Hi, everyone. Just thought to try something different. Please forgive my English so I'll try my possible best to make it normal. We're just here to read stories so please the names and characters are just fiction. I'm not trying to promote any propaganda or incite racism. I have trouble naming things so I just pick a random name for all the characters.
All manner of criticism is allowed as nobody is perfect. This is the beginning of the story and I'll love to hear your opinions. Feel free to ask questions please. I hope this does better than the ongoing Torpedo

PROFILE:
NAME: Raheem A. Kazeem
RANK: Sergeant
AGE: 24
HEIGHT: 183 cm
NUMBER: 311976519
D. O. B: 19 December
NEXT OF KIN: Zubayr Kazeem (Brother)
SPECIALTIES: Combat and sniper specialist, trained mechanic, excellent navigator.

PROLOGUE:
The vehicle, a red Toyota Starlet with no plates, trundled down the rough track off the road with its headlights burning through the thick layer of fog that surrounded the area.
The driver cursed loudly, doing his best to keep the wheels under control. But given the conditions and his overweight frame in the driver's seat, it was all he could do to keep the car steady. The front of his kaftan was already drenched in perspiration.
It took him ten minutes to locate the meeting point -a clearing in the middle of nowhere. Two cars were parked just at the edge of the clearing, their headlights dimmed and set to light up the meeting point. It was difficult to identify them from the distance but he thought one was slick black while the other a dull grey. He stopped but didn't switch off the engine. A man suddenly appeared at the passenger side door and knocked four times.
'Alhaji,' the new arrival greeted as he peered through the glass. His young features were dulled in the darkness but Alhaji recognized him immediately from the soft voice. Haruna.
Alhaji gave him a hateful glare. 'What was it that couldn't wait till tomorrow? I told you it's dangerous for me to leave my residence at night.'
The young man bowed a little and muttered an apology.
'Come on!' Alhaji yelled.
Haruna hesitated for a second before regaining his composure. 'We have the girl. And her father.'
Alhaji's demeanor lightened a bit. His eyes glinted and his heart beat hopefully. He licked his bottom lip.
'Where are they?'
'Tied up in the back of that car,' Haruna nodded in the direction of the two cars.
'Good,' Alhaji replied curtly. 'Keep them blindfolded and don't let them be able to identify you or their surroundings.'
Haruna grinned then straightened up as the glass was slowly raised back up.
'Alhaji, Alhaji!' He hailed.
'Do it well this time,' Alhaji said coldly before knocking the car to reverse. His hands shook in uncontainable excitement. When he managed to get far from the scene, he stopped the car and heaved a sigh of relief. His goals were coming to fruition.
##
Raheem shifted uncomfortably in the OP. His body ached from lying in the hole for the past five hours. The elevated ground had made for a chilly night, the fitful naps had made him feel twice as worse. But at least the fog was starting to settle. He was sharing the shift with Sax, his mate, who was operating the night vision scope.
"Hey, Raheem!' Sax whispered sharply. 'Someone's coming.'
He immediately felt the sleep leave his eyes. He pulled out his own night vision scope and observed. The whole world in front of him turned lemon green as he magnified the lenses towards the small vehicle coming from the west -his left- and stopping at their twelve o'clock, just short of the two other cars parked there. Estimated distance between the unit and targets: 150 metres.
'Do you see it?'
'Yup,' he whispered back. 'Looks like a Starlet to me.'
'It's a f#cking Peugeot.'
Raheem glanced at his colleague, who was still mumbling the car model to himself. He crawled out of the half-metre-deep OP and made to their lying-up point five metres behind. He gently tapped on the unit leader -Josh's- boots. He awoke immediately.
'We've got visual,' he whispered.
'What time is it?'
'Twenty-three hours on the bang,' Ayo whispered back.
'Keep eyes on. I'll contact headquarters in the IM.'
Raheem nodded and started crawling back to the observation post. He heard the unit leader waking the forth member of the unit, David. David mumbled weakly.
'Get the f#ck up,' Josh said a little louder.
By the time he had returned to the OP, Raheem could hear Josh trying to establish communication with HQ.
'Come on, you piece of shit!' Josh muttered as he fumbled with the radio. All that came was white noise.
'The car is leaving,' Sax reported, eyes glued to his scope. 'Can't get hold of HQ?'
'I knew this was crap,' David said for the first time since waking up. 'Batteries are a frigging joke!'
'Overwatch, Overwatch, this is Woodpecker, do you copy?'
Static noise came from the LUP. Raheem heard both David and Josh curse.
'Hey!' Sax called his attention. 'Can you nail them from here?'
Raheem raised his scope again. He whispered, 'roger that. But who am I shooting?'
As Sax turned to reply, a single gunshot came from the direction of the two cars shortly followed by a female cry.
Josh spoke rapidly. 'Sax, on me. Raheem, David, cover us.'
With that being said, the two men rushed forward, surging down the sloping ground. They disappeared into the overgrowth below.
Raheem tucked in nicely in the OP before settling his sniper rifle with the barrel poking just outside the hole. He heard David cocking his rifle behind him, all while cursing the mission.
'Keep your head straight, @sshole,' he whispered to his mate. Lining up his other colleagues in his sights, he said again, 'forty metres to contact.'
'Copy that,' other three members replied in unison over the earpiece.
