Callsign Amarok Ch. 01

The sole survivor of a 16 man squadron knew that his team was going to be forgotten. So it was only fair for their killers to fade from history as well.

Allowing his gun to sag, he pulled off 2 M83 smoke grenades, ripped the pins and threw them towards panicking shooters.

Streaks turned into plumes of heavy clouds and the men stopped firing, coughing from the white mist forming around them. This wasn't standard smoke as something in its chemical formula was laced with irritants.

Orion heaved in a deep breath and stalked towards the smoke after throwing one more grenade. 9 flashes of blinding light and ear shattering bangs hit each of the militiamen. They stumbled while holding their ears and shaking their heads, trying to regain their disabled senses.

Suppressed automatic fire popped off but none of them were capable of returning the favor.

The vengeful being made quick work of multiple individuals suffering from respiration, vision and hearing distress. A line of blood traveled to a hole in the ground, containing his brothers.

The militia leader wailed in agony, having crawled away from death, dragging a weapon along with him.

One mindless Phantom emerged out of the censoring smoke and followed the trail, discovering the sorry excuse for a human being.

He pulled out his pistol and opened up on the leader's arms, halting the man's efforts of escape.

"NO! PLEA-"

The Phantom rolled him over and double tapped into the warlord's dome. Everything seemed to slow as he watched the head of the dead man lull back.

In his frenzy, whirling blades appeared in the distance along with more cracks of gunfire. A bullet ripped through Orion's shoulder and he fell into the corpse filled crater.

"RAAGHH!" He got back up, aiming for the tree line where the shot came from. Suppressing the shooter with small arms fire.

More skinny and malnourished fighters ran towards his position, firing wildly. Orion cut through the pain and returned accurate fire.

Charlie's SMG was running low on magazines as he reloaded numerous times beforehand.

Orion drew 3 frag grenades, armed and tossed them outwards at rushing enemies. Explosions rocked the area, stunning the battle momentarily.

Retaking control of his rifle from a corpse and checking up on it. He angled the bipod down and searched for targets. The wrathful Phantom aimed for vitals through wavering mist, sending out lethal shots into each hostile.

Waves of fighters rushed forward but every one of them fell to the floor.

20 round magazines stacked on top of each other and brass casings flew out, bouncing across uneven dirt.

Orion still had active contact closing in on him but his vision turned hazy as exhaustion made its presence known. He couldn't maintain fire superiority any longer and struggled to aim.

The marksman rifle ran dry and more fire blew up from behind, shredding his armor plating. 3 militiamen sprinted across the runway while aiming in on their colleagues murderer.

A bullet ripped through Orion's torso from a man armed with an MP7.

Giving a valiant effort and retrieving his sidearm, Orion shot 6 times hitting 2 of them but not killing nor putting them out of the fight. He did an unsteady reload and fired some more until he noticed 7 men rushing from his left, taking aim.

A bullet ricocheted off his helmet, forcing him to tumble backwards.

White smoke lowered into the crater, denying militia a clear view of their malevolent enemy.

Orion tried getting back up but fatigue mixed with blood loss and organ shut down forced him into submission. He laid there on top of his dead brothers and weakly lifted his pistol, ready to shoot at anyone who dared.

His strength waned and he dropped the gun.

Laying his head against fallen soldiers and peering into a face.

Daws stared straight at Orion with a bloodied expression.

'This....is..it...'

Muted thunder and vibrations shook his body, right before death made its way to collect loose souls.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIII

===Chapter 13 Danger Close

#Command, this is Viper 1-1 checking in with you. Flight of 2-1 ZULU cobras, time on station 5 mikes, holding at angels 10. Gunner up scanning with thermals. What exactly are we looking for, over?#

2 AH-1Z attack helicopters hovered behind a mountain at 10000 ft, overlooking a flashing runway.

#Viper, we were in contact with US personnel requesting air support and immediate transport. 20 minutes ago we lost contact and they became unresponsive. Intelligence on friendly presence indicates a rescue operation being conducted near airbase Thunder. You're to support any ground assets after surveying the situation, how copy?#

#This is Viper 1-2, solid copy. Understand that we are operating under a restricted ROE, over?# The pilot of the second Viper hand gestured through the cockpit glass, telling the first to fly closer.

A nod from Viper 1-1 occupants played out through their night vision goggles.

