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UNSC Long Range Rifle Group by Blindside
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UNSC Long Range Rifle Group - Assembly
Date: 11 September 2002, 1:48 am
~UNSC Headquarters, London, England~
UNSC Colonel Tyler Henry walked down the hall, his military dress shoes echoing with each step. Under his arm, a portfolio, containing plans for an all new weapon against the Covenant. It called for all of Earth's best in long range riflery, snipering, to gather in one place, training and deploying as a unit. Tyler himself was an excellent long-range rifleman, earning 2 Distinguished Long Range Rifleman awards, as a sniper during Operation TREBUCHET, over 40 years ago. His expertise and leadership in the field let him advance rapidly within the ranks, and he soon was a non-combatting officer before the Harvest incident.
He smirked at the thought of escaping certain death, and in return felt guilty for thinking so selfishly. Unconsciously, he made a right turn, pushed his way throught he air lock, and placed his eyes against the scanner. A computer welcomed him in, and he made his way to the end of a cherry table, where 14 other high-ranking officials of the UNSC sat in waiting.
"Sorry I'm late. Covenant pulled me over for speeding," he said, trying to elicit a laugh.
He did so successfully, which put him at ease over being late.
"Let's get down to business. I am Colonel Tyler Henry, as most of you already know," he said, glancing around the room. "and I am here to propose a new SpecOps group that has until now, been unheard of. Most special operations groups are comprised of a few shooters, a demolitions expert, a commander, and two long-range riflemen. I propose something a little different. I propose a group made up of solely snipers. The group of 6, codename Eagle Eyes, will accept missions as needed from UNSC SOCom. In the meantime, they will train feverishly, until they can kill without thinking, even in their sleep. These men will have to already be expert marksmen, trained in the fieldcraft, so that we may begin advanced training immediately. This is, of course, if you accept this proposal. " Here, Henry paused to take in their initial reaction.
"I propose that this group be based in the Ozarks of the United States, near the Missouri, Kansas border. This is because the Ozarks are not a strategic target of the Covenant, and there is little risk in being destroyed by an attack. I also propose that the men be brought from the national organizations of the United States, England, Israel, Germany, and France. These countries have superb long-range training programs, and in turn will have superb long-range riflemen. A detailed proposal form is on your databank in front of you. Are there any questions?" Tyler glanced around, and noticed a single hand.
"Colonel Brian Hambrick speaking. Who will train these men?"
"I will be on site, along with 2 other men I have yet to deem as physical trainers. I, of course will only be able to provide administrative and moral support."
A few smiled at him. He was almost 70 years old, and there was no way he could keep up with the world's best.
"Very well, thank you." The colonel seemed pleased enough.
"Ok, then. Time for a vote. In favor, raise your hand."
Every hand went up.
Tyler Henry smiled. "I will setup the funding and greet the men personally. Thank you for cooperation, and I will see you in a couple of days to finalize the paperwork."
The old colonel gathered up his paperwork, removed the data disk, and left the room.
* * * * ~Outside of London, England~
Secret Air Service long-range riflemen are notorious for pre-shot rituals. Lt. Michael Hambrick was no different. He took his tobacco pipe out, smoked on it once, took out the tobacco with his bare fingers, and rubbed it on the stock. Col. Henry raised an eyebrow. A target on a line shot across the field, 500 meters away, and Hambrick's barrel moved with it. The shot sounded off, and 2 minutes later, the field advisor brought forth the target. A hole was in the target's "head", right above the nasal bone. Hambrick smiled proudly, and went to clean his rifle. Henry turned, and approached him with the paperwork. Hambrick also accepted joyously. The team was now half-completed.
~Fort Bragg, North Carolina~
Lt. Scott Nicholson and Maj. Randall Stewart took aim in the scope at 2x magnification and squeezed the trigger with constant pressure simultaneously. The 14.5 millimeter rounds exploded their respective watermelon targets on impact. They both smirked on each other, turned back to their scopes, zoomed in to 10x magnification, and shot two more melons in their centers 1000 meters away. This all occured within a time frame of 10 seconds. Colonel Henry stood behind them, silent and observant. They are good, Tyler thought. Scott and Randall both stood up, turned around, and stopped in their tracks. Seeing the bars and awards on Tyler's dress uniform, they saluted instantly, snapping to attention. Henry returned the salute, said an "at ease", and handed them both papers.
