Afghanistan (Years ago)

"Taliban!" I shouted. Dominic whirled as we heard gunfire in the distance. Taliban fighters, all dressed in robes, wearing scarves and headgears popped out of hiding and fired their weapons, all hiding from a safe distance. We quickly ran to minimize the damage to our body armor by trying to avoid as much bullets as we can. Noticing a large dune of sand Dominic jumped first behind the dune, me following later.

"How the hell did they know our location?" Dom asked, removing his M4 carbine and started firing at the fighters. "Can we call for back up?" he asked me. I heard his question but I can't reply him yet as I removed my carbine and started firing at the fighters as well.

"Who's going to call?" I asked. But our chances of survival continues to run out as more Taliban fighters joined their comrades, shouting in Arabic and opening fire at us. "We're target practice now?"

"Dude, you said that Pentagon has intel on Taliban fighters camping here."

"Ask LGF for God's sake!" I shouted, firing at the fighters to take them out. "I only just got the info."

"Hope that you have enough ammo Isa!" Dom shouted while falling back to reload.

"Enough but how long can we hold on?" I asked. "We're stuck here out of Burqa's reach!"

"I'm not going to be a clay pigeon!" Dom shouted, firing off a few shots.

"Neither do I!" I replied.

"Hang on a sec! Will the flares work?"

"Maybe!" I shouted, ducking back as more bullets zipped by. But a green projectile was flung in midair and landed on a nearby dune. "Damn! Grenade!" The grenade exploded, throwing sands at my direction, temporary blinding me.

"Dammit Isa!" he shouted. "Hang on okay?" falling back and tossing out a grenade he retrieved his flare gun and fired a flare, a ball of red light going off with a cloud of smoke. Reaching for my backpack in a state of temporary blindness I managed to retrieve my canteen containing water, open the cover, and splash it's contents on my face to try and wash it off. We heard sounds of an approaching fighter jet and when my vision's a bit clear I saw the jet raining down on the incoming wave of terrorists. I didn't know how long but the gunfire soon receded and the jet touched down on the sandy landscape. I noted the SAS insignia painted on the jet as the hatch popped open, a young man our age landing on the sands.

"Lieutenant Stark! Commander Hayes!" he shouted, sprinting to our side. "Are you all right?"

"The lieutenant's temporary blinded by the sand, thrown up by a grenade." Dom said. "I can get her back to Burqa for treatment but with the possibility of an ambush-"

"Which won't be a problem for me." the pilot said confidently in a British accent. "Go ahead first, I'll cover you in the air.' Though the man sports a British accent I know that the voice doesn't belong to my British cousin, Christian Churchill. We made it back after the treacherous journey to avoid encountering more Taliban fighters and he dropped me off at the infirmary while he went to report about the incident. After getting the sand in my eyes out the doctor gave me the green light and I proceeded to head to the intelligence department where I believe that the two men would be there. The distance between the infirmary and the office of the intelligence branch is a thirty minute walk. Before joining West Point I served my time in the military intelligence department after basic training, therefore leaving a record on my military dossier. I haven't served in the American branch since I arrived at West Point. I opened the door upon reaching the office and peered in to look for the commanders.

"Ah! There she is." I heard a British accent.

"Glad that you can join us lieutenant. A speedy recovery." Lieutenant General Forest said after I entered. But instead of telling us anything he then turned on his heels and marched towards a door with a keypad. He used his body to shield himself from the man behind him as he keyed in a set of numbers. The keypad beeped and the door was unlocked. The room, a watch center is already filled with personnel when we entered, including our team, the South Korean team, and a team of SAS pilots. Three large screens were installed in the room as several intelligence officers are seated in front of the row of computers, headphones on and typing on keyboards. "We're all here. Connect the call." he ordered.

"Yes sir." the tech then typed in a few commands and the screen hummed to life, showing the interior of an unknown bunker. Three people sat on the chairs : the President of the United States, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff which is responsible in advising the president regarding military matters and the Secretary of Defense.

"Good evening." the president said in a formal tone. "Is this all of them General Duncan?"

"Yes Mr. President." the general replied.

"Very well." the president said, straightening his tie and clearing his throat. "The six of you are assembled for a purpose. We require a team of highly skilled soldiers to carry out operations that will strike down our enemies and the six of you fit the profile." we all nodded. "This is a joint operation. Dan, brief the team about it."