had to go through several switch boards and encryption checks. However, when he connected, he wasn't in the mood to lolly-gag around. "Emperor. Sir. Colonel Delaney."

"Colonel. You're alive!"

"I am sir."

"What do you have to report?"

"Sir. Full report will come when we are back. For now I can say this. We were captured but escaped. The island is in the control of the Marines. There are 1,070 casualties, including 344 fatalities. One frigate is sunk. Several aircraft are down. However, rebel elements do not exist in any great number. There may be a few pockets of a dozen or so men but they will be wiped out over time by the Marines."

"I know all of this Colonel."

"Good. So then you can be spared the gritty details. Both Force Spectre teams have been killed. The first one was killed and captured immediately. The second, the same, but they were traitors sir. They joined the militia. They too have been killed."

"Understood Colonel."

"There is one more thing. The Minister of Intelligence is a traitor."

"WHAT!"

"Yes sir. I have direct proof."

"Bring it!"

"Assemble him and the cabinet for our return."

"ETA Colonel?"

"We'll be landing around 02:00 something hours. So not long after that."

"Understood."

"Sir. They need not know."

"Understood Colonel. Just bring me the evidence."

"Yes sir." He hung up the phone and looked around. He kept his conversation hushed and, throughout the entire time, he held the microcasette in his hand. He kept it in his pocket the whole time. There was no way that he was going to give that tape up, no way!

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am glad to have had you all attend my meeting tonight. I understand that it is late and I dragged many of you out of bed for this and for that I apologize. I do; however, want to call the importance of tonight's meeting. Well this morning's. In light of this I will not hold our regular cabinet brief at 08:00 hours, like normal. Instead I will push that up until 13:00 hours. I believe that is fair.

"The reason for me calling all of you here at two in the morning is to discuss two matters. One is of the utmost importance but our guest of honor has yet to arrive. When he does we shall begin with that. The second is to discuss the importance of a major trade route throughout our Empire. The Reich has the Great Eurasian line, which runs from the easternmost point in Kazakhstan, all the way to Iceland. Our Empire stretches further. We need to link Ireland, Iceland, Greenland, our North, Central, and South American territories, the Caribbean, and our Atlantic and Pacific Republics underneath the same type of line. This line will take the shape of a question mark, so to speak, starting in Ireland and running down to Peru. I want it to touch every territory in some way, shape, or form. The Atlantic and Pacific Republics will both be drawn in by 'wings,' so to speak.

"In addition. That is only one matter within this category. The second is the Caribbean Republic. There has been a growing movement within the Republic to upgrade its status to Province. Ynoga was once a colony and Dnalkrad was once a republic too. All of our territories today have come about through labor, through progress, and through necessity. The Caribbean Sea and its territories is nothing less than a pure necessity to our dominion. Our Empire stretches from as far north as Greenland and as far south as Peru. Right in the middle is the Caribbean Sea and all of it is ours. This is our Manifest Destiny!

"So I may propose that we begin, today, and establish a council to look into the possibility of the Caribbean Republic becoming the Province of, well we'll leave the name up to them, for now. What do you all think of this idea?" There was silence, unusual. "Why the silence? Is there something that needs to be said? Yes. Interior Minister."

The Minister of the Interior was a tall woman, a powerful woman, and a woman who got to her position not through favors but rather through her cunning and extreme intellect. "Sir. The Cabinet has met about this matter before. Sir. We were under the impression that this option was non-negotiable."

"Very well. I open the floor up in that case. If there are objections please cite them. Yes. Since no one is interested to speak go ahead. The Minister of Justice has the floor."

"Sir. The Caribbean has hundreds of diverse cultures, speaking dialects of languages we do not have. The majority of the Empire speaks English. The Quebecois have a significant French population but that will die out eventually. We have a massive Spanish speaking population throughout South America and Central America sir. We have only one 'official' language but with the addition of these territories we will be adding them to a more elevated status. Provincial priviledges carry certain favors and requests."

"Are you concerned with the level of diversity we will be fused into ourselves?"

"Amongst other things. Yes sir."

"What are those other things?"

"Well sir. They will want further representation of their cultures. We had to deal with that with both Ynoga and South Eastern Virginia. It didn't go so well for the latter."

"You are talking about the Venezuelian struggle?"

"Yes sir."

"That is not a problem. Our military will take care of any of that, if necessary. I understand your concerns and let me remind you all that the same way we dealt with Ynoga and South Eastern Virginia will be dealt with here."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Any other concerns? Defense Minister?"

"Yes. We'll have to renegotiate force levels. I don't understand this to be a problem but it will take some time to construct the necessary equipment to expand."

"Yes it will. Payment will be made through treasury."

"Very well sir. And what of Project Pedro sir?"

"On time and on schedule. We begin construction in one month. The money is in place."

"Very well sir."