"This is the most important decision of your career. Read it over, and let me know your decision as soon as possible." He turned around as Lt. Nicholson and Maj. Stewart looked the paperwork over.
"Sir, I accept now." Randall smirked, almost boyishly at the opportunity given him.
"Count me in, sir," Scott said a few seconds later, also smiling.
"Good. Follow me. Everything is already cleared, and you both can leave with me. I knew you'd accept." Col. Henry about faced and led them to the dropship.
~Bourdeaux, France~
Pierre Goudois looked at his watch. He was already late for his dinner appointment with his wife. And here was this military man to meet him in the hotel lobby, interrupting his vacation. What nerve. He hadn't been in the military for 3 years! And they come to him now? For what?
"Excuse me Colonel, I'm a civvie now, and I have appointments to keep. If you don't mind, I..."
Tyler held a finger up to his lips. "Shh. Here. Take a look."
Pierre flipped through the paperwork. "Are you serious?"
"As a heartattack. We can fly you out anytime."
"How about tonight after I eat with my wife?"
"See you at 9 at the airport."
"Sounds great." Pierre hurried off, excited about coming back to the services.
~Confidential Israel UNSC Training Ground~
UNSC Lt. David Assad and UNSC Lt. Sam Hakim both lined up their shots. They fired at the typical targets at 1000 meters out, and made both head shots. The targets were backed up 100 meters on the line. The two shooters reached up to their scopes, dialed a change, and fired again. The hole didn't get any larger. Amazing, thought Henry.
They accepted on the spot as well.
~UNSC Headquarters, London England~
"Sirs, the men are ready for training. They are collected at the Missouri headquarters, and are eager to start. All we need is for you all to sign on the dotted line, so to speak," Henry looked at them all.
Colonel Steven Brown stood up from his seat, and stared at Henry in the eye.
"Funding is taken care of already. We did it without you. I think you will find you have more than enough financial assets. Green light for Eagle Eyes. Good luck."
Henry smiled, said a thank you, collected his papers and disk, and walked off to the airport. A lot of work had to be done.
UNSC Long Range Rifle Group - Base Camp
Date: 13 September 2002, 6:13 pm
~Eagle Eye Base Camp, Outside of Kansas City~
"Damnit, Nicholson. Equal pressure means just that. Constant throughout! Don't squeeze too hard, or you may hit your own man behind the covenant scum you are aiming at."
"Yes sir."
"Sergeant Goudois, place your elbows on the mat, not your forearms. Your blood flow may throw off long shots. Jesus, do the DGSE not teach you that?"
Master Chief Jamar Kline paced the field, watching each and every one of the riflemen fire a shot. He corrected mistakes, and praised accomplishments. He was the new on-field commanding officer, sort of like a business' COO. Tyler Henry was in the headquarters building, doing paperwork. Hate to be him right now, thought Kline, of course, I'm not 90 years old either. He smiled to himself at the exaggeration.
"DAMNIT, NICHOLSON! If I have to tell you one more time, your PT will double tomorrow morning. CONSTANT squeeze. Do not slam the trigger, give it force, but not too much. Be delicate but forceful. I will not tolerate a missed shot because of over-anxiety. That's what this target practice is for, as well as our breathing exercises."
PT was five miles already, and the men were out of shape right now.
The men glanced up at him.
"That's right, ladies. We will be taking classes in meditation, just to control our breathing. Mandatory as per the Eagle Eye code."
Nicholson took another shot, applying constant pressure to the trigger, and not letting up until the bullet hit his target, dead center.
"Good! You are finally trainable, Nicholson."
"Thank you sir."
~Somewhere above New York City~
"Sir, the humans are unaware that we will attack the place called New York."
"Good. We will land on Liberty Island, so it is called, and then move on to Manhattan, the major center of the city."
"Yes sir. I will ready the plans."
The elite Covenant turned around, looked out the one-way glass, and smiled as the remains of the Statue of Liberty came into view.
