Prologue - War Never Changes (2/3)

He didn't have to wait much; the armed soldiers flew into motion as soon as they identified their target. Working like a well-oiled machine they entered formation and started separating and forming groups.

One man, with large tattoos marking his arms, gave out orders. So that's the captain. He doesn't look much different than the average soldier, being maybe slightly taller, he was wearing the same clothing as his subordinates.

Well, except for the bandana wrapped around his mouth, which somehow didn't seem to impede his shouting in any way with the way he was barking orders towards the others.

Shots rang again. This time the captain looked towards the noise and without looking away reached to his waist and brought out a military radio. He hashed out some words that Asad couldn't make out before waiting for a response.

Static was his answer. He screamed into the radio again but all he got for his troubles were more shots ringing in the distance.

Except, Asad realized it, it was much closer than before.

All the soldiers seemed to also realise this and a tense atmosphere fell on the group. The captain ordered them, this time Asad was able to hear him well enough.

"We lost contact with Team Ghost Delta, the aggressor also dealt with our eyes in the height, keep both of yours peeled for any motion. We are dealing with something beyond the trash we took care of."

Part of Asad wanted to scream in rage at being dismissed so quickly as trash, to jump out of his hiding place and shoot the captain down. A more rational part of him made him grit his teeth and hope that whoever the reinforcements were, they would be able to deal with this platoon of soldiers.

But who sent reinforcements? UHLA didn't have enough personnel to send reinforcements, hell the most they could do was send out a few combat-ready young men who had no idea how to shoot a gun.

Shit, hopefully not a new rising resistance, they always come into conflict when a new ambitious young faction rises in the hope of overthrowing the authoritarian government.

Sometimes out of what they should do after pushing off the Soviets, others for simply deciding to take the reins, or introducing new governance.

Just more dictators.

Asad watched in surprise as the twenty-man grouped into different squads and moved out towards the sound of battle. Shots still ringing out in the distance.

Allowing himself to breathe easily, Asad slumped forward. Well, no matter who the reinforcements were, he only hoped that they would survive and give him enough time to regroup with his team to get out of this hell hole.

Glass broke, its shattering echoing in the now silent fallen house. Asad turned sharply towards the sound.

A soldier, looking directly at him a SMG trained right at his body.

Asad froze and watched in horror as the Soldier glared murderously at him, screaming something in Russian that he had no idea meant.

A beat passed. And the Russian soldier fell to the ground.

Asad watched bewildered. What? What happened here?

A knife, lodged firmly in the soldier's back, going straight through his back and out of the front, targeting exactly at his heart.

A killer blow professionally made.

From behind him stepped out another person. His entire body was wrapped in military protection, painted black, Asad could vaguely see the American flag below the black paint covering the entire uniform. Their face, in fact, their entire head was hidden via wrapped cloth that clung around their faces, somehow not even slightly disturbed.

It allowed for their eyes to be visible. Asad wished they weren't.

Such dead eyes were fucking terrifying.

The person was probably male, he couldn't be sure beneath all that padding, perhaps a very flat girl could pass off as a boy, but Asad doubted it.

"Are you the Leader of squad seven from UHLA, Asad Fasil?" Okay, definitely a man in there. In fact, he sounded nothing like Asad was expecting. He was speaking fluent Arabic, but he could recognize an American accent from a mile away, the fuck was an American doing here?

The voice was low, but he recognized a young voice when he heard one. Mostly from young adults wanting change and trying to enlist themselves into the resistance, hell this guy sounded the same age as his daughter back home!

He found himself stumbling over his words as the black-clothed boy simply watched him impassively.

"Y-yes, that's me. What are yo-" Asad was cut short when the young man turned away as soon as he confirmed his identity.

"Follow me, and you will make it out alive." The young man didn't wait for him any longer, taking out the knife that was lodged in the soldier's body with no problem. Wiping it against the corpse and retrieving a pistol from a holster, he walked on without waiting for any response.

Asad stayed there for a few seconds. Just taking in what just occurred to him.

