End Game: Preview Thread

[The Stig]

Illya and his fellow squad leaders had kept pushing their men forward all morning. Despite the heat and the slow going navigating through the maze of buildings north of the highway they had covered a good distance. They were nowhere near the open countryside, but they all knew they'd likely set up defensive positions in the outskirts of town instead of pushing forward anyway.

“Not as cold as home eh Illya?” teased one of his fellow squad leaders.

They had paused and the squad leaders had done what small unit commanders through history have done. They assembled for a smoke break.

Another joined the fun, “it's hotter than Igor's piss that time he had the clap!”

While they all laughed at their friends expense Illya knew what was coming. Word had already filtered down that one of the scout units that ventured far ahead of the group had engaged an American unit. The news took everybody by surprise as it was the first report of an organized ground response. Men at the large Seabee base, a group of Naval construction soldiers, had attempted to respond to the invasion in the early hours but they taken so off guard the base had simply been overrun.

But this was different. The NCO's debated amongst themselves whether the unit had been Army or US Marines, but there was one thing they all agreed on: it was an organized force and larger than a small unit. That was if the scuttlebutt going around had any truth to it. It also meant combat was likely.

The friendly session was interrupted by the senior commander as he made clear the smoke break was over.

They'd be in the outskirts of town in the next few hours and then they could begin constructing an impromptu defensive line.

I've missed the last several installments so here's a small piece of the latest update on End Game.

If you are following along as a guest follow the instructions in post #13 and you can read the installments you missed along the entirety of this one.

[The Stig]

Here's a small part of the latest installment of End Game.

Crutchfield continued his lecture, “This plan was needed because of your failures General. The failures of this entire room.” His arm waved across the room to extenuate the point. “But despite your short comings you don't seem to show any gratitude for my work and vision.”

“Mr. President, I...I..I...you must...” the General tried to interject.

“Enough!” Crutchfield's voice erupted across the room. “I'm taken the time to fix the mess you've created and all you can do is interrupt and stammer like a fool. The military exists to enforce the will of the leader and help implement social order! You people couldn't accomplish that simple task so I found someone who would.” His voice cracked as the last few words escalated from loud to full on scream.

All eyes in the room were fully fixed on Crutchfield at this point as his face turned crimson. He was known for being prickly, having a temper. Most of the military men in the room had experienced his cold wrath at one time or another, but the former American military men had never before seen this level of rage.

As the room briefly fell silent, and the General who was the subject of Crutchfield's rage did his best to dissolve into his chair, all of the men including the Russians and Chinese were startled when the leader of the rebellion bellowed out “guards!”

If you'd like to read the entire entry along the rest of the story please read the instructions on post #13 of this thread and then join in the fun.

[The Stig]

It was like a scene out of a hundred movies. The police officers, clad in camouflaged clothing and armed with automatic weapons crept up the stairs of the apartment building in single file. Each man tucked in closely behind the one in front of him, they quietly ascended the flight of stairs to the third floor.

The man at the front of the string of officers paused at the top of the stairs bringing the entire processional to a brief halt. Ensuring that the hallway was clear he resumed moving forward towards the apartment at the end of the small hallway.

Reaching the door, the line of police officers, some eight in total, began preparing to make entrance into the apartment.

An informant had passed along a tip about two men that had been seeing leaving the apartment at odd hours. While the city was nowhere as oppressive as the ones on the east coast, some citizens of the new country took great delight in keeping tabs on their surroundings. The local police took full advantage of this source of intelligence and used it to harass those opposing Crutchfield's decrees.

They would enter the apartment in the typical fashion: the lead man would knock the door in, the rest of the stack of police officers would storm into the room and overwhelm whoever was unfortunate enough to be living there. Between the sudden entrance, the shouting and the threat of being shot, the hapless occupants would be quickly subdued so they could be taken downtown for further questioning.

The lead man held his hand up to signal his mates as he pulled back on the battering ram that would cave the door inwards.

That's just a small taste of my latest installment of End Game. You want to read more about Miller, Webb, Lowry and DeMetrie? Check out post #13 of this thread for instructions.

[The Stig]

While the rounds fell in around them, in ever increasing numbers, the low thump of the 25mm chain gun on the Bradley fighting vehicle soon erupted as it joined the fight. The gunner of the large armored vehicle spotted some target off in the distance, either real or imagined, and unleashed a short barrage of fifteen cannon rounds. It emerged from the woods some one hundred yards to the left.

