Authors note: This is the third and final part of "The Perfect Soldier" trilogy. You should read the other two books before this one so you can know what is going on. If you don't feel like it, or whatever, I'll sum up the other two. I will be referring back to specific events in the first two books periodically, so you might get a little lost if you don't read them. If you have read them, you can skip down until you see the four stars. Or you can read the summary to refresh your own memory of what happened, cause it's been two years since I posted the first chapter in "The Perfect Soldier."
In the first story, we are introduced to the main character, Lance. He is a young boy of sixteen years. He and twenty three others are on a secrete compound out in the middle of nowhere. On this compound they are trained how to fight and kill with everything from guns and knives, to their bare hands.
The original intent of the program was to train them until they were at least eighteen, if not twenty, and then enlist them unofficially in the military to solve some problems in third world countries and the like. Two things changed that.
First the twenty four boys were sent up against a numerically superior group of marines in a mock battle, where the boys had to rescue five hostages from a house in a deserted campground. No one expected what happened to happen. They won. Twenty four boys kicked the royal ass of two platoons of marines. Then the next morning, to test their ingenuity and resilience, the same group of marines attacked the boys as they camped out in the campground. And something even more surprising happened. Lance and one other defeated both platoons of marines on their own.
The second thing that happened to change things was right after the fights with the marines, a hostage situation arose. A group of terrorists known as the Eclipse took over a school, taking all the children hostage. The only way to assault the school was through the ventilation ducts, and they were too small for grown men, but the perfect size for young boys.
Then the most surprising thing of all happened. A team of six boys, including the narrator Lance, defeated a very numerically superior force of terrorists without loosing any hostages, or members of their team.
Because of this flawless performance, the six boys go on several more missions, and battle it out with the same terrorist group.
Lance has no memory of his past. While in the middle of the story, he realizes that he has actually been trained since birth how to be a killer, and suffers from amnesia after a near fatal fall from a helicopter. This knowledge allows him to push himself to the limit and beyond.
After their compound is attacked, and sixteen staff members are killed, the program loses it's grant, and the boys are dispersed. Lance joins the army rangers instead of going back to a normal life, and that takes us into the second story.
In the second story, "The Perfect Soldier, A New Life," Lance has joined the army rangers, and after completing training begins going on more missions. Before long, the US is suddenly invaded by a massive army of genetically engineered soldiers who crush opposing forces, and take over the entire state of California in a matter of days.
There is a furious fight as the US soldiers finally get into a defensive position and are able to hold onto the rough borders of California.
The battles go on and on, and finally after a spearhead is attempted, and failed, by the genetically engineered troops, the US army is able to push them out of California.
While fighting, Lance realizes that the redheaded girl that always showed up in his missions when he fought the terrorist group was connected to the invasion as well. She was forced to marry one of the men responsible for the attacks. She sneaks away, and tells Lance everything, and all that jazz, and a traitor in the US government is flushed out and executed for treason in a massive trial.
After the genetically engineered soldiers are pushed back out of the US entirely, it is clear to everyone that until the place where they were created, and the men responsible brought to justice, the war will never be truly over.
So Lance leads a massive invasion by helicopter on the country of Chad, where the labs are located. And that is where the second story left off, and the third story begins.
So now onto the real story. Sorry if I bored you, but it was important to go back over details. This story picks up exactly where the other one left off, so it's kind of sudden.
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The Perfect Soldier, The Master of Destiny
1. Midnight of Another Day.
"Missile dead ahead!" Screamed the copilot.
"Fuck!" Screamed the pilot. That really didn't sound good to me. We were all tossed violently forward as the pilot jerked the stick forward, plunging the nose of the helicopter down.
An explosion rocked the hull as the back end of the helicopter was hit by the missile.
"Shit we lost our tail rotor!" Screamed the pilot. "Can't.........Get..........Control!" The pilot panted as he struggled with the stick. The entire helicopter had begun to spin despite the pilots best efforts to keep it in check.
"This is helio A- one we have lost our tail rotor, and are going down, repeat we are going down!" Yelled the copilot. I gave a silent prayer. Not for me, however for Jody back in the states.
I knew that they were getting a direct feed of our radios. And I knew that she would be listening. I also knew that she knows what helicopter I am on. So when she heard those words, the fear and anxiety she must be feeling would be terrible. I cursed myself for putting her in that position.
