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Battlefield Valhöll

Cody Seb

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OOC: This is closed, OOC is fine. There is one place fore another RPer, pm for details if you want in.

Großrinderfeld, Baden-Württemberg, Militärrepublik Rheinmark

For no less than 3 months, all civilian transit in and out of the northernmost province of the Rheinmark, Valhöll. A war on drugs had been going on ever since and the Reichsmarshall himself had finally had enough.

Major Ulrich Kristiansen walked over to his two right hand men, Lieutenant Sven Bruun and Sergeant Jürgen Nørgaard. The Major was tall, like many of the Nords, but his appearance further followed the stereotypes. His face was very distinguished, while his close-shaven head still retained a bit of blonde within its gray. He wore full combat gear, save for his officer's cap. Lieutenant Bruun had a similar appearance, although his hair was still completely blonde and long enough to slick back. He was also younger about the face and stood straight in his officer's uniform. Nørgaard was a bit more gritty.

His hair was shaven neatly to 1/8 of an inch and was a deep brown. He had a very German look to him, but his face was more unkempt, the stubble of a day or two without shaving apparent. He wore his combat armor and casually leaned against the treds of a tank with his arms crossed, chewing gum. Before the service he had been an interesting character. He had been somewhat of a wild youth, drinking, swooning any woman who laid eyes on him, with quite a sharp wit and sarcasm. It was something that pieces of that character still came out, considering how rigorous and breaking Rheinmarkish training is.

As the Major approached, the Lieutenant snapped to attention, but Nørgaard remained how he was.

"As you were," Kristiansen curtly commanded.

"Sure thing chief," Nørgaard replied.

"Alright, well I'm going to brief you two more in depth on the situation. We've lost contact with one of our informants, as you already know. His last known location was downtown Frankfurt. Since the entire province was in question as far as administration for so long, the situation's bad. They may have found out, taken him hostage, they may have killed him, hell, he could've turned for the money. At any rate, the Reichsmarschall himself wants the whole situation finished, now. He's sending in a good portion of the Mark's Heer, with half the Kommando Spezialkrafte. Our mission is to find out what happened to the informant and extract him if possible. If we find out he's turned, we take him out after interrogation and assassinate anyone we can get, understood?"

"Got it chief," Nørgaard replied.

"Understood sir," Bruun replied respectfully.

"I'll need you two to fill in the rest of your unit. I'll be sending you the full mission details through SATCOM. You'll be going up in the C-130 for your drop. We'll be putting you right into the middle of it before the main offensive gets close. That should afford you some time to get into the city before any cover's blown. Your drop site will be right outside the city limits in the relatively safe suburbs. Oh, and gentlemen, these cartels are extremely organized. You will be facing professional resistance. You've got two days. You'll have one chopper for support and one air strike. Use them wisely."

"Right sir, we'll take care of it," complied Bruun.

The Major saluted the both of them, turned and walked away. The two of them returned it, Nørgaard slightly more lazily.

"Alright you brief the men, I'll get suited up for the prelimenary drills."

"Yes sire, Lieutenant."

Bruun walked away and Nørgaard picked up his G36C, charging the action.

"Hey Bruun!"

Bruun turned as Nørgaard tossed Bruun his forgotten pistol, "The Jäger Brigade rides again. Let's go get these $%&@ers."

Bruun caught the pistol and smiled.

The Jäger Brigade. The most prestigious branch in the entire Marks Wehrmacht. They had been tied up in every major operation and every black op. They get the job done. No matter what. Nørgaard's shoulder bore their logo.


Edited by Cody Seb
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Nørgaard had to shout above the engines of the C-130 as the plane passed over the border of Valhöll.

"Alright men! You've been briefed! After the drop, meet at rally point alpha! From there we'll move in on the first known headquarters of the cartel! Kjeldsen, Krogh, Bech, on me!''