"Very good. I enjoy this. So, more?" Everyone sat quietly. "Well in that case. Let me find out if our guest of honor is here?"

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What is this about?"

"Don't worry." The Emperor smiled at the Minister of Intelligence and pushed the buzzer. "Amanda. Has our guest arrived?"

"Yes sir. He's coming in now."

"Very well. See him in please."

"Understood sir." The doors opened and a man stood before them, seven others behind him.

"Ladies and gentlemen. You are familiar with Colonel Delaney are you not? Very good. He has just returned from Easter Island and he will give us a debriefing." The doors shut and Colonel Delaney and his men stood there, unwashed and as dirty as they were when they got onto the Knight Hawk over Terevaka. They still had their weapons in their hands.

"Thank you sir. I have some disturbing news. Our first team that went in, a Force Spectre team, was ambushed and killed by their captors. The second team became traitors and joined the enemy. When we arrived, they knew it. We fought, were captured, tortured, and we endured the worst that our training gave us. My men and I escaped and fought with our forces as we retook the island. Surely you know of the sunken frigate and all of the other details so I will spare them. Before I digress further I must ask you all to listen please. This microcasette was captured from Major Francis, the leader of the second team. During interrogation he gave me this piece of evidence. Ladies and gentlemen, the enemy was supplied and tipped off. By who? The man is in this room. I beckon you to listen." He set the casette player on the table and pushed play, not moving from within ten feet from the Minister of Intelligence, who definitely knew he had been ratted out. The tape played and everyone listened intently. When the Minister of Intelligence attempted to get up, two of Colonel Delaney's men pushed him right back down into his seat, one pulling his pistol and putting it to his head. When it was over, everyone was silent.

"Well. What do you have to say for yourself? You have been found guilty of treason. By right I will have you executed right here. However."

"Sir. I represent factions who wish to see the return of the Republic. This Empire has gone on long enough."

"You mean to tell me that you are a representative of the RLA?"

"No sir. The RLA are only pawns for my organization."

"Gentlemen. I believe that our Intelligence Minister shall be brought to Nova Prospekt?"

"Aye sir. Although I would get pleasure in killing him."

"Colonel. Please. We need not a mess in here."

"Understood sir."

"So what organization?"

"You think it's that easy?"

"I don't think you'll cooperate at all. Not that it will change anything."

"No sir it won't."

"Very well. Amanda, please have the Minister of Intelligence arrested and brought to Nova Prospekt."

"Yes sir."

"Well." The Emperor stood. "It is a shame that you are a traitor. So tell me. Was the assassination of your predecessor planned?"

"An accident sir that turned out to be more than a blessing."

"We will find out what is going on."

"I am sure you will sir."

"Colonel. Please escort this man to the guards outside."

"Yes sir." The Colonel lifted up the Minister of Intelligence and looked right at him. "Just give me a reason." He whispered. As he dragged him out, the Minister of Intelligence looked right back at him and said some of his last words.

"You'll die eventually. I'll see to it." Promptly and without effort, Colonel Delaney snapped his left wrist, putting him right on the ground. "Fuck you!"

"Not likely. Guards. Escort this man out of here."

"Yes sir."

"Emperor. Sir. If you do not need us any further my men and I would like to get showered, cleaned up, and home to our families."

"Just one second Colonel."

"Yes sir?"

"Please stand at ease."

"Understood sir. Team! AT EASE!" The men stood at ease as the Emperor looked around, curious as to what was going on.

"Colonel Delaney. Through thick and thin you have shown the utmost courage and bravery to the Empire. Your loyalty has been unwaivering and your successes have been great. You have defended the Empire over and over and over again." The Emperor began walking towards him. "The Empire owes its sanctity to you. Many of its territories could not be had if it were not for your leadership. Therefore, the Imperial Layartebian Military and the Empire sees fit to promote you to the rank of Brigadier General, effective immediately. All of your men shall recieve promotions as well. Pending investigations and debriefing reports, which shall be filed no later than 24 hours from this time, we will confer medals and awards. That will be all. The Empire and I thank you greatly. Now be with your families. Dismissed!" The men saluted and left the castle, heading to their barracks, to fill our their debriefing statements, which more or less would be done via audio and recorded to text by a typist throughout the day.

On Easter Island, everything changed. The Marines worked to root out the last remnants of resistance on the island, killing and capturing as many as they could, however they could capture few, very few. The airport was repaired, the wreckage of the destroyed aircraft was found. The city was undergoing reconstruction and the bodies were being cleaned up. The island would be evacuated of civilians, not that there were any besides the 42 hostages that would not convert to the insanity that gripped the island. They were all brought back to the Empire, given medical treatement, and dispersed throughout the land. They would eventually become citizens of the Empire.

