One of the starting Para’s and or scenes A little bit of Writing for me.

Scene 1 Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco.
0700 hours Monday Morning. Peak hour Traffic.

Mustafa and Mohamed looked at each other across the Semi-Trailers spacious cabin, they had both been driving the truck and trailer for over 4 days and it was clearly showing on their faces.Had anybody entered the cabin, the stench of stale sweat and takeway food wrappers merely added to the reek. At the moment, neither were aware, their ficus had shifted.
Mustafa looked outside the cabin window, passed the tiny water droplets forming it from the early morning fog, pointing outtowards the horiszon, he spoke.
“Praise be to Allah brother, the sun rises over what’s to be a glorious day, we shall do our duty” he said, looking back to Mohamed and watched him shift down another gear, the bridge traffic was starting to slow below 30 miles per hour now, as both workers pushed into town to start their day and the light surrounding fog, diminished visibility. Dampening down the blaring of car horns along with all the other noises the early morning commute generates. The fog would not last long.
Mohamed was sweating now, both struggling with the constant up and down shifting of the gears along with his own nerviousness, as the traffic never seemed to make up its mind, “ Fast or slow, how do these infidels ever get where they need to go with stopping and killing some pig” he exclaimed, startling Mustafa in the passenger seat.
“Easy Brother” whispered Mustafa, his tone soothing, “ focus on the task, we are not far now, our great glorious journey shall soon end here and begin in again in Paradise, Insha Allah”, he whispered, as he fixined his gaze ahead.
Their journey had been exhausting, it was really not surprising that Mohamed was starting to lose his cool calm demeanour, they had now been in the land of the great Satan, amongst their infidels for almost two weeks, and most of it had been spent fitting out the tanker with specialised valves and the new paint scheme. The Infidels had assisted with that task too. When their work was complete both had taken them into the woods where they were sent to meet their heathen god or whoever it was that they prayed too. It was pleasurable, as a simple bullet to the back of the head had sent all 6 of them to hell Mustafa hoped.
The car horn blaring jolted Mustafa back to the present, “ what’s going on Mohamed, why have we stopped?” he said, looking ahead he could see in the clearing fog, blue and red lights barely visible in the early morning mist, the traffic as he looked out the cabin door clearly now at walking pace.
To the outsider looking in, had they even noticed the two men of middle age, and clearly of middle eastern decent, there was almost like a calm descended over them as the two looked at each other across the cabin, clearly in some unspoken moment communicating before Mustafa broke their silence. He seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion.

“ It is time my brother, ready yourself and gather your weapon, we shall have the pleasure of killing some of the American infidel pigs , before Allah delivers them all to hell”.
The sinister tooth gapped grin that spread across Mohamed’s face was truly evil, then gently pushing in the clutch he down shifted again and braked, pulling the tanker to a halt. Immediately car horn’s could be heard screaming behind them, protesting at the semi-trailers stopping on top of the bridge. Things now seemed to move swiftly for Mohammed, he exited the door of the truck with one hand on the grab rail, the other clutching the M4 assault rifle from behind his seat. It looked sinister with two magazines tapped end to end in the shape of an L so as to not bang the feed end on the ground or anything he rested the weapon on. Looking to his left, he heard Mustafa slam shut his own door before appearing under the front section of the fuel tanker, his own weapon slung, a Styr Assault rifle in 5.56mm across his back, two M67 fragmentation grenades pinned to his brown belt.
Just as Mustafa straightened up, Mohamed, quicker, let loose from his M4 Colt armoury assault rifle a long ripping burst of fully automatic fire. The cars immediately beside them were hit first, glass shattered and people exploded inside vehicles from the assault of high velocity rounds painting the insides of the nearest two cars crimson red. Women, children and men could be heard screaming as car doors all over the immediate area opened, drivers and passengers all starting to flee as they were now aware of the terror close by. For two families from Detroit, their journey home would never be completed.
Snapping upwards the M4 assault rifle Mustafa screamed ” Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar”, then Mohamed removed the spend mag and twisted it, inserting the new fresh magazine and letting the charging handle snap forward. looking down the line of cars he saw movement and raised the rifle, the San Francisco Police Office charging towards them with his Glock 10mm pistol in hand clearly seen and as yet still too far away for the doomed officer to do anything his image flickering in the steam coming off the hot M4’s barrel.
Mustafa had not been idle, in the 7 or so seconds since Mohamed had begun killing the infidels he had already opened two of the large valves they had installed in the tanker, the work had been crude and rudimentary, they now started spewing out the gasoline onto the road way. As he moved down the tanker Mustafa opened the last three valves, and like that of the first two, the special handle that was removable he pitched into the middle of the bridge, clearly taking delight in the fact they would never be retrieved.
As he reached the back of the tanker, hands and pants soaked in gasoline he edged up beside Mohamed, nudging him in the pre-arranged signal they both sped off into the cars on either side of the tanker, their job now was to allow the 5 large diameter valves to dispense their deathly cargo of gasoline onto the road surface of the golden Gate Bridge, it was now 0730 am on Monday morning and the traffic had come to a complete stop.