~Eagle Eye Base Camp~
"Sir? This is Assad. Waiting for permission to fire upon subject. Over."
"This is Hakim. I have subject in scope. Awaiting permission. Over."
"This is Stewart. No visual. Repeat, no visual. Over"
Henry stood beside Kline, listening to the transmissions over their headgear. This training exercise was simulating a squad of Covenant invading St. Louis.
"Assad, this is command. Fire at will. Hakim- wait for further orders."
Assad raised up onto his elbows, making sure only bone touched his sniper's mat, as he remembered what Kline told Nicholson. He looked through the scope, and found the target. The target was holographic, and moving along the streets just as a real enemy would. He took in a breath, let it out, and squeezed the trigger firmly. The target dropped as expected, and Assad let off the trigger.
"Command, this is Assad. Target down."
"Hakim, this is command. Fire at will," the radio crackled to life in Hakim's helmet.
Hakim, already in position to fire, squeezed the trigger at a constant pressure. The 14 mm bullet exited the barrel, spinning rapidly. It entered the subject head, exploding it into a blue cloud of mush. Hakim reached up for his radio.
"Command, this is Hakim. Target is down."
"Command, this is Hambrick. We have 3 subjects approaching in Covenant Ghost vehicles. Permission to fire upon?"
"Hambrick, this is command. All members authorized to fire at will."
Michael Hambrick smiled. Those were the words he was waiting for. He rose up onto his elbows, and sighted a ghost vehicle through the scope. The purple land cruiser was an ugly sight to see, especially through human streets. He swiveled the rifle with the ghost, matching its speed with his own. Hambrick squeezed the trigger, hitting the hologram square in the neck. The ghost continued on, finally exploding into a nearby building.
Meanwhile, Lt. Scott Nicholson was shadowing another ghost vehicle. He smirked and pulled the trigger evenly. The ghost careened out of control as it's driver fell off, it's head disintegrated.
The calls for the kills went into command immediately. Only one left, thought Hambrick.
Hambrick found it. It was swerving back and forth, trying to avoid rifle fire. From Hambrick's perch, it seemed like the ghost wasn't moving. He aimed at the covenant driver, from the rear, and plugged the enemy in the head. The bullet entered through the brain stem, and exited through the face of the Covenant. Its face ripped away as the head exploded milliseconds later.
"All subjects are down." Hambrick, the newly elected field-leader, reported.
Kline's voice came through the radios. "Get back to base camp. It's time for debriefing."
The men packed up their rifles, and headed back to base, as a feeling of accomplishment swept over them.
UNSC Long Range Rifle Group - Concealment
Date: 14 September 2002, 1:35 am
~ Eagle Eye Base Camp, Outside of Kansas City ~
"What!" Colonel Henry shouted at the holographic image of Bud Worley, UNSC intelligence officer. "Are you sure?"
"Yes sir. Positive. It is the Covenant ship Harvest. A Class-AAA ship, it is rapidly approaching the remains of New York City. It looks as if they want to finish it off, sir. I have been asked to pass the information down to you. They said you knew what to do with it."
"Hmm. They did? Tell 'they' that I'm moving into NYC with precaution. Me and my boys will be on the lookout." Even though Tyler Henry was classified as a senior citizen of Earth, he still had plenty of fire in him. "We'll get there, setup, and wait on the uglies."
"Yes sir. I will pass that information along to my superiors. Anything else, sir?"
"Yes, if that is all the information."
"Yes sir."
"Then get to it." Col. Henry reached for the end button on the holophone.
* * * *
~ Eagle Eye Base Camp- Briefing Room ~
"Gentlemen, we have a problem. The covenant scum have entered the earth's atmosphere over the United States again, and are headed toward New York City. We have been asked to do something about this. Being as there are many covenant and 6 of us, we have to have a strategy. We can't just go in, rifles blazing. " Colonel Henry reached around and pressed a button on the holographic display. An image of a Covenant hunter appeared. "This is one of their leaders. He is different from the others in this mark. Henry pointed out a metallic gold mark on the elite's left shoulder. He is the primary target. If you see anyone that even remotely resembles him, shoot it. If the same mark appears on an elite, but in metallic silver- shoot it as well. That means that it is a field leader. We got to thank the IntOps boys on the information. Any questions?" He glanced around the room.