The main plan for Easter Island revolved around three major points. The airport would be transformed into a large airbase, large enough to handle bombers and cargo aircraft. Boeing 747s would be able to land. C-26 Condors would too be able to land. Air defenses would be brought in and the island would become a fortress. The second part involved the establishment of a major naval and submarine base, which included mass refueling capabilities. This would be more towards the center of the island, mostly dug into the terrain of the island. The last part would be a major Space Division facility that included long-range detection capabilities, satellite monitoring capabilities, and other minor goodies.

Supplies would be brought in via air and sea. Engineers, mostly from Manchurian Global, the primary defense contractor, would be working to build the fortress on the island. The Layartebian Defense Corporation would be producing tons and tons and tons of military hardware for the island, which included shipping, defense, and electronics. The entire project was going to cost between §250,000,000,000 and §480,000,000,000 but that was to be decided by the final counts. Either way, the money was authorized and on schedule.

The Galapagos Islands were dark. The grayness of an overhead storm chured the waters and brought an overcast that was nothing short of grim and gloomy. Still, the Globemaster III lumbered about, landing on 3,000 meter runway at San Cristóbol with ease. It was delivering supplies and fresh reinforcements. At the same time it was delivering a priority prisoner for Nova Prospekt prison, just a few miles away, on Santa Fé island. An MH-60L Black Hawk was sitting on the edge of the tarmac, waiting for the prisoner, as the C-17 breezed down the runway, stopping in less than 850 meters. It taxied immediately to the tarmac, coming to a halt inside of a hangar that was currently unoccupied but was large enough for two C-17s to fit, side-by-side.

The first to step out were four men, one of them in handcuffs and legcuffs, wearing a blue jumpsuit, a black bag over his head. The other three were armored individuals, carrying an M76 Tactical Shotgun or an M75 Submachine Gun and a pistol. They had batons at their hips and nearly dragged the individual to awaiting Black Hawk. He struggled as much as he could but the men, combined, could lift two of him and they had no troubles just picking him up and forcing him along the tarmac. When the Black Hawk pilot saw them approaching, he started up the rotors and the engines came to life.

The three men forced the prisoner into the cabin of the Black Hawk, by simply throwing him down. Then, they climbed in, restrained him, and waited for the Black Hawk to take off. When it did, the sea air flooded into the cabin. It was a sweet smell that everyone enjoyed, everyone but the prisoners. "Take it in boy. This is the last breath of fresh air you'll ever have." One of the men said to the prisoner, smirking as he butt the end of his shotgun into his stomach. "Suck in that air!" The helicopter banked west and leveled out at 500 feet, moving at 100 knots. It was a short flight to Santa Fé island and when the helicopter touched down, they got into an awaiting Dingo APV and drove to the prison. "Welcome to your new home. Nova Prospekt. Or should I just say. Forsaken Island." When his hood was removed, the Minister of Intelligence was shocked at the ghastly state of the sky and of the prison before him. It was an ominous structure that screamed pain and suffering. He would have a lot of it there. "Any last words?"

"Just one."

"Well go ahead."

"I only wish that the decayed within me would have allowed me to succeed."

"What?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Don't try that academic shit on me." He punched him right in the stomach. "Oh well. Time to go get checked in. I'm hungry. Want some lunch?"

"I haven't..."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Right..." The Minister of Intelligence dropped his head and looked around. Now I am one of The Decayed! He thought to himself.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/novaprospekt-01.jpg

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/The%20Decayed/novaprospekt-02.jpg

The End

I would like to thank all who have read this RP and I will now open it up to comments, suggestions, praise, criticism, etc. If you wish, please respond. Thank you.

Bravo o. Read it and quite enjoyed it. Very Well written and thought out.

I was suprised at the ease in which the railgun was destroyed. Does this story stop here? By that i mean does the Intel Minister disspear or cause trouble later: is he the "forsaken outlaw?

Great RP I must say, kept me reading at night when I was waiting for posts to come up elsewhere.

Bravo o. Read it and quite enjoyed it. Very Well written and thought out.

I was suprised at the ease in which the railgun was destroyed. Does this story stop here? By that i mean does the Intel Minister disspear or cause trouble later: is he the "forsaken outlaw?

His story goes on. The story of Easter Island goes on. Colonel Delaney's story goes on. No, he is not the "Forsaken Outlaw" but in time he shall be revealed. Thanks for the comments. You too Hirgy, thanks.

Read And Comment You Heathens!!!

That is possibly one of the best RPs I've ever read. Nice one Layarteb.

Reminds me to have another shot at RP once exams are out.

(Late, I know - but only now have I become bored of revision to the point where I had time to read this)

I've got more coming too. The story of Jack Delaney is no where near over.

I can hardly wait

Yeah when I figure out the angle I will. It won't be something as traditional as Yucatán, Kaliningrad, and this one, no something very different.

How about Bermuda? that place gives me the creeps.

It's a military fortress.