Rescue Effort
They didn’t steal the biggest, move heavily armed helicopter Stark had. They stole the smallest, swiftest one. The radio transmission said Cougar was shot and Clay wanted to get their fast. They needed to be light and lightning, in and out. It had enough room for the five of them, but just barely. There were disadvantages to having a small helicopter. Clay ticked them off in his head in rapid succession, light armor, light weaponry, and quick fuel consumptions. The sleek black bullet of a copter had a nose gun, basic communications and radar, and was still technically experimental. He’d been in the Army long enough to know that was most likely government bullshit for the price tag was too high.
They had to bring their own weapons, so went with the sleek P-90 which didn’t take up much room and laid down good cover fire. It was easy enough to secure on Dubai’s black market with very few questions. It wasn’t enough to take on a terrorist army, but if the five of them could take on fifty guys with AKs with just a Humvee and their balls, the three of them could pull of a rescue with an experimental helicopter and small arms.
Clay felt no guilt over abusing his friendship and connection to Stark Industries. He liked Pepper and said he’d given back all her information but he’d been lying. He had Jensen keep a copy of everything. Security codes, weapon stashes, personnel files and research was all stored on Jensen’s laptop. In black ops, information was power and going against Max they needed all the power they could get. Maybe after Max was dead, he’d apologize for it. Pepper seemed like the sort to forgive him. With the information, they strolled into Stark’s Dubai development center without anyone looking twice at them. Donning Hammertech uniforms to steal the helicopter was just to confuse the media and keep people from taking a really close look at the heist. It was quick and easy, just how he liked his operations to go.
“Shit boss, this’ll get us there in thirty,” Pooch said through the headset as they flew away from the hanger. “We’ve got to keep this one.”
“Make it twenty.” Was Clay’s response.
He knew, in the back of his mind where he was calm and logical, that he had done the right thing letting Cougar and Aisha go alone. The rest of them tagging along would have just ruined the operation and most likely gotten them all captured. There would’ve been no rescue if they were all captured.
He had also done everything right in the rescue effort. They got weapons and transpo as fast as they could but damn it didn’t feel fast enough. It was never good enough when his people were in danger, but it was the best he could do. After he got his people back, he’d beat himself up over it, once he saw the damage done to them. He was their colonel, they were his to watch out for and he hadn’t but right now wasn’t the time to think about that.
The sea between Dubai and Qatar vanished in what seemed liked no time at all. Once again they were over sand and civilization.
“We’ve got suits,” Jensen said, fiddling with radio which he had hooked up to a homemade frequency scanner. “CIA spooks have Coug and Aisha.”
“Pooch, sand blast them.”
“Got it boss.”
When the cities gave way to desert, Clay put on his gun and shifted in his seat. They were getting closer and his body was getting ready, flooding his system with adrenaline and the oddly calm state of mind that overcame him when he was heading into an op.
“I spy with my little eye something that begins with C and ends with assholes,” Pooch said as the CIA’s transpo helicopter appeared on the horizon.
The CH-47 Chinook was perched on a ridge, rotors absolutely still. They had ridden in the massive double rotor heli on most of their missions. It was a familiar, somewhat painful sight but the thing would take forever to warm up.
“Perfect.”
“There!” Jensen leaned forward and pointed to a group of people. There was one body on a stretcher, medics holding up various IV bags, and another walking close along side. “That’s them!”
It was them. The moment their helicopter began to descend right over the group the walking body whipped around and took down her two escorts with her hands secured behind her back. Clay knew that fighting style intimately. Aisha. If she could fight she wasn’t in as bad shape as he feared. The helicopter rattled as bullets started flying, but everything was obscured by a huge dust cloud of sand. Sand blasting.
“Good for jump!” Pooch said, whipping the helicopter around to point the nose at the worst of the fire. He strafed a line and much of the gunfire stopped, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.
Clay pulled down his goggles, grabbed the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. He leapt the short distance to the sand and opened fire on anyone shooting him. Jensen took up his left flank and laid down cover as Aisha took out the last of the escort.
“I can’t lift him!” She yelled over the whipping sands and thrum of helicopter blades, her eyes half closed against the sandstorm.
“Jensen.”
“Got it, colonel!”
Jensen took his P-90 and laid down more cover while he sprinted over to where Aisha crouched over Cougar, who was pale and looked pained.
“Thought you could have a little party without us, soldier?” he asked, gruff and relieved that they had gotten there in time. He pulled his knife from his boot and cut the plastic cuffs from Aisha’s wrists. Sometimes, Clay was grateful the CIA were penny pinching bastards. He couldn’t have gotten her out of the old fashioned metal cuffs with just a boot knife.
Cougar just shrugged and Clay shook his head before hooking an arm underneath his shoulders and hauling Cougar up. The sniper’s pained groan was close enough to his ear for him to hear and he cursed the bastard who shot him to Hell and back.
“Grab the IV!” he yelled and began the quickest walk-run he could manage back towards the chopper.
Jensen handed the guns over to Aisha for the IV and hauled himself back up into the cabin. Together, they lifted and eased Cougar inside and onto the floor.
“Aisha!”
She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes wild, mouth curled in a snarl. This was a girl who grew up in North Africa and collect human ears. This was the beast hiding in the beauty. Clay realized this was the part of Aisha that would hunt him down.
“Not now!”
She snarled at him, but dropped her guns and climbed aboard. He slammed the door, bullets raining down, but they shot skyward at rapid speed.