#Negative on that restricted ROE. Last transmission from the team was refugee location in hangar 2, around 200 or so. You're clear to prosecute any targets around that area, do what you can, out.# Command advised.

Viper 1-1 neared above the airstrip while Viper 1-2 hovered behind, maintaining a safe distance if 1-1 was shot down.

[ 1-1 Occupants ]

"I have movement below, looks like a warzone down there...." The gunner informed.

"See any ID markers? Strobe lights or IR signatures?" The pilot asked.

A pair of identifying infrared lights can be mounted on a ground troop's helmet, body or vehicle. Indicating that he was an ally on the ground.

The gunner continued observing the chaos below. Motionless bodies laid themselves around a crater that contained a weak beacon blinking periodically.

Disbelieving eyes locked onto a flashing strobe, surrounded by skinny outlines. Thermal imaging displayed a hoard of people attacking him from all around. Many fell to the ground who were rushing a one man army.

The gunner made out a single person picking off other heat signatures, dropping them instantly. More struggled to get up and he retrieved something from the ground, shooting some more.

"I've got a friendly beacon, fuck me..... there's only one guy down there." The gunner stated.

"You're clear to fire on any individuals that aren't marked with active lights. Civies are safe from the combat area. Let's help him out." The pilot stabilized and peeked over the side, witnessing one helluva battle in progress.

The gunner found 3 unknowns at the ground unit's flank, firing upon the beacon. The friendly dropped into the crater and slowed his movements after causing 2 more to stagger back.

7 more rushed towards the downed soldier but before they could finish him off, an angel's call purred.

"Engaging with canon, danger close." The gunner switched his safety off on the helicopter's gatling gun and went to town.

Holding down the trigger for 5 seconds. The thermal imaging showed the gunner that his 20mm made quick work out of 10 unknowns. As he scanned for any other heat signatures more skinnies ran out from the treelines.

"We have more hiding in the forest. I hope we brought enough ammo!" The gunner yelled.

The pilot smirked at his gunner's enthusiasm.

Just then a small fireball flew past, prompting the pilot to maneuver away.

#This is Viper 1-1, BREAK! I have RPG's firing at us from around the base!# The pilot of the first AH-1Z notified, warning all units over heavy comms chatter.

-Returning to other aerial units-

#Viper 1-2 acknowledges, moving to intercept.# The other helicopter on station responded and began hunting the offenders. Radar blips appeared on their monitor screen and read: AH-64x2, MH-60, MH-6x2.

#Vipers, this is Command. Live feed from 1-1 confirms PID on a friendly ground unit located in the base. You have 2 Longbows approaching from your northwest paired with a MEDEVAC Black Hawk and 2 birds carrying Delta elements. Pave the way for CSAR, out.#

#Understood, weapon restrictions lifted on all armaments, moving into attack pattern.# Rocket pods from 1-2 aimed for a strafing run, neutralizing those camping in the surrounding area.

Small arms fire ricocheted and cracked the bullet proof glass covering operators of deadly birds.

#Heard you boys need a hand.# An angelic female voice appeared on Viper's frequency, right before 2 Apaches blasted the dark vegetation below with Hydra rockets.

Little birds carrying troops on their sides flew in low and fast. Landing on the runway and dropping off soldiers. Elite warriors zoomed past bodies and towards the last known friendly position.

#We need pickup for one critical. There's a lot of bodies down here.#

Thus the night sky was streaked with tracers and the once eerie silence filled with loud rapports of 20mm from Vipers and 30mm cannon fire from Apaches. Including the whirling rotors of multiple aircraft.

=ACRONYMS=

[ Angel's # ] = Aircraft altitude in thousandths feet measurement. 1=1000

[ ROE ] = Rules Of Engagement

[ IR Signature ] = Refers to an IR flag used by soldiers as combat identification. Similar to reflective velcro.

[ #BREAK# ] = Interruption to a transmission to communicate urgently. It can mean a warning, distress, or emergency.

[ PID ] = Positive Identification

[ MEDEVAC ] = Medical Evacuation

[ CSAR ] Combat Search And Rescue

IIIIIIIIIIIIIII

===Chapter 14 Wounded

A groggy Orion regained awareness days after his ordeal, in what appeared to be an intensive care unit.

