Finally done!
Well, for the project, i am going to continue with the story in my free time.
Tanya Pavlanovna had hoped for a normal job after her graduation from the Peoples National Institute of Biochemistry, but soon after her future employers had a look at her degree, she spent most of her time in a secure bunker off the coast of Anadyr. In fact, the only time she left was to report to her superiors about the progression on the Solanum virus. "Now", she thought, "I'm finally going to get out of this place." She began her morning with the same routine every day. First waking up and taking a shower, then taking what seen forever to her co-workers as an eternity to brush her long, blond Russian hair. After she got herself ready, she began rounds with her "Patients".
As she checked each of her subjects, political dissents and death row prisoners, condemned to research. She checked each of them, their bite marks, their consciousness, their vital signs. All was routine in her day, except for Subject #223. He was lying on the floor, blood coming out of his injection site. "Guards, move into cell #223 and check for reanimation", she barked. The guards, wearing brand-new Spec 12 Biohazard suits and Mk. 8 gasmasks, in case the virus was airborne, carefully restrained the man, making sure that he could not move. As they were giving him a sit-rep, his eyes began to open, his limbs starting to twitch. "Guards, the subject has re-animated. Restrain him and place a monitor in him." As they clasped his arms into the containment cell, one of the guards began to worry. "Ma'am, I believe that we should back off at this point, he may be a Cx-2." He stuttered. "Very well. Vasiliev!"
She knew what problems a Cx-2 meant. Cx-2's could operate without a cranium for at least twelve hours. She also knew that Vasiliev was the only one that could properly restrain it, without damaging it too much. She also knew the containment procedures associated with an outbreak of this scale. "If it were to get out" she thought. "We would have to shut down the entire operation." Once Vasiliev arrived, all began to fall into place. The being was restrained, placed into a containment cell and given an inhibitor and several monitors, in case one was to dissolve into the brain. After all this was done, she returned to her normal schedule of checking her Petri dishes to see if the virus has advanced any more since her last visit.
"How much longer until we get to the insertion point?" Malta asked. This has been the fifth time he asked. "For the last time, if you don't see an island, were not there yet!" Falkland yelled. Although they had been in the Ch-130 for around a day, he was also beginning to be a little sick. With all this time to think, even the mission began to seem strange. He contemplated it over and over in his head: The Russian government sent help to the British S.S.F.A.T. to investigate a then-secret lab of biogenetic scientists were researching a new disease, but they had lost contact with them three days ago. But there were so many questions. What was in the lab? Why is it secret? What new disease? Why couldn't the Russians sent in their own Spetsnaz to investigate? And why was this a join operation with several SFOD-Ds? "Roger tower, this is Alpha-Foxtrot-Zulu ready for insertion by HALO drop. ETA one minute thirty seconds." "You heard him! Prepare chutes and line up!" Falkland yelled.
"This is simple: Get in, find out what happened and get out. First echelon is on the ground, 2nd in reserve. Malta and Maui will drop directly into the base, me and Taz will land on the helipad. All clear?" "Yes Sir!" the team said in unison, although you could barely hear it over the wailing of the engines. The team, their names made up of islands of which country they lived in, were all well trained and experienced with all types of weaponry and tactics. Falkland, a professional commando from age 15, was team leader because of his intense training with the US army rangers and his time with Delta. Malta, the weapons specialist, had proven himself worthy by escaping the horrors of the second Chechen war with nothing but an M9 and a triple-digit body count when he was only twelve. Being of Chechen ancestry, Falkland was wary to accept him until he saw his combat proficiency, which rivaled senior members of U.S.F.R. (Unknown Situation Force Recon), which members are only accepted after either a quad digit body count or several recommendations from ranks higher than Colonel.
Maui was a good-looking tech specialist that could hold her own in a firefight. Sent into prison when she was only twelve after hacking into the CIA's central mainframe, was picked up by Falk. After showing him how fast she could hack, Falk immediately send for a way to get her out of prison. Taz, the medical specialist, was the first to be accepted by Falk after he was mentioned in a British newspaper, when he saved 20 people in a plane that crashed into a section of Salisbury.
Now, all this training would be put to the test, as they all had separate objectives to complete. Maui would hack the security mainframe, so that the auto-turrets would shut down. Taz would set up a small med station next to the helipad. Malta would breach the central core of the operation and lead Maui into the servers, where she would then upload all the data to a server in London. Falkland would be coordinating the operation, sending the Deltas to where they needed to be and monitoring the situation of the med-center that Taz set up. All was planed, they just needed it to get done. "SSFAT squad, prepare for drop in five, four, three..." "I'll see you in the core!" Falk yelled a final enthusiastic roar. "One, zero! Drop now!" All were out and in the air by the time the radio-op said zero.
A HALO drop is one of the most difficult insertions for military commanders to consider. For a few squads, this could be done. Bur for a division, that would require a massive undertaking. The fuel, not to mention pulling them away from their daily activities, would leave many areas without search and rescue, air to air refueling and transport of vehicles. In this case, there were three SFOD-D squads and one S.S.F.A.T. team, so a few C-130s could be spared.
By the time that the entire team was out, they were around 25,000 feet in the air, and would deploy their chutes at 1,000. Fortunately, the team was able to stay in contact and had a visual on their DZs. As they prepaired themselves for the opening shock, they noticed something. "Hey Falk, tell me that you see a chunk of the helipad missing." Maui said. Falk checked, about half of the helipad was gone. "Alright, change of plans. Taz and Me will land on the surviving section of the 'pad, Maui and Malta, you two will land in the opening and proceed with normal objectives. Strangely, there was complete silence, but then the first of many problems arose. "Hey, Taz's chute is gone!" Malta said, his voice showing how important that the team remained in contact. "Oh god, something's latched onto my chute!" Taz screamed. "Can you see what it is?" Falkland yelled. "I can't, I can't, I can't see anything!" "Maui, you're closest to him, what's on him?" "Hey, it's crazy, but either I'm on crack or you see what I see, there's a woman floating in front of him!"