"This is helio A- one we are going in, and we're going in hot. We have no tail rotor, and no control. I repeat we are going in hot." Said the copilot.
"Everyone brace for impact!" I screamed. Linking my arms with those next to me, even though we were firmly strapped in. Everyone followed suit. I looked out the front window, and saw the ground rushing up at me.
"This is it." Someone mumbled.
"We're dead." Another chimed in.
"We are going d......"
And then everything went black...
Pain. That was the first thing I noticed. My head felt like it was on fire. It literally felt like it was being split apart along the seams. My shoulders and waist ached, but I couldn't remember why.
As I opened my eyes, everything came back to me. The helicopter, the missile, impacting it's tail rotor, then plummeting to the ground. The helicopter didn't explode. The skillful pilot managed to land it on it's belly, instead of going down rotor first. It then slid along it's side down a sandy slope to rest on it's side, after rolling over several times. Somewhere in that process I hit my head against the side, and despite my helmet I was knocked unconscious.
I did a quick scan of the other occupants of the chopper. Most were slowly regaining consciousness after the crash. Several were stone dead however. One was impaled by the door gun as it broke free of it's stand. Another's head hit so hard his helmet was cracked apart, and so was his head.
I hit the safety belt release in the center of my chest, but forgot that I was hanging suspended upside down, for the helicopter was laying on it's side, and I was strapped to the opposite side.
I fell painfully to the floor/side, and the fire in my head tripled in extremity. I pulled my M-16 from where it was strapped to my back, and worked the bolt. We were now in hostile territory, and it pays to be prepared.
"Mack, Mack, you alive up there?" I asked.
"Not by choice. Every nerve in my body is on fire, but I think I can move." He replied.
"Good, get down from there, and begin doing a status check on everyone." I said to him, then added to everyone else, "if your conscious, get down any way you can. We gotta get out of this tin can as fast as we can."
Indeed we had a predicament. We were trapped in the helicopter. The front window had slammed into the side of the hill, so it was completely buried in sand. Even though it had shattered inward, we couldn't get out. Both pilots sat dead, and half buried in sand.
Then the only door to the helicopter was on the side that the helicopter was laying on, so we were truly stuck. Our only escape rout was a window on the side that was in the air. The only problem was that it was out of reach.
I slung my M-16 back onto my shoulder, and began to scale the wall. I used anything I could hold onto as hand and foot holds. The safety belts were a big help in scaling the wall.
After a minute of furious climbing, I reached the window. I redid one of the belts, and sat half way inside it, half out. I was now firmly set in place so I could use the butt of my rifle to break the window, cause it didn't open.
The window shattered outward, and I tossed my rifle out onto the ground below. It would be difficult to climb out of the window with my sword strapped to my back, let alone my rifle.
"Listen up, everyone grab what you can carry and exit via this window. Mack keep things in order here, I'm gonna watch the perimeter." I said.
"Roger that sir. You heard the man, lets get out of this hunk of scrap!" He yelled.
I grabbed into the window, and pulled myself up into it. With much effort I managed to get my torso out. I hung on by leaning my weight forward on my upper torso, letting my legs hang loose in the window. I pulled my arms out, and grabbed onto a seam in the helicopters body. I pulled, and my body fell forward. That was a problem, for now I slid down the side of the helicopter, and landed face first in the sand.
I coughed and sputtered, spitting the sand out of my mouth, and blinking it out of my eyes.
My eyes watering from the sand, I looked up at the sudden sound of voices. I could barely see with my own tears blinding me, but I could definitely see people. I heard an unidentifiable jargon which I identified as the language of the GE soldiers.
Still lying on my stomach, I reached to the holster strapped to the small of my back and drew my pistol.
"Incoming!" I yelled.
"Sool-arks!" Came that same freakish battle cry common among GE soldiers.
Without further ado I fired a round right into the heart of one of them. He recoiled and fell over. The others began to rush down the hill at me. I fired again and again, still lying face first in the sand.
With my usual pinpoint accuracy, they men were dropping like flies. But they still outnumbered me, and they had the elevated position.
Buzzard and deuce shots pierced the night air, pelting the ground around me. My desert fatigues and the darkness obviously making them inaccurate. With the back light of the sky and the occasional explosions or flare that lit up the entire horizon, they were beautiful targets.
I emptied my pistol, so I flipped onto my back, and began to crawl backwards as I drew my deuce. I always kept it cocked in a combat zone, so all I had to do was pull the trigger.
I fired, knocking a GE bastard right on his ass. I crawled backwards, pushing with my elbows and feet, pumping and firing as I went. Right as I put my back up against the hull of the helicopter, I emptied the shotgun. I sprayed the Uzi fire across the advancing me, cutting down three.
There were still at least ten running at me, and they had begun to pinpoint my location due to my firing.
I set down my empty deuce, and drew my remaining pistol. I sighted in on one of them, and squeezed the trigger. However several M-16 shots joined mine, coming from above me.
I chanced a glance up, and saw Mack, standing with his upper torso sticking out of the window. I guessed that the others were holding onto his feet.
He sent round after round flying at them, not going full auto, preferring to aim them out and shoot one round at a time, as fast as he could however. With our combined accuracy we decimated them. Mack is the best shot with an M-16 I have ever seen. I am fairly accurate, but by far prefer double pistols.
I calmly reloaded my weapons as Mack struggled out of the hole, and fell to the ground. I reclaimed my fallen M-16 and shouted into the helicopter. "Hurry up and get out of that tin can. We don't want to wait around for another patrol to come around."
One by one the men of my hand picked unit extracted themselves from the fallen helicopter. I had placed Scott and Pat on separate helicopters. It didn't make sense to put all of us on one helicopter and one stray missile could end all our lives. Mack had been with me ever since the beginning of my ranger training, and all through the invasion of the U.S. So it only made sense that he was by my side at the start of this invasion.
After everyone got out, we began to climb out of the valley we had slid into. It was just a depression between a series of sand dunes and drifts. The middle of nowhere in this God forsaken desert.
All around us in the sky, anti aircraft flares went up, illuminating the ground with their crimson light. I could see smoking trails going up into the sky that didn't look good.
We made our way across the desert towards one of them to search for survivors. When we arrived, all we found were the smoking remains of a helicopter. This one had exploded while in the air. Those not incinerated by the blast fell to their deaths. The fiery pieces of metal had then plummeted to the ground.
We continued on, not being able to help anyone at the crash sight. A few hundred yards from the first crash, we found a second one. This one however wasn't a wreck, and there were survivors.
All were shaken up, and a few had minor injuries, and of course several were dead. They amounted to about twelve men. We did what little we could for the injured, saddled up, and set out again.
Not far away from the crash sight, we came upon a heavily fortified hill. Mack and I crept up onto the crest of a small hill at the base to take a look.
"Heavy machine-guns, mortars, and anti-aircraft weapons." Mack counted off as he looked through the binoculars.
"Plus twice as many men as we have." I added in.
"What do we do?" He asked.
"What can we do. We don't have a sniper to take out the gunners, no artillery, or heavy weapons. All we can do is charge, maybe we can take them by surprise." I said.
"Against all those deathsickles , that's one big maybe." Mack replied.
"It's our job to make it smaller." I replied.
"I knew you were going to say that."
We crawled back down the hill to where the rest of the men sat, huddled behind the dunes.
"The hill is very heavily fortified. We have only one option. Most of us are going to charge right up the center, and hopefully get into grenade range. Eight will try and flank them, four on each side." I said as soon as we got back.
"We're going to charge up that hill?" A younger soldier from the other helicopter asked.
"Yes we are, stay low, don't bunch up, and keep moving and you should be fine. When you get into hand grenade range, find some kind of cover and let fly." I replied.
"Should?" Asked another. "Sir isn't there some way we can go around this position?" Another soldier asked.
"Unfortunately no. The position has a clear view of all the ground surrounding it with the exception of this drift and our approach. On all sides it levels out into flat desert all around, and this place is ringed with fortified positions." I said.
"So we just run at it and commit suicide for lack of something better to do?" Someone asked.
"No we run at it to take the hill. The deathsickles are mounted on bipods, not tripods, and the gunner is laying prone. That limits their field of fire. I've done some head work, and there is a gap in the firing range of each gun. So we spread out in those gaps, and run at them in a staggered line. If we stay low, and move fast we should get fairly close without them noticing. Then we can keep some suppressing fire on them until we get into grenade range." I said.
