Insurgency

All Randall could feel was the tense air. The hot air was seemingly amplified by the lack of air conditioning in the shop, and over an hour ago he had run out of water in his canteen.

With his footsteps being muffled on the carpet below his feet, he walked quietly down a set of hallways attached to the shop. It wasn't long ago that all the rooms, hallways, and adjacent buildings had been cleared, yet the entire shopping district seemed empty.

Stepping on shattered glass from a resultant explosion some unknown time ago, Sergeant Randal quietly and swiftly stepped inside a small room. Behind him, Sergeant Malkovich noticed his movement and followed with curiosity. Slowly the two entered what appeared to be a children's room.

Standing in the middle of the dusty room, nothing but tattered clothes and destroyed toys laid around the two Sergeants. Spotting a small frog plushie on the ground, Randall knelt and picked it up. He inspected the plushie with an apathetic interest.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Randall asked while shooting a glance at Malkovich.

"Yes. I'm afraid I have." Malkovich responded as he opened the closet. Inside laid nothing but clothes and spare blankets and pillows.

Letting go of the frog plush onto the dust covered floor, Randall stood back up as he patted his hands together. "Who knows what happened when this whole mess started."

Opting not to answer the vague statement, Sergeant Malkovich remained silent as his counterpart rummaged through the rest of the room in a nonsensical hope of finding something to take his mind off the current situation. Soon after, Randall stopped the search as he found nothing of interest. Malkovich watched as Randall took of his left glove to wipe his face.

"Were you lucky enough to catch a few hours of sleep?" Malkovich questioned much to the surprise of his counterpart.

"Yes?" Randall responded wearily, "Have you?"

Malkovich simply shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the now visible bags under his eyes. Before Randall could say anything in response, he mouthed "let's go" and calmly walked out of the room leaving a confused Randall.

Soon following Sergeant Malkovich, a conversation was brewing back in the shop as Lieutenant Patterson explained available options to both Staff Sergeant Baker and Captain Thompson. "-We're cut off from the TOC and our intel is quite limited on the strike team and Pakistani SSG. Our options are limited for our next move."

Randall walked into the room and gained both Thompson's and Patterson's attention. "Our current objective should be to get-the-fuck-out, but that doesn't mean we're not going to check for our men. We at least need to investigate the target building before we extract."

"This place could act as a safe house. It's relatively out of the way from any governmental buildings and military or police installations." Sergeant Malkovich spoke up gaining control of the conversation.

"True but we know fuck all if this is some sort of rebellion. Let alone wonder if the Russians have gotten involved." Randall quipped gaining several curious glances.

Clicking his tongue, Thompson made the final call. "We'll check the target building and if we're lucky enough to find any members of the strike team or the Pakistani forces, we'll bring them here before we head to rally point Hotel."

"That's quite far out..." PFC Simon said out of line, "Pardon the interruption sir, but I believe we should just sweep the target building and then leave. I don't mean to say that we should leave them behind, but eventually someone is going to come looking for us. Friendly or not, we don't have the manpower or the resources to get caught in the middle of this."

Thompson shook his head as he got up and grabbed his helmet, "You're not wrong, but we'll do things my way. Any objections?"

No one made any attempt of resistance, and one by one they all rose from their makeshift seats. With Simon glancing outside then giving the all clear, each one left slowly till no one was left inside the now-abandoned store.

High above, flocks of birds watched over the men as they traversed the ruined district. Bullet holes, blast shadows, and destroyed vehicles littered the grounds they traversed. It was clear that they were no longer within the dead-zone.

Passing a destroyed American Stryker Mark V. Thompson directed his men to investigate the wreckage, but oddly enough the rear doors were wide open, and what would've been the soldiers inside were nowhere to be seen. In addition, the gear each man would've carried was seemingly gone, only the loose straps on the seats were scattered about.

"Hope they made it out of here in one piece." Simon murmured as he leaned against the Light Armored Vehicle.

"I'm starting to think that we should just head to one of the Pakistani bases. I mean after all we are working with them and some of our guys should be on base." Patterson mentioned as the group began to move through the back alleyways.

Keeping his carbine in the low-ready, Randall kept glancing to the men behind and ahead of him. The bolder ones such as, Thompson, Patterson, Baker, and Malkovich leaded the men through the ghost town, while the shook stayed behind to watch their six.

Such similar events played out even in the normal infantry. Strong minded and tough soldiers took to the front to lead other men into the face of danger. Randall himself was somewhere in the middle; he was both frightened by the sight the saw of the bloody mess back at the apartment buildings, yet he wasn't going to succumb to fear. He still had to get the others out of the city before any drastic consequences happened.

As they walked Green repeatedly said the same phrase of "keep it together" over and over as he attempted to calm himself. The Private First Class had yet to be officially deployed, and all technicalities had this operation to be his first.

"Quiet!"

Suddenly Malkovich hissed out as the group suddenly came to a halt. The men in front raised their weapons. The barrels and sights pointed well beyond the current alleyway they were in. Moving into both positions of cover and concealment the group soon thereafter let the silence envelop them. With their positions masked, seven armed men walked on the street ahead.

Casually walking, ten men in mismatched battle dress uniforms wielding an assortment of weapons ranging from the AR-15 to the more modern Kalashnikovs spoke to each other in Arabic which no one but Sergeant Malkovich knew.

"Malkovich what are they saying?" Lieutenant Patterson whispered to the Sergeant next to him.

As if he was dialing a knob to increase the volume on a speaker, Sergeant Malkovich held up a flat palm signaling for Patterson to quiet down. All the others follow suit and stopped shuffling.

"They're talking about the capital building not far from here. Something about 'one final effort'. Seems like they have the upper hand on the Pakistani forces." He murmured.

"They have the upper hand? So, what happened to all our guys?" Patterson responded in a whisper.

"The communications blackout is probably preventing any air power from coming inside city limits. Hell, for all we know, comms might be out wholesale." Randall mentioned as he inched his finger off the trigger of his M-5.

"That means we're screwed right?" Simon said hesitantly.

"No. We locate the Delta team then we get out." Thompson abruptly interrupted the conversation. "Be lucky that the patrol is long gone or else you little 'conversation' could've gotten us all killed." He scolded the Randall and the others as he rose from the ground.

Understanding the more than obvious hint provided, the small talk completely banished as the group now reached the target building. Each of their footsteps grew heavy as the men breached the inner cordon, or what was left of it. There on the hot asphalt laid the members of the Pakistani SSG, ten to be exact. Each one laid dead, their bodies riddled with bullet holes, and the ground below them had dried creating a purple-red hue.

A light cough came from Green as he resisted the churning in his stomach. Lieutenant Patterson walked over to one of the bodies that was laid against a street barricade. He lifted the body off and laid it on the ground gently. His face grimaced at the sight of the bullet wound that had made the SSG member's face unrecognizable. Reaching at the neck area with a gloved hand, Patterson tugged the man's dog tags out and looked at the name, Farid Ahmed.

"They're SSG. From what I heard there were eighteen of them?" Patterson asked with a pained look on his face.

"We need to check the building." Thompson directed the other Rangers pointing at the rear entrance of the building away from any prying eyes, "Target Brutus could still be in play, and one of our guys could be in the wreckage."

One by one the Rangers looked towards the caved in building. The entire roof and half of the second floor had been turned into mere rubble. Much of the main entrance was covered by debris, and the stench of death emanated from the building.

Publicly Available Information: World Superpowers:

In total there are six superpowers on Earth as of 21XX:

- United States of America

- Federation of Russia

- Germany

- People's Republic of China

- Republic of India

- Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan