Into The Rift

Direct Action (40)

-2104 Military Hours
-Visegrad Island, Local Settlement

Hidden under the cover of darkness, armed with a definitive sense of obligation within, I position myself alongside my men on the outskirts of the only settlement on Visegrad. A focal point of interest relative to the rest of the island, the location still represents a significant hurdle in our overall objective here.

The lingering issue regarding the captured military members of the Taskforce is a bitter pill to handle, knowing the locals have long since shipped them to the inner islands, well beyond our reach. For tonight however, my thoughts are centered on something entirely different, though equally important.

There is clear evidence of looting within the battered remains of the former outpost, evident even through the post battle landscape of spent bullet casings and faded scorch marks.

From ecological records of the local wildlife to ammunication caches and classified documents, the list of missing equipment is by no means short. The locals firmly have all of it in their custody, the only silver lining to the severe loss Taskforce Anvil managed to inflict on them.

Based on the situation alone my fireteam can't afford to look the other way, not when we have a firm plan to negate the previous statement. The risks are there, even more so without external support, but we accepted it as a natural consequence.

Our clear consensus echoes through my head as the cold chills of an unassuming night drape over my shoulders. My every breath, deep and constant, are the only things my ears would pick up through this silence.

No monologues would be needed to justify the upcoming act, the issue of morality would be irrelevent in the coming hours. A distant whisper at the back of my mind protested mildly against this, but I shelve down that part of me in favour of looking through an indifferent scope.

All of this stems from a necessity to maintain, or at the very least, reduce the security risk of having restricted items fall into their hands. I have to take this as a serious issue, even considering they know nothing next to nothing about our technology and language.

That small part of me may never fully agree to it, but I still have to go through with it.

This must to be done before I even entertain any thoughts of exfiltration off this Island. Putting my best foot in everything I do has never gone wrong before, and I intend to keep the streak going.

Body flushed against the vegetation, with night vision equipment over my visor, I take in the various details of the aforementioned settlement, focusing mainly on the perceived patterns I've noticed over the past several hours.

"Desert Actual to all, I have visual on what looks to be the next shift. Patrol configuration as follows, four Shieldbearer types in loose echelon formation, led by an officer based on the armor type," I whisper over communications, giving my findings over to the rest of my fireteam stationed out of line of sight, though relatively nearby.

Narrowing my eyes at the incoming patrol from the safety of my position, the green-tinted landscape through the night vision optics displays the officer's ornate headgear in considerable detail, even through this curtain of foliage.

Giving off a mixture of authority and strength, the pincer claws had an immaculate beauty that clearly indicated the wearer's formidable rank. The more detailed the helmet, the higher the rank, as I've come to realize.

"Interrogative, will infiltration via route Epsilon remain viable at this point in time, over," I inquire, leaning towards the cautious side in light of the observation. The secondary routes will need to be considered if it really comes down to it.