Apache vs Anti-Air

Emerging from the alley, they spotted a small tea stall. Blending in with the locals, they took a moment to regroup.

Amid the chaos of Zarabad, Liv and Juliet Squad had established a secure rooftop position, keeping a watchful eye on the city below. The streets were a battleground, with various factions clashing for control, and it was their job to gather intelligence on the situation.

Liv peered through her scope, scanning the streets for any signs of movement or potential threats. She could see the distant flashes of gunfire and the thick plumes of smoke rising from burning buildings. The city was a tinderbox, ready to explode at any moment.

"Em, Dan, do you read me?" Liv spoke softly into her comm, hoping to reestablish contact with the missing members of their squad.

Em's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Loud and clear, Liv. We've run into a bit of trouble but managed to evade capture. We're laying low for now."

Dan added, "We're making our way back to your position. Keep an eye out for us."

"Copy that," Liv replied. "Stay safe, and be careful. The situation here is escalating quickly."

As Juliet Squad maintained their vigil, the unmistakable roar of aircraft engines filled the sky. The sound was a welcome one, as it signaled the arrival of air support from other AASOC squads.

A pair of Apache helicopters swooped low over the city, their heavy machine guns rattling as they engaged enemy positions. The deafening whoosh of a fighter jet passing overhead indicated that the situation was escalating.

"Looks like we've got some backup," Liv commented, watching as the helicopters unleashed a barrage of Hellfire missiles, creating fiery explosions amidst the enemy ranks.

"Let's hope they can help us regain control of this mess," Dan remarked, his binoculars trained on the ongoing firefight.

Smoke and dust clouded the skies of Zarabad, punctuated by the unmistakable trails of anti-aircraft missiles. The Apaches, once kings of the airspace, were now prey, evading a storm of anti-aircraft fire.

"Liv, we need to get the hell out of here!" Dan shouted, the deafening roar of an Apache going down in flames not too far from their position.

"No argument here!" Liv replied, grabbing her gear and making her way towards the extraction point with her squad. "Juliet, on me! We're falling back!"

As the team regrouped, Sergeant Reynolds reported, "We've lost three Apaches. They've got some serious anti-air capabilities."

Liv gritted her teeth, pushing down the frustration. "Alright, link up with Alpha and Bravo, we need to find a defensible spot to regroup with the others."

As Juliet Squad navigated the maze-like streets, dodging sporadic firefights and explosions, they eventually rendezvoused with the remnants of Alpha and Bravo in a half-ruined building.

"Damn, didn't see that one coming," murmured Em, as she took stock of their situation. Lee, with his usual calm demeanor, was already tending to a wounded member of Alpha.

"Alright, everyone, quick debrief," began Liv, gathering the squad leaders together. "We need a game plan. Our air support's compromised, and both insurgent groups are no joke."

Dan interjected, "Alpha's been working on gathering intel. Seems both these groups have some external support. This isn't a random uprising."

Charlie from Alpha-1, their lead recon, added, "We managed to intercept some comms. There's a planned meet-up between high-ranking members of both insurgent groups tomorrow at dawn. Could be our chance."

Dan scratched his head, clearly perplexed. "Hold on a sec. I get that we're dealing with some complex stuff here, but does anyone else find it strange that these two groups, who've been going at each other's throats, suddenly want to sit down for tea and biscuits?"

Em chimed in, echoing the skepticism. "Yeah, it doesn't add up. I mean, we've seen these guys in action. They're not exactly the diplomatic type."

Liv nodded in agreement. "You're both right. This smells fishy. There's more to this meet-up than meets the eye. We can't ignore it, though. It's our best chance to gather intel and maybe figure out who's pulling the strings. Meanwhile, we need to set up a temporary base, lay low, and plan our next move."

Hours turned into night as the members of AASOC brainstormed, planned, and prepped.

__________________

EARLIER THE MORNING (NOVEMBER 11 2021), BEFORE AASOC ARRIVAL..

As the sun began to cast its first light over Zarabad, Hffyl stood among the Pashtun Azadi Front (PAF) fighters, flanked by his comrades from the MV Sirena: Azura, Kadir, and Omar. The anticipation in the air was palpable as they prepared for their daring assault on the Hizb al-Thabat al-Shari'ah and their stronghold at Fort Zarabad.

Mustafa Al-Farouq, the founder of PAF, stood at the forefront, his gaze resolute. His thick beard and determined eyes spoke of years of struggle and leadership.

"We've waited long enough," he declared, his voice carrying weight. "It's time to take back our city from these oppressors."

The fighters, a mix of locals and those who had joined their cause, nodded in unison. Malik Abdul, a trusted member of PAF, stepped forward. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes.

"We've gathered intelligence on their positions and their movements," Malik reported, his rugged appearance belying his keen strategic mind. "Their forces are divided, and they've underestimated us."

Hffyl, standing among the fighters, listened intently. He was both a student and a soldier in this complex dance of power and resistance. His connection with the the voice inside of his head felt more profound than ever, guiding him in ways he couldn't fully comprehend.

"Farid, Arash, Asif," Mustafa called out, acknowledging the specialists within their ranks. "You've been training our new recruits tirelessly. Teach them the tactics and strategies we've honed over the years."

Farid, a seasoned fighter with scars that told countless stories, stepped forward. "These young bloods may lack experience, but they've got heart," he said with a nod. "We'll make sure they know how to handle themselves."

Arash, the firearm expert, added, "We've got some surprises in store for those Hizb al-Thabat al-Shari'ah bastards. They won't know what hit 'em."

Asif, known for his resourcefulness, chimed in, "We've got improvised weapons that'll give us an edge. And we've set traps along their expected routes."

The fighters listened to their leaders with unwavering determination. They knew the risks, and they knew the odds were stacked against them. But the desire to reclaim their city, to liberate Zarabad from the grip of oppression, fueled their resolve.

Hffyl felt the weight of the moment, the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. He had become part of this struggle, part of their quest for justice. It wasn't just about his connection to the ancient sailship anymore; it was about standing with these brave souls who had chosen to fight.

Mustafa's gaze shifted to Hffyl, his eyes piercing. "Hffyl, you've brought something unique to our cause. Your knowledge of maritime history and your skills are invaluable. Work closely with Arash on our special surprise."

Hffyl nodded, accepting the role assigned to him. He had learned much from his comrades on the MV Sirena, and now he would put that knowledge to use in this fight.

The fighters began to disperse, each group taking on their respective roles and preparing for the assault. Hffyl found himself alongside his shipmates, Azura, Kadir, and Omar, and Arash, the firearm expert, who was busy inspecting a cache of weapons.

"These might look like ordinary rifles," Arash explained, "but we've modified them. Armor-piercing rounds, silenced barrels, and some surprises. We're going to hit them hard and fast."

Hffyl marveled at the ingenuity of the PAF fighters and shared a knowing glance with his comrades from the MV Sirena. They had been through many challenges together, but this was unlike anything they had faced before.

As the hours ticked away, the anticipation in the air grew thicker. The call to prayer echoed through the city, a reminder of the cultural and religious tapestry that defined Zarabad. But even within the beauty of tradition, there were those who sought to distort it for their own gain.

Malik approached Hffyl and his comrades, his expression grave. "We're about to make history today," he said, clasping their shoulders. "We'll liberate Zarabad and expose those who've hidden behind false beliefs."

Hffyl nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of the impending battle. "We'll bring justice to this city, Malik. For all those who have suffered."

The morning sun had risen higher in the sky, casting its warm light over Zarabad. The city was about to witness a battle that would determine its fate.