Task Force 95 is a multinational counter-terrorism military unit that specialises in kill/capture missions, sabotage, intelligence gathering, but most notably: hostage rescue. Comprised of the best special forces operators from NATO and affiliated nations, Task Force 95 was unofficially formed in secret by rogue officials of the UN Security Council, intended to act not according to the agenda of any one nation, but in the best interest of all humanity.
It is 2021, and in the midst of the Covid Pandemic, the Eurasian nation of Luzonia has become a failed state. The weak government which still desperately attempts to cling to democracy has fallen under the thumb of the powerful, quasi-military Pale Horse Cartel, which now effectively rules the country with a cruel iron fist. Thanks to Pale Horse, and their leader Mikhael "The Master" Kazran, Luzonia is now the world's centre of human trafficking and sexual slavery, it is unknown how many women have been kidnapped in only the month since Pale Horse seized control of the government, but UN estimates are in the tens of thousands.
12 members of TF95 have been deployed to Luzonia to disrupt and dismantle the international trafficking network at its source. These 12 men will co-ordinate with Luzonian rebels, destroy Pale Horse operations and take out their leadership, with Mikhael Kazran identified as High Value Target One.
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(0300 hours, Vagrona, a small village near the border of Luzonia and Najikistan.)
Gunfire echoed throughout the heavy, fog-laden Luzonian night, the Pale Horse had come to steal away the young women of this village, and nothing would stop them. The single dirt road going in and out of the town was full to the brim with three large commercial trucks, and an escort of six black Land Rover SUVs. The quiet, peaceful villagers had no warning of the impending slavers, and young girls were being ripped out of their beds at gunpoint, any members of their families who tried to resist were shot without a care.
"Quick Mona, you need to hide in the basement! Quickly my love!" Petro Lakoni took hold of his beautiful, olive-skinned, raven-haired wife's hand as she glanced out of their front window.
"Petro my darling there's so many! You won't be able to fight them!" Mona stumbled behind her bearded husband as he dragged her as fast as he could through their small, simple home.
"I'm a soldier of the republic my love, I have to try, but I can't let anything happen to you, I will lead the cartel men away from our house, hopefully they won't think to look here after that..." Petro spoke with a grim determination, and desperation in his voice as he yanked open the door to the basement. The gunfire outside was getting closer...
"Petro no!" Mona began to sob "We've only just gotten married, I love you more than anything, please don't do this, you are my whole world, hide with me in the basement I beg you!"
Petro took his beautiful wife's face in his big strong hands and kissed her deeply, passionately, with all the love he had left.
"You are my whole world too Mona, that's why I can't let those monsters take you... Now please, stay here, stay quiet... I love you."
"Noo!" Mona screamed as her husband gently pushed her through the door, and with tears in his eyes, he slammed it shut behind her.
Though his heart was heavy with sadness, knowing he may never see his wife again, Petro nevertheless steeled himself, slowing his breathing. He'd fought in the 2005 Civil War to overthrow the Communist Party and bring democracy to Luzonia, he wasn't about to hand his village, or his country over to a bunch of cartel criminals. Grabbing his AK-74M rifle from the wall in the lounge room, the former soldier took a quick look out of the front window...
The Ezekil family from across the road had been lined up against the front wall of their house by a small group of Pale Horse thugs, his friend Koni was kneeling with his hands above his head, pleading with a man in a suit to leave his twin daughters Nara and Kara alone. The two slender, pretty 19-year-old blondes were also on their knees side by side, a pair of thugs having already stripped them naked, using duct tape to bind their hands and elbows together. Their beautiful blonde mother, 45-year-old Eri was already wrapped in the silver, sticky tape from head to toe, with bands around her wrists, elbows, waist, thighs and ankles.
All three of the beauties had their own panties packed tightly in their mouths, and as the scared twins shook their heads in despair and pleaded, their mothers' mouth was wrapped up mercilessly in round after round of tape, her pink panties still dangling from beneath the thick gag.
"Mmmmmph!" Eri whined at the ugly, tattooed monster who sniggered cruelly at his captives' plight.
"Muhhmummph!" The twins called to their mother, both crying hopelessly as their father begged the man in the suit for mercy. The man simply laughed and started fondling his daughters' breasts, gaining sick pleasure from their helplessness as they tried to shie away from his touch.
Just then, the two wives from next door to the Ezekil family: Ara and Zona, a gorgeous redhead and brunette, were marched past their beleaguered neighbours stark naked. Their mouths were filled with large wool scarf cleave gags, duct tape was heavily binding their wrists, and long leashes of rope had been tied around their necks to pull them over to the trucks by force. The loving wives fought against their captors viciously to be near one another, but their struggling soon ended when a bandanna-masked goon raised his AK to Zona's head, and Ara stopped fighting immediately, crying for them not to shoot her beautiful wife. With that, they were dragged off to the trucks without a fuss as the Ezekil twins were having their mouths taped up.
Animals! Petro thought as he cocked his AK, he only had two magazines of ammunition, he would have to make them count...