He was hooked up to a bunch of machines and monitors while heavily sedated. His eyelids were beyond droopy, having little to no muscle response. He tried raising his arms but the effort was futile, they didn't respond.

Pure adrenaline had coursed through his veins and he was crashing from the biggest rush he'd ever experienced. Now, his body was healing itself after sustaining bruises, lacerations, gunshot wounds and broken bones. It was a miracle that he survived but it didn't feel like a blessing to him.

"Water." Orion croaked out hoarsely, desiring some sort of liquid.

The room was dark, lit only by lights from outside a door window. He couldn't see anything and that was probably for the better. Morphine numbed his mind and he was beginning to feel nauseous. Loud noise or sudden bright lights would overload his senses and induce vomiting.

A figure approached and helped him drink from a thin paper cup. Their hands were warm and smooth, most likely a nurse. Orion cracked open his eyes just a smidge after drinking refreshing fluid. His gaze sat upon a beautiful woman around 5'9 with great assets. Hips that could kill and an impressive bust, atleast D cups or more. Raven hair streamed down her elbows like silk. Skin, fair and clean. Deep green irises returned Orion's studious stare.

His cock started to stiffen from this woman's attention.

With inquisitive eyes scouring her build, she blushed brightly and placed her hands on his drowsy face. Lovingly rubbing his cheeks, making him melt against her.

It was his turn to blush like a rose.

He steeled himself to ask for a bit more comfort.

"Sorry, I really need this." Orion hoped for acceptance. She blinked and nodded her approval, caressing his cheeks gently.

Both of them stayed like that for a while and he inhaled slowly, detecting rose and honey.

Suddenly realizing what had happened before he got here and noticing that the woman near him wasn't a nurse. She wore primitive wraps, covering her chest and waist. While leaving out her arms, stomach and legs bare. Enhancing her beauty, displaying subtle tone muscles across her slim figure.

Orion did a double take while half dazed and apologized.

"Sorry miss, I didn't realize. I apologize if I asked anything you weren't comf-" He was cut off when she leaned in and kissed him softly on the forehead. A warm tingly sensation flushed his system, alleviating pain and exhaustion dramatically.

His cock was almost at its peak and started to ache uncomfortably under the blanket. That kiss not only alleviated discomfort but was also euphoric and soothing to everything, except his sex organs.

Sensing his current situation she giggled and gazed at him with longing eyes. She got even closer for an intimate kiss on the lips but was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming from the hallway.

She turned away and glanced back at Orion with regret and sadness in her eyes. Shadowing a brief moment she faded away into white mist.

'It had to be the drugs.' Orion thought, shaking his head a little. Although unable to shake the picture of the woman in his recovery room.

The door opened and 3 figures spilled into the room, turning on the lights. Orion grimaced at the brightness and staved off a wave of dizziness.

Once his nerves settled down he stared at two highly decorated admirals and one uniformed officer.

Orion raised his hand to salute the admirals and officer.

"Sir!" Attempting to speak confidently but was still weak.

All three of them saluted back and one ordered the recovering man not to strain himself.

"At ease. I'm Admiral Jacobs, this is Admiral Shepherd and that's Captain MacMillan."

"What the hell happened back there? At that airbase." Admiral Shepherd asked.

Orion didn't want to recount the death of his unit and potential loss of civilian life. He focused under heavy anesthetics, stating everything as fact and leaving emotion out of his report. Command needed all the accurate information if they were to move forward and proceed with future plans.

Once the Admirals were satisfied with his report and current mental state. Admiral Jacobs asked the young Phantom if he had any questions.

Orion asked if there was anyone else alive in his squad. The superiors looked at each other and Admiral Shepherd stood next to the hospital bed. He laid a hand on the young man's shoulder and shook his head.

"I'm sorry son....the rest were KIA..."

The fact that 15 Phantoms lost their lives earlier was something to be distraught over. Yet hearing the confirmation of everyone's death made Orion feel numb. He knew that psychological trauma would grow overtime, morphing into regret and self loathing. Nightmares and panic attacks would likely affect him later on. He was worried about developing PTSD.

(Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

The Phantom program ingrained Orion's mind with the expectant prospect of death. It was inevitable and dying young would be better than dying from age. Growing old and struggling to stay alive sounded a lot worse than losing oneself in the heat of battle, protecting values they held dear. Dying early on did not mean to perish senselessly. Sacrificing yourself to save the people under your care was meaningful and fulfilling. Being able to help and assist teammates out on the field till the end was honoring.

