A Fallen Dominion

Not far away the booming claps of the rotor wings of the unknown helicopters closed on the district American forces were operating in. The slim silhouette of the helicopters was of Russian design, but no one could tell who or what nation was flying them.

Randall pondered on this question as he and the others closed on the 1st floor of the apartment complex, they were formerly in. In history, Pakistan had been well known for conducting business with the Russians, Chinese and other western countries. Their arsenal was varied and was suited for a myriad of engagements.

Yet even with such an arsenal, the government still requested assistance from the Unites States rather than the United Nations or the European Union. This of many pieces had yet to fall into place to create a cohesive reason on why they pleaded for help, but there was no time to figure out such a puzzle.

"Move it people!"

Captain Thompson said this as the flurry of stomps grew louder. Staff Sergeant Baker was sweating bullets as he made several more attempts to contact any friendly airwings during the decent, but unluckily for him and the Rangers, it was impossible to contact anyone due to what was believed to be a full spectrum jammer that had knocked out coalition communications.

The constant flights being made by the Air Force and Army had finally died down, yet this scared the men more than it comforted them.

"C'mon, last floor!" Richard shouted as he increased the speed of which he was going down the stairs.

"Richard, hold back!" Randall said as he pressed forward to catch-up to the Corporal.

Stopping at the doorway they had used to access the stairwell, Richard finally stopped and leaned against the wall as he catches his breath. Randall and the others caught up to him, and a mildly annoyed Sergeant Randall grabbed Richard's shoulder and pinned him against the wall.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?" He said with a booming voice. "You trying to get killed? Calm down!"

"Sergeant, we need to get a move on." Patterson chimed as he directed himself and PFC Green to open the door.

Releasing Richard, the demolitions "expert" sighed. "Fuck."

"Alright. SSG shouldn't be far away, but don't provoke them. Make sure they won't shoot you on sight and call out to them before you do anything rash." Thompson explained as the men walked through the main foyer towards the rear entrance of the building.

With Green on the right and Richard handling the door, a swift nod from Thompson green lit the movement. With the door swinging open and the men pooling out, what they laid eyes on was downright gruesome.

"Holy shit..." Simon whispered while covering his mouth.

"What the fuck is this?" Patterson aggressively said.

"I think I'm going to be sick. Is that the SSG?" Green said balancing himself on a wall.

In modern warfare there was always a chance of seeing a deformed or disfigured body that was more than unnerving and more than downright psychological torture, but with the weapons that could cause such a sight, what troops on the ground were most likely to see was a puddle of blood or something tamer.

What laid before them wasn't the result of a 30mm cannon from a gunship or the fragments of a mortar shell, but what was identified as three members of the SSG was beyond horrific. It was as if someone had neatly cut them open and turned their bodies inside out. Pulps of red stained the asphalt and organs were shining in the sun; the odor was almost unbearable.

"Keep your eyes off it." Randall said in a forceful tone. His eyes furrowed at the sight and a sick feeling overtook his stomach as he turned to Captain Thompson, "Respectfully sir, it's time to move."

Captain Thompson breathed heavily, and his arms began to stop shaking. The members of his team looked at him worryingly as they questioned his state of mind, but almost as if he switched something in his mind, a weary composure set over him as he almost stuttered out his next sentence, "Head towards the target building. We'll... We'll let the Pakistanis know where their men are."

"Shit's looking like a sw-" Vomiting, Green barley kept himself together as Sergeant Randall attempted to keep him on his feet. The mix of brown and light stomach acid sprayed onto the asphalt and parts of it landed on their boots, but there were no complaints made by anyone. The mission had yet to be completed, and they were alone in unknown territory.

"We need to move; our SNAFU is going to get worse from here." Randall said as he practically dragged Green to his feet.

"Fuck. We're probably stuck in hostile territory. Watch your backs as we move." Malkovich warned as he began to look around with a cautious glint in his eye.

Leading the weary squadron, Randall slightly raised his rifle and shouldered it. The barrel was now pointed at the ground several paces ahead waiting to be raised at a target.

As the group reached the end of a street just out of view street, a large explosion echoed from across the district followed by a large shockwave that toppled over a myriad of loose objects. Randall and Richard, who was behind him, lost their footings.

"Move into the building! It'll be a shortcut!" Patterson yelled over the confusion.

As the men moved to a small shop, the sound of gunfire began to erupt all over the district. Sporadic firefights had broken out and as they grew closer to the shop, bodies of Pakistani troops, and local resisters littered the streets. It was clear that they were approaching the nexus of the conflict in Peshawar.

Partisan fighters began to rally just beyond the target building, yet the Rangers remained unaware. What was happening was more than a movement against coalition fighters, but to many it seemed that an all-out revolution had broken out.

"Keep it up!" Thompson took the lead as he directed the group to divert their course from what appeared to be a kill zone. The carcasses of LAVs, APC, and ATVs littered a highway along with the remains of any normal civilian vehicles. Something was amiss in the dead zone they were in.

As the group reached the shop at the end of the street, the claps of a helicopter approaching alerted them and snapped them to attention.

"Hind! Hind!" Private Jackson bellowed as he slowly backed towards the building with his rifle raised to the armored gunship closing in.

"Get inside and clear it!" Randall ordered as he pulled a M90 Stun Grenade from the pouch on his battle belt.

Swiftly moving, Green and Richard moved opposite of Randall and glanced inside looking for hostiles. Gaining all clear, Randall announced "Flash!" and the stun grenade through the doorway.

The grenade rolled along the stained wooden floor until it came to an abrupt stop, thereafter, an abnormal "crack" came from within the shop along with a bright flash that lasted for two seconds.

Stepping through the door and peering right, Green took the lead as he and the others entered the shop. The smell of phosphorus and the residual smoke left in the center of the room was quickly drowned out by Randall as he and Sergeant Malkovich moved opposite of Green and Richard.

A loud shout came from the opposite side of the shop. An older man who looked to be in his late forties walked out of an adjacent hallway with a handgun in his hands.

Simon was the first one to register the man as a threat prompting him to raise his M-5 in defense.

"Drop it-"

In a split-second Simon's voice was drown out by a gunshot, and both him and Randall opened fire on the man collectively shooting eleven bullets center mass. The man was long dead as his body slumped over and the other Rangers moved down the corridor to secure the rest of the building.