Young Girls, Their Guns And Commander Prologue

First Meeting with the Young Girl

The sun didn't represent warmth. More precisely, sunlight didn't guarantee warmth. Even if the sunrays were to reach your entire body and dance on all of your nerves, you wouldn't feel any warmth if you were on a mountain four-thousand metres above alt.i.tude. You would just feel yourself freezing. In this very place, the sunlight couldn't provide warmth. Despite it being a desert zone and despite sun s.h.i.+ning down in the area for extensive periods of time, the inhabitants were always careful not to freeze to death.

Suddenly, two gentle noises reached his ears. A figure behind a rock moved lightly. If he didn't budge, he wouldn't have noticed the individual's presence. He searched through his sniper telescope. There was a figure charging over to the rear of a mound of dirt on the other side. They were swift as a hare. Nonetheless, the sniper caught sight of their movement.

"Rookie," grumbled the sniper, voice soft.  He gently pressed his finger on his transmitter. He didn't dare to perform any big motions, because, like him, there might've been a sniper aiming for him. He hesitated for a brief moment before gently pressing his transmitter.

"Ally confirmed!" It was a soft voice.

At the same time, his target on the other side cautiously popped his head out. The clothing he was adorned in was very commonly seen in the area. He wore a hat shaped as a pancake and jacket of a local. Correct, bulletproof armour and combat vests were forbidden in the area. Someone once inadvertently exposed their combat boots, resulting in their instant execution.

He moved his head ever so slightly before hiding behind the mound of dirt again. All was well if it was an ally. The bra.s.s sent a rookie as his backup to his chagrin. Oh, and one person was all he received as backup. As opposed to calling his backup reinforcements, it would be more correct to say that the bra.s.s packaged the mission with taking the rookie under his wing into one.

If somebody was a.s.signed to the area, it was proof that they were an elite in the military, or rather, an elite among elites. They had to have backing in the political arena, as well. The two of them didn't belong to any team with a code. Strictly speaking, they didn't belong to any squad. They didn't belong to any nation for that matter. They had no names, no identification papers or place they called home. They were essentially the world's phantoms. Nevertheless, they had something they devoted their loyalty to: their nation. Perhaps their erstwhile nation was a better choice of words.

The reality was that everybody was aware that a.s.signing a few more sentries or patrols wouldn't be able to prevent a foreign enemy infiltration. Keep security for a building as tight as you please, and a drip of water would still get in. That drip of water would go on to bring the entire building crumbling down. How do you create an impregnable defence? Simple. Stop the water as it seeps in. That meant a group of people who could forsake their military ident.i.ty, ident.i.ty as a citizen, their past and everything a.s.sociated with them to become a phantom. The phantom would be tasked with wandering the areas nearby the border and killing anyone who tried to infiltrate. They accepted orders, but once they failed in their mission, n.o.body would remember their existence. In saying that, those who wandered the borders as phantoms were aware of their end, and they prepared for it when they threw their identification materials into the fire.

The sniper surveyed the sandy path opposite him. Strictly speaking, Mr. Lu Xun's description put it best: "The world never had any paths. Paths were made once many people walked the so-called paths." This particular path was formed after enough camels and cars crossed it.

His target was supposed to appear soon, so he set his sniper up. Then, he placed his Kalashnikov to one side. He couldn't use the gun he was most proficient with from his location, but the almighty Kalashnikov could be used anywhere in the world. n.o.body would query what nationality someone carrying a Kalashnikov was from, especially in this place. Literally everyone, from kids to the elderly, possessed one.

"This place is very similar to the motherland," thought the sniper.

Because of the wind blowing the sand, the sniper thought he spotted a dark silhouette. The yellow sand on the path didn't rise and fall; it went wild as if it was frightened, sort of similar to someone crossing an ant cave.

The sniper peered through his binoculars to confirm his distance. He then connected up his earpiece. He spoke in English using ventriloquism: "Spotted Cola. Repeat, Cola has been spotted. Three cans. Three cans of cola. The one in the centre comes with a prize. They are moving south to west. Their pace is roughly twenty jie."

He then received a calm response in English from his earpiece: "Roger that. Can you confirm if there are any other colas behind? Can you confirm if there are any other colas behind?"

The sniper had a look before answering: "Negative, negative, negative. There is a prize in the centre. Repeat, there is a prize in the centre."

The sniper and rookie were on opposite sides and stuck in a narrow path. With that said, two-hundred metres beyond the ambush point were three members in wait. The rookie's weapon was an AKM. The objective was simple. After decimating the enemy's vehicle, umm, yes, the so-called "cola"… So, kill the enemy. Once another vehicle approached from behind, the previous kill needed to also serve as a blockade, stopping the rear vehicle.

He only had one RPG-18. The one-shot rocket launcher was only a sixty-four millimetre calibre, but that was plenty for taking out a truck. It was also perfect for the type of ambush mission they were on.

The vehicles flamboyantly pa.s.sed by the sniper's field of vision. The pa.s.sengers' loud voices covered the sound of the engine. They were mere local rioters and terrorists. They attacked a national company. It was supposed to be a simple robbery case, and therefore didn't require the phantoms' intervention. However, there were five angry complaints from the bra.s.s, asking that the robbers be stopped before they could deliver the stolen good to their destination.

The dispatched team took a helicopter as far as then could. Then, they hastily marched a hundred kilometres through the night to arrive at their destination. They camped the enemy for two days in case they had a change of plans. Fortunately, the robbers appeared to be brainless rioters. They weren't rushed and were even behind schedule. The sniper even caught one of the pa.s.sengers throwing out a bottle of vodka.

