From there on in, it was thick reinforced concrete walls and solid steel containment buildings, depending on where in the facility the bad guys were located.
They set about to locate and secure whatever was left of the security office. It should have cameras monitoring every single room in the facility. From there it was possible that they could get lucky and see what parts of the facility were under the control of the tangos. Perhaps Captain Banner and his team could also determine if they were on the way in or out of the area.
When Frank made it to the main entrance of the facility he started to see the signs of what had been an intense firefight. From the amount of damage and spent rifle rounds, there were either more than ten guys inside, or those ten were a hell of a lot better armed than the intelligence briefing had indicated. Frank decided they should slightly slow the pace and exercise a bit more caution.
Everyone stacked up with their backs to the reinforced concrete retaining walls that surrounded the main reactor facility. Frank inched closer to the entrance and quickly took a look around the corner before pulling back behind the wall.
There were no tangos to be seen. He used hand signals to inform the team about the lack of danger from humans at this corner. Booby traps were always a concern. Knowing its better to stay stealthy as long as possible, they slipped silently around the corner, vigilantly scanning for traps, and into the compound sticking to the shadows whenever possible.
The door to the security building was thirty feet past this entrance. They closed the distance in seconds silently, not knowing what to expect inside.
Once inside they found the surveillance room was right where they were told it would be. Unfortunately, there had been a large explosive set off in the room and nothing remained that could be helpful.
Shit, Frank cursed, this whole thing was starting to go sideways. These intruders were covering their own ass. That meant they were not just off the street thugs, they were an enemy to be taken seriously.
An unexpected explosion rattled the building. It was followed by a large burst of automatic weapons fire coming from where the main reactor was, which would also be where the nuclear material could be accessed from storage.
As they made their way toward the firefight they could see what remained of the security team was pinned down behind a large storage container. The storage containers were forty feet tall, cylindrical, and with each passing moment becoming more riddled with bullet impacts. The attacking force was obviously more than the ten men the “intelligence” services had claimed. They had large caliber automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenades at a minimum.
So far neither side seemed to realize that a group of newcomers was about to join in the fight with the violent precision only a team of special operators was capable of delivering.
Frank took up position behind the rusted front end of an old two and a half ton cargo truck that looked like it had been built in the 1940’s. He knew the truck would offer Sergeant Fisher and his own rear-end some reasonable protection. Frank watched and waited as the remainder of the team picked the best available fighting positions and angles to engage the terrorist, he corrected himself, “alleged terrorist” force.
Using a flurry of hand signals, he let the team know the plan. They would start firing as soon as he let the first round go.
Frank took careful aim at what appeared to be the terrorist’s heaviest machine gun position and swiftly pulled the trigger. The team opened up as one. They had joined the battle. It was time to earn their combat pay.
Bullets impacted three of the enemy positions. Concrete chipped away from walls, adding to the deadly projectiles that were flying around. The tangos stopped firing at the security team, obviously surprised by this new development.
The new incoming fire he and his team were putting out was far more accurate and heavy than what the security team had been able to produce. Two of the terrorist positions had stopped moving due to the initial volley. That left six known positions to deal with.
Frank took aim at the closest of those remaining and continued firing. Just as he pulled the trigger an RPG was launched from one of the flanking positions directly at one of the team’s locations.
He watched helplessly as the shot tracked towards two of his men. The position that two Sergeants had taken would not protect them from a direct hit. They were forty feet away and there was not a damn thing Frank could do, and he knew it.
The two men saw the RPG coming their way, turned and started to run, but by then, it was too late. RPGs were too damn fast. It hit and all that could be seen was a violent fiery explosion followed by dust, debris and a fine red mist that had once been men under Frank’s command. His teammates, his friends, now dead.
They continued to return fire. They all knew what could happen. They would mourn the dead later.
Once the dust settled the only evidence that could be seen that there was once a living human in that location was a severed arm about ten feet away from the blast and riddled leg laying in a slowly expanding pool of blood. Small bits of unidentified matter were splattered against the walls. The bloody remains may not have been from the same person. Only time and DNA would be able to determine which body parts belonged to which of his soldiers. It was not the first time he had lost men under his command but it stung just as much each time.
Focusing on the battle, he looked up to make a count of how many terrorist positions were left. They were down to three.
There was no good way to get a clean shot at any of them. They had elevated, shielded positions. They had put themselves in a fantastic defensive spot. It was the position Frank would have chosen if he was trying to perform their mission. He touched Sergeant Fisher on the shoulder and pointed to the door of the building the tangos were holding and signed his intention to take the fight to the terrorist. Sergeant Fisher indicated he was ready with a thumb up and a feral smile. This is what they lived for, doing damage and harm to those who would do harm to the good people of the world.
He sprinted for the door with Sergeant Fisher right behind him. Their hearts beat faster with each step as they ran. They went up two flights of stairs to the level the enemy fire was coming from.
A right down a long hallway, then a left, and they could hear automatic weapons fire coming from at least two of the rooms. The sounds of battle were so loud it was hard to tell if it was two rooms or three. Perhaps the men on the ground had taken one more of their positions out, maybe they just couldn’t hear anything because of the continuous ringing in their ears.
Frank made his way to the first of the doors and braced himself behind the wall for a quick second. He stood, kicked in the door, and burst in the room with Sergeant Fisher right on his tail.
Without a second thought, they quickly dispatched the two men firing out the windows with short bursts to the back of their heads from their M-4s. The bullets entered clean enough, but exited taking the front half of the terrorists’ heads with them. What was left of the tangos fell to the floor with a very disturbingly loud wet sloppy sound. The walls of the room were decorated with blood red mosaics complete with chunks of grey matter that was starting to slowly slide down the walls leaving deep red gelatinous streaks in its wake. These two were down. They did not even have to double-check them. The faceless men were now crumpled on the floor, blood still flowing from the mess that had been their heads. To make matters worse for them, the other body functions relaxed and the smell of feces intermingled with blood and cordite.
In the room was an array of weaponry. There was an older Russian model PKM machine gun with bipod mount, a small stack of RPGs and a launcher. With all the firing still going on, it seemed the short in-room gunfight went unnoticed by the other tangos.