Chapter 5

Dual Reinforcement...

"Rainbow to Commander Sarov"... radioed the V3 artilleryman in Russian, "It seems that Ft. White Fox has lost power."
"Excellent"... smiled the Russian Commander, licking his lips like a boy plotting to devour a sweet and succulent fruit cake.

Commander Sarov was a lean yet well-built brunette with green eyes that were as green as the grass of spring. He was wearing a maroon-red and jet-black Soviet military uniform and on his chest were a handful of colorful badges that resembled the pattern of a rainbow. But in the middle of the badges, was a badge that was different.

The badge had four isosceles triangles that were painted a bright-red color. One triangle was pointing to the sky. One was pointing left and the other was pointing right. The last was pointing toward the French soil his light-brown boots were on. There was a yellow circle supporting the red isosceles triangles and in the middle, was the Soviet Hammer and Sickle. Commander Sarov was no ordinary Commander. His full name was Marko 'Fort-Buster' Sarov, and the badge he was wearing was the Soviet Medal of Honor. He earned the badge for cracking the stubborn concrete walls and rock-hard defenses of every fort that he encountered, and that was the reason why many Allied military leaders feared this man.

Ft. White Fox would be the 89th fort that would go down in his list. Commander Sarov picked up a walkie-talkie and spoke to General Dimitri Nikolayevsk, a Russian 3-star general who often aided the infamous Russian Commander siege the forts he encountered.

"Comrade General"... he said, in a calm and civil manner that was of a gentleman’s, "it seems that the power is down. I need reinforcement to make sure that the foolish diehard capitalists go down in smoke."
"Are you sure, comrade?" asked General Nikolayevsk, who almost always spoke in Russian, "Your forces should be enough to flatten them, especially with our tanks."

The commander replied in Russian, "Da comrade. You know the Allies. They often fight till the end, as our beloved word, ‘communism’, is the word just about every capitalist country fears. They will do virtually anything, I repeat, anything to try to keep our hands away from their technology and things."

The Russian general paused. He took a deep breath and bellowed out: "Very well, comrade. I shall supply you with a dozen Rhino Tanks, four Apocalypse Tanks, two dozen Tesla Troopers and a handful of Flak Tracks. Mark my words comrade commander, you will find all that reinforcement unnecessary."
The general hung up, and sent the reinforcement.

Meanwhile...

There was a bellowing of a cow as Lt. General Chopin knocked on the ebony-made door of Commander Leech. The black commander, aware that Soviet forces were approaching, took no chances. He opened one of the three drawers of his oak study-desk and pulled out a .45 caliber Smith & Wesson pistol, which was a silverfish-gray.
"Come in." he said.

The British sniper marched in, quivering like a jellyfish that had been washed ashore. His snow-white skin was even paler than usual, so pale that you could barely find a trace of coloring. He spoke only one sentence, and it was "Commander, the Soviets have cut off our power. I think we have to get reinforcement should we wish to keep the fort away from the Soviets."

The African-American commander coolly picked up the navy-blue telephone with the Allied symbol, a light-blue eagle with its massive wings poking out prominently with its body inside the triangle that it was in. He quickly punched a few numbers, and began speaking to General Ian Evian Holmes, an English general in the Allied Army.

"General Holmes?" asked the mixed American commander,
"Yes, Hlmes speaking. Is this Commander Leech?"
"That is correct. Ft. White Fox is in deep trouble...we’re being attacked by Soviet forces! Please send reinforcement, sir!"
"Don’t worry Commander, reinforcement shall arrive!"
"Hurry sir!!!!!"

The Englishman gently hung up the phone, without a sound. He gave a deep sigh and marched out of his office. As he was as plump as a sumo-wrestler, he waddled down the steps to the base awkwardly in the manner of a drunkard; he marched toward the Barracks of Ft. Pandora, a heavily fortified fort that was located near the France/Spain border. There were five men that were wearing special suits that looked identical to each other. Each one had helmets with a pearly-white shine that looked metallic and sleek. The helmets had a lens like similar to of a pair of sunglasses as the piece of glass was tinted a fine dark-blue. They had suits that gave the same were of the same shine, giving a sensation that this suit should be in a fancy-dress competition or a TV show. The boots were polished to perfection, giving it a sleek, jet-black look. The boots looked similar to of an officer’s boots, yet the ranks of these men weren’t officers. There were two parts of the suits that looked interesting. The first of the two was this strange-looking backpack, and like most parts of the suit, it was a pearly-white, but on top of the rectangle-shaped backpack was this metal shield that looked similar to a turtle’s shell. It had a socket that extended toward some mysterious gun which had a muzzle that looked like a hand with four fingers, and the barrel had an eerie-blue glow that could have come from a neon advertisement.

"Major Owen Wallace?" asked the British man, who pointed at a lean man with a suiting tan.
"That is correct, general."
"Ft. White Fox is in trouble, they need CL support."
"Yes sir." 

With that word and an eerie-blue glow swallowed them. The glow began spinning round and round them, making several revolutions until you could only barely even see the silhouettes of the men. Suddenly there was a shot from a cannon and they disappeared out of sight. They were on their way.

The general yanked a walkie-talkie from one of his pockets and said, "Get air support in there, and I want tanks and IFVs at the ready!"
"Copy that General Holmes"... said a shy, timid voice with a French accent, "Sending in the tanks."
"Operation: Saintly Eagle is about to begin."

Then he turned off the walkie-talkie. These reinforcements would decide the fate of the fort and the side that would prevail.

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