12-11-2013, 03:33 PM
Maiduguri, Nigeria, 1535hrs
Small arms fire ripped off the hull of his Panhard, although he could hardly hear it for the staccato chatter of the remote-weapon-system (RWS) .50 cal mounted on the roof of the vehicle. Nine Panhards roared through the ditches and yards that lined the side of the Kashim Ibrahim Road, heading east towards the Maiduguri city limits.
Hundreds of now abandoned vehicles choked the road and side streets, left by those who had been lucky enough to make it this far before the fighting had cut off any escape from the city. By all reports, hundreds of insurgents had over-run the city's defenders in a well coordinated attack. And from what he could tell, the local garrison commander had done an excellent job of leaving the back door open, so to speak.
Jacques studied the tactical display mounted on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He wore a pair of Land Warrior glasses, and every time he glanced up or out the window, he was met with a dizzying vista of markers and warnings, where other members of Légion Première had indicated enemy shooters or other problems. To most, the display would make no sense; red and yellow indicators for known or possible hostiles, blues and greens for friendlies and non-combatants. Arrows and motion indicators marked the projected movements of those various indicators, and lines indicating directions of fire from friendly or hostile sources. To him, it all formed a complicated pattern, and he couldn't help but grin. He glanced back to the map, then glanced up with a start, giving the vehicle's driver a sharp slap to the shoulder.
The vehicle skidded to a sudden halt, and Capitaine Jacques Danjou threw open the heavy, armoured door of the Panhard. The other vehicles stopped as well, doors being thrown open as mercenaries dismounted and brought their rifles to bear, firing at rooftops and windows where hostile insurgents lurked.
Jacques strolled through the open, his own rifle slung casually as some of his men thundered past to secure the immediate perimeter. A field reporter, wearing patches and ID that marked him as in the employ of a major CCD news channel, crouched at a low wall, talking into the camera held by his partner. The two men wore bright white helmets and more practically coloured body armour, and nearby was the ruins of their truck. Apparently, they were as viable a target as anyone else around here.
Jacques strolled up as a few rounds tore into the wall they were hiding behind, and a mortar landed a ways off, and the two men ducked lower before even realizing Jacques was there.
"Afternoon, Messieurs. I think you are not safe here."
The reporter balked a long moment, then quickly gestured for his cameraman to turn around, "What are mercenaries doing in Maiduguri? What can you tell us of the situation in the city?"
The man was clearly British, and was about as clued into how much danger he was in as the ants skittering around the base of the wall they were using as cover.
Jacques smiled at the reporter, while two of his men jogged forward to grab the reporter and cameraman, "Well, for the moment, I am pulling your bacon out of the fire, as the Americans say. And you will get a much more interesting story with us then you will dead in the sand here."
The reporter stared at Jacques for a long moment, then the pair ducked lower as a mortar round impacted a few dozen meters away, sending up a cloud of dirt and a deadly spray of shrapnel. Jacques frowned at the pair then adjusted the mic that hung infront of his mouth, "Bombardier Iweala? Would you do something about that? Those fellows are getting rather close."
One of the Panhards sported a MK19 automatic grenade launcher in it's RWS system, and a system used to triangulate indirect fire. The weapon snapped up and spun, then launched a burst of grenades into the air. The dull whup-whup-whup of detonating grenades sounded, followed by a louder bang as a small cash of mortar rounds detonated.
"Now, where were we? Yes, I believe you two were about to mount up, yes?"
The reporter and cameraman shared a glance, then nodded curtly and ran for the waiting vehicles, climbing into Jacques' as he strolled back, his men falling back to their own vehicles in good order. A glance at their surroundings gave Jacques a very satisfied grin. There were decidedly fewer red icons in the vicinity.
That smile faultered slightly when he took into account the mounting bill for expenses. Ammunition and fuel were not cheap, after all.
Maiduguri, Nairobi, Government Women's College, 1650hrs
Panhards rolled into the university grounds and began fanning out to pre-determined positions around the campus, even as doors were thrown open and the mercenaries of Légion Première dismounted and charged into the buildings. A handful of bodies littered the ground already, a sure sign that they might have been too late.
