Two CH-47 Chinooks roared up into the sky. Colonel Jackcott ducked back inside, casting a skeptical eye at the two so-called 'hotshots' from JSOC, wondering what kind of circus he'd just signed up for.
One of them, Mr. Larman, was a bald bruiser in a flashy shirt and jeans, built like a linebacker who’d swallowed a bull. His eyes bugged out like brass doorknobs, veins bulged on his thick neck, and his chest and arms were a jungle of white hair—he looked one bad mood away from charging through a wall.
The other, Mr. Martin, was so skinny he looked like he’d lost a fight with a skeleton. He wore a black suit, chest bones on proud display, and had the vibe of a sleep-deprived junkie. His half-lidded eyes and constant gum-chewing made him seem like the kind of guy who’d sell you a fake Rolex and your own wallet.
Colonel Jackcott eyed these supposed 'experts' and felt his hopes nosedive. Seriously? JSOC’s finest? He’d seen street thugs with more class. If these clowns were the backup, he’d better start praying.
Still, Jackcott knew better than to tick off the JSOC bigwigs. He slapped on his best fake grin, stuck out his hand, and said, "Pleasure! Colonel Jackcott—thrilled to be stuck with you guys!"
Mr. Larman just snubbed him, turning to stare out the window like the world’s most bored bodyguard. Jackcott’s blood boiled—he had half a mind to riddle the guy with bullets and boot him out mid-flight. But then he pictured General David’s exasperated face and swallowed his rage, barely.
At least Mr. Martin had some social skills. He shook Jackcott’s hand, flashed a half-hearted smile, muttered 'Pleasure,' and retreated back into his shell—like a polite raccoon at a dinner party.
The Delta Force boys were itching to turn these two into Swiss cheese. Jackcott, just as fed up, cracked a grin and said, "Hey, fellas, I’d swap those fancy shirts for body armor and our Delta helmets if I were you. Where we’re headed isn’t Club Med—it’s a tribal warzone with more guns than sense. Suit up and grab a P5, unless you want Afghan target practice. Those guys don’t mess around!"
Mr. Larman shot him a glare and went silent. Mr. Martin just shook his head and said, "Appreciate it, but we prefer to travel light. Weapons are overrated."
"Ah, intel work at the border, huh? Relax—Delta Force has your backs. Unless you’re allergic to bullets, you’ll be fine!" Jackcott said, flashing a cocky grin.
Mr. Martin raised an eyebrow. "Colonel, you sure you read the fine print on those orders?"
"So, Command wants us to play chauffeur for you and help pick up JSOC’s superstar, Black Eye? The eggheads already pinged his location. All we gotta do is drag him back to Bagram Air Base in one piece. Worst case, we get a little love from some Afghan wannabe warriors—but trust me, Delta Force eats amateurs for breakfast!" Jackcott puffed up with bravado.
Mr. Martin grinned, "That’s the job description, sure. But if you think Afghan militants are the only ones gunning for us, you’re in for a surprise. If this gig was easy, JSOC wouldn’t have sent us in!"
"Oh, you mean we might get a real fight instead of just swatting gnats?" Jackcott perked up, eyes gleaming with the thrill of competition.
"Bingo. Black Eye’s mission is smack in China, and someone’s got his scent. Odds are, your real opponents are Chinese special forces. Which unit? No clue. But trust me, Colonel, this won’t be a walk in the park." Mr. Martin’s tone turned deadly serious.
"Chinese spec ops? Never crossed swords with them, but rumor has it they’re beasts. If they show up, this party’s about to get wild!" Jackcott’s blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. In the world of heavyweights, only a real brawl settles the score. If he could outdo the legends who got trounced by the Chinese before, he’d be more than a hero—he’d be a legend.
Mr. Martin nodded, "Same plan as you, Colonel—grab Black Eye and get out. If bullets start flying, don’t get all Rambo on us. We’re here for extraction, not a Hollywood firefight!"
"Sure thing!" Jackcott nodded, but mentally tossed Martin’s warning out the window. He was itching for a brawl with the Chinese spec ops—bring on the fireworks!
Meanwhile, Gul Village was a blazing warzone. The poppy fields crackled with gunfire, Afghan commandos lay scattered like broken dolls, and the tribal militants kept coming in waves. Half the DEA agents were down for the count, resistance was crumbling, and the hillside was crawling with bloodthirsty attackers hell-bent on turning the fields into a graveyard.
Colonel Hank Han and his crew, decked out in flowing Arab robes, slipped into Gul Village with Dudarev’s convoy. They scrambled up the hillside, taking in the chaos below like spectators at a gladiator match.
Once Dudarev and his bodyguards reached the summit, Fiona Tang fired up her supernatural Circle Vision, locking onto Black Eye—dead center in the poppy fields. The moment the resistance got wiped out, it’d be open season to snatch him.
Akbar puffed his beard with pride. "Ha! We barely broke a sweat—the Afghans did all the dirty work for us!"
Before he could finish bragging, Colonel Han’s comm crackled—urgent code from Xun Xiangxiang: "Colonel Han, hot intel! Bagram Air Base is moving—two CH-47 Chinooks are inbound, ETA ten minutes. Looks like Delta Force is coming for Black Eye. Prep your battle plan—don’t let him slip away!"
"Roger that! Like hell I’m letting the juiciest prize get away! Delta Force—finally, a real heavyweight brawl!" Hank Han’s battle spirit blazed.
Fiona Tang, catching the urgency, pressed, "Colonel Han, Delta Force is coming for Black Eye—how do we shut them down?"
"Ambush the relief force. We set the trap, let them rush in, and crush them," Hank Han replied with a chilling smirk.
"So we dangle Black Eye as bait and smash Delta Force when they bite?" Fiona Tang said, her eyes narrowing with anticipation.
"You got it! The odds are stacked in our favor—let’s make this a masterpiece!" Hank Han nodded, voice crackling with energy.
"Absolutely! Battle stations, everyone!" Fiona Tang agreed, her pulse racing. The Dragon Task Force was itching to prove themselves, and a showdown with the legendary Delta Force was the kind of glory that came once in a lifetime.