The Hades Facility: 'In the darkest depths, lay your darkest fears...' (The Prometheus Series Book 1)

by Oliver Tuson

  Eventually Millerchip saw an everyday looking estate car drive past the cross roads. It slowed to a crawl for a few seconds but didn’t stop. The car kept moving, picking up to a normal speed again. The professional driver taking the vehicle onwards and up the road, disappearing around the corner in a few seconds.

  If Millerchip blinked, he would have missed the four operators darting out of the vehicle and into the shadows, racing to secure the perimeter of the building.

  “Hunter Charlie is on target now!” stated the charlie team leader over the radio net. Millerchip was already crawling back to regroup with his men. With a quick nod to his team they started moving out into the night to secure the perimeter of the target building with charlie team. In the distance, he could just make out the unique double thud of the chinooks’ twin rotor blades drawing closer.

  Within seconds the perimeter was secure. Both teams spread out around the building creating invisible arcs of overlapping viewpoints and fields of fire. All the soldiers hiding in the shadows whilst taking cover behind parked cars and low walls. “Hello Hunter Zero, this is Hunter Alpha, perimeter is secure, ready for the assault, over!” He informed control back in the safety of the Green Zone. He imagined the director and all the analysts watching the mission unfold on various displays in the operations room. He knew high above them; a drone would be circling providing them visual on the area.

  The reply from control was drowned out as the deafening noise of the helicopter suddenly flooded out his hearing. Millerchip could feel the heavy down wash of the huge aircraft hit him as it rolled over his head, kicking up dust and debris as it went. He raised his forearm to shield his eyes as best he could whilst still trying to watch the building and keep the perimeter secure.

  The pilot braked hard, bringing the aircraft to a sudden stop where it hovered over the target building with ease. The huge hulk hanging there in the starry night sky, blocking out the moon from Millerchip’s view. The down thrust from the rotors sending dust and sand washing off the roof and cascading down the side of the building. It was an amazing sight, Millerchip thought to himself. Impressed by the speed at which the RAF pilot had made its sudden appearance overhead. “Good luck boys!” he said to himself as he saw the side door of the helicopter slide open.

  Clarke and the rest of Bravo team were lined up by the door as the loadmaster quickly slid it open. The cool night air rushed in, bringing with it the dusty smell Clarke had become used to. Clarke had been sure to put himself at the front of the team. Much to Hawkins’ disapproval, who had tried to object. And technically he was right. The team leader shouldn’t be point man, but Clarke didn’t care. He had a promise to keep and protecting them as best he could, by putting himself in harm's way first, might just keep his promise alive.

  The noise of the engines and rotor blades flooded into the hull as Clarke took hold of the thick black rope connected to the door frame. With a grunt he pushed the remainder that was clustered by his feet out of the door and watched it fall into the night towards the tiled roof of the building below.

  Clarke leant out further and felt the wash of hot air from the rotors hit him. Looking down to the roof of the building, there was enough moonlight to make out the remainder of the rope coiled on the floor like a deadly black snake. The helicopters load master quickly checked the rope’s attachment and whilst giving Clarke a slap on the back and a thumbs up shouted, “Go go go!”

  Clarke eased himself out of the side door, rope pulled in tight to his chest, gripping hard with the thick specialist gloves that protected his hands from the friction. Gravity instantly took control, pulling him fast towards the roof below whilst he squeezed and rotated his grip to slow his descent. He instantly felt the weight of all his gear. Rifle, pistol, ammo for both, three grenades and three flash bangs along with heavy body armour, helmet and radio all served to pull him faster towards the roof of the building. The downward thrust of the tandem rotors hit him with full force, adding to the feeling that he was plummeting, the ground zooming up to great him.

  Moments later his boots hit the tiled roof. The heavy landing momentarily making him lose his balance as the weight of his kit adjusted. Ballistic goggles kept the dust from his eyes that the helicopter was kicking up from all around him as he instantly started moving towards the door. As he moved, he hurriedly tore off the thick gloves, clipping them onto a carabiner on his assault vest and bringing his M4 assault rifle up to shoulder height, glaring over the sights towards the entry point of the building.