Five elites among the elites for three vehicles of moronic rioters was a walk in the park. It begged the question, "Would a group who were able to rob and infuriate headquarters to that degree that easy picking?" The mission was somewhat odd. Having said that, it wasn't something they needed to be concerned about.

"They're in. It's time to work!"

A rocket landed flush on the vehicle at the rear. The RPG-18 only had a range of two-hundred metres; the shooter was two-hundred and fifty metres away from their target. The team captain suddenly felt his blood roil for some reason. An RPG-18 rocket could explode on its own after six seconds, though. That would allow it to reach three-hundred metres. That was how the captain could accurately take out the vehicle in the rear.

People would usually take out the lead car in an ambush, not the rear. If the lead vehicle heard their rear in trouble, their instinctive reaction would be to slam the brakes and search for their ambushers. That, in turn, would block their rear, too. Of course, if the enemies were professionals trained to deal with ambushes as the five elites were, then it barely made a difference whether they went for the lead or rear vehicle.

At the same time, the sniper pulled his trigger, piercing the middle vehicle's driver's skull. Needless to say, he didn't dare to aim for the middle vehicle again. The information pertaining to the target they were after was vague as could be. There was only one photo of a girl. That was it.

As soon as the lead vehicle's driver went to retaliate, he was shot to death in his seat by five long-range shooters. The pa.s.sengers in the rear vehicle staggered as they fled from the alight vehicle. Unfortunately, the rookie accurately gunned them down with his AKM. The RPG-18 wasn't able to kill the people in the rear with its sixty-four calibre. It was enough to  incapacitate them, nevertheless.

The captain destroyed those who fled from the rear vehicle. The accurate long-range shooters suppressed enemy fire from three locations. The sniper on high grounds took his time finding his prey. His only targets were the veterans and heavy firepower users, such as those firing an RPG-7.

The rookie jumped out. All of the enemies came running out after the ambush. In a short minute, all twenty people from three vehicles were either on their faces or backs on the ground. They didn't even have time to kill their hostage.

"Prepare to close in on the target."

Contacting the target had nothing to do with the sniper. He remained at the end of the road and kept tabs on the situation. Everyone else got onto the road. They added an extra bullet into the skulls of those on the ground whether they were dead or not. It was of utmost importance to err on the safe side. Dying to someone playing possum was as bad as it got.

The captain knocked on the middle vehicle then sighed: "Qingtong, you do it."

"What? Is it locked?"

"Yes. Electronic lock. You deal with it."

The sniper rappelled down. The rookie gave the captain a notice, and then took the initiative to replace the sniper. The sniper subtly saluted the rookie as they pa.s.sed by each other. He was a rookie, but his performance was commendable.

The truck stuck in the middle was different to the other two. It wasn't manufactured locally. A heavy metal trailer was attached to the rear. On the door was an electronic lock, and next to it were small explosives. If one were to fail to unlock it, the explosives would blow up the person trying to open the lock and whatever was inside, presumably.

The sniper didn't notice the truck's hull paint through his scope when he couldn't get a clear visual. Had he not pierced the gla.s.s with his shot, the mission might not have gone so smoothly. The sniper went up to the lock and pulled out his laptop he always had with him as a hacking tool.

The sniper had a suspicion as to why the mission was so important. Judging from the mission thus far, it was pointing to foreign invasion. As a matter of fact, the foreign force might've been the mastermind behind the robbery. The explanation for hiring locals as escorts would be so that they could avoid detection. They probably didn't expect the locals to be so useless, however. To be fair, there were a few with brains among them; they just couldn't change the outcome, sadly. It was a cla.s.sic case of the useless team members getting their teammates in trouble.

Told you the nation's hackers were the best! Sure, the nation didn't invent the internet or computers, but the nation's hackers were their most formidable ent.i.ty. The sniper unlocked the lock within less than five minutes. The sniper took in a deep breath and removed the explosive detonator. He then slowly opened the heavy door, which wasn't made from metal but lead!

"Why did they make a trailer out of lead? Did they do it to stop the person inside from sending signals, or were they worried about them receiving messages?" wondered the sniper.

As he opened the door, the sniper recalled the young girl's face he was supposed to make contact with. He looked inside to see a young girl.

The young girl was sleeping. Perhaps unconscious was the more accurate term. Her black hair was down, covering her white and perfect face. She was nude, rendering his ears red due to him not seeing a girl in three years. The members outside were on fire. However, their target was their target, as in for the bra.s.s, not their personal target. So, they promptly calmed themselves down. The sniper gently picked up their target, who leaned onto his chest. He s.p.a.ced out when he looked down to see her perfect face at his chest. That said, he couldn't feel any warmth from her.

His heart skipped a beat. He pressed a hand onto her neck. There was no life.

"f.u.c.k! Motherf.u.c.ker! f.u.c.king motherf.u.c.ker!!!"

The sniper wanted to throw the corpse. His scowled because of his anger. He spun around and brayed, "The mission failed! Our target is dead! She's d-"

"System reboot complete. Signal status normal…"

The group didn't have time to be surprised. The sniper heard a robotic voice from his arms. He looked down to see a pair of brown eyes on him.

"Target confirmed. Ally force…"

The young girl broke free of the sniper's hold and hopped onto the ground. She wriggled her joints then turned around to look at the stunned group. Head slanted, she reported, "I am M4A1, a battle humanoid. Thank you for your help."

Glossary

*Jie - Is the made up speed measurement in this world.

*Qingtong – p.r.o.nounced “Ching Tong”