He moved his weapon ahead and clocked two men dragging a female, dragging her roughly towards a small pickup parked facing eastwards. Three more men joined the small group to help with the struggling female.
'I can see five hostiles ahead, all bunched up. Careful, Blue Bird is among them.'
'Copy that. Do you see X-Factor?'
'Negative.' The men overpowered the woman, bunching her up in the passenger seat of the pickup. He rested his finger gently on the trigger. 'I'm about to go loud.'
'Take your shot.'
*********THREE MONTHS LATER**********
[i]Kaduna[i]
Raheem stirred in his apartment bed. He was covered in cold sweat. The low breathing on the bed next to him reminded him he wasn't alone. He looked at the beautiful face sharing his pillow. She looked so innocent in her sleep, 'like an angel in human form'. Remembering the phrase brought a small smile on his face. Sax had coined it up for him as a pick up line for any girl that was proving 'stubborn'. Not that it had worked, but Raheem just seemed to find it hilarious.
Then the events of the previous evening came crashing down on him. He remembered seeing different faces, the alcohol, the lights, the women. Then came the nightmares: all the bodies, the smell of rotten flesh. A dull feeling of nausea crept up his chest and he had to sit up to suppress the gag reflex.
The girl stirred. She moaned softly.
'F#ck,' he cursed silently before slowly picking his phone from the floor and then padded n@ked to the other side of the bed to pick his clothes. His eyes swept across the figure outlined under the sheets and he felt the heat of arousal in his gut.
Raheem was a good soldier. A damned good soldier, as his superiors had put it. But ever since the brutal butchering of his parents two years ago, he had been fighting a personal battle with an uncontrollable urge towards the cigarettes and women. His good looks did nothing to help, either. He always had it easy, even with Victoria, the girl he couldn't give up on even after announcing her engagement with the son of a senator.
Not that it was her fault, of course. She had been pressing him for marriage for months, but he wasn't ready -he had developed a dislike for family after the death of his parents. 'We live by the gun, and die by the gun', he always convinced himself. He was not ready to worry about coming back home to family during missions. This had made him one of the most capable hands in the army ranks. He got the job done by all means. He was ruthlessly effective and the Eagle Force had allowed him to demonstrate his capabilities without fear of being identified or arrested.
The Eagle Force was the government's best kept secret. They're the special forces of Nigeria. Codenamed Eagle Force or Eagle Service, they carried out covert, overt and all sorts of deniable ops around the world. As with all special forces, Eagle Force soldiers were the best trained soldiers around. They operated and are financed under the army but only a very few knew of their existence. Sometimes, even Ayo himself doubted its existence.
'Ayo...' Victoria whispered, she called him by his middle name. 'Come back. Where are you going?'
Shaking himself back to the present, he wore his trousers and pulled out a pack of Rothmans cigarette. 'I need to take this.' He gestured at the cigarette between his fingers before heading out. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table told him it was just past midnight. As he made it through the threshold of the apartment building, he had made up his mind to tell Victoria they couldn't be together anymore.
###
He felt his neck and back covered in perspiration. His muscles flexed in rhythm with his thrusts. Victoria writhed beneath him, her hands dawdling all over his body before firmly settling on his shoulders. She was moaning continuously and kept rubbing her legs up and down his thighs.
Raheem's mind was elsewhere. His mind conjured pictures of his mother, battered and burnt beyond recognition. His father had it easy, and instant headshot. They thought they were being honourable, soldier to soldier. After they let him watch his wife get burnt? A surge of anger boiled in his chest. He exhaled sharply, thrusting harder.
'Sorry, son,' the CO had said to him when he asked to be deployed to fight the terrorists, 'but our fight is elsewhere. I can't send my soldiers on a wild goose chase even by their own consent.'
And now the terrorists had almost been defeated and he hadn't taken his revenge. The anger boiled. He didn't notice Victoria's high-pitched whimpers nor her nails digging his ribs.
F#cking revenge, he thought with a final thrust. She rose up and hugged him tight to her warm body, legs coiled tightly around his waist.
He quickly rolled off her and lay on his back as he tried to catch his breath. Victoria wormed closer and cuddled herself to his body. Her hand lay dangerously near his organ as he pulled her body closer and covered them with the blanket.
A warm silence filled the room while the two lovers cuddled with each other, both in a world of their own.
'Ay,' Victoria finally broke the silence.
He looked down and saw her doe eyes meet his.
She continued, 'why do you keep rejecting me?'
He sighed, unwrapping his hand from around her soft skin.
'Vic,' he said carefully. 'You want to have a family of your own. A husband.' She nodded. 'I'm not the family kind of guy.'
She frowned, 'then why do you keep sleeping with me?'
'I don't know.'
'You're lying. Lying to me and yourself. You know you love me but you just want to torture me.' Her eyes welled up with tears as she said this and he felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.
He gently cupped her face in his left hand and kissed way her tears. He knew what she wanted to hear but he knew if he said it he'll be lying again. He let the tension ease a bit before looking over at his clock. 0445 hrs.
He rested his head on the pillow and drifted off.
###