At Sgt. Nørgaard's behest, three of the soldiers made their way to the back of the plane. One after another, the jumped out, releasing their parachutes. Nørgaard gave the thumbs up to Bruun who returned the gesture, at which point Nørgaard made his jump. Soon after, two groups of five would do the same, finally concluding with Lt. Bruun.

Nørgaard hit the ground hard, but recovered after releasing his parachute. He had landed in a grassy field. He knelt and whipped around his G36C, scanning the area. It was dark out, indeed it was just after 1 in the morning. Deciding that the area was clear, he made for the small farmhouse just North of his position. From it, one could easily see the city, it was a mere two mile hike.

Nørgaard slammed into the wall just beneath a window. All lights were dark. He checked his other two weapons, the MP9 and his 9mm pistol, both were still ready for action. The Sergeant slunk around the side of the house and once he gave himself the all clear, began to sprint. He found the road that would lead him to the outskirts and stayed a few dozen yards to the side.

After a short time, he came to the rally point, just beating Krogh and Bech. Kjeldsen, along with Bruun and most of the unit were already present.

"You good, Sarge?" queried Kjeldsen. Kjeldsen was the unit's sniper.

"I'm good, is that Russian piece of !@#$ sniper?"

Kjeldsen laughed. His rifle of choice was a Russian made Dragunov and most of the squad gave him hell for it, but it most certainly got the job done in Kjeldsen's hands.

"She's as ready as she'll ever be, Sarge."

"Right, who are we waiting on Lieutenant?"

"Bjørk and Dahlberg."

They didn't have to wait long for the other two to arrive and once they did, the whole squad moved, staying low as they neared the city. Once in the outskirts, the men stealthily made their way through the buildings and alleyways, taking special care to not be seen even by casual by-standers. It took them some time, but the team eventually found their way into the district they were looking for and it was not a pleasant sight.

Mercenaries openly patrolled the streets, holding onto G36's of their own, as well as various makes of M16's, M4's, MP5's, AK74U's, and on and on.

Dahlberg's voice burst over the comm, "Holy $%&@, where'd they get those guns? Shouldn't they be using AK's and sh-?"

Bruun cut him off, "Stow it, son. There's obviously something bigger going on here. Do not engage, I repeat, DO NOT engage until I give an order. Copy that."

The squad all reported back, "Copy. Copy. Copy."

Bruun spoke to Nørgaard over the com, "The building we're looking for is across the way, about 100 meters."

"Aye, sir. I see it." Nørgaard waved up his squad and they moved toward the small plaza that many of the mercenaries were patrolling.

Nørgaard spoke back to Bruun over the com, "I count 12 targets, we've got 14 guns. What do ya want to do?"

There was a pause, finally Bruun replied, "Engage on my mark. Choose your targets, relay them to squad mates. Take them down clean, I don't want anyone getting away."

Once everyone had identified their targets, the command came. "Open fire on my mark....Mark."

No one fired more than a three round burst, the entire amount of time that live fire even persisted being less than a second. Every single merc dropped to the ground.

"Check 'em," ordered Nørgaard. The squad, in combat stance, materialized from the shadows, holding their rifles in the firing position.

"I've got a live one!" shouted Kjeldsen.

"Hold your fire!" yelled Bruun. "Nørgaard," Bruun said, nodding at the downed mercenary. Nørgaard smiled behind his baklava and approached the wounded soldier. Them man was holding his side, while his knee also bled. He wore nothing on his head, so it was not necessary for Nørgaard to remove anything.

"He's speakin' some other language, I can't tell what it is," explained Kjeldsen as he knelt next to the wounded man. Nørgaard squatted next to the merc, picking up his pistol, a formidable Desert Eagle. He dispensed the clip and opened the action, ejecting the last round.

"You got any more for this?" Nørgaard demanded, still speaking in German.

"Моля! Нека ме live! Аз нямам оръжие! Аз съм уязвявам! Нека ме live! Моля!" the frightened mercenary pleaded. Nørgaard simply grumbled and slammed the clip back into the .50 caliber pistol, cycling the action and chambering a round.

"Listen here, you little $%&@! You better start speaking German or you're of no more use to me!"