"Hell I ain't got anything better to do, lets rock those fuckers." One solider said. That seemed to settle it.
We moved out, and spread out along the hill in a staggered line. Everyone crawled forward to the base of the hill to avoid detection. They were poised and ready to run at my command.
I waved my hand forward, and we all set off, sprinting up the hill, hunched over. Seconds lasted for eternity's as every moment we expected the deathsickles to open up and cut us down in seconds.
We made it the first fifty yards without incident. Then all of a sudden a shout came up, and the deathsickles opened up. Shots pummeled the ground all around us, but their first barrage failed to hit anyone. I was right about the gap in their firing range. However they fixed it fairly quickly, moving the guns to be able to fire right down our throats.
"Suppressing fire!" I screamed, suiting actions to words as I began send round after round at the position nearest me. I was working the trigger as fast as my finger could move.
I was at the head of the group, however everyone was not far behind me. So that meant I could see pretty much everyone in my peripheral vision. So that meant I got to see them as they began to fall. They dropped alone, or in a pairs. I know not all of them were necessarily dead. They could just be wounded, but I had to press on.
When I saw Mack fall I wanted dearly to stop and go to him. I had a duty to do however. It was hard, but I kept running. I was now by myself. Those who had not been taken down by bullets dove for cover. Still I charged on. Bullets began to whistle in my direction. One ripped through my arm but I ignored it. A mere flesh wound was in no way going to slow me down.
I was one-hundred yards up the hill now. It was a long hill, so that meant I still had almost sixty yards to go. Fifty yards. Forty-five. At forty yards a very strange, and scary thing happened. Explosive charges that lined the top of the hill went off. At first I couldn't figure out why. Then I saw the sand. The charges had sent a massive landslide of sand cascading down the hill towards us.
It came too fast for me to do anything. The first small wave hit me, coming up over my ankles. I struggled out of it's embrace, and continued one. Two, three steps, then the next wave hit me coming well up past my knees. I leaned all my weight forward in an attempt not to loose my footing. I held fast in the rushing sand, but only for seconds. For the third wave towered over me. I was ripped off my feet.
The world dissolved into a dark and smothering blur. Every opening of my body was clogged with sand I was denied air. I had long ago clamped my eyes shut to keep them from getting sand in them. I could tell I was spinning, but that was about it. I knew from common sense that I would be traveling back down the hill, but I couldn't even tell I was moving, just spinning.
Just as abruptly, I stopped. I was buried in sand, that much was clear, but how deep was a mystery. However that mystery was very soon revealed for I heard the battle cry of many GE soldiers as they charged down the hill. The fact that I could hear them made it clear to me that I was not very deep. Which way I was facing was a mystery. I could very well be upside down.
There was only one way to find out. I attempted to straiten my back, for I could tell my legs were at a ninety degree angle to my torso. I felt the sand give way, and I broke the surface into the clean air. My legs were still buried, but my upper torso was free, and facing the onslaught of GE soldiers running down the hill at me.
I was still clutching my M-16 despite all the tumbling I did. Just before the explosion, I had rammed a new magazine home, so I was good to go.
I brought the rifle up, aimed out one of the charge men, and pulled the trigger. He was knocked backwards by my shot through the heart. I fired again and again and again, each shot ripping one of them off their feet.
As they got halfway to me, I began to try and extract my legs. I discovered that they weren't very deep at all, and I regained my feet easily. I was a little unsteady from the loose sand, but I was on my feet nonetheless.
They continued to charge down the hill at me. I emptied my mag, then flipped it around to reload. I worked the bolt and resumed firing. I could now begin to see individual features of the men they were so close. Most carried buzzards with bayonets fixed.
Four of them were barreling down on me. I fired, taking the lead one down. I moved my aim right and took out that one. I swung left and that one took a glancing round to the arm before I finished him. The last one, who was running down the middle, behind the first one I shot came at me faster than expected. The fact that it took two rounds to finish off the last man made me even more late. I tried to get my gun into line with him, but he was too close. He thrust forward to impale me on his bayonet.
I spun around, dodging the bayonet, and allowing him to come up alongside me. I then swung the butt of my rifle around, connecting it with his chin at an upward angle. His neck snapped back so fast and hard it was painful to watch. His feet flew out from under him, but his forward momentum carried him further down the hill.
