webnovel

The Reclaimers

In the name of the Architects. 21XX, With the rise in terrorist activity stretching from southeast Asia to the middle eastern countries, and north Africa, the United States of America has authorized the Joint Special Operations Command to conduct high risk missions to dismantle these groups. Sergeant Mike Randall of the 75th Ranger Regiment is reassigned to a task force to take down a terrorist cell in Pakistan. With the cooperation of members from the infamous Delta Force officially known as Special Forces Operational Detachment- Delta, he and his squadron conduct a high-risk mission into the city of Peshwar to eliminate a terrorist leader, yet the mission goes awry, and they are thrown into a world of Knights and Magic.

MrFruity · Krieg
Zu wenig Bewertungen
78 Chs

Mission Change

"I think it worked." Patterson exclaimed gaining the immediate attention of his teammates and the Sage. Taking out a knife and dislodging the lead bullet from its spot within he cartridge, the powder that came out of the newly formed bullet was almost eerily like that of the original 6.5 APC, with the only difference being that slightly daker gunpowder that would theoretically create a fair amount of gas upon combustion.

"That's just a theory." Baker sighed as he helped the Great Sage to his feet, "We won't know until a few bullets go through someone's weapon…"

Silence flooded the room. Standing tall and swallowing his nervousness, Mike immediately noticed the tension that had built up from those words alone.

"It's what he would've wanted." In a blink of an eye, everyone turned towards the main entrance. Under the sunlight that entered through the open window, a man stood in mutli-colored clothing.

Captain Thompson walked in the room with a serious expression on his face. "This is an opportunity we have to take. I don't like the sound of it, but he would've pushed me to do it anyways."

Lieutenant Patterson gave a small smile to the captain. "Alright people! Daylight's burning, get your asses into gear!"

As Mike and Baker began to look over the Great Sage's hand while Green, Simon, Richard and Malkovich began to collect the loose ammo into the tray, Thompson walked over to the old man and crouched down in front of himas he asked a single question. "Can you tell me why you bothered to assist us? We were the ones that manhandled you in the beginning."

"Please, call me George." The man said weakly as Mike wrapped gauze around his hand.

"Okay George. I still need you to answer the question; Why did you help us?" Thompson once again pressed the question as he motioned his hands towards the bandaged arm that George had.

"I…" The man sighed as he gentle set his injured arm over his lap. "Though your men have made prior hostile transgressions against me, it is still my duty to support those that serve the kingdom." He said tiredly as he took a breath every other word. Being older and wiser he was easily able to discern what the men before him were thinking. It was easy to compare his past within the research division of Yondel, to how these men presented themselves.

They were smart. They were well beyond what he could ever be.

"I have no true reasoning for helping you all." George said softly as he felt a sharp pain in his burnt, right hand. "It just is a simple gut feeling." He said finally gaining the strength to brush away the hand Baker used to support him. "Take your ammunition. You will need it in the coming war." He brusquely said as he raised himself to his feet with great struggle.

"Coming war?" Baker asked precariously as he shot an inquisitive look towards the captain. "We don't even know what our enemies look like… How are we supposed to identify a fucking demon lord?"

"One problem at a time Staff Sergeant." Thompson said as he watched Green, Simon, Malkovich, and Richard take the tray of ammunition out of the room. "Right now, we should worry about what our next move is. The attack on Bishmark was something no one expected…"

"Could be a terrorist attack." Mike said as he packed away the remaining contents of his trauma pack.

"Yeah, but from what I've seen, there should be no reason why the people-" Patterson cut himself off as a sudden thought came to his mind. "No-no. King Aldrecht said that this country was in an economic crisis. And not only that, but the main central trading hub was attacked by an organized group."

"Patterson, what do you mean?" Thompson asked as he stepped away from George.

"Economic crisis. Terrorist activities. Combined arms warfare. Demon Lord." Patterson snapped his fingers together as he began to list several words and phrases. The remaining men in the room watched as he attempted to figure something out, "Ah! Come on!" He said placing his hand on his hip. "Something about a civil war-that or a revolution."

"Woah, woah! Hold up Asian man, you're loosing me here." Baker exclaimed.

"French Revolution?" Patterson said as he sat down on a nearby box. "It's almost like the kingdom has come out of some revolution recently, perhaps within the last ten years?"

"The Princess's family name!" He suddenly said loudly making George flinch. "The king's last name is Shaldrecht and the princess's is Araish."

"I think everyone has realized that by now lieutenant." Mike said while staring at George. "If you mean that the previous king was Lecca's father, who was the one that killed him and the previous members of the royal family?"

