Viking Story - Beta Chapter 1 (Patreon)

The flickering lights of the besieged embassy cast long shadows over Delta Team's harried expressions. The team leader Magnus, gripping his rifle tightly, scanned the ravaged room where they'd found Ambassador Sanderson huddled under a desk, his face pale and eyes wide with fear.

Two marines lay bleeding out next to the door, having held back the unfriendlies that had breached the walls and made it into the building.  

When word came that the embassy was under attack they had dropped in, being only thirty minutes out.  Magnus’s squad had been there for a different mission and now they were re-routed, given a task not normally meant for them.

“They were red ammo,” Martinez said as he came to where Magnus was.  “I’m surprised they held out so long.  You saw how many we killed.”

Nodding but ignoring her for a moment, Magnus held his radio up again.

"Delta Team to Command, we have the package, but we're pinned down. Ammo is running low, I repeat, ammo is running low. We need extraction ASAP!" Magnus barked into his radio, only to be answered with static. His eyes met those of his second-in-command, Martinez, who nodded grimly, his magazine almost empty.

Outside, the chaotic cacophony of gunfire and explosions continued unabated, a grim symphony to their dire situation. They had expected resistance, but the ferocity of the attack had caught them off guard. 

It appeared none of the marines who guarded the embassy were left inside, having been forced to deal with the increasing number of hostile forces coming through the multiple openings in the wall and at the gate.  The local insurgents, who were better armed and more organized than intel said, had surrounded the embassy, breaking through the gates and overwhelming things instantly.

After tinkering with the radio and trying desperately to establish a clear line, their communications expert, Dawson, growled, "Evac arrives in five."

Magnus peered through a shattered window, assessing their situation. The courtyard was a death trap, swarming with insurgents. Their only chance was the roof, but that meant crossing two long sections of enemy territory.

"We move now," he decided, turning to his team. "Martinez, take point. Dawson, keep the radio line open. We're not dying here today.  Ambassador, hug my six and don’t let go we need to move!"

“But–” 

“Don’t!” Magnus snapped at the overweight man, his suit wrinkled and covered in dirt and sweat. “We move now! Staying here is certain death!”  

With Sanderson in tow, Delta Team moved swiftly, communicating with hand signals. Every step was a risk, every corner a potential ambush. They traveled through the dark hallways, only the glow of the emergency lights providing help for someone to see.  Their pulse raced as distant gunfire reverberated through the building.

With his thermals on, Martinez grunted and motioned ahead.

Moving along the first floor, chaos erupted. Insurgents, having breached the perimeter stormed the hallway through the open front door, opening fire. Bullets whizzed past, plaster and dust filling the air. Martinez returned fire, his shots calculated and precise, providing cover as the team ducked into an alcove set within the hallway.

Bodies hit the floor, sliding across the tile as they took turns, each shot ending the life of another hostile.  What might have seemed like minutes was less than thirty seconds. The hallway near the open door went silent for a moment.

"Red ammo," Magnus whispered.

"Two mags," Martinez reported.

"One and a half," added Dawson.

Magnus nodded, conserving his words and bullets. Every shot had to count.

Dawson held up one hand while covering his ear with the other right before Martinez took point.  The redneck from Texas, who always had a smile, lost it as he listened to their tactical eyes and ears.

“Overwatch says we have a massive crowd of unfriendlies coming through the walls,” he stated, frowning as he spoke. “We need to move now.”

Spitting on the ground, Martinez shook his head as he scowled at Magnus. “You were right… those bastards in HQ screwed us.”

“Can it. We all know what we signed up for,” Magnus replied quietly, holding a mirror out around a corner to check for unfriendlies.  “We’ve been in worse, and you two know it.  Remember Columbia?”

The other two chuckled, and the overweight ambassador anxiously looked at them, sweat pouring down his face. “Aren’t we needing to move?” Sanderson asked.

“Sure,” Martinez said, grinning like the predator he was. “You can lead if you want.”

Swallowing whatever words the ambassador had considered saying, their package went quiet, shaking his head quickly.

They pressed on, the weight of their responsibility heavy upon them. This man had taken part in uncovering corruption within a military branch. HQ was adamant someone had found out and would take him out.  Seeing how badly things were going and how wrong their intel was, Magnus wondered what kind of hot mess they had stepped in.

The ambassador, though scared, kept pace, fueled by the instinct to survive. They reached the final hallway, the stairs to the roof just a sprint away. But as they prepared to move, an explosion of a RPG rocked the wall near them, sending them sprawling. Dazed and ears ringing, Magnus rallied his team.

"Go, go, go!"

The hallway was fifty yards long, and the area they needed to reach felt so far away.  Windows on the left side of it provided a glimpse at the chaos outside.  The marines that had been guarding this place were all down.  