"Моля! Не разбирам ви! Не знам ви're език!" the mercenary persisted.

Nørgaard grumbled once more, "Знаеш ли мъж наименовани Ван дер Keine? Това е важно, че аз го открие."

Kjeldsen looked at Nørgaard, surprised. The merc was speechless.

"Отговор ме!" Nørgaard demanded.

"Не знам го, не знам го! I've никога не съм чул за него!"

Nørgaard sighed, "He doesn't know him."

Kjeldsen and Nørgaard both stood, Kjeldsen walked away. Nørgaard inspected the pistol and aimed it down at the mercenary. The wounded merc tried in vain to stop him, but the Nord simply fired through the man's hand and into his skull, obliterating them both. He then dropped the clip, ejected the chambered round and threw down the pistol.

Bruun met him half way as Nørgaard made his way back to the squad. "You get anything from him?"

"Nah, he didn't know our informant. We got a problem though."

"What's that?" asked Bruun.

"They're !@#$@#$ slavs. He was speaking Bulgarian. The cartels are either from Bulgaria, or they're hiring Bulgarians. Either way it's rough news."

"Why's that?" interjected Kjeldsen.

"You ever fought slavs? No? They fight like they've got nothing to lose, even when they do. They're tough mother $%&@ers too."

"Alright, get ready to move. We're going into that building and it looks like we're going in hot."

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The small figure huddled in the dark room, shivering in fear. He'd been promised...but who could trust promises when the situation was so muddled? Even an informant, who was supposed to know what was going on, could not be certain of anything in such an environment, such a set of circumstances.

His fear intensified as a light pierced the darkness of the room, but that light did not allow him to clearly see the one standing in the doorway.

"Come with me." The voice, heavy with an accent he could not place, but at least, thank the Gods, in German, left no room for doubt--that was a command, not a suggestion.

Trembling like a leaf, he stood from the little cot he'd been given, and followed his unseen--did he call this person a host or a captive? A friend or a foe? The uncertainty was pushing him close to the edge of sanity.

His eyes widened further when he heard the sound of gunshots, and he would have fled, but his escort grabbed his arm in a grip of iron, and, willing or no, he was taken along for the ride, through the hidden exit...

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He didn't know how the Cartel had discovered he was an informant. The government had promised he wouldn't be discovered. But promises meant nothing--somehow the Cartel found out--perhaps not that he was an informant, but that he was being less than honest with them.

They had interrogated him, though it hadn't gotten harsh until they had discovered he was made of sterner stuff. When that hadn't worked--they dug into his records, finding out...about his brother and sisters.

Nothing could have preparred him for the shock of seeing photographs of his family displayed by these men. They had threatened to do thing, terrible things, to his family, unless he cooperated. That finally made him crack, and he slowly, surely, began confessing his work.

But they hadn't killed him yet. He knew perfectly well why. They wanted to lure any potential resuers into a trap. They made no promises concerning his own life, but they did assure him his family would be safe if he cooperated. he really had had no choice...


The security Nørgaard and his men would face first, was minimal. The single entrance was not even guarded, and left unlocked.

It opened into a long hallway to either side, and in front of them a staircase that went both up, and down into the basement. Still no guards were in sight as they would move into the building. Something was apparently very, very wrong...

And even as the special forces entered, the informant was being rushed away out the back entrance. The earlier threat was enough to keep him silent and cooperative.

Edited by Subtleknifewielder
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Kjeldsen had posted himself up a few floors in a building near the target with a good view. He surveyed the building.

"I've got no visual on hostiles, sir."

Nørgaard replied over the comm, "Do you not have a good view, Kjeldsen?"

"No sir, perfect view. I've just got not contacts visible in the building."

"Alright. Men, prepare to advance, be ready for a surprise attack. Dahlberg, take point."

The unit cautiously opened the doors and moved inside. All the rooms on the bottom floor were meticulously checked, but strangely devoid of hostiles. Once at the stairway at the very end, the team checked the basement, which was also empty, before moving up into the upper floors of the building.