This only served to attract the attention of the Russian gunners on the far distant hill crest. Within seconds heavy machine guns opened up and pelted the Bradley with 7.62 rounds intermixed with tracers. Another anti-tank rocket team, far to the Bradley's left, soon unleashed another rocket which impacted it square in the side.

The six troops in the back had been lucky to disembark and take up positions well clear of the twenty eight ton monster. No sooner had they dove to the ground to take up firing positions the big green troop carrier exploded in a tremendous fireball that spewed bits of metal, machine and man across the forest.

As the hulk of the Bradley burned brightly, the six infantrymen who had been riding in relative comfort only moments before, regrouped and began maneuvering their way towards the sole remaining vehicle of the group. They were only seventy five yards from the other group and within a few minutes all of the men successfully made the short dash through the trees to their comrades.

Ok folks...there's another small taste of the latest installment of End Game. If you've been lurking and want to read the rest of the installment (along with the rest of the story) follow the instructions in post #13 of this thread.

Hope to see you there.

[The Stig]

I'm hoping you guys have figured out how this works by now.

This is a small segment of my most recent update to End Game. There entire update, and entire story thus far, is available in the stories forum.

If you've been lurking to read my other stories please follow the directions in post #13 of this thread and catch up on the fun.

“Shhhhh,” said Miller as he motioned for silence. “I think I hear it.” Both men strained to make out the feint sound of an airplane motor.

After what seemed like minutes passed, Webb replied, “I hear it.”. Consulting his map he added, “they are coming in just like we expected.”

The timing had been perfect. One they got outside the city, Miller contacted his headquarters over the pirated communications satellite and requested the supply drop. An unseen army of men, at a secret location somewhere in Texas, sprang into action. Within an hour a twin-engine turboprop leapt into the air laden with two supply canisters. Painted all black, and covered in radar absorbent materials, the plane, specially outfitted with avionics and high output engines, was purpose built for these sorts of missions.

Flying fast and low over the terrain the plane had successfully penetrated the enemy airspace of the north. The lack of a coherent radar system and heavy fighter cover helped aide their clandestine activities. Hugging the earth, and the aid of night vision and million of dollars of equipment the plane drove on into the night.

Glancing at his watch Miller said, “nice timing too. Only had to wait ten minutes.”

They waited until the plane got closer before Miller said, “Ok, light em up.”

Without responding Webb flicked the switch on the oddly shaped device and aimed it in the general direction of the aircraft. The unit, an infrared beacon, sent a beam visible to anybody with night vision goggles. It was risky, but Miller counted on the remote location to hide their activities.

Within seconds the sound of the plane shifted as it changed directions.

“You just going to stand there and let them drop canisters on your head?” asked Miller with a smile as Webb stood holding the beacon.

Grasping the meaning of the question Webb carefully placed the beacon on the ground. He made an adjustment so the beam was pointing nearly straight up, seemingly endlessly into space.

The two men trotted back to their car and hoped that some freakish gust of wind or other cosmic force wouldn’t result in a heavy supply canister crashing through the hood of the SUV.

Hearing the plane, eerily quiet, pass overhead they waited for the sound of the canisters dropping to earth. They only had to wait fifteen seconds before they were rewarded by the dull thud of steel cylinders slamming into dirt.

[The Stig]

Just a small taste of the latest installment of End Game, the continuing saga of Miller and company.

“I like this. I like this very much,” said Miller as they drove past the large sports stadium.

Looking over a paper map of the area he had already started to work out some ideas of how they could capitalize on the information they had gathered at the police data center.

Webb, doing his best to look at the large concrete structure while not running off the road, replied, “yea, that's a massive old ass stadium. Must seat like, a hundred thousand or so?”

“Yea, I think so. This is perfect. The nearest airport is ten miles away, through the heart of the city. Oh yea.....we can sow all sorts of chaos here,” mused Miller.

As he turned away from the stadium, careful not to drive all the way around it and attract suspicion, Webb guided the SUV across the city streets with care. “Looks like the badguys are setting up already,” he stated as he watched a large Police vehicle drive past headed towards the old horseshoe shaped concrete stadium.

“Yep,” commented Miller, as he considered their options. “Showtime isn't all that far away. They're going to set up and lock this area down pretty quickly.”

As the impressive structure disappeared in the rear-view mirror Miller finally said, “lets head to the outskirts of town and see if we can find somewhere to stay for the night.”