“What are we going to call you?” Jensen said as he worked on Cougar, who was actually passed out but Jensen always talked, especially when he was nervous. “One leg Coug, you can match Legless Pooch. Although, they got your shoulder too. Double Tapped Cougar?”
“Jensen,” Clay said, voice firm. “We’ve got ‘em. Cool it.”
Jensen let out a long breath and nodded. “We’ve got ‘em.”
They had to bring their own weapons, so went with the sleek P-90 which didn’t take up much room and laid down good cover fire. It was easy enough to secure on Dubai’s black market with very few questions. It wasn’t enough to take on a terrorist army, but if the five of them could take on fifty guys with AKs with just a Humvee and their balls, the three of them could pull of a rescue with an experimental helicopter and small arms.
Clay felt no guilt over abusing his friendship and connection to Stark Industries. He liked Pepper and said he’d given back all her information but he’d been lying. He had Jensen keep a copy of everything. Security codes, weapon stashes, personnel files and research was all stored on Jensen’s laptop. In black ops, information was power and going against Max they needed all the power they could get. Maybe after Max was dead, he’d apologize for it. Pepper seemed like the sort to forgive him. With the information, they strolled into Stark’s Dubai development center without anyone looking twice at them. Donning Hammertech uniforms to steal the helicopter was just to confuse the media and keep people from taking a really close look at the heist. It was quick and easy, just how he liked his operations to go.
“Shit boss, this’ll get us there in thirty,” Pooch said through the headset as they flew away from the hanger. “We’ve got to keep this one.”
“Make it twenty.” Was Clay’s response.
He knew, in the back of his mind where he was calm and logical, that he had done the right thing letting Cougar and Aisha go alone. The rest of them tagging along would have just ruined the operation and most likely gotten them all captured. There would’ve been no rescue if they were all captured.
He had also done everything right in the rescue effort. They got weapons and transpo as fast as they could but damn it didn’t feel fast enough. It was never good enough when his people were in danger, but it was the best he could do. After he got his people back, he’d beat himself up over it, once he saw the damage done to them. He was their colonel, they were his to watch out for and he hadn’t but right now wasn’t the time to think about that.
The sea between Dubai and Qatar vanished in what seemed liked no time at all. Once again they were over sand and civilization.
“We’ve got suits,” Jensen said, fiddling with radio which he had hooked up to a homemade frequency scanner. “CIA spooks have Coug and Aisha.”
“Pooch, sand blast them.”
“Got it boss.”
When the cities gave way to desert, Clay put on his gun and shifted in his seat. They were getting closer and his body was getting ready, flooding his system with adrenaline and the oddly calm state of mind that overcame him when he was heading into an op.
“I spy with my little eye something that begins with C and ends with assholes,” Pooch said as the CIA’s transpo helicopter appeared on the horizon.
The CH-47 Chinook was perched on a ridge, rotors absolutely still. They had ridden in the massive double rotor heli on most of their missions. It was a familiar, somewhat painful sight but the thing would take forever to warm up.
“Perfect.”
“There!” Jensen leaned forward and pointed to a group of people. There was one body on a stretcher, medics holding up various IV bags, and another walking close along side. “That’s them!”
It was them. The moment their helicopter began to descend right over the group the walking body whipped around and took down her two escorts with her hands secured behind her back. Clay knew that fighting style intimately. Aisha. If she could fight she wasn’t in as bad shape as he feared. The helicopter rattled as bullets started flying, but everything was obscured by a huge dust cloud of sand. Sand blasting.
“Good for jump!” Pooch said, whipping the helicopter around to point the nose at the worst of the fire. He strafed a line and much of the gunfire stopped, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.
Clay pulled down his goggles, grabbed the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. He leapt the short distance to the sand and opened fire on anyone shooting him. Jensen took up his left flank and laid down cover as Aisha took out the last of the escort.
“I can’t lift him!” She yelled over the whipping sands and thrum of helicopter blades, her eyes half closed against the sandstorm.
“Jensen.”
“Got it, colonel!”
Jensen took his P-90 and laid down more cover while he sprinted over to where Aisha crouched over Cougar, who was pale and looked pained.
“Thought you could have a little party without us, soldier?” he asked, gruff and relieved that they had gotten there in time. He pulled his knife from his boot and cut the plastic cuffs from Aisha’s wrists. Sometimes, Clay was grateful the CIA were penny pinching bastards. He couldn’t have gotten her out of the old fashioned metal cuffs with just a boot knife.
Cougar just shrugged and Clay shook his head before hooking an arm underneath his shoulders and hauling Cougar up. The sniper’s pained groan was close enough to his ear for him to hear and he cursed the bastard who shot him to Hell and back.
“Grab the IV!” he yelled and began the quickest walk-run he could manage back towards the chopper.
Jensen handed the guns over to Aisha for the IV and hauled himself back up into the cabin. Together, they lifted and eased Cougar inside and onto the floor.
“Aisha!”
She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes wild, mouth curled in a snarl. This was a girl who grew up in North Africa and collect human ears. This was the beast hiding in the beauty. Clay realized this was the part of Aisha that would hunt him down.
“Not now!”
She snarled at him, but dropped her guns and climbed aboard. He slammed the door, bullets raining down, but they shot skyward at rapid speed.
“What are we going to call you?” Jensen said as he worked on Cougar, who was actually passed out but Jensen always talked, especially when he was nervous. “One leg Coug, you can match Legless Pooch. Although, they got your shoulder too. Double Tapped Cougar?”
“Jensen,” Clay said, voice firm. “We’ve got ‘em. Cool it.”
Jensen let out a long breath and nodded. “We’ve got ‘em.”