SFS NEWS and TRAFFIC CHOPPER (San Francisco news Comp )

The choppers pilot had just received word from the station that there was a traffic incident on the gate this morning, 911 was also receiving frantic call as well and the station had asked them to head over to the gate and see what they could find. Banking the Bell the pilot called out to his passengers, both a cameraman and the reporter, “You hear that bud, we got a serious incident of some sort brewing over on the gate, I’ll take us in for a look see if the fog isn’t too bad, yawl better buckle up now” he said in his Midwestern drawl, and with that the chopper dipped briefly before banking almost onto its right side, the news crew could clearly be heard moaning and cursing the pilot.
For Trooper Alex Davison of the San Francisco Police department, the morning had turned to complete shit, not only had the traffic stopped causing him to get out of his highway patrol car and investigate in the cold damp air, but then he had heard automatic gunfire further up. Immediately he had called in the incident to the officer of the watch requesting back up and notifying them he was going to investigate the sounds of automatic gunfire. As he headed away from the car the sounds of the controller clearly telling him to be careful till back up arrived slowly diminished.
The sound of more automatic gunfire cause him to drop the radio hand piece as he quickly rolled out of the car and knelt down drawing his 10mm Glock. Alex had been called all sorts of things in his life, but afraid was not one of them, up front somewhere was a bad guy, most likely killing people as Alex’s Military training came back to life, the adrenaline rapidly built surging through his system. Alex slowly closed the patrol cars door not really hearing the radio crackle to life again, too engrossed in the task at hand he failed to register the controllers request for him to wait for back up. With his personal radio on him not yet turned on, Alex would never hear the controllers call as he charged off, up the line of cars into the light fog, towards the sound of the guns.
Alex could feel the intensity building in him as he charged forward, his gun hand raised in the two handed grip common around the world as the first part for the weaver stance, the Glocks safety being part of the trigger pull, it was ready, slowing down as he heard more gunfire off to the left Alex scanned for targets, his weapon hand, tracked by he eyes, everything he scanned the sights of the Glock cross over, trigger finger ready for depression and the slightest wife of danger. Alex noticed the gunman on his second fast sweep, carefully strolling through the line of cars and raising the assault rifle to fire here and there at some poor bastard, Alex could only image the sheer terror the people were facing, each time the fire building in Alex as he stalked the gunman, rose within him.
He’d had not covered more than 30 meters when peering around the rear of a Escalade he noticed the smell, initially his nose tingled as it was carrying a familiar odour, masked by all the fumes from the now stationary cars that and the people pushing back away passed him , down the bridges gentle incline in a mad panic. As he approached the zipper barrier dividing road system the odour hit him square on the nose, at the same time he heard the liquid gently splash against his police boots looking down his eyes and mind registered what his nose was screaming at him, GASOLINE!
Alex had no sooner processed that gasoline was leaking along the bridge and was reaching for his radio, when he heard the sound of a chopper hovering close by, looking over his left shoulder he was amazed to see the CNN News chopper hovering side on, its camera man on the steps of the shopper shooting footage directly towards Alex and up the bridge.
Alex watched in fascination as the gentle glinting of the sunshine reflected from the plexiglass canopy, then………it seemed wrong, ‘ he thought” the glinting moved onto the white painted fuselage before the camera man suddenly jerked and fell from the chopper, the chopper instantly dipping towards the bridge.” gunfire” he whispered to himself, ” You Fuckers”

