The night provided a good cover for the Ruthenian soldiers walking down the dark alley. Equipped with the latest weapons and gadgets, they made them look terrifyingly professional.
Rolan was on the lead, while the rest kept their heads on the swivel, covering every blind spot.
They went on walking for about five minutes until Rolan raised a fist, signaling them to stop.
Rolan crouched slowly so as to not make any sound. He scanned the scenery before him. A convoy of military vehicles was driving down the main street in front of the Cathedral, possibly enforcing martial law in the country.
Rolan let it pass before shifting his gaze to the guards standing on either side of the church's main entrance.
He waved his hand in a beckoning call, prompting Donovan to come forward.
"What is it, sir?" Donovan whispered.
"You see those two guards there, by the gates?" Rolan asked, pointing his finger.
Donovan looked at where Rolan was pointing and had a look. He saw two armed guards.
"I see them. What would you like us to do?" Donovan asked quietly.
"Take your aim. At my signal, I'll shoot the one on the left and you take care of the right," Rolan said.
"Copy that," Donovan said in affirmation and began to take a stance. He aimed his FN Fal fitted with a suppressor and peered through the scope. The city was dimly lit as some of the street poles weren't working. Fortunately, the Ruthenian Special Forces have a thermal mode that allows them to see in the night through thermal energy.
"I have a bead on him, sir, ready to execute," Donavan informed.
Rolan was peering through the thermal scope of his R4, his rifle also fitted with a suppressor.
"On my mark…three…two…one…open fire."
Donovan and Rolan pulled the trigger at the same time and their rifle let out a soft popping sound as the bullet traveled across the street and into the guards' skulls.
Their heads blasted and they fell to the ground lifelessly.
"Target neutralizes sir," Donovan announced softly before slowly standing up. "How should we proceed?"
"We take the main entrance of course," Rolan said, standing up as well. They don't have the schematics of Westminster Abbey but they have intelligence about its catacomb systems. It's where the Britannians bury the body of the dead member of the royal family.
"So just like what you did in Buckingham Palace? We infiltrate it directly. This doesn't sound covert at all," Donovan remarked.
"There's no such thing as a covert operation," Rolan said. "I have been doing this since before I became the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Guards. Let us run along now, time is of the essence."
Time is true of the essence, not only for Rolan but for the Ruthenia Empire. If the royal families of Europa are still alive, then there is a chance of stopping this nonsense war. They also have proof that Queen Anne Edinburgh is affiliated with the Black Hand and was one of the orchestrators of this war. Those two pieces of information, if revealed publicly, could help stop the war. However, there is also a high chance that an executive operating in Europa already had control of the government.
Black Hand is truly a fearsome organization. They infect their target countries' bureaucracies and then control them like parasites controlling the host.
The six special forces run across the street and into the main entrance of the cathedral. Donovan, Igor, and Ivan gave it a push but it won't budge. Maybe it was locked from behind.
"Set up the breaching charges," Rolan ordered and Apostol promptly unslung his backpack containing explosives.
Igor helped him set up the charges. Placing it on the door in a square pattern.
It took two minutes to set up the charges. And once everything was in place, the group walked behind to a safer distance and hid behind the parked cars on the street for cover.
"Sir," Apostol, who was carrying the detonator called Rolan. "Ready to execute at your command."
Rolan contemplated briefly. If they detonate the charges, then the Black Hands would now know that they are there, attempting to conduct a rescue operation. This would make them kill the royal family in an instant, so the risk is there.
"Let's hope that they won't kill the royal families during our unannounced visit," Rolan said.
"But you said sir earlier that they are expecting us."
"Here's the rule on the field, soldier. No plan survives contact with the enemy," Rolan quoted. "Push it."
With his signal, Apostol pulled the trigger of the detonator, causing the charges planted on the doors to explode.
"Let's go!" Rolan signaled them to go in and they did just that. The soldiers charged into the fray, entering the now breached gate.
The guards inside the cathedral were stunned at the shockwave of the explosion that busted the door. Before they could even regain their senses completely, the Ruthenian Special Forces' rifles started blazing.
Those whose senses returned fought back with their own Lee Enfield bolt action rifle. But that only revealed their location, making it easier for the Ruthenian Special Forces to spot every tango in the cathedral.
The chaos ensued for about a minute, and the moment it passed, the stifling sound of gunfire came to a halt.
"Hold fire!" Rolan yelled. "Check the surroundings and confirm your kill!"
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
"Clear!
"Clear!
"Sir, there's still one alive here," Anton said, his FN Fal rifle aimed at the Britannian soldier who was bleeding in his lower belly. He also coughed up blood, causing the blood to trickle down his mouth. "I'll eliminate him right now."
"No, don't!" Rolan said and rushed towards Anton's location. "We can ask him some questions."
Rolan knelt down on one knee and scanned the Britannian soldier. He was young, probably in his early twenties. There was a tear forming at the corners of his eyes as he spoke weakly.
"Mama…I don't want to die…"
"You? Where are you keeping the royal families? We know they are here," Rolan asked in English.
"I…don't…know…what you are talking about…" the young man replied, his breathing becoming ragged.
"Don't fool with us. I know you are keeping them somewhere underground. Tell us!" Rolan urged.
"I was just sent here…to guard…the…cathedral…as…officials investigate…I don't know…anything about…royal families…"
"Sir it's no use. He doesn't know anything, I can tell," Donovan said in Ruthenian.
"We'll keep looking. Shit, so not everyone here is part of the Black Hand huh?" Rolan rubbed the back of his head in frustration, having had enough of the Black Hand's underhand tactics.
Rolan checked the body of a young man and he saw something jutting out from his pocket. He pulled it out and perused it. It was a family of eight.
"Ah…this is fuck up…" Rolan wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Sir?" Donovan leaned forward as he asked.
"Anton put pressure on his wound. Let's save this guy at least. The rest of you, we go deeper."
"Yes sir!"
