The Chase

Vincent wasted no time after speaking with Rourke and Sykes. He stepped out of the medical barracks, his mind already working out the details of the next operation. Marcus followed closely behind him, awaiting orders.

"We need to neutralize any remaining threats," Vincent began as they crossed the courtyard of the command center. "Garrick's forces won't just sit back after this. We're going to strike first."

Marcus nodded. "Understood, sir. What's the plan?"

Vincent glanced at his second-in-command. "I want a strike team. Twenty of our best. You'll lead them. We'll deploy two Blackhawks with an Apache for air support. The priority is gathering intel and neutralizing the remaining threat. No unnecessary engagements unless fired upon first."

Marcus's expression didn't waver. "Two teams, sir?"

"Yes," Vincent confirmed. "Divide them evenly between the Blackhawks. We'll have the Apache in the air providing cover and reconnaissance. I want this to be quick and clean."

Marcus turned and barked orders to a nearby officer, who immediately rushed off to gather the troops. Within moments, the courtyard was alive with activity. Soldiers moved swiftly, preparing their gear and assembling near the hangar where the Blackhawk helicopters were stationed. The Apache, sleek and menacing, sat nearby, its rotors spinning lazily in the warm evening air.

Vincent watched as the soldiers lined up, checking their weapons, loading magazines, and tightening their armor. Each of these men had been handpicked for missions just like this- disciplined, highly trained, and lethal. He trusted Marcus to lead them effectively.

As Marcus briefed the soldiers on the operation, Vincent remained close by, monitoring the preparations.

"We'll be flying in low," Marcus instructed the troops, pointing to a rough map of the area spread across a portable table. "Garrick's men are likely heading up to their outpost."

Marcus continued briefing the soldiers, pointing to a spot on the map marked with a red circle. "Intel suggests this outpost here is their fallback location. It's hidden deep within the forest, surrounded by natural cover, making it difficult to approach. We'll need to be fast, silent, and strike hard if necessary."

One of the soldiers raised his hand, the question on his face clear even before he spoke. "Do we have confirmation that Garrick is there?"

Marcus shook his head. "No confirmation yet. That's why we need eyes on the ground. If he's there, we capture him. If not, we gather whatever intel we can neutralize any hostiles, and get out."

The soldiers nodded in understanding. The Blackhawks were prepped and ready, their rotors slowly spinning up to speed. The team, now split into two groups of ten, double-checked their gear: assault rifles, grenades, night vision goggles, and communication headsets. Each soldier was equipped for any scenario.

Vincent approached Marcus, his voice low but firm. "Remember, no unnecessary risks." Marcus gave a curt nod. "Understood, sir. We'll be in and out."

The strike team moved toward the Blackhawks. As they climbed aboard, the whine of the rotors grew louder, drowning out the ambient noise of the courtyard. The Apache, armed and ready, hovered just behind.

Vincent stood back, watching as the Blackhawks lifted off the ground, their powerful engines roaring as they ascended into the evening sky. The Apache followed closely, its rotors kicking up dust and debris as it rose higher, the sound reverberating through the air like thunder. Onboard the lead Blackhawk, Marcus scanned the terrain below, the dense forest stretching out beneath them like a dark, impenetrable blanket. He keyed the mic on his headset, addressing both teams.

The helicopter headed towards where Garrick and his men were retreating and Marcus had his eyes on the terrain, looking for any signs of movement. The dense canopy made it difficult to see much from above, but the Apache flying higher overhead would provide critical aerial support if things went south.

"How's the thermal imaging? Did it catch anything yet?" Marcus asked over the radio, his eyes still scanning the forest below.

"Negative," came the reply from the Apache pilot. "We're seeing some heat signatures, but nothing definitive. Could be wildlife, but we'll keep an eye on it."

Marcus nodded to himself and kept his focus on the mission. They were getting closer to Garrick's supposed fallback location. Each soldier checked their gear one more time, making sure everything was in place.

As the Blackhawks flew closer to the designated coordinates, the tension inside the cabin grew. Marcus leaned forward, his eyes glued to the thermal imaging feed that flickered on the small monitor in front of him. The terrain was thick with trees and underbrush, making it difficult to distinguish between potential targets and the natural wildlife that roamed the

area.

"We're closing in on the target area," the Apache pilot's voice crackled through the radio. "Thermals are picking up something now-movement at ground level, heading northeast. It's not wildlife. Looks like a group of people."

Marcus's attention sharpened. "How many?"

"Looks like... at least six, maybe more. They're running, fast."

"Must be Garrick's men," Marcus muttered to himself, then switched his mic to the team frequency. "Alright, listen up. We've got movement-possible hostiles on foot, heading northeast. Be ready to engage on my signal."

The soldiers in both Blackhawks gave silent nods, their hands gripping their rifles tightly. The choppers descended slightly, skimming the treetops as they moved closer to the fleeing figures. The Apache circled overhead, its thermal imaging providing constant updates. "Visual confirmation," the Apache pilot said. "We've got at least ten individuals, heavily armed. They're splitting into two groups."

Marcus felt the urgency rise. "We need to act fast. They're trying to scatter and lose us in the forest."

He keyed his mic again, addressing both Blackhawk teams. "Team One, we'll pursue the larger group. Team Two, you flank the smaller group. Apache, stay overhead and provide

cover."

"Roger that," came the replies from both teams as they prepared for rapid insertion.

The Blackhawks swooped down toward the forest floor, and the soldiers jumped out, their boots hitting the ground with a muffled thud. Marcus led Team One, motioning for them to advance through the dense underbrush. The night vision goggles cast a green hue over everything, making the figures of Garrick's men faintly visible ahead.

"Move fast, but stay silent," Marcus whispered as the team pressed forward. The trees were thick here, but the Apache's eyes in the sky ensured they wouldn't lose track of their targets.

Team Two, led by one of Marcus's top lieutenants, moved swiftly in the opposite direction, heading after the smaller group of hostiles. The forest was alive with the sounds of their careful advance, leaves crunching softly underfoot, the faint whir of the Apache's rotors overhead a constant reminder of the firepower backing them.

Suddenly, Marcus spotted movement ahead-one of Garrick's men, weaving through the trees. He raised his fist, signaling for the team to halt.

"Don't move! Stay where you are!"