"…holy shit, I just met a Main Character." Muttering idiotic things to himself, Asad slapped his face to get his mind back on track, and soon after followed his savior.

Jogging slightly behind the young man, Asad kept a hand on his shoulder in pain and tried to keep up. What he saw next made his breath hitch.

Bodies everywhere.

Asad had wondered what happened to the teams that didn't answer the enemy's captain calls. Well, he got his answer. He counted at least twelve cadavers slumped all over the place. Some with bullet wounds over their bodies, while others have clean slices on their necks and vital places.

What the-? He didn't even hear anything from this direction, how many people were needed to complete such a silent takedown?

Asad looked towards his savior wrapped in black, who seemed to jog lightly not even looking at the bodies, taking points and watching for any enemies to pop out.

He was a professional, that was easy to see simply from his body language and the way he carried himself.

But their eyes. Asad physically shuddered at remembering the complete and utter blackness from the young man's eyes.

You only get eyes like those when you kill more people than you care to count.

Noise, Asad heard a few sounds of people talking. Shit, if they were seen then all company would be alerted of their position.

Asad readied his rifle, before his savior suddenly sprinted forward, startling him.

This guy is crazy, why is he running towards the enemy?!

There in the distance, walking from behind a house, a single soldier seemed to be scrutinizing around, safeguarding the area. Asad could only watch as the soldier noticed them, his mouth preparing to scream out.

He didn't have the chance, the young man expertly swung his arm and sent his knife spiraling through the air.

It struck exactly at the soldier's mouth, sinking into his head, and killing the trooper before he could alert anyone.

But the young man didn't stop running forward. And it was only after shocked voices sounded off that Asad understood why, out of their view there were three more soldiers, who just witnessed their friend's head be stabbed like a kebab.

The young man didn't hesitate once, springing forward, before the stabbed man's body fell to the ground, he jumped and used his standing body to launch himself even higher right on top of the other soldiers.

In a fluid motion, he swung a knife Asad didn't even see him take from the now falling body, its edge slicing through another's neck, while his pistol shot out two silent bangs each right on the head of the enemy.

The four bodies fell together. And Asad had to keep himself from following suit.

What the fuck? This guy wasn't a fucking professional.

A professional doesn't take down four grown veteran-trained men within a second.

This guy was a Monster with a capital m.

And maybe, just maybe, with such a monster on his side, he would be able to see his daughter's seventeenth birthday.

Things had calmed down, the black-veiled man made sure that the route they were taking was completely barren from enemies. It was incredible, making Asad think that whoever else was accompanying his savior here probably had a good enough eye to keep every single enemy combatant in their sight.

What a fucking scary group.

Well, if it was a group, until now the Special Soldier over there hasn't really shown any signs of communication with someone else.

But it was impossible, right? A single man couldn't take care of a large Platoon filled with veteran-trained guardsmen. A single man couldn't calculate the pattern of more than forty people.

Memories flashed of how quickly the soldier took down four men. A normal person would never be able to do such a thing.

But he already knew that didn't he? This guy wasn't normal, only someone outside the human perspective could accomplish impossible things.

Monsters.

He banished those thoughts. Now wasn't the time to get his mind running in a tangent, what was required was his survival, and getting back to the resistance to regroup and rethink their war approach.

Soon they left behind the city, the hard ground giving away to soft terrain. The buildings changed into lush thick forest trees, great for concealing and hiding, a perfect place to escape from the enemy.

Using his rifle to push away some bushes obscuring his vision, Asad quickly followed after the young man who seemed unbothered by the terrain change, walking just as easily as if he were strolling through a nice park.

They finally stopped in a clearing, one with crates, weapons, and three jeeps that Asad could vaguely recognize being Russian models.

What took him by surprise was a whole different thing, however.

"Captain! You're still alive and well I see," there in the clearing, seated on the jeeps and around the crates was his team.