We are here again. Maximum respect to the writer

interesting. Following

###
It was the beeping of the alarm clock that woke him. Raheem reached for it, fumbling with the snooze button for a moment. 0550 hrs.
Victoria stirred near him. She looked as comfortable as she had always been beside him. He traced the back of his right hand gently on her face. He couldn't deny that he was in love with her. She had loved him unconditionally for almost a year now, and it had helped fill in the gaping hole left by his parents demise.
It was her love that kept him on his feet, from falling into the endless loop of oblivion.
What am I doing? He asked himself, retracting his hand. People like him, they don't get to be in love. Trouble and deaths were always around their corners. Followed by a cloud of misfortunes. He existed to ensure normal people led normal lives at the expense of his. It is a condition he had to live with, a condition he had to love.
He quietly rose to his feet, wore his jeans, and proceeded outside to fetch a bucket of water from the compound well.
Unlike most of his colleagues who drove at least two cars and lived as luxuriously as they could, Raheem preferred keeping a low profile. Nothing to draw unwanted attention on himself or his job. He had specifically chose this particular neighbourhood after studying it for a month beforehand. The three storey building faced the street, five rooms on each floor each with a single toilet located at the far right of the building. He particularly chose the second floor and the room in the middle -room 3- as it was the only room that had no burglary proofing for the window at the back of the room and it provided a good view of the road beyond the metre-and-a-half fencing. He found out during his tour of the place that only ten rooms were occupied. Four on the first floor were vacant as it seemed all the tenants wanted to be anywhere but on that floor. All the tenants in the third floor were students while two families lived on his floor. The sole occupant of the first floor was a man of mysterious movements; he never goes to work, but he's the first to pay rent. Not that it bothered Raheem, of course. The more important matter was that everyone minded their own business.
He met Mrs. Felix drawing water from the well into five buckets arranged beside her. She had just filled the first.
"Good morning, ma," he greeted while reaching for the rope in her hands.
Mrs. Felix gasped before breathing a short reply. "You frightened me... I didn't hear you behind me."
Mrs. Felix was the wife of James Felix, an igbo policeman who lived off barracks in order to be able to foot the bills. They had two daughters who both attended Kaduna poly. The family lived in room 2 near Raheem.
Very nice people, he thought as he quickly filled the remaining four buckets.
"Thank you o, my son," she smiled as she raised a bucket to her head and started back towards the house. "Chioma," she addressed the girl she met descending the stairs. Raheem couldn't hear what they talked about in hushed tones while the Chioma girl glanced over her mother's shoulder in his direction numerous times.
He quickly filled his bucket and was set to go when Chioma stalked up to the well.
"Mum said you helped us fetch the water," she spat viciously. "Thank you."
A cursory glance in her direction reminded him of her profile: nineteen, fair complexion, not more than 5'2", a bit plump hence the medium-sized cleavage she did nothing to hide under her silky knee-length nightie, and a damn tight @ss.
Raheem caught himself. "It's nothing."
He saw her eyeballing his chiselled chest and tight stomach and chided himself for not avoiding her in the first place.
Chioma and her younger sister, Helen, never hidden their attraction to the male gender. They shared identical physical features with Helen being the more beautiful. Raheem had profiled them as underage and confused teenagers so tried avoiding any sort of romantic relationship with them. What with the Victoria thing going on, he doubted if he needed his life to be more complicated.
Chioma's eyes darted towards the entrance and the second floor before she gently moved towards him.
"Who is the girl in your room?" she asked him squarely.
"A friend. Why?"
"Nothing," she smirked. Her eyes glinted with mischief. "I just thought I saw her with another guy last week."
He stared at her for a full ten seconds before exhaling. She was trying to rub him the wrong way. Playing mind games.
Without another word, he picked up the pale. She was lying, he convinced himself.
He got to his room by 0625 hrs. He had decided to break the routine early morning run and that had got him in a gloomy mood. Victoria was getting ready to leave, she worked in the bank nearby, a twenty minute walk from his apartment. The conversation with Chioma sank into his mind like he never thought it would and soon enough his mood was dampened. He made it a priority to come clean to Victoria about their affair.
But that would be after he got back from base.
####
It took Raheem almost half an hour to get to the junction that led to the Air Force Base. It was normally almost impossible by foot, but he had lived long enough in this area to know his way around. And he needed the walk. It was a substitute to the jog he missed earlier and he took the opportunity to do some soul searching.
Ten minutes later he was at the gate flashing his ID card. He exchanged a nod with the young guy he met at the guard post before proceeding to the tarmac road down towards a huge utilitarian building overlooking the gates. Men and women dressed in camouflage gear moved in and around the building. He noticed the empty parking lot on the far right.
The senior officers must've been busy, he thought.
He took the left turn, towards the hangar. This particular area was filled with aircraft noise and shouts coming from all angles. He continued to the back of the first building where another building stood. This one was smaller and looked slightly better. He saw the CO of Eagle Force discussing with an unknown middle-aged man. The man was dressed in knee-length caftan complete with cap but Raheem instantly identified him as military. Air force, maybe.
The CO, Lieutenant Colonel Femi Akanbi, a fifty something-odd-years squat-looking Yoruba man with bright eyes and pronounced moustache, dark skin, stood in his oversized camo staring at Raheem as he arrived. He looked steely at him.
"What time is it, sergeant?"
Raheem checked his wristwatch. "Seven fifty-five, sir."
"Took your time, yeah?" The other man said. He was light skinned and had an arrogant look about him. His eyes scrutinised the young soldier.
Raheem didn't answer. This was special forces business.
Femi realised that and quickly interfered. "You know we're here thanks to the hospitality of our air force colleagues?"
Raheem nodded.
"This is Squadron Leader Danladi Baba," the OC said in form of introduction.
Raheem saluted. The man nodded curtly.
"Wait for me in the briefing room," Femi said. "The others are there too."
Raheem walked past the men and headed deeper into the base.
####
The briefing room was a comfortable fifteen by fifteen hall with plastic chairs and tables arranged in rows and columns. A whiteboard hung on the wall overlooking the room and had an office-sized wooden table in front of it. Everything temporary, Raheem thought to himself.
He was seated amongst Sax, a six-foot, heavily built two-fifty pounds mass of muscles. Next to him was a handsome guy Raheem immediately put down as an SBS. Then in the farthest corner, sitting alone, was Tracker, a no nonsense special forces soldier through and through. They exchanged glances and a nod. His dark skin glinted under the bright fluorescence.
Five minutes later -at 0830- the door opened and two men walked in. The noise from outside left as quickly as it entered when the door was shut. Soundproofing, Raheem thought. What was said within those walls stayed within them.
The CO was together with a man Raheem quickly recognised as Major Emeka Samuel, OPs officer. He was a decorated national hero; led his men and survived three conflicts in the North East and South South.
The two men took their seats behind the desk. Femi cleared his voice. He shuffled the papers in his hand on the table and looked straight at the men.
"Three months ago a high ranking officer and his daughter were kidnapped by unknown gunmen," Femi stated. His eyes briefly caught Raheem's as he continued. "We managed to get the daughter out but could do nothing about the father's demise."
He let the last statement hang in the air until it felt like someone was about to say 'hit the nail'.
"The seniors are getting cranky about the whole mess and have arranged resources to get the job done. Major…" -he turned to the ops officer- "I'll leave the rest to you." He scraped his chair back and trotted out of the briefing room.
Major Emeka adjusted his seat and looked individually at each man.
"Intel got to us that the suspect is holed up in Azeke, a village just twenty klicks south of Yenagoa -the Bayelsa capital," he said. "Be warned: the Ministry of Defence are yet to hear of this mission, hence the covert and sudden nature of it all. You'll be dropped at the state's northern border where you'll be picked up by our contact in town."
"How do we know he'll not blow us?" Tracker asked. He more of murmured the question.
The Major stood up and passed A4 photographs of an obese man. Late thirties, rough, shady.
"Bala has been our most trusted source of information in the south. Thanks to our friends in MI6, we managed to get a satellite mapping of the estimated location of the target." He went over to the whiteboard and unfolded a military map of Bayelsa state. A portion of the map -just below the Yenogoa capital- was circled in red marker. On the top left of the map was a smaller printout of the area, satellite imaging.
Major Emeka tapped the circled area with his index finger. "One of the cruellest zones in the country: armed robbery, oil theft, and damp weather, you name it. The area is controlled by our man, alias Alhaji." He pulled down the map and held up another grainy photograph of a man. The photo was taken from a distance but Raheem could just make out the man's light skin and white kaftan.
"He runs an oil business up to the eastern border towards Port Harcourt and is protected presumably by pirates or mercenaries alike."
"Why don't we just insert by sea through the Bight of Biafra, then?" Sax asked. A good question. Raheem didn't feel particularly happy about moving cross-country exposed in the air.
"Negative," was the reply. "That would mean alerting the sea patrols about your presence. You will be dropped at the border by the air force. Your mission is to dig in, observe, identify, and extract the target alive. This is a deniable operation so be cautious. Call sign Polo Two Three Delta."
"How do we exfil?" Raheem asked.
"That's where the Navy come in" -he turned to the SBS man- "Sadiq?"
"Our patrol will be in Port Harcourt in more or less fifty hours," the Sadiq guy said, his voice dripped with Northern accent.
"So you round things up by then. But if things go south and you couldn't make it in fifty, there'll be a car waiting for you at the original RV. Sadiq would be your forth teammate. You leave in three hours."
With that, he packed his papers and left the room.
###
Note: the methods used in this story are strictly fiction. No regards to the real thing whatsoever