The Admirals observed Orion's face, wondering how the young warrior would take all of it.

He inhaled and exhaled, suppressing cursed memories scarring his nerves.

"We knew the risks, everytime we're out on missions, all of us are aware that once shots are fired we could lose our lives. Daws was surprised how no one died during those skirmishes with warlords. Our luck had just run out and we were spread too thin." Stating with remembrance.

"What happened to the people we escorted?" Orion asked and Shepherd held his hand.

"Your team's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Refugees were securely barricaded in the hangar. Those men couldn't get through without industrial tools. Once the area was mopped up, they were cut out and transported by Chinooks." Captain MacMillan informed.

'The mission wasn't a complete failure.' Orion mused and sank into his bed, seeking out some semblance of accomplishment.

The heart beat monitor beeped loudly and Orion inquired about the leader.

"What about their commander? Who was he." Asking with a hint of frustration.

"That warlord was an HVT, meaning a kill order was issued for him. You did good not letting that SOB escape, we tried taking him out for months but none of our teams managed to neutralize him. Once you were extracted, another team was sent to identify bodies of the fallen. You did a number on 'em, your commander would be proud." Admiral Jacobs answered with a subtle smirk.

Orion winced in pain as the admiral commented on how proud Daws would have been.

"Thank you for informing me sir." He huffed and stared blankly at the ceiling, remembering the people he managed to kill in the name of revenge.

Both admirals regarded the young Phantom and one gave him 2 cards.

"If you need anything after the Captain here finishes, you can contact me or Admiral Jacobs." Shepherd placed the cards onto the table next to Orion and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Understood sir." Orion saluted.

With that, the admirals saluted and left, closing the door behind them. Leaving the captain and Orion alone.

"You know they didn't really have to get an action report out of you right?"

Orion was confused by the captain's statement.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand sir."

"You can drop the sir when you're around me, hell, you deserve that much. Especially after what you've gone through." Mac answered in a stern voice.

"Will do si- Mac." Orion fumbled his words, unable to call an unfamiliar superior so casually.

MacMillan took a deep breath and handed his phone over to Orion. It was a recording of his helmet cam. Another video was from the Viper gunship. He was surprised that his helm cam was recording for so long. It captured the pile of bodies in the hangar, himself getting caved in, being there for Charlie and prowling the base. Up to his desperate last stand, eyes fixated on the people rushing him until he slumped down, lying on top of corpses and stopped moving.

Helicopter rotors and cannon fire raged through the speakers. A small group of soldiers reached him and began applying first aid to his wounds. He was loaded onto a Black Hawk and the recording ended.

Moving to the helicopter's gunner cam he saw himself with an IR light coming from his head. Witnessing the Viper gunner save his life more than once. Orion definitely owed him and his pilot multiple beers if they ever met.

"These tapes have already been reviewed by higher-ups in the chain of command. Lots of people want you to receive recognition. But due to the nature of being an unknown, you can't receive any." Informed Mac.

"Locals were calling you Shango. The ruler who thunderstruck his enemies with anger and rage, but protective of his devotees." The captain pulled out 15 sets of dog tags and dangled them in the air.

"Our units involved in the rescue and those who've witnessed your actions have designated you as Amarok. A Canadian wolf."

Orion stared at the tags. Guilty at how his weren't there. How had he; the only one in the 16 man group survive, even though he should have died long before being rescued.

Mac noticed Orion's thousand-yard stare.

"Don't disrespect your brothers with your self loathing. You, thinking that you should have died with them does not honor them in any way. You'll honor them by continuing to move forward, remembering and learning how to prevent another scenario like this from happening. Don't let their deaths carry you down into despair." Mac firmly stated, pocketing the tags back into his coat.

Orion knew that if he held onto those tags they would only remind him the death of each one. Nothing good would come out of it and he knew that the Captain would dispose of the items properly.

"Mac? Did our forces recover my squadron's equipment?" Orion inquired.

"Gear was recovered from the dead. Some weapons and body armor were damaged but all of it was accounted for." Mac informed.

"What about mine?"

Phantoms had special permission to carry their own weaponry and equipment. Most opted for standard issued items but others had a plethora of options to choose from, for their personal arsenal.