Asad was struck by guilt, because of the rush of battle, he had quickly forgotten about his friends, and the team that he was leading. The guilt was quickly washed away when he noticed that not a single member was missing, relief flooding through as he hugged his second in command, who rose from his seat to meet him.

"Hakeem! You old dog, still got all limbs?" Hakeem Burhan was one of his greatest friends, and perhaps the oldest veteran of UHLA, reaching a nice fifty-three years an experienced soldier who has been fighting in wars for almost three decades.

He had no hair left and a large white beard that made many people joke about Saint Nicholas. With a broad muscular body, the joke never really stuck.

"Watch your tongue, you're not that much older than me." The old man grinned.

Asad could only smile as the rest of his squad welcomed him with warm smiles. This was the farthest thing he thought would occur, after the initial assault was broken by the secret police, they all had to scatter and run away to regroup in a pre-planned position.

It didn't work out properly, or at least Asad thought it didn't. The captain glanced around, trying to look for the man who made this possible, the saint who managed to rescue his friends.

There, on the side of the clearing, he was taking care of his weapons, changing a few parts and finally wiping away the blood still clinging to his equipment. There was still no one by his side, no other person came out and regrouped, nor was he trying to enter contact with anyone else.

Was it him? Was he the one who saved his entire team by himself?

"Yeah, I know what you're feeling Captain." Asad turned to see his second in command. Who was staring wearily at the all-black soldier, while he could see the gratitude for saving his life, he could also see how all of his troopers were afraid of this man.

"I saw what he did. Was he the one who saved you guys?" Hakeem nodded, now staring idly at his squad mates who made themselves comfortable in the jeeps, talking to each other.

"He rescued every single one of us, Asad. Not one man was left behind, that guy is inhuman. The way he moves, acts, and thinks, you don't get that just by training, nor by fighting."

Hakeem's eyes turned back to their savior, "That guy is a prodigy at war, quite literally a natural disaster in human form."

That's when Asad remembered, the title which the Russian forces called him.

"A Black Storm." The soldier stopped his tinkering with equipment, turning around and looking directly at him, his dead eyes were still unsettling enough to make Asad squirm.

"That's what they called you, is that your callsign?" He swallowed his fears and prompted the man.

Said young man did nothing, staying quiet for some time while still impassively staring at him, before finally a nod.

Asad sighed faintly in relief, while at the same time curious about this guy's actual name and circumstances. Like hell was he actually going to ask about it of course, let's not poke a sleeping bear, but he still needed to show his gratitude.

"Thank you, you not only rescued us, but you also managed to protect every one of our members. As captain, you have my thanks." And he was being completely sincere. Rescue missions are incredibly difficult, with multiple different plans and serious precautions being taken for the rescue of a single person most of the time.

To save an entire Squadron? Twelve whole people without attracting the enemy's attention? That's basically unheard of.

Storm didn't say anything else, only nodding his way before setting his weapons on their respective holsters. Bringing his hands up, he rubbed his fingers together in a universal sign of money.

"Oh, you are being paid? Are you a mercenary?" While the nod he received made Asad relieved that he wouldn't be sharing a space with such an effective killer, it was still disappointing that their savior was probably motivated by the money.

Hakeem on the other hand just laughed, his entire demeanor changing, becoming much more relaxed "Yeah right, try another one, UHLA is suffering from a limited pool of resources, and we definitely don't have the money to pay for such dangerous rescue mission," at that Asad agreed, the secondary reason they launched this attack was after all, to try and aggressively sway resources and funds from the high-class people.

"Which means you probably only took chump change as an excuse to save us, right?" Asad looked at his friend in surprise, before turning to Storm.

Who was looking away, Asad could swear he felt the embarrassment of being called out oozing out of him.

"We move out, too dangerous." His muffled deep voice made it hard to understand, but they managed. Storm didn't seem to acknowledge them, simply turning around and walking off to warn the others.

While still slightly stunned from the whiplash of viewing the skilled soldier, Asad and Hakeem both shared a glance before chuckling lightly.

A super veteran being uncomfortable at being called out for simply wishing to help.

Freaking adorable.