Prologue - The Black Storm (1/2)

Storm was not okay. Feelings are very weird.

Because of the setting sun, large shadows of the trees were being cast along the grounds, which created panic from the Soviet soldiers, but a great opportunity to breed some terror and chaos.

Huh, that's weird, normally this would be his chance to run away, fighting against a force of twenty experienced elite officers was not what he would normally do.

Killing them is not the problem. Storm was more than confident that he would be able to kill most of them and send them running, the issue was with the transmission that went off a few minutes ago, how the captain of this Platoon had called in other nearby forces to purge the rebels completely.

The issue was already dealt with, a quick jammer had been set hidden from the soldiers, it would buy the rebels enough time to run away without the external forces being notified of their escape.

Now he had to deal with this platoon and then try and survive against the looming army in the distance.

Shouts in Russian came from below him, and Storm pressed himself against the trunk of the tree he had scaled to make sure that no one saw him.

It was a nice trick to do in the forest, one he picked up four years ago while fighting in Jordan.

People rarely looked up.

Storm watched silently as the soldiers approached his location, their rifles pointed forward, swiveling for the target that set of three grenades behind the enemy line.

While the first blast was simply to create panic, the following were made to disorganize the Platoons via shock with their teammates being killed quickly. The results were varied.

There was panic and chaos, but because of the tattoo captain, much of it was abated. Leading to search parties while the rest kept an eye out for the Rebels. He will have to take most of the attention.

Storm breathed deeply, before jumping down from his branch, knife ready.

It sunk into the soldier's neck at an angle, and he would die within twenty seconds from blood loss. A surprised shout came from his friend at the sudden noise of something dropping down on them, which turned into fear at the sight of his fellow soldier choking on blood.

He didn't stay still, having used the first soldier's body as leverage to jump behind the second one, he didn't even feel the pistol placed in the back of his head.

Not a second later a shot rang out.

Soon more enemies will be here, they will be able to circle him and leave him no option for escaping. That's good, if they all come to him then they would not have enough people to go after the fleeing rebels.

A quick plan began to form in his mind.

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More soldiers this time, he counted nine to ten footsteps, all crouching and slowly making their way to his position. When they saw three corpses on the ground, all in a pile as if to mock them they abandoned the pretense of stealth and boldly walked towards the dead bodies.

"Fuck, is this a game to them?" One of them said in Russian, Storm vaguely knew how to speak the language, the skill having been picked up after fighting in this war for as long as he could remember

"This is Jorshif pair, poor bastards." Another one said, who was closer now, crouching while examining the bodies.

"Wait, they were sent in pairs right?" The first one questioned his friend, from his tone of voice the confusion was obvious.

"Yeah so?" This time it was a soldier from further back, his voice gruff, which actually paired really well with his large stature.

"Why are there three bodies?"

Everyone was silent until a bullet ran through the one inspecting the bodies.

The other flinched back in surprise, a mistake, because Storm flashed into action, pushing himself off the floor in one fluid motion and kicking away the gun of the closest soldier, taking his knife and slamming it on his shoulder blade.

"Fuck, it's the Black Storm!" They all had recovered their composure at this point. But battle? Batte was just beginning.

The stabbed soldier was screaming in pain, the shoulder which he was stabbed having been twisted with the knife to make sure he didn't fight back on being Storm's human body shield.

Taking out a grenade from his pouch, now containing only two more, he pulled the pin and kicked the soldier towards four of his friends all aiming their weapons at you, taking his knife out in the very same motion.

Bullets flew, but they missed wide as Storm used the kick to land safely behind a large trunk of a tree. It would serve good enough for what was about to come.

The soldiers not knowing, tried to help their stabbed friend who was desperately crying something out.

"g-gre-grenade! He pulled a fucki-" That was as far as he got before a large boom enveloped the area.

The force of the explosion killed the four people around him, while the shrapnel made sure to injure everyone else.

Walking out of the tree trunk, Storm passively watched them.

It was gruesome, some didn't have their heads anymore, or their entire body had been exploded open for the world to see, organs being hazardly splashed around the area.

This would have been traumatizing on a number of levels even to experienced soldiers.

Storm has done worse when he was eleven, he'll live.

Whimpering got his attention, one Russian seemed to have survived the grenade shrapnel, if barely. He walked up to the downed soldier, his arm looking like it had been through a meat grinder.

"A-agh, you- you fucking monster, Monster!" He screamed, not in rage, not in revenge.

The soldier screamed in fear, as Storm raised his pistol, his dead eyes staring directly into the man's terrorized ones.

Yeah, even if what he was doing was to save lives, it didn't absolve him from what he was about to do.

He was a monster, and that's what he'll always be.