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Stats: 2,210,868 members, 4,825,727 topics. Date: Thursday, 21 March 2019 at 12:37 AM
|End Point by zhayyd039(m): 3:23pm On Mar 12|
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
|Re: End Point by zhayyd039(m): 3:24pm On Mar 12|
NAME: Raheem A. Kazeem
HEIGHT: 183 cm
D. O. B: 19 December
NEXT OF KIN: Zubayr Kazeem (Brother)
SPECIALTIES: Combat and sniper specialist, trained mechanic, excellent navigator.
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 poo!' 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**********
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.
|Re: End Point by Evold: 5:31pm On Mar 12|
We are here again. Maximum respect to the writer
|Re: End Point by iamgprince(m): 5:47pm On Mar 12|
|Re: End Point by zhayyd039(m): 9:57pm On Mar 15|
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?"
"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
|Re: End Point by iamgprince(m): 5:25pm On Mar 16|
thanks for the update
|Re: End Point by ashatoda: 2:31pm On Mar 17|
oya come and continue
|Re: End Point by Evold: 4:45pm On Mar 18|
So interesting. Ride on boss
|Re: End Point by zhayyd039(m): 9:48pm On Mar 19|
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.
|Re: End Point by skubido(m): 12:10pm On Mar 20|
|Re: End Point by iamgprince(m): 2:29pm On Mar 20|
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