  Behind him, although he couldn’t hear over the deafening noise of the hovering aircraft, the rest of his team were descending the rope in quick succession, mere seconds behind. A moment passed and Clarke was at the door weapon raised and listening to the sound of the helicopter hovering overhead. Its loud aggressive presence alerting the enemy to the impending assault bravo team were about to make. Hard and fast he thought. But controlled. The men stacking up behind him were professionals. They knew their job. They had practiced many times, over and over until they were fluid and deadly at it.

  Jasper appeared from the dust cloud beside him and immediately went to work. Placing a breaching charge on the door lock. Clarke maintained cover on the door should anyone appear whilst the vulnerable solider was placing the device. His task done, he quickly took up his position behind Clarke whilst giving a thumbs up. The charge was ready to implode the door inwards injuring or disorienting anyone near the blast. They were simply waiting for the go from the last man getting in position.

  Clarke knew it seemed like an age but in reality, the team were on the roof and in position in about thirty seconds. The CH-47 crew had been good. Coming in fast and low offering as much surprise as possible. All in, Clarke reckoned the inhabitants of the building had just over sixty seconds warning from the faint sound of rotor blades to the blast that was about to shatter the door inwards and send the professionals in. Not long to prepare a decent defence he thought with a faint grim smile.

  But then that’s what makes the difference between professional soldiers and just men with guns. Preparation, planning and dedication. Just like the four men had trained for scenarios like this hundreds of times before and were dedicated soldiers. Committed professionals.

  He felt a firm double tap on the shoulder. All the team were in place and ready to breach. Clarke gave the signal to Jasper who shouted the warning “Breach, breach, breach!” as he gave a quick squeeze of the detonator sending the door shattering inwards. Clarke moved instantly through the door, the smell of the blast thick as he moved past the remains of the wooden door and down the staircase towards the third floor. Behind him, as the rest of his team followed his lead, the helicopter was already moving off, the rotors becoming a distant thud as the aircraft entered a safe holding pattern away from the building.

  Bravo team emerged into a dimly lit corridor that looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a year. Thick dust covered the surfaces and the wooden floor boards were in need of repair. Two doors emerged on to the corridor and at the end was a staircase leading down towards the floor below. Hugging the wall, they moved towards the first door. A microseconds pause then Clark burst through it, immediately followed by Jasper and Hawkins. Each solider moving through the door at different angles covering the corners and clearing the room in a heartbeat.

  Only Sanchez remained in the corridor, weapon raised, training his sights down the corridor towards the second door and staircase should any targets appear. Clarke took it all in in a flash. A simple room with a few sleeping bags on the floor. All unoccupied. He counted four. An indication of enemy numbers. Matches the intel so far, he thought as he kept thinking and planning ahead.

  Clarke moved back out and tapped Sanchez on the shoulder. The large man instantly started moving forwards towards the next door, leading the team on. They hurriedly stacked up on the next entry point. Sanchez went to reach for the handle but froze as it turned from the inside, the door suddenly opening. Sanchez’s heart rate increased as he tigh
tened his grip on his assault rifle. A sleepy looking man hurriedly stumbled out to investigate all the noise and commotion. He had the sense to pick up his AK47 assault rifle before checking, Sanchez thought to himself.

  His eyes went wide as he took in the sight of the special forces team and the point man who now had his M4 raised to the man's head. Sanchez identified the man’s face in a flash. Not the target and before the insurgent could react, he pulled the trigger, sending the 5.56mm bullet out of the muzzle and through the man’s head. The blast was loud in the corridor as the head whipped to the side, the contents of his skull hitting the door whilst his body dropped lifelessly to the floor with a thud.

  Behind Sanchez, Clarke was already pulling the pin out of a flash bang grenade as shouting erupted from within the room. He hurled it over the dead body and ducked back behind Sanchez. A second later, blinding light followed by a deafening blast exploded causing the shouting to end abruptly. “Check your targets!” Clarke ordered, not wanting to kill the high value target they had been sent to capture alive. The proof of WMDs hanging on the mission outcome.