thanks for the update

oya come and continue

So interesting. Ride on boss

###
Raheem sat -with his phone glued to his ear- in the briefing room. His other mates had gone out to make similar phone calls, he imagined.
He heard the bleep of the call going through, followed by the 'Number Busy' sound. She's probably at work, he thought.
Raheem caught himself thinking about what would have been if he had chosen to be with Vicky for the rest of his life. He couldn't see himself sitting in some skyscraper somewhere, completely oblivious to reality, pushing papers. And then going back home pretending to his family that everything was good -much like his parents did. Until crisis struck and they all went down in one rifle burst.
No, he thought. I'd much rather be here.
With that, he dropped the phone and picked up the mission papers for revision. He had a job to do and things to pack.
#####
"Yes, sir. I know the-" the Chief of Defence Intelligence, Babangida Lukman, said. He paused to listen to the reply from the other line.
Even under the air conditioning, he was sweating profusely. The hostage situation had been three f#cking months now and there still hasn't been any action taken. The DSS, Ministry of Defence, and the fat b@stards up at Aso Rock had been around his neck. Even the Senate had a few choice words for him and his counterpart in the Nigerian Army.
Now he was listening to the President himself giving him a whipping. There were times when Babangida thought of retirement, and this was one of those times.
"Yes," he answered. "I'll contact them immediately."
As soon as the line went dead he picked up the telephone on his desk and speed dialed the Eagle Forces Office.
When a problem needed solving, you call the boys in. To the public it's just the army at work. But deep within confidential government circles, it's the special forces you're looking at. They've had their fair share of f#ck ups over the years, but the plus side far outweighs the negative.
"Yes?" a voice answered. It was the direct secured line of the Head of Special Forces, Alex Ugo.
"It's Babangida," there was no time for pleasantries. "The President wants to know about the hostage thing."
"We're working on it," was the withering reply.
"How?" Lukman demanded. He always hated all the classified nonsense.
"We have men on ground as we speak."
"And you never thought of telling us this?"
"It's your agency's f#cking duty to gather and pass information to us for use and we had none!" Alex snapped. "I had to get my men to sort your own @ss out for you, dammit."
Lukman swallowed. He ignored the insults. At least if the chips went crashing, he had just found himself a scapegoat.
####
Raheem was dressed in his camo gear complete with kevlar helmet and ops coat. His bag containing extra rations and miscellaneous items was stashed at his feet as he checked his rifle and side weapon. He did a quick headcount of his tools and where they were located. When he was satisfied, he stashed the pistol in his coat and started to sort out ammo.
The room was filled with the sounds of the others loading their guns and other things. They all had a look of concentration etched on their faces. The atmosphere was tense.
The door slammed open and Major Emeka strode in. He also looked as sharp as the rest of them.
"The ministry had been notified about the operation," he said blankly. "Changes nothing, but the President has given a three-day ultimatum. We get the status of the prisoner and also neutralize those b@stards. You'll travel under the radar to keep the secret tight as possible. Let's go get our man."
"Yes, sir!" The unit replied in unison.
"Tracker, you're patrol leader," the Major said with finality. "Chopper touches ground in less than an hour, so get a f#cking move on!"
Raheem spent the rest of the remaining time running over the objectives in his head, memorizing the routes, passwords, and intel. A glance at the others told him they were in the same frame of mind. Those intense seconds before an op, they are the most intense moments in an operator's life. You had to ready your mind for every kind of possibility and to think on your feet. There was no time for second-guessing or being slow.
Time check: 1230 hrs. 30 minutes till takeoff.
Thunder boomed above the roofs and everywhere suddenly started losing light. If he hadn't been keeping up with time, Raheem would have thought it was evening already.
He heard shouts coming from outside and saw air force soldiers hastening up. Not that it mattered to his unit, of course, it just meant one thing. As if communicating telepathically, the four men wordlessly brought out gun sleeves and started wrapping them around their weapons.
Over the growling of thunder and noises outside, Raheem made out the distinguished rapping of helicopter blades. The others heard it too as they exchanged looks and reached for their packs. The door opened and Major Emeka walked in again, his brows furrowing.
"They're here," he said.
With one last quick check at himself, Raheem followed the rest past the ops officer, outside.
The helicopter, an Airbus H215M, landed on the tarmac just 20 metres away from them. The side door opened and a soldier in camo was gesturing at the unit. Sax got in first, followed by Tracker, then Raheem and then the door closed behind Sadiq.

