The Light Reapers were led by Capt. Marcus Webb and Master Sergeant Alec Priest. Along with Shaw, Abarra, Neville, Shin, Doc and Myles, were deployed to a hidden lab in Turkey where an alliance of terrorists were working on a viral weapon. With the spotty intel, the team finds something they did not expect.
The virus was stolen by an ISIS faction with their own ideas for it's use. The team follows the faction to a couple of their sleeper cells to acquire the virus and eliminate the ISIS faction. Upon traveling behind the faction, the team discovers that the damaged container has exposed people to the virus all along the way.
The viral weapon turns people into crazed killing machines who are not satisfied with just killing, but are driven to butcher. The infected maintain a certain level of thinking and prove to be more difficult to track and kill. Another major part of their mission was to acquire Dr. Costa and deliver her, along with the virus samples, to a fortified CDC facility to work on a possible antidote. The Light Reapers must complete the mission while battling the infected and trying to stay one step ahead.
Present: 101st Airborne Division, Ft Campbell, KY
The Light Reapers are a special operations group within the 101st Airborne Division, ran by Captain Marcus Webb, call sign “Spider”. Marcus Webb was a tall, thirty-eight-year-old black officer from the streets of Philly, who commanded a lot of attention when entering a room.
Webb’s second in command was Master Sargent Alec Priest, call sign “Father”. Built like a brick wall with a bald head and sizable grey beard, Priest intimidated most people with just a look. He had extensive combat experience, but often told jokes in the middle of combat which brought his sanity into question.
The next in line was SFC Gabriel Abarra, call sign “Bacardi”. Abarra, from Puerto Rico, was an expert troop manager and former drill Sargent who liked to jack around with the rest of the team. A short man in stature, but large in character. The lines in Abarra’s face represented his twenty-plus years of military life.
Next, Staff Sargent Jeremiah Shaw, call sign “Cotton”. Hailing from Alabama, he was an enormous man standing 6’4”, weighing 280lbs and with a baby face that was a tremendous hit with the ladies. As the team’s entry breach expert, his size came in handy.
Then there was Sargent Renaldo Neville, call sign “Voodoo”. An expert sniper and recon soldier, Neville had a sarcastic attitude but performed his missions flawlessly. He was from a mixed-raced family and grew up in bayous of Louisiana.
The spiritual member of the group was Sargent Sung Shin, call sign “Gandhi”. He was from South Korea and a Buddhist. Shin was an expert with numbers and calculations, so his spotting skills were important for Neville as a sniper. When he was spotting for Neville, they both shared the call sign, “Overlord”.
Their medic was Sargent Joseph Mancini, call sign “Doc”. The team called him Doc as units in the military tended to do. Being from the Bronx, he had a heavy NY accent and a WTF attitude. He had a habit of providing graphic narration during combat.
Their newest recruit was Corporal Dominic Myles, call sign “Motown”. From the streets of Detroit, he was an excellent fighter and loyal soldier. After a heartfelt plea from his mother, he gave up the thug life and joined the military.
The Light Reapers are a quick deployment unit, which maintained constant deployment readiness. Their equipment, standards, and tactics differed from the regular military. They played by their own rules and stayed out of the political theater and dog and pony shows. They executed Black Ops flawlessly and were not on the radar of any Congressional chamber.
The team was cleaning and checking their gear when Webb ran into the load-out room. “Priest, Abarra, you’re with me. Major briefing, now!”
“Up to the principal’s office again?” Priest lamented.
Abarra hit him jokingly on the shoulder, “Come on, you probably have detention again.”
The three made their way to the 101st Airborne Division HQ building. HQ was a magnificent building designed with the building’s atrium doubling as a museum, with bronze statutes of eagles and soldiers lining the walls, and the front of the building is the highlight as you walk into the round room. Hanging high above the statues were oversized battle streamers and photos of every Medal of Honor winner. A revolving display in the back highlighted important battles and times for the division. Overhead, hung a life-sized paratrooper, his parachute dangling from the windows above.