As the truck turned north Miller thought over the kernel of a plan he had stitched together during the long drive. It was daring but his plans usually were.

If you want to read the whole installment (and the whole story thus far) check out post #13 of this thread. It's really simple....make a post and become achieve "contributor status". Then you can read all of End Game in the stories sub-forum.

[The Stig]

If you are continuing to lurk, or signed up and not made a post, what are you waiting for?

A side effect of registering +1 post is being able to read the entire story of End Game.

Here's small taste. If you want to read the entire entry refer to post #13 of this thread or simply registrar and make a post.

They had been lucky. While scouting out the international airport they found the small museum. The building was near the far end of the field, away from the main terminal and associated support hangers. They had just happened to drive past it. Inside a group of World War II vets maintained a small airplane museum dedicated to preserving the memories of the air war of the time.

Outside the small, squat building, stood a lone C47. The military version of the venerable DC3 it was painted in colors to resemble the invasion fleet that dropped paratroopers on D-Day. For a small donation you could climb inside and journey back to yesteryear.

For Miller it had cost one hundred dollars.

“Come on Sky King,” said Miller.

Webb, not catching the reference, looked back quizzically while he climbed into the pilots seat and pantomimed playing with the controls and obligatorily flipping random switches. Playing the part he made sure anybody watching from outside would see nothing but someone pretending to be an airline captain.

“Never mind,” said Miller shaking his head. He tended to forget how much younger Webb really was. “Set the first pack under the pilots seat. On the way out I'll stash one in that small compartment in the back.”

“Don't you think they'll sweep here before, during and after the visit?”

“That's exactly what I'm hoping for,” replied Miller cryptically. “And if they don't find them we can make that work too.”

[The Stig]

Calming himself after the Russian's departure from the austere office, Crutchfield picked up the phone and called the head of his security detail.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning. The rally at the stadium is tomorrow night at seven. I trust you are prepared,” was all he said without any pleasantries.

“Mr. President, again I ask you to reconsider. We've not done the proper security sweeps of the stadium, let alone important areas of the city. Please consider pushing the speech back several days, one at least.”

Pausing to make his security chief uncomfortable he replied, “The rally is at the stadium tomorrow night at seven. We leave in the morning.” Without another word the line went dead.

As the security chief sat and mulled over his options he realized he had none. He already had men in the area hurriedly making preparations and working around the clock to take the most rudimentary of precautions. But with the time table he was given they were cutting a lot of corners to achieve that. Their security would be weak at best.

Picking up the phone again he waited for the answer before saying, “We go tomorrow morning. Time unknown. We don't have any more time for elaborate preparations. Have the teams do what they can to secure the stadium, the surrounding area and the transport site.”

Hanging up the phone he let out a long sigh. He wondered what it would be like to be sent to the front line.

It's been a while since I posted a preview snippet. If you are lurking and want to read the last several entries to End Game, along with the entirety of this one, register on the website and make at least one post. That's it. That's all you have to do so be able to access the whole story in the stories subforum.

[The Stig]

Like all the others, here's a small sample of the latest installment of End Game.

As the convoy rumbled through the Texas countryside, the driver mused to himself about how many millions of dollars were being spent to move one guy across the country. The armored truck, the two gigantic SUV’s, the hoard of armed men crammed into them, all aimed at making sure the lone passenger made it from point A to point B unsuccessfully.

“Tango lead to tango rear, status?” came the digitized voice of the team leader in the lead SUV.

After a slight pause the reply came, “Situation green. No signs of problems.”

They continued on in silence though the Texas countryside, dotted with clumps of vegetation and rock, and mostly flat for as far as the eye could see, for the next twenty minutes.

Normally an operation like this would warrant a larger force or even transport by air but the group was hoping to use their small size to escape detection. A decoy group had moved out on land an hour before them, one by air earlier than that. With any luck they’d traverse the rest of Texas, Louisiana and some of Mississippi by morning, and be well on the way to their final destination near Atlanta.

Rumbling on into the dark, the silence was only broken by the occasional status reports. Otherwise the drivers, illuminated only by the hue of their dashboard lights, continued on into the dark.

If you are lurking and haven't registered, what are you waiting for? Register, make one post and blamo! You get to read the rest of the story.

More importantly, you can access all the great prep discussions and information contained in the forum.

[Polarbarez]

This looks like a great story. Here is apost to let me continue reading it.
Thanks