Bruun spoke over the comm as the began to scale the stairs, "Kjeldsen, you make sure no one starts moving around up there, you got that solider?"

"Yes sir," replied Kjeldsen, still peering intently through his scope. There was still no movement visible to him.

The team reached the 2nd floor and halted at Bruun's command. "Breach this door."

Dahlberg stood ready to kick the door open while Krogh was on the right, pointing his shotgun inward, with Bech on the other side, brandishing his silenced MP9.

Nørgaard, "Breach on my mark, Corporal. Eins, Zwei, Drei, MARK!"

Dahlberg forcefully kicked the door open and spun off to the side. Bech knelt and sighted his weapon around the corner as Krogh did the same standing.

"Clear," Krogh whispered.

Nørgaard relaxed his stance and approached Lt. Bruun, whispering so as to keep off the comm and unheard by the unit, "I don't like this Lieutenant. It's too quiet."

"I know, Sergeant. Just make sure everyone's on their toes, we've got to get our informant out."

"Right, el-tee," Nørgaard replied before speaking up to the others, "Alright, men. Search it, full spread, I want this area cleared before we move up to the next story."

"Dahlberg once again took point as the rest followed behind, surveying the seemingly empty floor 2.

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While they encountered no hostiles, eyes were still watching them meticulously, through discretely-placed cameras. There would be no one on the second floor, either, and the informant was gone, though they would find the probably exit, a small door on the other side of the building, hidden from the outside by a wel-placed dumpster. But things would change once everyone had reached the third, and final, floor.

Just out of sight of Kjeldsen, behind several doors, waited approximately a dozen thugs armed with an assortment of weaponry. Most had moderately powerful assault rifles, two had only handguns, but one was armed with an RPG and several rounds.

Yet another memmber hid in the ventilation, holding only one object that was not big enough to be any kind of weapon...

The trap would not be sprung until as many of them as possible were on the third floor...

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The 2nd floor was cleared and the unit moved up to floor 3, following the same breaching drill, no one was immediately seen once again.

"Alright, everyone switch to nightvision, we don't have lighting from the street lights outside this high up," commanded Bruun.

"That goes for you too Kjeldsen. Actually, on second thought, activate thermal, see if you can get us anything," orderd Nørgaard.

Kjeldsen obeyed and peered through his scope once more. "Sir, I've got traces but nothing substantial. Just be on your toes. It could be contacts or it could just be a heater they left on. Whatever the case, proceed with caution."

"Copy that, Corporal. We're moving up," replied Nørgaard.

The team crept down the hallway and gathered around the door in question.

"Breach on my mark team. Remember, check your targets, check your corners. The informant could be in here, they may have already moved him for all we know. Just watch for targets hiding in flanking positions," Bruun explained. The group acknowledged the order.


The door was kicked open and the team went about breaching procedure. To their surprise, there were more people in the room than expected, and the firefight ensued.

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The door they kicked in contained half of the ambushers, all armed with the assault rifles. They used whatever they could as cover--tables, chairs. And since the furniture in question was at least metal-plated, it provided a modest form of cover. However, in the opening exchange of gunfire, at least two were hit, one fatally, the other simply wounded, but stil incapacitated.

The shots, however, were a signal to the remaining men. Two doors down, the man with the RPG edged out only as far as he had to, hurriedly firing off a shot at the government forces before popping back inside his room.

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"Move! Fire at will!" Nørgaard shouted as fast as he could, but it was too late. The rocket was off. It flew through the formation and impacted on the wall to the left and behind them. The blast through Krogh across the hallway and smack into a wall. He fell to the ground unconcious and severely injured. The forward part of the squad began firing on the ambushers, while the others took cover outside the threshold from those inside the room.

Mercs dropped like flies, but the man remaining was the one with the rocket launcher, and he prepared to squeeze the trigger once more. Just before his did, a 7.62x54mmR round impacted the back of his head and exited right between his eyes, killing him instantly.