Following

interesting

The journey was slow, owing to the bad weather across the country. Just two hours into the journey, the helicopter had juddered four times. They had to fly low -maybe 35 metres- when they could, or a bit over 90 when they came across residential areas.
The air between the unit had eased a bit and their faces loosened just a little.
"What section of the navy?" Sax asked all of a sudden. The question was directed at Sadiq. Everyone looked at him in a 'don't ask these kind of questions at this time' kind of way.
"Seaman," Sadiq inclined his head proudly as he said so.
Sax nodded wordlessly.
Raheem peeked outside. The land was getting greener the more south they headed, and the clouds were thicker, too.
"With all the rivers and tight areas," Tracker screamed over the storm and chopper noise, "you might think the poor b@stard got somewhere better to hide."
"The Niger Delta region can be the perfect hideout for one who knows its in and outs," Sadiq said. It was becoming obvious to Raheem that this guy has got a mouth on him. An exchanged glance from Tracker confirmed they were having the same thoughts.
He can talk while in transit all he likes, but on ground, the last thing they needed was a leaky mouth. Raheem simply hoped the guy's skills were as good as his words, or they're f#cked up even before the mission starts.
The soldier seated with the unit spoke, his voice was clear over the surrounding noise. "Call coming in from command."
Tracker collected the earpiece and boom mic.
"This is Polo Two Three Delta, come in."
It took him about thirty seconds to listen to command. "Copy that." He removed the comms and handed them back to the soldier.
"Intel has it that X-factor might still be alive," he said. "We confirm and extract both of them. Alive."
#####
The man was dressed in denim shorts and a plain T-shirt. His face was obscured by the shades he wore which mismatched the weather. But he wasn't wearing it for fashion. It wasn't his best clothes, but it suited the environment he was in. Some jobs require that you dress as awkward as possible, and this was one of those jobs.
He watched as traffick moved slowly in the overpopulated city. More than two-thirds of the cars on these roads were way past their better days. The humidity in the air had a passive smell of exhaust smoke.
A car stopped a few metres away. Tinted windows, sleek design. It was the car he had been waiting for. The rear-right passenger window crept down a little and a hand gestured at him. He walked towards the front passenger side and slid into the car. The driver was dressed in a crumpled suit with a bulge around the edge to tell him he's armed.
"It's good to see you have stuck to the timing," the voice at the back said. Good English, a little cracked though. "What do you call yourself again?"
"Kingsley," he replied. He knew from previous meetings that he wasn't allowed to look his employer directly in the face. Sitting here with him was the closest he could ever get.
The voice groaned. "You see, Kingsley, I have received information that men are being sent over and I don't like it. Gather your men and take care of the problem."
Kingsley nodded.
"These men almost spoiled my plains a few months back and I can't afford that happening again, not to mention Haruna was a bloody idiot."
"Who are these men, if I may ask?" Kingsley asked.
"Nigerian Special Forces."
######
Time check: 1845 hrs.
"We're reaching the Bayelsan border," the pilot announced. "ETA, forty-five minutes."
Raheem and the rest of the unit double-checked their personal weapons and gear as the pilot made the announcement.
The weather down south was worse than it had been in the northern part of the country. The rain was relentless and some of it seeped into the aircraft. Weather like this, the roads were going to be perilous if even usable.
"That puts us in Azeke by 21:00," Tracker said.
They were close to the LZ now: Raheem could see a plain patch of land covered in green that extended in all directions. Towards the southwestern direction was a narrow road leading south. From this distance, it was difficult to estimate.
He felt his stomach lurch a little as the helicopter started losing height. As soon as it touched ground and the doors were opened, the four of them spilled out, running in different directions, shoulders hunched from the downdraught. They hit the ground at the same time.
Raheem focused on the vast area of vegetation in front of him, ignoring the wet ground and the light drops of water that fell from the sky. He heard the pitch of the chopper's engine rise as it ascended and soon disappeared into the night. The rain had stopped by now.
Carefully, he brought out a night vision scope from his bag and surveyed the terrain, the muffled movements around him told him the others were doing the same.
The undergrowth stuck to the land around them: green grasses protruding just 2-3 inches off the wet ground surface. To the southwest, about a kilometer-and-a-half away, was the narrow path he saw while in the air. It was wide enough to accommodate two vehicles. The path came from the south and continued due north without stopping.
The unit lay low as a cold night breeze blew over them.
Tracker's voice whispered in Raheem's ear: "Fifteen minutes to rendezvous."
Command could put all their eggs in Bala's basket all they want, but none of the unit's members would trust a fixer with even the dust off their boots. The same way he was paid to be a government man was the same way he could be paid double to turn the government in. At the end of the day, he'll walk away with two paychecks for a treachery well done.
Tracker's voice again: "Raheem, you're with me. The rest of you, keep us covered." He let it sink before speaking again. "Number one."
"Two," Raheem muttered into his comms.
"Three," said Sadiq.
Then "four," by Sax.
Tracker turned his body westwards and started crawling, followed closely by Raheem at a 5 metres distance.
Ten minutes later they were at the edge of the path heading north. They waited.
Twenty minutes passed and a light drizzle started to fall.
"Where the f#ck is he?” Sax complained.
The drizzle had gotten heavier, and Raheem was quickly soaked. Thunder boomed, as if confirming that rain was coming. He could feel the exposed areas of his camo stick to his skin.
Lights. They lit up the path, burning through the slants of drizzle. Just then, Sadiq's voice came: "Car coming from the north. Moving at about twenty."
A car trundled past them and Raheem could just barely hear the driver whistling. It was an old Honda Accord model with dents on the body and bumper areas. The rear indication lights were broken, leaving the bulbs exposed.
The car stopped 50 metres ahead, facing south. Raheem noticed the lights were still on.
A man stepped down and leaned against the side. A small fire appeared inches away from his face and it was soon obvious he was trying to light a cigarette.
"Give it three minutes," Tracker said.
"Go," Tracker said three minutes later and they rose from their hiding spots, onto the rough track, and up to the driver.
Raheem recognized Bala from the dodgy eyes and smug behavior. He clumsily turned around to look at them approach before straightening up and addressing them.