"Yes, Major Stewart?"
"When do we go, and where do we setup?"
"Glad you asked." Tyler turned and pressed another button to change the image to a three dimensional view of Liberty Island and the surrounding area. "We think that they are landing on Liberty Island for some reason. Stewart and Nicholson will be atop the statue's remains. Hakim and Assad will be perched on the nearby UNSC District building, and Goudois will be with Hambrick on the ground, moving from location to location as per Kline's orders. Kline and I will be stationed across the harbor, but will have plenty view to you all. We leave tonight."
Stewart nodded at the details, seemingly satisfied.
"Any other questions," interrogated the colonel.
"Yes sir. Will we eat on the plane?" Hakim's hand lowered as he asked the question.
A smile spread across the elder man's face. "Yes, soldier. We will eat."
Some of the others laughed uncomfortably, and they were nervous, but did not want to show it in front of the men. Pride can be a factor in many processes, especially among men of equal caliber. It was time to establish group pride as they go out on their first real mission.
~ Liberty Island, New York Harbor ~
"This is Stewart to Command. Nicholson and I are setup and ready to go." Their mats were laid out, their standard issue .45 caliber pistol at their side. Their personal rifles were up and pressed into their shoulders, and the camouflage was active in their armor.
"Damn it," Nicholson whispered.
"What?" Stewart turned to look at his partner.
"I got an itch. This damn armor won't let you do anything."
Stewart did nothing but laugh at his partner's predicament.
~ New York Harbor Pier 27 ~
"Damn it. Why do we always get the sucky positions?"
"Always?" Goudois looked to his English partner. "This is our first mission."
Hambrick stammered a bit. "Ss..s..so? That doesn't mean anything."
Goudois shook his head at the Brit, and turned on his camouflage. He heard the Harvest approach behind him. He looked skyward.
"Damn. It's true. And the ship is huge."
Hambrick looked at his partner, amazed at such an understatement.
~ Atop UNSC District 3 Building, New York City ~
"Damn, I'm hungry," Hakim said in his Israeli accent.
"Hell, Sam. You're always hungry," came the response without eye contact.
"So? I can't help it. A man's got to eat." He pulled out a candy bar from his rifle case and lifted his visor. He bit off a hunk as he looked skyward, only to see the Harvest incoming. He turned on his camouflage, as Assad did the same. The ship circled around the statue's island, and a slight hatch opened in the bottom of the huge craft. Smaller aircraft designated "Banshees" erupted from the ship, and they circled Liberty Island. One by one, they began to land on the island, and in the water. The grunts boarded the island, swinging their plasma rifles around, looking for something to shoot at.
That's the thing about Covenant. Relentless, but stupid, thought Assad. Perfect vermin.
The radio crackled to life with Jamar Kline's voice. "Alright, troops. Be on the lookout for the Covenant leaders. Here they come."
The radio kept alive as the others responded.
"Here they come. Yippeekiay," Assad said with false enthusiasm.
UNSC Long Range Rifle Group - Distinctive Marks
Date: 15 September 2002, 8:19 pm
~ Liberty Island, New York Harbor ~
The covenant grunts exited their vehicles, and boarded the island by the hundreds. The snipers' radios came to life in their helmets.
"You may shoot the peons, but don't waste ammo. Weapons are free." Kline's voice became stronger as he gave the order to fire at will.
Nicholson glanced over at Stewart, who smirked at him. "Go time."
Randall looked through his scope at 10x, scanned the area, and not seeing a leader, zoomed in on a grunt. Click. The grunt dropped without a sound other than the muffled rifle shot. A few covenant around the dead one looked and turned frantically, arms in the air. About sixty seconds passed, and they became calm again, figuring it was an accident.
Scott Nicholson nearly laughed aloud. They were like dogs, so naÔve and gullible. He picked a target on the opposite side of the island, and pulled the trigger evenly, as he was taught. The covenant's head exploded upon impact, and the decapitated body slumped over an unsuspecting grunt's shoulder. The same franticness happened here. He shook his head, as he moved his scope to look at the Assad-Hakim team.
