Afternoon, dusk.
30 kiloters west of Hasakah City, Northeast Syria.
Amid the endless yellow wasteland, a convoy of more than twenty vehicles kicked up clouds of dust, speeding from north to south.
The sun shone brightly over the exposed Gobi, the sand reflecting a golden hue.
Inside one of the convoy's Oshkosh L-ATV light tactical vehicles, Lieutenant Langsen leaned back in his seat, squinting at the monotonous and sleep-inducing landscape swiftly passing by.
The bullet-proof glass of the car windows blocked most outside noise, leaving only the low and steady roar of the engine humming in his ears.
He had just ended an unpleasant radio call with a Kurdish liaison officer, arguing over the distribution of supplies for half an hour, which left him sowhat irritated.
As the Commander of a Seal Team detachnt stationed in the Kurdish Control Zone responsible for guidance and joint operations, this never-ending coordination with local ard forces sotis proved more ntally draining than facing the enemy directly.
Especially since, in his eyes, these people were no different from 'savages', being primitive both in individual capability and tactics.
Langsen always felt that sooner or later he would be dragged down by these people.
He hated it here.
And he hated these people.
These ssy tasks were originally ant for the Green Berets, yet higher-ups sent them here instead.
It was a disaster!
Just as he was grumbling internally, suddenly, the encrypted radio channel emitted an urgent 'beep beep' sound.
The stifling atmosphere inside the vehicle was completely broken.
Langsen perked up, grabbed the transmitter: "This is 'Razor 01', go ahead."
"Razor 01, this is 'Thunder' Forward Command, this is Jas."
A familiar voice from superiors ca through the headset, serious and rapid.
"Listen, Langsen, we have an assignnt. Five minutes ago, the 'Sky Eye' satellite detected a fast-moving convoy about twelve kiloters east of Gunei Mountain Area. It consists of three Russian-made 'Typhoon' MRAP vehicles, characteristics highly matching the SSO Squad we've been tracking."
Langsen instantly sat up straight, all his fatigue vanished.
Russians, haha, it's really them!
He loved dealing with these Russians.
"Confird it's those 'Bears'?"
"Basically confird. They have a clear direction, seemingly trying to enter the Gunei Mountain Area to hide. The terrain there is complex; if they get in, it will be hard to root them out again. I assu they know their situation is bad and want to escape."
Major Jas spoke more quickly.
"The Air Force base in Iraq has urgently deployed an MQ-9 'Grim Reaper' drone, standing by in nearby airspace to go to the area, expected to arrive in ten minutes for continuous surveillance. Your mission is to imdiately lead your team and the cooperating Kurdish assault company to the eastern outskirts of the Gunei Mountain Area to intercept and confirm the target. If necessary, destroy them. Under no circumstances can they establish a foothold in the mountains or contact any local forces."
"Understood, Sir! Intercept the SSO Squad, prevent them from entering the Gunei Mountain Area."
Langsen repeated the orders, his mind racing, and the geographic data of the Gunei Mountain Area flashed through his mory.
"Mission has the highest priority, authorized to use any necessary ans. Keep the channel open, the 'Grim Reaper's' real-ti feed will be synchronized with you, and the Air Force will also take military action to intercept this convoy, maybe when you arrive, you'll only need to clean up the bodies. Good luck, Razor 01."
"Received, Thunder. Razor 01 signing off."
Langsen imdiately switched to the convoy's internal communication channel, his voice decisive: "All units, attention, imdiately abort original patrol route. The entire convoy, turn around, head northeast, target—eastern edge of Gunei Mountain Area, system coordinates have been updated, advance at maximum speed! Repeat, maximum speed!"
The order given, the convoy originally racing south was as if maneuvered by an invisible hand, carving a massive arc of dust across the vast Gobi, with the lead vehicle guiding, and all engines roaring, turned northeast.
The kicked-up dust grew thicker, almost swallowing the convoy.
Langsen grabbed the tactical tablet, pulled up the electronic map, quickly circling the position of the Gunei Mountain Area, and shouted to the driver: "Faster! A little faster! We have to block those Russians before they get into the mountains!"
...
Almost simultaneously, roughly sixty kiloters south of the Gunei Mountain Area.
A large convoy stood halted at a gravel-strewn fork in the Gobi hills.
The vehicles were diverse, mainly pickups equipped with heavy machine guns or recoilless rifles, interspersed with a few slightly shabby military trucks.
The vehicles and ground were crowded with militants dressed in mottled clothing, most with headscarves, wielding various automatic weapons.
They belonged to the 1515 Ard Eastern Syria Branch, led by the infamous and fanatical Abu Omar.
Omar stood beside his iconic Toyota Hilux pickup mounted with a DShK heavy machine gun, coarse fingers stroking the strap of the AK-47 rifle hung in front of his chest, brow furrowed, looking ahead.
A lean, oddly agile man stood up from the ground, jogging back to Omar's vehicle.
He was the best tracker in the team, Khalid.
"Emir (aning leader in Arabic)."
Khalid turned to point at the ground not far away, reporting.
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