Tanks for the update

"Go," Tracker said three minutes later and they rose from their hiding spots, onto the rough track, and up to the driver.
Raheem recognized Bala from the dodgy eyes and smug behavior. He clumsily turned around to look at them approach before straightening up and addressing them.
"Did you have to be late?" His voice was gruffy, and he had to speak louder over the successive boom of thunder.
Tracker stopped short of Bala while Raheem moved past him. He reached the man, turned him around and quickly frisked him. "Get your hands up."
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bala protested.
"Hands in the f#cking air," Raheem hissed.
He emptied the man's pockets: a small Nokia phone, Rothmans cigarette packet and a lighter. As he did all that, he saw Tracker move to the other side of the vehicle, clearly checking to make sure there was nobody nearby.
"You f#ckers are sick," Bala blabbed. "Sometimes I even wonder why I help you lot."
Tracker came around again. "How do you intend to go back?"
Bala gave him a ridiculous look, "you'll drop me off, of course." He looked from Tracker to Raheem with narrowed eyes, then added, "or are there more of you coming?"
"Not a chance in hell," Tracker pulled out a thousand naira note and handed it to him. "Get a move on."
The man just stood there, dawdling around.
Raheem gave Tracker a quick, meaningful glance. Tracker shook his head.
"Now!"
The man started walking back in the direction he came, muttering curses.
Sheet lightning flashed and the downpour got heavier. They let five minutes pass and ensured Bala was nowhere in sight before signalling the others to join. Moving quickly and efficiently, they packed their bags in the boot, guns wedged near the doors.
Tracker nodded at Raheem, "take the wheel."
The engine coughed a few times before firing and Raheem had to pump the clutch a couple more times before it engaged. Cursing, he steered the wheel and trundled down the muddy path ahead, making sure to switch off the headlights. The Bala guy could easily be in hiding somewhere -or he might backtrack- and the headlights will give them away.
The rain was relentless. The wipers were of little help but at least they were on the move.
"We wasted forty minutes in all," Sax said from the back. "We should have hosed the bastard."
"And give every bastard on the lookout a reason to tail us?" Tracker said.
The car fell silent once again.
**
The 20 kilometer drive seemed like 80: the roads were slippery under the wrong type of tyres and the car itself was nothing to write home about. They moved at a meager 15 km. It got worse every time they were driving up a slope.
Ten minutes later they approached a 'You're Entering Azeke' sign and Raheem drove off the road into a farm. They moved deeper for about 5 kilometers before reaching a stop and they alighted the vehicle.
From his study of the map, Raheem knew their target was about a kilometer and a half -southwest- away from their current location. But taking the car any further would not only bring attention on them, it'll also be difficult to navigate the terrain. They were lucky to have made it this far, but luck doesn't hold out for long. From his observation, he saw that the rest were of the same thought.
"The location is less than two klicks southwest of here," Tracker addressed them. "We'll tab off the roads until we reach elevated ground where we can set up OP. This is enemy grounds so let's be careful, right? Nobody wants to go back home in a box."
They set off in single file, patrol formation. Five metres apart, due to the rain and poor visibility. Order of march: Sax, Tracker, Raheem and Sadiq at the rear. The rain hammered hard, drenching the patrol in a matter of seconds. The terrain was mercifully level except for the shallow ditches riddled around.
Time check: 2150 hrs.
The unit hit the muddy ground. Sax took out his night vision scope and panned around the area. He wordlessly passed it to Tracker who also looked around and passed it over. Raheem took the scope next, the terrain ahead immediately turning pale green.
500 metres from their position, to his two o'clock, were the buildings he saw from the satellite imaging back in the ops room. It stuck out among the other houses around it because it was the only building in the village that was two storey high -the rest were little more than wooden or muddy shacks. Poor architecture, Raheem thought, considering the geography.
The front of the building faced east. There was a balcony on the second floor and as Raheem maximized the scope, he clocked movement around the building perimeter. Five guards. Probably more.
He passed the scope to Sadiq.
Tracker pointed to a spot about 30 metres to the right, where the overgrowth was a little higher.
"We OP there, dig in and get eyes on the building."
Twenty minutes later, the unit had settled into position. There were two holes, the first about a metre by two, just enough for two bodies to cramp in -the OP. Then ten metres behind it was another hole, same size -the lying up point. Sax and Sadiq took first shift while Tracker and Raheem got some rest.
"Don't fall asleep in enemy territory," Tracker muttered.
"I know, right."
****