~ Atop UNSC District 3 Building, New York City ~
Hakim swept his rifle's barrel, looking for a leader. Seeing none, Hakim aimed the scope at a grunt boarding the island. The muffled sound echoed in Hakim's helmet, and quickly he moved to another target. The sound seemed to be a part of the first shot's echo, since they were so closely fired. Two shots, two grunts eating island. He took out a white-out pen from his rifle case and made two tallies on the stock of his new rifle, smiling at his first kills of the day.
Assad smiled. Looking through the scope, he saw the distinctive gold mark on the shoulder blade of a hunter. The trigger came back, and returned to its original position in a rhythmic fashion. The leader dropped. The covenant grunts surrounding it scattered, not knowing what to do without the figurehead leader.
"Command, this is Assad. One gold down. One question, though, how many are there?"
Kline's voice was broadcast to all snipers. "Intelligence Operations reveals that there is approximately one "golden" leader per 200 covenant soldiers and two "silver" leaders on the ground, no matter the number. From the count of Colonel Henry and I, we estimate that there approximately 800 soldiers on the island. This gives you 4 gold-marked covenant and 2 silver uglies."
"Thanks," came a voice sarcastically. Had to be Goudois, considering the accent.
~ New York Harbor Pier 27 ~
Goudois raised up on the mat. He had spotted a field leader with its distinctive silver mark. The mark appeared to be a version of the peace symbol, except its "stems" extended past the ring. Doesn't matter what it looks like. The bitch is mine, thought the Frenchman. Just as fast as the thought crossed his mind, the leader dropped. It's so funny to watch grunts run around like chickens with their heads cut off. They are so stupid. Makes 'em easier to kill. Pierre smiled to himself as he called the kill in.
"This is Command. We have one silver and one goldie down. That leaves 4, guys. Good work so far, don't blow it."
~ Atop UNSC District 3 Building, New York City ~
"Dammit! Nicholson, Randall? You guys got company coming up the statue. About 5 of the uglies are trying to claw their way up."
The response came back, "Well do something about it. We can't see."
Hakim immediately plugged 2, without thinking. Two more marks to make. Hakim shifted aim to a group of 3 on the opposite side of the statue. Click. He shifted aim. Click. Another shift. Click. The five covenant fell to the ground, two of them killing another as they landed. Seven marks total. It was a pretty good day so far for Hakim.
Assad congratulated him with a nod.
~ Liberty Island, New York Harbor ~
Four left, four left. The thought kept crossing Nicholson's mind. He circled the island within his scope, looking for the distinctive mark of the leaders. There! He zoomed in to 10x magnification, and pulled the trigger. He missed! Shit. The gold leader had moved at the very point in time that the shot was fired. Nicholson fired again. Didn't miss that time. He called in the kill.
"This is Command. We have one silverback and two gold leaders down. 3 left."
Stewart zoomed in on a point on the island. Dammit. Ah! There's a silverback. The covenant field leader was running. To where, Stewart had no idea, but he was running. Stewart carefully shifted aim with the leader, and raised his arms up so only bone touched the sniper's mat. Click. The leader's momentum carried him past the guard rails and into the harbor, where the big beast made quite a splash.
"Stewart to Command. Both silverback are down. Two goldies left."
"Copy, Stewart."
~ New York Harbor Pier 27 ~
Hambrick couldn't see shit. He scanned the shore, at first seeing nothing. Then he made a breakthrough, struck a "gold mine". Two of the golden leaders were conversing, pointing this way and that, attempting to coordinate an assault, it seemed. Too bad. He pulled the trigger at the first one. It dropped. The other leader just stared down at its fallen comrade. It screamed out in anger, and a 14mm round hit it square in the neck, straight from Hambrick's rifle.
"Bingo. This is Hambrick. Two goldies down. Let's go home."
Congratulations crackled over the radio to Hambrick.
"People, this is Kline. Pack it up and move it out. Meet at the rendezvous point."
Hambrick was proud of himself. He checked his visor display, the time showing midnight on the button. Time to go back to base for debriefing.
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