The iciy ball materialised in Alexs stomach, adrenal glads dumpsed vast amounts of adrenaline into his blood stream as the body connected with what his brain was registering, “ Fucking Move” he shouted an pointed towards the chpper now spiralling towards the bridge, raising his [istol Alex stole a glance over towards the two terrorists he could see, “ fuckers” he said to nobody, as he turned charging towards Mustafa and Mohamed, both clearly now in the blood lust filled rage, killing anybody before them , men, women and children, the high velocity rounds in some cases tearing though the adult before brutally ripping apart the pother parent or child they were trying to shelter.
Alex covered the distance to both Mustafa and Mohamed in seconds, their focus narrowed with little regard for hat as happening around them, other than killing more innocent bystanders. As Alex halted, breathing heavily, he raised the Glock, checked the magazine and pulled back the slid just enough to ensure it had a round chambered, then he stole a look through the cars side windows.
Turning back into cover Alex considered what he was going too do, how much time should he give them, does he give them a chance to put own their weapons, then, while debating this with himself he heard a faint cry, some woman pleading for her life, followed by the high velocity crack of the assault rifle, her screams and pleading no longer heard.
Alex spun and stood up, immediately he had Mustafa in his view , pushing off fast Alex covered the 6 meters to Mustafa before he was even aware that Alex was present, it was Alex’s left hand, harshly clamping down on Mustafa’s left shoulder that gave Mustafa the first indication that something was wrong. Mustafa had no sooner registered the danger behind him than he felt a searing hot pain, like nothing he had ever felt explode inside him, staggered, and shocked at the painful assault on his body he watched as his chest exploded twice more before darkness overcame him, his last thoughts, wondering if he would go to paradice.
Alex, was surprised at the amount of blood he had all over him, the rapid discharge of the Glock against the terrorist had killed him, of that there was no doubt, the terrorist now lay in crumpled bleeding mess at Alex’s feet, but the muzzle blast against the clothing and body had splattered Alex’s chest and lower face with skin and blood of the terrorist.
One les fucking oxygen thief “ thought Alex as he stood upright, looking at Mohamed, pointing at him with his finger extended, “your next ass-hole” Alex cried, not really sure where it had come from. Sharp buzzing sounds close to Alex’s ears preceded, the world around him exploding, glass and searing hot fragments biting into him as Mohamed opened up with his assault Rifle.

BALTIC SEA Same time

The rotor head was spinning at 1500 rpm, enough that the scientists at the DSTO had determined to track changes in the infra-red spectrum out to 30 kilometres when matched with the CSIRo’s new multi focal Ultra HD seeker array. ROTS, or Rotational Optical Tracking System was showing its makers just what it could do, more so, it was about to save lives and possibly ships.
It took mere milliseconds for the data to be transferred by the link 16 data tethering system to the small buoy floating 100 meters below the ROTS drone, from there throughout the submarine the crew were being called to Action Stations, ROTS had barked, trouble was coming!

36 kilometres away from the ROTS drone, had the DSTO technician been able to accurately measure the distance 12 Russian advanced Su 24MK fencers approached, totally unaware of the tiny drones presence thanks to its advanced stealth features and tiny sparrow like radar cross section. The Fencers, the latest stealthy MK version were the latest to roll off the Sukhoi production lines, having been extensively upgraded with all weather low level maritime attack systems, their sole purpose being the destruction of US naval surface warfare vessels or anything else the Kremlin pointed them at. Today, that was the three surface vessels, now some 65 kilometres from them as they approached at Mach 2, 150 feet above the Baltic sea, the small international flotilla totally oblivious to their presence or the chaos that was about to envelope theoir lives.
Inside the lead aircraft, the pilot and co-pilot both were scanning their instruments, one looking for the slightest sign that all was not well with the aircraft and that they maintained their separation from the ocean or a spectacular impact would ensure both their deaths and probably the mission failure, the other looking for the slightest sign or emission from their targets, that might show they had been detected. Both quickly shot each other a look, practised from years of operating together, and then the pilot spoke.
“Uri, I have a very weak emission coming from 463 almost directly in front of us, no azimuth as yet, its periodic and faint”.

The two had been flying as Pilot and Navigator now for almost 8 years and had come to know each other almost instinctively.
Aye” Yuri said, the faint echoes of concern in his short reply, “ This is too easy, they said they are three Air warfare Destroyers, we should have them on IR any minute now, but I expected them to be separated , maybe laying a trap, surely they must know we are about here somewhere, there satellites must have detected us”.

 

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