Insurgents had picked up the weapons those brave marines had used, only to find them empty. 

Martinez’s rifle barked, one, two, three, four. Each shot took down a man in a group at the end of the hallway.  They carried nothing but machettes but their presence at that end of the hall made things worse.

“Stairwell may be compromised; be ready, let’s go!”

Every ten feet was a window and staying close to it was a horrible decision but being against the other wall meant being exposed if someone looked through it.  More enemies made their way into the end of the hall, shots ringing out.

“Grenade!” Martinez exclaimed as he tossed one near the end of the hallway into a pack of eight, shouting and coming at them.

Dawson’s gun started to announce the enemies coming from behind.

“We’re boxed in!” Dawson yelled as he emptied his mag. “Red ammo!”

Magnus spun, pushing the Ambassador to the floor and ignoring the protest the man gave.

His rifle brought death with every shot.  As he pulled the trigger one last time, Magnus heard the click.  “Red ammo!”

Without hesitating, he let go of his rifle, letting it hang from his chest, pulling his sidearm out.

“Green ammo,” Dawson announced, his rifle back in action.  

“Tossing a gernade!” Magnus said as he threw one toward the pack of insurgents that seemed to never end.  The red mist that came as it exploded seemed to buy them a little bit of time.

“Move up!” he ordered, grabbing the package and pulling the man to his knees.  “Stay low!”

Every foot they gained cost somoene their life.  The last of their grenades had gotten them halfway, and both Martinez and Dawson had called out red ammo at some point, switching to their side arms and making shots most couldn’t imagine while standing at a range, let alone under this pressure.

They were delta and they weren’t like others.

Two-thirds of the way there, shouting came from the courtyard, and Magnus risked a quick glance out the window, wanting to see the commotion. Popping his head up for half a second, he caught sight of an unfriendly hefting something to his shoulder. “Get down!” Magnus shouted.

Magnus’s hearing was muffled. It took several more attempts of blinking his eyes to reveal to him just how bad the situation was. Far worse than he had feared.  

Martinez and Dawson were both down. Fragments of the wall from the second RPG littered the dim hallway.  Small, sporadic fires of couches, desks, curtains, and other items cast an eerie glow every.  The smell was horrible, as the scent of burning fibers, paint, and wood mixed, creating a cloud of smoke that assaulted not only his lungs but also his nose.

The rocket had hit directly next to them, creating a massive hole in the wall and burying them under brick and rubble.

His team was down, and Magnus could smell that the ambassador had pissed his pants. Someone had decided this man was worth all this. They wouldn’t like it when Magnus shared his thoughts about if it was true.

Rolling over, ignoring the pain, Magnus made his way to Martinez first.  Pain worse than any physical kind tore through him when he learned he was gone.  Rolling him over, Magnus shut his eyes and said a quick prayer.  Pain that he couldn’t carry Martinez to the extraction point overwhelmed him.

Someone will come and get you!

His leg screamed against his continued movement, but Dawson hadn’t reacted at all in the past few moments either.  Two fingers against his brother's artery told Magnus the truth he already knew. They were both gone.  

Later… honor them later… mission first… head down… find a way…

Those words echoed in Magnus’s head as he took a second to say goodbye.

The ringing in his ears made it impossible for him to understand the words coming through his earpiece. However, the distinct noise of a helicopter’s blades moving overhead overcame his hearing problem. Magnus recognized the sweet sound of the 12.7mm 50 cal on that Blackhawk above.  

Pain lanced through his leg, arm, and chest, where brick and reinforced metal had punctured him in multiple places.

“What do we do?!”

That whiny voice came again.  He had ignored it for a moment, but it kept repeating itself.

Magnus shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. His body moved on its own. It didn’t need him to tell it what to do. Hundreds of hours of training had made everything muscle memory.

Moving to where the ambassador was, crouched between his fallen brothers, Magnus gave the man a once-over.  Ambassador Sanderson winced when he touched the shallow cut on the man’s left arm.

“We need to move! Stay behind me!”

High-pitched words came again from the man, but Magnus didn’t care to spend the effort to try to understand the ambassador. Checking his sidearm, Magnus saw what was left.

Ten shots…

Shadows and sounds of the terrorists who had whipped up the local populace were coming from up ahead. They were inside, and he had ten bullets left in his sidearm.  Everyone else had run dry, fighting through the hallways to get this far.

Glancing around the rubble, Magnus let himself chuckle when he saw a firebox on the wall twenty feet ahead. Above it was a fire axe.

Would that even work? It seems these yahoos have more rpgs than rifles…

Checking behind him, the Ambassador held onto his tattered backpack. As Magnus moved forward, the pain in his body called out, but his mind shut it down. This was nothing.  

Keep your head down.  Find a way! Finish the mission!