Arriving at the top floor, Priest and Abarra followed Webb into the division office suite. Standing in the doorway of the War Room was Colonel Madison, the commander and handler for the Black Ops branch of the 101st Airborne. All three reported with a respectful salute.
“Sit down, gentlemen,” Colonel Madison motioned to a large conference table in the middle of the War Room.
The War Room was impressive — a wall of monitors on one wall and a single massive screen on the opposite wall. Old school maps were hanging on any wall space available that wasn’t being taken up by some form of technology. The maps weren’t used so much anymore, but Madison was nostalgic and liked the reminders of the old school. Seated was a team of communications and mission controllers in front of various computers on tables were against one wall.
Colonel Madison was an avid runner with a lean body along with close-cropped, graying hair and blue eyes, standing about six feet with digicam ACU’s. Madison reminded Priest of Cal Ripken Jr. He was drinking coffee out of an enormous mug, even though it was 15:00 hours in the afternoon. Madison was an all-day coffee drinker. Priest thought, “All that running will not help him if his kidneys give out from all the java.”
“Gentlemen, we have a potential problem that may require your expertise.” Madison continued without waiting for a response. “We have intel that some bad operators are working together to bring about an objective that could affect the rest of the world.”
Webb furrowed his brow and gave a long glance to Priest, who returned the concerned look. Madison continued, “With the intel we have received, the players in this arena are Pakistan, Palestine, and Iran. There has been some secondary intel that countries like Russia and China are in the mix as supporters, but we have not confirmed that. What makes this highly unusual is that these three countries have agreed to join. The desired outcome for the three is the same, but the intended target is different for each. The targets identified for each country are: Pakistan’s target is India. It’s no secret there has been a feud here for decades. Palestine’s target is easiest to figure out.”
“Israel,” Abarra offered.
“Correct. They have wanted Israel removed off the face of the earth for decades. Finally, we have Iran. Who is their target, you may ask? All of us infidels, plus their Muslim neighbors. They want to target the different sects of Islam who they think are not in the will of Allah. Their primary targets right now are Afghanistan, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia.”
Webb spoke up, “I assume we are not talking about military power? There is no way these countries have enough troops or firepower to take over these adversarial countries. So, I guess they are looking at other ways?”
“Maybe chemical or biological,” Priest added.
Madison continued, “They are conducting experiments in a “neutral country” hoping to throw us off. We are tracking them and found a working compound in Hakkari, Turkey, next to the Iran/Iraq border.”
“So, I assume we want to destroy the facility and everything associated? Are we to gain any intel there?” Webb said.
“The intel we have alludes to them working on a virus that has various effects on people. We intercepted communications implying they may not want the complete destruction of the people in the areas.”
Priest piped up, “They don’t want to obliterate all the people, so they want to take prisoners?”
Madison continued, “Correct. So, this virus, chemical weapon, medical cocktail, whatever you want to call it, apparently can make people subservient. How it achieves this, we don’t know. We tried to get an asset inside, but they have made this operation tight and exclusive. They aren’t letting many people in the clubhouse on this one. We have heard rumors that they have test subjects, but we have no visual evidence of this. Oh, the other bit of wonderful news. As of 19:38 hours last night, the whole sight went dark. No activity, no lights or communications, period.”
“So, we are to go into the target area with almost no intel, contemporaneous communications, and no layout of the interior of any building?” Webb inquired
“Justo en la boca del infierno?” Abarra sarcastically uttered.
“Pretty much,” Madison replied. All three men sitting at the conference table looked at one another with that “should have seen this coming,” look. Madison caught the glances but said nothing. “All the mission requirements will be briefed on the flight to your objective. As far as the mission criteria, it’s simple, make it to the lab area, assess the situation, infiltrate the facility, secure the formula and any other intel, then exfil. You will encounter enemy combatants all over the compound and should engage appropriately. Questions?”