Jacques vehicle took to the center of the courtyard, and he threw the door open and piled out, the CCD reporter and cameraman struggling to follow. Two vans sporting the Red Crescent design had been parked in front of the main doors to the college, and were riddled with holes, a last ditch effort to keep the insurgents out of the building. "Welcome to the Nigerian government's northern-most post-secondary education center for women. My company has accepted a request for help by Mademoiselle Samantha Brown of the Red Cross, to garrison this location until the local situation has calmed down. I suggest you set up over there, and stay out of the way of my men, s'il te plait."
He waved for the reporter to get out of the way, then walked towards the main building as a dozen of his men thundered in the front doors. Weapons fire and screaming could be heard from within as well as the city around them, and he stopped briefly to eye two Nigerian soldiers that lay face first on the steps, both shot in the back of the head. Likely by some of their own people.
He stopped at the top of the steps as his men rushed down the corridor. Two of his provosts were at point, each sporting a ballistic-grade plastic riot shield, behind which the rest of the men formed urban-breaching stacks. Sappers carrying shotguns were next, ready to breach locked doors, should those prove to be a problem, and the rest of the men had opted to leave their FAMAS assault rifles behind in favour of more compact carbines and SMGs, far better suited to the close-quarters fighting they were about to experience.
Jacques glanced at the two vans, then into the building before calmly digging out his Wallet. A few deft flicks of his thumb, expertly executed considering the choice of shooter-gloves he was wearing, and he pulled up Ms Brown's number. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Mr Danjou? Where are you, damn it?! I asked for your help six hours ago! It's a twenty damn minute drive from the airport!"
The woman sounded more angry then afraid. Not terribly surprising. She was American, after all. They were an arrogant lot, and probably had no inclination that she could possibly die here. Of course, the fact that she made a career of working in the shittiest countries Africa had to offer probably had more to do with it. This wasn't the first time someone had been trying to kill her.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Dreadfully sorry I'm late. The roads are quite crowded today. Might I ask where you are at the moment?"
He finally crossed the threshold into the university's main building, falling in behind one of the stacks of his men as they worked their way down the main corridor. A dozen Nigerian security guards lay dead in the foyer, scattered about from a central blast crater; one of their numbers had been wearing a suicide vest, it seemed. Fanatics were a strange sort.
"I have most of the girls in the old gymnasium. A few soldiers are trying to keep these Boko Haram assholes out, but I don't think they're winning."
"Well, help is on the way, Mon Cherie. Your knight in shining armour, as you Yanks say, yes? Sit patiently, s'il vous plais."
A few deft flicks of the eye and a command went out to his men to activate their helmet-mounted cameras. The reporter outside would probably want footage of the daring rescue operation.
It took less than an hour to secure the campus; three Nigerian soldiers were all that remained of the platoon of fifty-some sent to keep the place safe. More then half their number had turned out to be on the corrupt commander's payroll, and no shortage of those ones had been put down by Jacques' men. A simple matter of just shooting anyone with a gun that aimed it their way.
When he walked into the gymnasium, the view was comforting. Some three hundred women and staff were hidden within, although a head-count revealed that many were still missing and probably dead. But, as they say, it could have been much worse. Jacques was met by Samantha only a few strides into the room where she gave him a stern lecture about punctuality. He of course claimed he was just 'fashionably late.'
Aided with a working military radio held by the remaining Nigerian soldiers, he was able to begin coordinating with the Nigerian forces in the city, and with reinforcements that were already arriving. Soon enough, the women's university became a safe zone for refugees and later a command center, where Légion Première was formaly tasked with perimeter security. Jacques was able to negotiate quite the lucrative contract considering the short notice. Two days later the fighting was over and the Boko Haram were in full retreat, with the corrupt Nigerian commander captured and executed within the week.
In world wide news, the insurgent attack on Maiduguri saw little more then off-hand comments. The people of the world just didn't care enough to want to hear about the sorts of troubles that still existed in parts of Africa. Légion Première did receive the positive press they had been hoping for, which quickly overcame the perceived failure of guarding the Dangote Industry's regional headquarters.
With the death of Légion Première's CEO, Jacques was quickly appointed as the new head of the company, a responsibility that has sat surprisingly well on the otherwise troublesome young man. In the few years since then, Légion Première has expanded and won many high profile contracts in northern Africa, spreading ever so slowly eastward, and with the passing of legislation in the CCD to allow energy companies to employ what amounted to private armies, he has begun the exhausting leg work to win their first contract with the powerful companies of the CCD in DV.