The 30-year-old soldier made a break for the back of his house, as he passed the basement door he could faintly hear his beloved wife sobbing on the other side of the door. It broke his heart, but it was his duty now to act and save as many of his fellow villagers as he could.
Stepping out of his back door, gun barrel raised to peek out into the darkness, Petro saw no cartel gunmen yet. If he could sneak his way down through the woods, he may be able to remain undetected and pick off some of the intruders one by one, the fools were carelessly firing their own weapons into the air like they were partying, so his own gunshots should be harder to detect...
Slinking into the shadows of the tall pine trees. Petro saw a single gunman, dressed in camo pants, a white tank top, and a load-bearing vest step out of the back door of his young neighbour Azran's house... And he was dragging Azran's girlfriend Kila, a 21-year-old, petite curvy redhead along with him by her rope bound arm. The poor girl had been stripped down to only her panties, and her mouth, like the Ezekil girls, was wrapped mercilessly with silver duct tape...
"Fuck you I haven't had a good piece of ass in three days, I'll bring her out when I'm done!" the criminal called into the house as Kila screamed into her gag, kicking against him with all the might she could muster.
"Mmmmmph! Nmmmph! Nmmmph!"
No, Petro thought, not on my watch you sick bastard! The ex-soldier raised his weapon and took aim from the safety of the shadows, the gunman had not seen him, and was already laying his hands all over poor Kila... This would make shooting him that much harder without hitting the innocent girl.
"Move, move, come on move!" Petro whispered desperately.
Suddenly, something caught his eye, near where the monster had just wrestled the helpless redhead to the ground...
Did that patch of long grass... Did it move?
Wait... Yes! Sure enough, the patch of grass slowly raised itself from the earth, a dark, ghostly silhouette against the pale moonlight. It was a man, cleverly concealed from his enemies' eyes with a ghillie suit covered in heavy, thick strands of grass.
And then, still trying to comprehend what he was seeing, Petro saw the glint of a metal blade... The grass-cloaked figure strode swiftly, yet quietly, towards Kila and her captor, who had stood up, looming over the helpless girl to unbuckle his pants... The figure moved like a spectre, haunting the cartel gunman without the fool even knowing.
As Kila saw the shadowy figure behind her attacker, she screamed in terror, but before the fool could even turn around, the spectre had plunged its blade deep into the side of his neck, blood sprayed from his throat like a hose, and as he dropped to his knees, the ghost furiously stabbed him three more times in the side of his torso to ensure he was dead. He fell to the dirt, lifeless and still.
"Who the..." Petro whispered, only to feel a sharp yank on his thick black hair, and something pointy pressed against his neck.
"Shhhhh... The tip of this knife is directly poised against your jugular, one wrong move, and you're dead. Now I'm only gonna ask you once, who are you?" A quiet, gruff voice spoke in Luzonian behind Petros head, but the accent was strange, definitely not a native speaker...
"I am Petro Lakoni, former Corporal of the Republican Army of Luzonia, this is my home, I am trying to save any of my friends that I can." Petro answered rapidly, his heart racing as he felt his life flashing before his eyes.
"You're not Pale Horse?" The non-Luzonian asked softly.
"No sir, my wife is in the basement of that house, I hoped if I could draw the Cartel away, she might be safe." Petros voice quivered. He glanced at his home, hoping Mona was okay. He then looked back to Kila, who was being cut free by the shadowy figure in the ghillie suit.
"Okay..." The man removed his blade from the ex-soldiers neck. "If you're a soldier we could use your help, you speak English?"
"Some..."
"Turn around." The man ordered in what sounded like an Australian accent in English.
Slowly, as ordered, Petro turned his whole body to face the voice.
What he saw filled him with shock, but also, hope.
A group of men was scattered amongst the trees, heavily decked out in military gear, but not just any military gear... It was the best, cleanest, most advanced he'd ever seen, a far cry from the cheap flak jackets, tin helmets and outdated AKs used by the Luzonian Army. The man closest to him was adorned in clothes coloured in what Petro recognised as the NATO Multicam camouflage pattern. He wore a thick khaki plate carrier bearing all manner of tools, accessories, pockets and ammo pouches. On his knee was resting a customised Heckler & Koch 416 Assault Rifle, a mainstay of special forces units around the world, complete with an advanced suppressor and holographic EXPS3 optic sight, as well as an infrared tac laser mounted on the barrel.
The man's bearded face was caked with camouflage paint, but instead of eyes looking back at Petro, there were the lenses of night-vision goggles which had been pulled down over his face from the mount of his FAST combat helmet. The side of which bore a patch depicting a skeletal eagle clutching a serpent in its talons, and a number beneath it:
95
"Who are you? You are not from here..." Petro asked softly in broken English, his thick Luzonian accent clear and present.
"I can't tell you my real name mate, so just call me Blackburn, we're here to help."
TO BE CONTINUED
Fascinating Scenario and an Introcuction which has it all!