"Target down!" Kjeldsen yelled over the COM.

"Alright team, one flashbang, one stun through the door, NOW!" ordered Bruun. The team complied and there were two explosions within the room. Dahlberg and Nørgaard both took deep breaths before rushing into the room and clearing it as quickly as they could. The blinded and stunned inhabitants didn't even stand a chance. Even as the raised their arms over the faces and head, the lead of MP5's cut through them. No one was left alive.

Once the dust settled and the guns quieted, Nørgaard and Dahlberg rushed back out, where the unit was already busy inspecting Krogh.

"It's not good sir," Östermann, the unit's medic, stated, "Looks like both his left and right arm are broken, the right tibia shattered. He's likely got a concussion too, but his breathings regular. Least he didn't catch any shrapnel, else he'd be bleeding out and there'd be nothing we can do."

Bruun sighed. This was always an ugly business. "You need to get him to the extraction point, immediately. I will never leave a man behind, and I will not put him in more danger. Patch him up and move out. Once you are there, you are to call for an immediate med-evac. My orders."

"Aye sir," replied Östermann. He gave Krogh a shot of adrenaline, which was enough stimulant to wake him up and get him moving. As the two made their way back to the extraction point, the rest of the team made use of their time to collect clues.

Kjeldsen also rejoined them within the building and was the first to come to a conclusion, "Well, looks like our boy was definitely here. We've got old, bloody duct tape and cut ropes. They probably moved him. We've got dirty tracks moving out of this room too, but they fade too quickly to know where they went."

It didn't take long for the unit to find the alternate exit to the building.

"Alright men, move fast but STAY SHARP. Our guy can't be far, let's get a move on. Keep your eyes peeled."

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Despite the advantage of the RPG, it was over quickly. The one member that was still hiding trembled in his place. he couldn;t be sure what was ahppeneing, but...his family would be safe if he did this.

He pulled out the device he'd been holding,, clearly now a detonator to a bomb...and pressed the button.

C4 charges had been placed in the basement--and in the dumpster.

The informant, who had just been stuffed into the backseat of a small car, heard the explosion and felt something die inside of him. Even if they had survived against all odds, there was no backing out of this now...

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The team had already left the building, but the charge in the dumpster blew just as the last man crossed his path. It was the Lieutenant. Bruun was thrown across the alley and impacted the wall, then slumped to the ground. The charges on the building had gone off too and the team was thrown away, including Bruun's body. Ears were ringing and vision was blurred, but Nørgaard managed to make his way to his Lieutenant. As the others came too, Nørgaard lifted Bruun's body halfway off the ground after he had crawled to him.

He unsealed Bruun's helmet and cast it aside, his commander had already passed away, his face covered in blood. Nørgaard worked extremely hard to keep his emotions in. Fear, despair, sadness. His mouth was agape and his bottom lip visibly trembled.

"Sarge! Sarge!" Kjeldsen yelled at Nørgaard.

Nørgaard made no reply. He didn't even turn to look at Kjeldsen. The others made their way and stood over the Sergeant. He slowly stood up and they parted as he slowly walked away from Bruun's body. He had picked up Bruun's helmet. All the sudden he yelled at the top of his lungs and threw the helmet way down the alley. "$%&@!"

He fell to his knees and didn't move. He started getting frantic. He picked up his weapons and started turning circles, then began walking down the alley with extreme purpose. The others ran after him.

Kjeldsen whispered to Nørgaard as he came up next to him, "Sarge, keep it together. Come on now."

"I'll kill every one of these !@#$@#$ slavs."

Kjeldsen looked back at the rest of them and nodded, and the team went on down the street.

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Just as they came into sight, the car turned a corner. However, it was close enough for them to make out the make and model, as well as the license plate, before it turned around the corner and was lost to sight once more.

A few civilians watched from their windows in nearby buildings, but if it even looked like someone was glancing their way, their faces would disappear. They were too scared to become involved in this fight.

No further amushes had been prepared for the time being, as the criminals had expected that trap to take care of the team.

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