  Bravo team followed the blast in. An insurgent was stumbling out of a military style cot bed, one arm across his eyes, shielding them from the blast. His other hand fumbling around for an assault rifle that was on the floor. Clarke was quick to act. Three steps and he connected the butt of his rifle with the side of his head knocking him down to the floor hard. Clarke caught sight of his face. Not Ahmed. Whoever he was, he reached for the rifle as Clarke sent two rounds into the man's chest and one more into his head. His skull shattered killing him instantly, blood quickly pooling around the dead man. Clarke heard three more shots from the other side of the room as Hawkins sent another fighter to his death.

  A laptop lay next to the man’s cot bed. “Get it!” shouted Clarke, not wanting to miss any opportunity for intelligence. Hawkins grabbed it and threw it into Sanchez’s backpack whilst hurriedly scanning the room for anything else of use before regrouping with Jasper in the corridor.

  Jasper led them towards the staircase to descend to the next floor as panicked shouting was echoing around the building. “Oh yeah… here we go boys!” whispered Hawkins excitedly. Clarke moved up to Jasper’s side, throwing another flash bang down the staircase. The grenade thudded down the wooden steps towards an enemy that were now well aware of their presence.

  The team followed the blast down the stairs and into a large room. Clarke couldn't quite tell but thought it might once have been a library or an office. Now it looked like it was being used as an area to store and maintain all manner of military equipment. Tables ran against one wall with various boxes and ammo crates on. A handgun was stripped and looked like it was halfway through being cleaned by its owner who was now rubbing his eyes and shouting out in sheer rage. He pulled a dagger from his belt and blindly ran towards Jasper who fired two quick rounds in to his chest, dropping him to the ground instantly. The wounds to his torso were bubbling blood from his lungs as he tried desperately to breath. Jasper quickly moved up and put a final round into his head, ending the threat and pain of the fighter immediately.

  Just as the team cleared the room and began to move towards a door on the far side, a hail of gunfire erupted. Bullets splintered through the wooden door as Clarke dived for cover against the supporting wall made of stone. Hawkins just missed the burst of the gunfire, a round pinging off the side of his helmet. He swore in rage and immediately opened up a burst of his own gunfire in retaliation towards the shattering wooden door.

  “Flash and clear it!” Shouted Clarke over the deafening noise of the intense firefight. “Mark your targets! Remember we need him alive!” He pulled his final flash bang from his gear and motioned for Jasper to do same. A second later both tossed them into the room through the now obliterated wooden door.

  The gun fire ceased as the inhabitants of the room screamed in frustration at the effects of the grenades. Hawkins immediately stopped shooting and sprinted enthusiastically through the entrance without much care for his own safety as Clarke swore under his breath, wanting to be first in. Not wanting anyone else to take the risk. The promise he made himself echoing in his head as he followed the younger reckless solider through the doorway.

  Clarke was greeted by a large, thick bearded man stumbling towards him wildly swinging his AK-47 which had run out of bullets. In a heartbeat he identified him as not being Ahmed and sent a burst of rounds from his rifle into his chest. The bullets dropped him to his knees as he gasped for air. His punctured lungs failing him. But the giant fought on, reaching for a pistol tucked in to his belt and pulling it out with lightning speed. Clarke fired another burst of gunfire into his head, sending him to the floor in a bloody unrecognisable mess.

  He heard his team fire more rounds in quick calculated bursts. The grenade had done its job. Six men were in the room all shielding their eyes or trying to judge where the threat was. Four got dropped in the space of a few seconds. A fifth was running towards a staircase at the back whilst shouting in rage and panic. He turned at the last second and raised a pistol towards them. Jasper opened fire and caught the man multiple times. He spun round from the impact of the bullets and fell down the staircase, leaving a trail of blood on the wall as he tumbled heavily down towards the ground floor.

  “Hands, hands!” Sanchez shouted at the sixth man who had had dropped his pistol and was rubbing his eyes trying to clear the effects of the flash. He looked different to the rest. Dressed in a shirt and trousers more suited to an office, than the insurgency in war-torn Baghdad.