Those words filled him as he bent down and moved quickly past the hole in the wall.  

Three terrorists burst around a corner, brandishing machetes. Target practice. His body reacted instinctively. His gun barked three times. 

Chest. Chest. Head. 

The three men dropped like bags of corn.

His mind fought to stay focused, pushing back the memories of growing up on the farm with his parents. Magnus knew the blood he was losing everywhere would catch up if he didn’t hurry.

The noise began to come into focus as the ringing started to vanish, and soon, he was at the firebox. Grabbing the axe by the handle, Magus felt the solid heft of the grip in his hand.

Shouting and yelling were coming closer.  They could make it, but he needed to hurry.

Glancing over his shoulder, Magnus fought back the anger and pain of his two fallen friends.  

Shouts came again, and he snapped his head forward, ignoring the pain that the sudden move had caused. He saw a group of men turning the corner.

With the softest touch one could have, Magnus’s finger pulled the trigger, and a masterpiece of death rang out like a concert pianist.  

-----

Magnus’s lungs burned, and more blood flowed as he limped toward the stairs. 

How many have I killed? How many are left?

Over thirty men were dead, cut down with the axe in his right hand or the knife he always carried in his left.  He had cuts that cried out in pain, but operators pushed through the pain.  Years of training kept that weakness locked behind a wall.

“Go! Up the stairs!” Magnus barked, struggling to keep his breathing steady.  “Chopper is there!”

Without a word of thanks, the overweight man scrambled past him toward the stairs like a dog.  He hadn’t expected or believed the man might offer a thank you for saving his fat ass, yet the lack of it left a bad taste in Magnus’s mouth.

How does someone like him get a position like this?

The sounds Magnus had heard were almost upon him. Blood and sweat filled his eyes, so Magnus used his wrist to stop the torrent that seemed to be flowing so quickly.

Eight? No… nine…

They came charging, yelling loudly, and waving their blades.  Some pointed to the ambassador halfway to the top of the stairs leading to the roof and safety.  They called out to capture both of them.

Magnus smirked as he stared at the fools. Capturing the Ambassador would mean that Martinez and Dawson’s deaths would be in vain, and he wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

The fat man needed more time if he was going to make it.

I’ll give him all the time he needs…

Grateful for how it appeared they had run out of bullets just as he had, Magnus couldn't help but acknowledge their commitment.  Two sides, neither willing to back down.

Roaring with a rage that welled up from within, Magnus’s body moved on its own.  His axe and knife became one with his body. Tactics had been drilled into him for years.  He held the high ground at the base of the stairwell, and against this many, it was the best place for now.

The first man rushed at him, leaning forward and off balance.  His swing was about as awful as one could imagine.  A slight step to the side, followed by a quick chop, put the blade deep into the man’s skull before momentum tore it free.

A dance of death, blades whirling and connecting, took place.  Bodies fell, and more came.  Like a dam that had broken, it suddenly seemed that there was no end to the carnage around Magnus.  He stumbled over the corpses, over the men crying from a missing arm or a broken collarbone. 

The lucky ones died quickly, and the unlucky ones found out what kind of demon Magnus was with a weapon he had grown up with his whole life.  This one wasn’t meant to fell trees.  Its purpose was now changed, forged into an instrument of pain.  Death was kind to those who got it.  The butchered victims who survived learned how painful an axe with an edge and a pointed tip could be.

Magnus wasn’t unscathed. His legs, arms, chest, and back all lost the precious red liquid required to fuel the beast that he was.  Every cut drove him on, his eyes vibrating with a rage that never gave in.

A song began to sound in his head, and it encouraged the dance of death. The hallway he pushed back through seemed brighter as if the roof had vanished completely. White light seemed to pour down on him as more men fell.

Gasping for air, a ragged breath came that was more of a wheeze.  Yanking the pointed tip of the axe from the man’s skull who was trembling before him, Magnus watched him fall to the tiled floor of the embassy.

Scanning the area, he saw no one else coming. Only two sounds could be heard: the sound of female voices singing a most glorious song and the groaning of the men he had struck down.

As his knees gave out, Magnus felt a pair of arms catch him.

Looking over his shoulder, he expected to see the extraction team.  Instead, Magnus found the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

—------ (May end here) —------ (Thoughts on above or below ending)

Her hair was blond, so bright it seemed to glow, and she wore a winged metal helmet.  Behind her stood a horse, and a spear was on her back.  The smile on her face made him feel at peace even while his mind struggled to understand what was taking place.

“You fought well, son of Odin,” she said.  Her voice was calming, filling his tired body with a power he couldn’t begin to describe.  “Rest, he is waiting for you.”

The light became like a supernova, encompassing everything with its blinding brilliance.

Magnus closed his eyes.