****
0245 hrs.
It was a small open compound, about forty by forty metres. Three buildings: the target building on the right, facing east; a rectangular mud house overlooking it from across the compound on the left; then a third similar one facing north. Horseshoe formation. Open ground of thirty-five metres in the center.
Raheem kept his eyes peeled at the building and surrounding area. The other houses around the target building's 50 metre radius looked to be deserted, but one can't be too sure from this distance. The dark ground behind the building suggested that there was a vast volume of water there. Sure enough, when he took out his scope, a river flowed from the south, heading west.
That is why, ten minutes ago, Sax left to recce the area. It wouldn't come as a surprise to Raheem if there was a runaway boat stuffed somewhere in those waters.
The rain had slowed down now, giving way the cold. The sort of cold that seeped into one's muscles and caused spasms. The sort of cold that made you lose your wits. He could already hear his teeth clattering. Get a f#cking hold of yourself, Raheem thought, you have been through worse.
"You would think those crackers are on a weekend trip out there," Tracker whispered from close. Raheem almost forgot he was sharing the OP with the mission leader.
Before Raheem could reply, he saw movement to their three o'clock. A dark mass, moving stealthily towards the OP. He slowly reached for his side weapon with his left hand while the right lowered the scope to the ground. Two silent clicks behind him and to his left told him Tracker and Sadiq have got his back.
Due to the darkness, the distance was impossible to tell. But Raheem estimated it to be no more than 30 metres away. He deftly crawled through the undergrowth, stopping once to check his direction. The target was also closing in, but it was obvious it hadn't spotted Raheem. It wouldn't, until it was too late.
Raheem stopped after fifteen metres. He could hear the intruder's footsteps grazing the grass. Five metres away.
Four.
He tightened his grip around the Glock-17 he wielded. Shooting the gun would be his last resort, but he wasn't going to take chances.
Three metres.
Raheem sprung to his feet. The target froze for a second. Dark skin, white T-shirt. Not Sax.
For a special forces soldier, all he needs is a quarter of a second. And then you're a goner.
It was a very short scuffle -the target swung a wild left hand, which Raheem weaved, leaving the his ribs open for Raheem to jab the barrel of his gun hard into that area. The guy was winded. He collapsed to the wet ground gasping for breath. His mouth opened, as if to shout, but Raheem was there to run a sturdy kick to his jaw, silencing him.
Thirty seconds later, the guy was tied and gagged in the LUP, shivering from the cold. Sax was back from his recce.
"F*cker must've seen me leaving," he said. "Looks like they were expecting us."
Tracker nudged his head at Raheem to follow him and they both strode over to the prisoner. The mission leader crouched in front of him before pulling off the gag. His voice was low but audible enough over the roar of thunder. "It'll do you well to answer our questions with honesty," he sniffed. "And I might just let you walk away in one piece."
The guy took a minute to swallow the threat. Even in the dark, Raheem could see his arrogant sneer. There was the sound of spitting. His voice was hoarse as he spoke, "to hell with you."
Tracker glanced across his shoulder at Raheem and nodded. Without a word, Raheem stepped forward, pulling out his five-inch dagger just in time to see Tracker wrestle the guy to the ground and replace the gag, and press a knee to his chest. Raheem got to work, he grabbed the prisoner's right hand thumb and flattened the dagger so it was sliding beneath the nail. The guy squealed and tried pulling his body away, but there was nothing he could do in his bound position except watch the two soldiers do their gruesome act. Raheem yanked the dagger upwards, uprooting the nail along with it. The prisoner shook uncontrollably before dissolving in a fit of wailing. There was a steady flow of blood but not enough to worry about.
"Welcome to hell, mate," Tracker said. He pulled the man back to a sitting position. He allowed the guy to settle before talking again. "How about taking up my offer, eh?"
The guy nodded feverishly. It was almost as if he was still shivering as the gag was shoved out of his mouth. His lips kept fluttering like butterfly wings. "I will talk… I will talk…" he kept muttering.
"How many of you are in there?"
"Plus me, twenty men," he breathed. "With guns."
"But you aren't armed."
"I left my gun in the house. I came out to use the toilet."
The two soldiers exchanged a look.
"It looks like you guys were expecting us," Tracker continued. "How did you know we're coming?"
"We did not know," the prisoner shook his head. He winced in pain. "We were told by the other guy."
"What other guy?" Raheem asked.
"The one that employed us," he replied before quickly adding, "please, I needed money so I agreed. Please."
"Who employed you?"
"He called himself Bayo. Big man with shades and tattoo on left eye. He said he was working for one Alhaji."
Tracker cleared his voice, "where is the alhaji now?"
The man looked Tracker in the eye. "I swear I don't know."
"What about the hostage?" Tracker pressed. He was aware the man was losing enough blood already; his eyes were rolling and he was starting to sound distant.
"Where is the man you guys kept prisoner?"
The man shook his head. He was zooming out on them. Tracker tapped the wounded thumb and the man groaned. He breathed, "I don't know."
"Where is Bayo?" Raheem demanded. "I can help you with your wound. You're losing blood and you'll die if you're not treated. Do you understand?"
The man nodded weakly. "Thank you. He is in the house. Bayo… he is inside one of the houses."
With that, the two soldiers rose to their feet.
"My treatment," the man begged. His head was bobbing badly.
Raheem gave him a flinty stare. Wielded his dagger.
Before the prisoner could react, there was a deep horizontal cut across his throat. Blood quickly streamed into the LUP, drenching the man's shirt in brutal red. By the time his body had gone cold, the unit had packed their bags and were covering the two holes they dug, burying the bastard along.
"What now?" Sadiq asked after he and Sax had been updated on the new intel.
"It won't be long before they find out one of them had gone missing," Tracker concluded. "We strike them now. Our target is Bayo. We need the intel he has before we can proceed." He turned to Sax, "what about the river?"
"There's a small boat anchored at the bank behind the building. Capacity of four to six men."
"Where does the river go?" The question was directed at Sadiq, the tour guide.
Sadiq took a while to gather his thoughts. "It joins Nun River to the north, then goes south to Onuebu, down to the Gulf."
"Given the estuary nature of these areas," Raheem added, "they could disappear as soon as they get on that boat."
"Then let's not let them," Tracker growled. "Raheem, Sadiq and myself would conduct the assault. Sax, you cover the river and our six."
They all nodded and set off.
Raheem led the charge, advancing low, in case of any stray eyes or guard duty. Safety set to semi-automatic. But as far as they could tell, these guys were slack: there were no guards circling the perimeter. Not to talk of their complete lack of discipline, forgetting your weapon just because you are going out for a sh!t.