Small arms fire ripped off the hull of his Panhard, although he could hardly hear it for the staccato chatter of the remote-weapon-system (RWS) .50 cal mounted on the roof of the vehicle. Nine Panhards roared through the ditches and yards that lined the side of the Kashim Ibrahim Road, heading east towards the Maiduguri city limits.
Hundreds of now abandoned vehicles choked the road and side streets, left by those who had been lucky enough to make it this far before the fighting had cut off any escape from the city. By all reports, hundreds of insurgents had over-run the city's defenders in a well coordinated attack. And from what he could tell, the local garrison commander had done an excellent job of leaving the back door open, so to speak.
Jacques studied the tactical display mounted on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He wore a pair of Land Warrior glasses, and every time he glanced up or out the window, he was met with a dizzying vista of markers and warnings, where other members of Légion Première had indicated enemy shooters or other problems. To most, the display would make no sense; red and yellow indicators for known or possible hostiles, blues and greens for friendlies and non-combatants. Arrows and motion indicators marked the projected movements of those various indicators, and lines indicating directions of fire from friendly or hostile sources. To him, it all formed a complicated pattern, and he couldn't help but grin. He glanced back to the map, then glanced up with a start, giving the vehicle's driver a sharp slap to the shoulder.
The vehicle skidded to a sudden halt, and Capitaine Jacques Danjou threw open the heavy, armoured door of the Panhard. The other vehicles stopped as well, doors being thrown open as mercenaries dismounted and brought their rifles to bear, firing at rooftops and windows where hostile insurgents lurked.
Jacques strolled through the open, his own rifle slung casually as some of his men thundered past to secure the immediate perimeter. A field reporter, wearing patches and ID that marked him as in the employ of a major CCD news channel, crouched at a low wall, talking into the camera held by his partner. The two men wore bright white helmets and more practically coloured body armour, and nearby was the ruins of their truck. Apparently, they were as viable a target as anyone else around here.
Jacques strolled up as a few rounds tore into the wall they were hiding behind, and a mortar landed a ways off, and the two men ducked lower before even realizing Jacques was there.
"Afternoon, Messieurs. I think you are not safe here."
The reporter balked a long moment, then quickly gestured for his cameraman to turn around, "What are mercenaries doing in Maiduguri? What can you tell us of the situation in the city?"
The man was clearly British, and was about as clued into how much danger he was in as the ants skittering around the base of the wall they were using as cover.
Jacques smiled at the reporter, while two of his men jogged forward to grab the reporter and cameraman, "Well, for the moment, I am pulling your bacon out of the fire, as the Americans say. And you will get a much more interesting story with us then you will dead in the sand here."
The reporter stared at Jacques for a long moment, then the pair ducked lower as a mortar round impacted a few dozen meters away, sending up a cloud of dirt and a deadly spray of shrapnel. Jacques frowned at the pair then adjusted the mic that hung infront of his mouth, "Bombardier Iweala? Would you do something about that? Those fellows are getting rather close."
One of the Panhards sported a MK19 automatic grenade launcher in it's RWS system, and a system used to triangulate indirect fire. The weapon snapped up and spun, then launched a burst of grenades into the air. The dull whup-whup-whup of detonating grenades sounded, followed by a louder bang as a small cash of mortar rounds detonated.
"Now, where were we? Yes, I believe you two were about to mount up, yes?"
The reporter and cameraman shared a glance, then nodded curtly and ran for the waiting vehicles, climbing into Jacques' as he strolled back, his men falling back to their own vehicles in good order. A glance at their surroundings gave Jacques a very satisfied grin. There were decidedly fewer red icons in the vicinity.
That smile faultered slightly when he took into account the mounting bill for expenses. Ammunition and fuel were not cheap, after all.
Maiduguri, Nairobi, Government Women's College, 1650hrs
Panhards rolled into the university grounds and began fanning out to pre-determined positions around the campus, even as doors were thrown open and the mercenaries of Légion Première dismounted and charged into the buildings. A handful of bodies littered the ground already, a sure sign that they might have been too late.