As he continued his downward plunge, his arm caught on the strap of my rifle, wrenching it from my grasp, and almost pulling me to the ground as I struggled to hold on. I caught myself on one hand, and stood up again immediately.
I forgot about my lost M-16, and drew my pistols. GE soldiers still swarmed all around me. I began tracing fire all along the ranks of the ones still running down. Many of them ran past me because of the steep slope, and tried to turn and make their way back up. I turned around, firing as I went, bringing even more of them down as I went.
I emptied my pistols, and thrust them back into their holsters. Before I could draw my deuce I heard that freaky battle cry, and pounding footsteps. I turned around to see a huge GE soldier barreling towards me. Even the buzzard with fixed bayonet looked small in his massive arms.
He thrust the bayonet towards me. I sidestepped, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and pulled his arms downward, causing him to flip over. The buzzard stayed in my hands. I brought it up, and fired a burst down the hill. I nailed one soldier in the chest, sending him sprawling.
I spun around, forgetting the men still lower than me on the hill, and charged up it once again. When I got close enough I began to go full auto with the buzzard. My sustained fire was sufficient to keep the machine-gunner down.
The buzzard emptied, I immediately tossed it aside and drew my deuce. I sent shotgun shell after shotgun shell up there. The little bits of flying metal kept the men down.
After emptying the shotgun part, I went full auto with the Uzi. That was just enough to get me into grenade range. I grabbed a smoke bomb from my bandoleer. I pulled the pin, and hurled it. The purple smoke began to fill into the trench at the top of the hill, and there was no wind to dissipate it. I then grabbed two hand grenades from my bandoleer. I hurled them one after another right into the trench.
They exploded, and before the dust settled I sprinted forward. I couldn't tell if I hit anyone cause of the smoke, but the smoke also hid me from them. I made it to the top of the hill, and leapt forward.
All my weapons were empty, except for one, the only one that didn't require ammo. My trusty sword. Given to me by a samurai, slain by my hand. I drew it in mid jump, and brought it crashing down onto the head of a machine-gunner.
Without thinking I spun around, slashing the sword across the chest of another man. He collapsed clutching the wound, vainly trying to stem the flow of blood. I knocked a deuce out of the hands of another one, then stabbed my sword right through his heart.
I quickly sheathed my sword and grabbed a deathsickle from where it lay discarded. Everywhere along the trench people were now focusing on me. They were turning to bring weapons into line with me. I beat them to the punch. I aimed the deathsickle, and held the trigger. Everywhere men were tossed aside like rag dolls as the stream of bullets tore into them.
A shout came from behind me, and bullets stitched a line across the wall to my left. The guy who fired was so hyped up on adrenaline, and I wouldn't rule out other drugs, that his aim was way off. He traced his fire towards me, and I would have been impaled by about seven bullets, except he ran out. One struck me in the side, but it was his last one.
I slowly turned. He just looked at me in disbelief. I aimed the deathsickle, and pulled the trigger. It too was empty. I hurled the gun at him, he ducked under it. I sprinted towards him less than a second after I threw the gun. He began to reload his weapon. Just as he got the new magazine in, I leapt into the air. He worked the bolt, and raised the weapon. As I continued towards him, I put my left foot in his chest, and swung my right foot around into a solid drop kick that connected with his head. A sickening snap followed the breaking of his neck, and his entire body flipped over from the severity of the blow.
I landed and immediately drew my sword, looking for new adversaries. However there weren't any to be found. The trench was pacified.
The men who were simply wounded in our charge began to march up the hill. Most were dragging wounded legs. I moved down to help them. I came upon Mack right away. He was nursing a shot to the side. It didn't look like it was too bad.
"You sure as hell kicked the shit out of them." Mack said.
"You know what? I'm sick of fighting." I said.
"We all are. But this has to be done." Mack said.
"Indeed it does. I'll see this thing through to the last man, or my own death." I said.
At that moment the sun seemed to jump over the horizon. The battle scarred desert was suddenly washed in a warm glow. Even with the smoking craters and crash sights, it still looked beautiful washed in dawn's light.
"That sight makes everything all worthwhile." Mack said, looking out over the landscape.
"Indeed it does." I replied, my thoughts no longer on the landscape, but on Jody back home.
Authors note: That's the end of the first chapter. Next one should be up fairly soon.