Lightning clapped from the skies, lighting the area. Raheem caught a glimpse of the building and it's surrounding area, trying to anticipate the enemy. If he were in their boots, he'd definitely post his men to the other buildings, setting an ambush, since there was only one way to the compound -and that was between the storey building and a low house fifty metres to the left. 250 metres in, Raheem saw Sax peeling away from the patrol, heading towards the river bank, covering any possible exits. Constant recon had identified no other means of transport around the area. Either those idiots thought they could hold their own against the unit, or they were so f*cking careless. Their loss, our gain.
With their suppressed AK-74M stocks pressed hard against their shoulders and eyes glued to their NV optics, the unit skirted around to the low house on the right. The rifles might not be compact enough for easy mobility, but in a moist environment where reliability is everything, size is not a requirement.
As they reached the wall, Sax's voice boomed over the comms: "in position." Without wasting any more time, the unit advanced -Raheem leading with Sadiq covering the rear. They got to the edge of the building wall and Raheem swung to the left, covering the porch. Aware of Tracker covering the target building by the right. He stepped onto the concrete floor and advanced slowly towards the wooden entry door. It was inward swinging, closed and there was no sign of movement behind it. Tracker skipped past and took position on the other side of the door. Only then did Raheem deftly place his hand and twisted the door handle. As the door cracked open, dull rays of light streamed into the porch. He used his boot to push the door further, taking care not to be noisy.
The room smelled of sweat and damp clothes. There was a window looking east with the curtain drawn. At the foot of the window was a rifle resting against the wall. AK-47. Alongside the wall was the bulk of a human being lying on the cold floor, rechargeable flashlight on the floor near his head.
There was a thud as the door hit a nearby wall and the man stirred. He opened his eyes and Raheem saw the confused look on his face as he stared at the two soldiers.
No shades, no tattooed left eye. Raheem lined up the man down his gun sights.
It took the henchman three seconds to register the sight in front of him before he reached for his weapon in panic. Raheem put him down with a single suppressed shot right on the bridge of his nose, disfiguring the face.
Twenty seconds later, the three of them had swept the southern building and were heading towards the two-storey. Four rooms on the ground floor, two on the first. All the windows faced the back of the building.
"Movement on the ground floor," Sax crackled. "Lights coming on. Second room."
Bang on time, the second room door opened. A figure stood stepped over the threshold. Right into Raheem's line of fire. He didn't see the unit at first as he was busy buckling his belt -until it was too late. A suppressed round dropped him dead. Sadiq -approaching from Raheem's opposite direction- rushed towards the open door just as muffled voices started to come from it.
Three quick dull clunking sounds later and they were silenced, permanently.
Raheem slid through the first door. Two guys were standing up, running towards the back of the room for their guns. He dropped them dead. Shouts came from somewhere down the ground floor.
"Sh!t," Sadiq's voice hissed in Raheem's ear. Tracker took cover inside the room just as the bark of a rifles flooded the porch. Raheem knew they were pinned inside those rooms.
"Sax!" Tracker shouted over the noise.
"On it."
Ten seconds. The rounds kept coming. Raheem could hear bullets ricochet off walls and concrete
"Where the f£ck are you?!"
The reply came in ten dull shots. The guys shouted.
Sax's calm voice came: "move."
Tracker rushed out, gun trained down the rooms. Four more suppressed rounds and the ground floor was quiet once again. It was a graveyard.
"Six more men to go," Sadiq said. "No sign of our guy."
Sax disappeared around the corner -back to his post- while Sadiq stayed on the ground floor to eliminate any surprises. Tracker and Raheem approached the staircase at the end of the ground floor then proceeded upstairs.
As they reached the last few steps towards the first floor, Tracker raised a hand. Raheem leaned to the right, peeking down the balcony, and released three warning rounds. No reply. No movement. They proceeded.
Five metres short of the first door, four men appeared, charging at the unit members.
"Dammit!" Tracker cursed. There was no time to aim or move.
Raheem moved swiftly, letting his gun hang around his neck and extending his right arm just in time to catch his attacker around the neck. He slammed his head against the guy's face and quickly taking a step back. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the glint of Tracker's dagger. Raheem reached for his Glock and fired three times, someone dropped dead each time. These bastards were amateurs, he thought. Somewhere in his mind, he registered the balcony lights flick on.
Someone appeared down the balcony, AK in hand at waist level.
"Get the f#ck down!" Tracker growled. Raheem didn't need telling twice, he dove down on his front, feeling his own weapon pressing hard against his chest just as the henchman pulled the trigger. Continuous rifle retort filled his ears, breaking the weak walls and sending sparks against the railings to the left. Over the commotion, Raheem thought he could hear the guy's cynnical laughter.
A click.
No more laughter.
Raheem pushed to his feet. In the split of a second, he saw the guy struggling to remove the empty magazine. Then removing another one to reload. There was no time to aim.
Over five thousand hours of aiming down paper targets and situational instinct kicked in. Gripping the Glock, Raheem zoned in on the target. Ten metres away. Forget looking down the gun sights. He raised his gun just as the other guy cocked his and was bringing down his rifle to release another burst.
Two gunshots cracked the air.
Red mist, like a veil, flashed down Raheem's vision but only just momentarily. There was a dull pain in his chest. For a full second, he thought he was shot.
Until he looked past his sights and saw the damage: a hole in the shoulder, and another on the right side of the forehead. The signature shot of special forces soldiers worldwide: the double-tap. Two shots to ensure the target was brought down. The guy crumpled to the floor, blood and brain matter splattering down the balcony.
The pain in his chest was where the rifle bit into his skin. It was just a throb.
"Rambo down," Tracker muttered.
They opened the second door and saw a man seated on the mattress, pistol aimed down the entrance. His shot whistled past the doorway as the unit members took cover.
"Put the gun down!" Raheem instructed. "It'll be easier that way."
The man's voice was laced in fear. And a tang of foreign accent, Raheem noted. "Just as it was easier on my men, huh?" He fired again. And again. "Stay away from me."
Raheem swapped looks with Tracker: keep him talking and wasting rounds, I'll go round. Tracker gave him the go ahead.
Raheem stepped back and headed towards the first room. He entered and immediately made for the window. Swung his leg over it and he was soon supporting himself with both hands over the window ledge. To his right was the second room window, a metre away. He inched towards it, forgetting the pain shooting up his arms and chest. Plus the weight of his bag. He had to make a jump across the wall and grab onto the other window.
It's not f*cking Hollywood, he thought. I miss the window and I'm done for.
Another gunshot jolted him back to the present situation.
As soon as Raheem let go, he knew his jump was too short.