"Circumstantial evidence points to it." Patterson said picked up a bullet left by the four. "It's a plausible conclusion, but anything beyond it would just be conjecture."

Smacking his dried lips, Mike motioned for Baker to assist him in lifting George of the ground. The Great Sage let out a pained groan as he was lifted to his feet, then he stood supported thanks to the two Rangers. "As much as we owe you for this George, can I ask that this conversation is kept between us?" Thompson suddenly said gaining a tired nod from the old man.

"Yes." He said nervously. "I shall keep quiet about this manner, just come to me whenever you need ammunition or supplies, that is as far as this relationship will go."

Satisfied with the man's answer, Thompson turned around and walked out of the room. His next destination was the training grounds within the castle. His next mission would come from the princess herself, as it was the first time she would act as their official commanding officer. That alone ticked him off, as he did not trust 'foreign' officers to oversee his own troops, but he supposed it was something to put up with until they could return to Earth.

As he approached the training grounds, two men dressed in normal clothing followed him from behind. Their attempt at sneaking around him was pitiful, and it made Thompson annoyed as he kept track of their distance through reflective surfaces of pots, mirrors, and windows. One man brandished a knife, while the other seemed to have a blunt object tucked away in his trousers. The captain kept his hand close to the holster sitting on his thigh. If needed he would engage the enemy, but for now the best choice was to meet the princess, as he hoped she or Captain Orwell would be enough to scare off the men, let alone apprehend them.

Approaching the open-air entrance to the training grounds, Thompson stopped as he spotted Princess Leccamaradel and Captain Orwell. The two were joyfully talking to each other, yet that was not the issue he was worried about. The two men trailing him had stopped and hid behind the corner less than a meter away. His hand firmly withdrew his handgun, and he remained motionless as one of the men's breathing went silent.

A deafening roar came from the other side of the training field.

Lecca's eyes widened as she quickly turned on her heels withdrawing the knife had concealed in her belt.

Being pressed by one of the men that had suddenly charged him, Thompson skid back about five inches, but her remained focus as he spotted the knife that was closing in on his abdomen. A small amount of dust was kicked up from the ground as the captain intercepted the knife with both his hands. The metal blade just skimmed his right palm, yet it was enough to draw blood.

"You devil!" The man that just attacked Thompson screamed as his eyes almost seemed to bulge from his sockets.

"Captain!" Lecca called out.

Keeping his eyes on his attacker, Thompson felt a sharp pain in his wrist as the attacker loosed his grip and broke free. Using his left hand and holding the knife in the reverse grip, the attacker aimed to stab Thompson's neck, but he was countered as the captain used his own left hand to grab the man's wrist and guide it to his right sending the blade flying into the dirt.

Using his momentum, Thompson forcibly thrusted his palm into the man's solar plexus, and as the man was stunned, he grabbed the man by the neck and swept his legs sending him into the ground at a violent speed making him fall unconscious the moment he hit the ground.

A blood curling scream came from the second man as he rushed forward with a bludgeoning stick. As the man went to thrust the stick into Thompson's chest, the captain swiftly used his bloody hand to redirect the sharp end parallel to the second attacker's chest. He pushed the stick down and he sent one solid punch into the man's jaw making him slam into the ground with blood pooling out of his mouth.

"Captain…" Lecca stepped up to Thompson who was breathing heavily and clutching his right wrist.

Six Royal Guards rushed from the entrance Thompson had been attacked from, and after several crude orders from Captain Orwell, the two attackers were taken away to the local prison within the capital city.

"Princess." Thompson said as he caught his breath. "What is the mission you have for us?"

Taken aback, Lecca stumbled in her thoughts as she forced out a cohesive sentence, "The… The king has ordered for me to lead you and your men behind enemy lines to recon the Demon Lords armies while we assist local settlements within the frontier."

"Recon, huh?" Thompson said as he wiped a sweat from his exposed forehead. "Best to not keep you waiting."

Walking up to the two, Captain Orwell made himself known, "Have your men ready by tonight. I'd rather send them out under the light of the moon."

Nodding his head and walking slowly away, Thompson mumbled the words "Just like old times".

All the Princess and her Knight Captain could do was stare as the man disappeared around the corner.

--

Publicly Available Information: Close Quarters Combat (CQC):

Close Quarters Combat is a hybrid system of multiple different martial arts, military, and police tactics which was developed for military servicemembers to fight enemy hostiles hand-to-hand with efficiency and safety.

The fighting style is a majorly a combination of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Japanese Jiu-Jitsu, Judo, Karate, Krav Maga, and Kickboxing. The style is well known for the use of rapid alternations of armed and hand-to-hand combat techniques.

Though it was developed by the U.S military, it has seen common use in self-defense scenarios.