  Clarke smiled when the man moved his hands from his face and stared at the group of soldiers, all with weapons raised towards him. He kept blinking and shaking his head trying to clear the effects of the grenade.

  “HVT confirmed!” Clarke stated over the radio net to control. Doctor Mohamed Ahmed quickly dropped his hands towards the floor and the handgun laying by his feet. “No, you don’t” Clarke said as he quickly delivered a kick to the target knocking him down on to his back.

  “Sanchez! Secure him!”

  “On it boss!” He moved up and used his brute strength to roll the Doctor on to his front. A second later he had Ahmed in plastic restraints as he dragged the man up to his feet with his muscular frame. Slipping his rifle to his back, he pulled out his Browning 9mm pistol and placed the muzzle on his captive’s shoulder as a silent threat. “Good to go!” he stated, more for his prisoner’s benefit than Clarke’s.

  The team moved to the staircase and regrouped, pausing and listening to the sound of any threats. Silence. Apart for the heavy breathing of the team and groans of discomfort from the captive doctor. Hawkins gave him a nod. “Want to play it safe boss?”

  “Yeah, do it!” Clarke confirmed as Hawkins pulled the pin on another flash grenade. “I'm first, remember that.” Clarke added bluntly before he had the chance to throw it. His voice was sharp as he thought about taking all the risk to keep his team alive. Hawkins shook his head dismissively as he tossed it down the stairs, but obeyed and let Clarke lead the way behind the blast. Straight down the stairs and stepping over the dead body that had sprawled across the floor in a pool of blood, they entered into an open kitchen and dining area. “Room clear” came a series of shouts as they secured the final part of the building.

  “Hello Hunter Zero, this is Hunter Bravo. HVT secure and moving to perimeter extraction point, over!” Clarke passed the information over the net to the rest of the task force in the control room who were now probably cheering and clapping at the team’s successful raid.

  “Roger that bravo, helicopter is inbound to extraction point now.” Clarke turned his attention to his team. “Good work boys!” They all shared a grin as Sanchez and Hawkins bumped fists in celebration.

  “Jas, Hawks, quick intel sweep. You got thirty seconds.” The two soldiers both nodded as they disappeared up the stairs searching for any other intelligence they could find and taking pictures of the dead fighters to identify them later. Any int
el they could salvage would be a bonus, although they had the top prize, Clarke thought as he watched Ahmed struggle in Sanchez’s vice like grip.

  “Steady there…” The large scotsman warned him whilst tapping the muzzle of his pistol on his shoulder as a gentle reminder. The doctor stopped his struggling and looked solemnly at the floor, accepting his defeat and capture.

  “Alpha coming in!” Shouted Millerchip from outside by the perimeter wall.

  “Friendly coming in!” Shouted Clarke in response, repeating it to ensure all his team heard and avoid any friendly fire incidents. Millerchip emerged cautiously through the front door.

  “We good bravo?”

  “All good boss,” Clarke replied as the sounds of the rotor blades filled the air again as the helicopter returned to extract the teams. Although both the same rank, the well experienced alpha team leader generally took charge of the teams on the few occasions they all operated together. And Clarke liked Millerchip. The mature captain with his good people skills reminded Clarke of Major Redwood back home. His natural talent for leadership and experience always getting the best from the people around him. He knew his team would be safe with the alpha taking the lead, so Clarke actively supported his decisions and tactics.

  “Nice job gentleman!” Millerchip added as Jasper and Hawkins reappeared from the stairs with one more laptop, two tablets and a hand full of paperwork. The sound of the CH-47 grew louder as it suddenly appeared over the building. The pilot slowly descending the aircraft into the cross roads below with the precision of hundreds of hours in the cockpit.

  “Come on, let's go!” Millerchip said as he moved outside to regroup with the rest of his team. Clarke nodded to his men and followed him out just as the aircraft was touching down on the tarmac of the large crossroads, its rear ramp already descending down to collect the soldiers.