Jacques vehicle took to the center of the courtyard, and he threw the door open and piled out, the CCD reporter and cameraman struggling to follow. Two vans sporting the Red Crescent design had been parked in front of the main doors to the college, and were riddled with holes, a last ditch effort to keep the insurgents out of the building. "Welcome to the Nigerian government's northern-most post-secondary education center for women. My company has accepted a request for help by Mademoiselle Samantha Brown of the Red Cross, to garrison this location until the local situation has calmed down. I suggest you set up over there, and stay out of the way of my men, s'il te plait."
He waved for the reporter to get out of the way, then walked towards the main building as a dozen of his men thundered in the front doors. Weapons fire and screaming could be heard from within as well as the city around them, and he stopped briefly to eye two Nigerian soldiers that lay face first on the steps, both shot in the back of the head. Likely by some of their own people.
He stopped at the top of the steps as his men rushed down the corridor. Two of his provosts were at point, each sporting a ballistic-grade plastic riot shield, behind which the rest of the men formed urban-breaching stacks. Sappers carrying shotguns were next, ready to breach locked doors, should those prove to be a problem, and the rest of the men had opted to leave their FAMAS assault rifles behind in favour of more compact carbines and SMGs, far better suited to the close-quarters fighting they were about to experience.
Jacques glanced at the two vans, then into the building before calmly digging out his Wallet. A few deft flicks of his thumb, expertly executed considering the choice of shooter-gloves he was wearing, and he pulled up Ms Brown's number. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Mr Danjou? Where are you, damn it?! I asked for your help six hours ago! It's a twenty damn minute drive from the airport!"
The woman sounded more angry then afraid. Not terribly surprising. She was American, after all. They were an arrogant lot, and probably had no inclination that she could possibly die here. Of course, the fact that she made a career of working in the shittiest countries Africa had to offer probably had more to do with it. This wasn't the first time someone had been trying to kill her.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Dreadfully sorry I'm late. The roads are quite crowded today. Might I ask where you are at the moment?"
He finally crossed the threshold into the university's main building, falling in behind one of the stacks of his men as they worked their way down the main corridor. A dozen Nigerian security guards lay dead in the foyer, scattered about from a central blast crater; one of their numbers had been wearing a suicide vest, it seemed. Fanatics were a strange sort.
"I have most of the girls in the old gymnasium. A few soldiers are trying to keep these Boko Haram assholes out, but I don't think they're winning."
"Well, help is on the way, Mon Cherie. Your knight in shining armour, as you Yanks say, yes? Sit patiently, s'il vous plais."
A few deft flicks of the eye and a command went out to his men to activate their helmet-mounted cameras. The reporter outside would probably want footage of the daring rescue operation.
It took less than an hour to secure the campus; three Nigerian soldiers were all that remained of the platoon of fifty-some sent to keep the place safe. More then half their number had turned out to be on the corrupt commander's payroll, and no shortage of those ones had been put down by Jacques' men. A simple matter of just shooting anyone with a gun that aimed it their way.
When he walked into the gymnasium, the view was comforting. Some three hundred women and staff were hidden within, although a head-count revealed that many were still missing and probably dead. But, as they say, it could have been much worse. Jacques was met by Samantha only a few strides into the room where she gave him a stern lecture about punctuality. He of course claimed he was just 'fashionably late.'
Aided with a working military radio held by the remaining Nigerian soldiers, he was able to begin coordinating with the Nigerian forces in the city, and with reinforcements that were already arriving. Soon enough, the women's university became a safe zone for refugees and later a command center, where Légion Première was formaly tasked with perimeter security. Jacques was able to negotiate quite the lucrative contract considering the short notice. Two days later the fighting was over and the Boko Haram were in full retreat, with the corrupt Nigerian commander captured and executed within the week.
In world wide news, the insurgent attack on Maiduguri saw little more then off-hand comments. The people of the world just didn't care enough to want to hear about the sorts of troubles that still existed in parts of Africa. Légion Première did receive the positive press they had been hoping for, which quickly overcame the perceived failure of guarding the Dangote Industry's regional headquarters.
With the death of Légion Première's CEO, Jacques was quickly appointed as the new head of the company, a responsibility that has sat surprisingly well on the otherwise troublesome young man. In the few years since then, Légion Première has expanded and won many high profile contracts in northern Africa, spreading ever so slowly eastward, and with the passing of legislation in the CCD to allow energy companies to employ what amounted to private armies, he has begun the exhausting leg work to win their first contract with the powerful companies of the CCD in DV.