It is September 2011 and the war that the world prepared for, and then forgot about begins as the Soviet Union invades Europe. The massed, Multi-national armies of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation must fight bitterly to defend their homes from a fierce and determined enemy. And one that they did not expect.)
Sergeant James Mccormac was bored. He had been sat in the guard room of RAF Benbecula for 2 hours of his 4 hour shift. He was mostly bored because nobody and nothing was going to enlighten his dreary night. Because nothing ever happened on this tiny,remote, rainy Shetland isle. He sighed resigningly to himself and swivelled his chair so he could get a better view of the tv whilst putting his feet up on the desk. and moved his SA-80 assault rifle further back along the wall upon which it was propped so that it wasn't in his eye-line. Chelsea were playing man-U and he was damned if anything was going to spoil this pivotal match. He was so engrossed in the beautiful game that the first thing he felt was the firm grip of a hand clamp across his mouth. Then a sharp, burning pain across his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Leautenant Igor Rostchek cleaned his Knife on the dead-mans jacket before re-sheathing it, hands quaking at the thrill of knowing he had just made the first move that would make his motherland strong again. Promptly he pulled the lever that openned the main gate to the base and watched with a mixture of pride and joy as a huge, black shape glided slowly and silently through the entrance. Once well past the guard-house a ramp was quickly dropped from the back and 12 black-clad men, with night-vision goggles and An-94 rifle's ran down and dissapeared in two's off into the darkness. They worked in silence, making them appear almost as spectre's; gliding silently away into the mist. Each pair knew exactly what they we're doing and had been trained specifically for this moment for three years. They were Spetsnaz, the best of the best and now they were determined to prove it by completeing this Crucial first mission of the third great war.
Igor checked his watch, It was 02:00,16 exactly, 16 seconds since the first blow was struck. He waited, fidgeting with his hands in nervousness despite the knowledge that his men were experts in their task... 02:00,25 and Igor heard faintly the low "coughs" that we're silenced rounds being fired into sleeping RAF Regiment Soldiers waiting in the QRF building. Igor had been tempted to order his men to kill every single British soldier and airman that they found, but his superiors had deemed it a waste of time, and too much of an additional risk, So He had to content himself with the 8 soldiers in the guard-room and the man at his feet, blood congealing around his fat corpse, Surely! if all the english soldiers we're like this man, the war would be over within a month! he thought and then looked at his watch again, 02:04, He couldnt see it, but he knew that now two of his teams of two would be wiring explosive charges over the main tactical radar disks, and then manualy wrecking the electronics systems in the out-buildings. while the rest of his men prepared to destroy the officer's sleeping quaters and ensured that no alarm could be raised.
02:08 the men came jogging back they all nodded to illustrate their task was done and Igor counted them in as they ran up the ramp. Twelve, he scurried up aswell as it shut behind him, and the hovercraft drifted silently out of the camp and quickly down the beach towards the sea.
02:12 and a dark, black, comforting shape loomed out of the mist and foamy sea. The pinnicle of russian submarine engineering, Igor's heart leapt with pride as he stepped lithly across on board and returned the salutes of the sailors all watching eagerly, back towards the shore-line.
02:13, the flash lit-up the horrizon and then the deep boom of exlosives reached the men crowded on the top of the surfaced submarine. Their cheers could be heard from the coast. Before the sleek, black hull dissapeared beneath leaving only the applause of lapping waves in it's wake. 13 Minuits and the entire early warning radar System that the UK used to watch the north sea had been wiped out.
Meanwhile, High above the foamy seas. One man had just recieved the word he had been waiting for. Banking left, His Tu-22M3 backfire strategic Bomber set a course for RAF Leuchars. Air-commodore Richard Leftnic lead his flight of Bombers inland, hands shaking with trepidtion he mapped course along the river Eden and counted down from 45. as he reached zero he looked at the radar screen, fearing the blue marks that would indicate Royal Air Force Typhoon's tearing towards his planes. It was clear. The fuselage resounded with shouts of joy and tribulation as all 15 planes mapped course along the river. Not even needing their guidance systems now that they had a visual land-mark.
02:20 H-hour for the aircraft. almost as one entity they deployed their arnamant, 10 MKU-6-1 missiles. Each missile was fired and then the launcher rotated like a massive revolver, creating an ethereal, fire-work style appearance as the missiles fired up, and screamed towards their targets. 150 missiles for one RAF base, The pilot smiled as he turned his plane for home.
300 miles away, And something was Wrong. Air vice-marshal Robert Shaw had just received an urgent messege on his phone. It simply read " code red" He clambered out of bed, kissed his sleeping wife on the forehead and quickly got dressed before making his way downstairs and into the waiting Jeep. "report?!" he demanded to the terrified looking-corporal as he dived into the backseat.
" erm, I don't really know sir. Apparantly there's been some kind of attack on the EW stations but it's all very confused. They were going to scramble interceptors but nobody knew where to send them"
"what kind of attack? terrorists?"
"we don't know sir ill try to... " The glass of the windows imploded and the force of the fireball blew bricks and mortor everywhere the car veered violently out of control and smashed frontaly into a burning tree. dazed and confused Robert fell bodily out of the smashed door as he tried to get away from the burning wood, then realised that he had left the Driver there. He staggered to the front and pulled open the wrecked door, only to leap back in horror when the young lad fell out of it, with half of his head just a red mush which splatted on the floor and started to ooze on the ground. Before he could even register anything over than horror though, a second explosion shook him to his senses, He looked across the river to the base. His base. The Main RAF intercepter base, only to see wreckage and smoke, and people running in confusion and panic. As he watched, he saw a Typhoon which must of been preparing to scramble, taxi out of the hanger and build-up power for take off, Blatently the pilot thought it safer in the air than on the ground. His actions were short lived however, as more missiles tore out of the atmosphere and shredded the buildings around the plane. Some depris must of been sucked into the intake and as soon as the plan reached take-off speed it veered violently right and smashed head-long into the control tower. Richard couldnt watch anymore, His entire life's work was being shredded before his eyes. By who??! and... more scarily, what were they going to do now that the United Kingdom had no radar and no fighter-coverage over the whole of eastern Scotland and the north-east of England?
He panicked inwardly as he realised this, and began running back up the hill towards his house that he left scarcely 3 minuits ago. Only to watch yet another missile tear through it's roof and detonate on the road out-side. The Explosion was Enourmous. 300 meters away, Richard was bodily hurled backwards and felt all kinds of depris smash into his body, he scrabbled back to his feet and looked up the hill, only to see it was completely aflame.
"Heleeeen!" he screamed as he sprinted up the hill again with no thought other than that his wife asleep in that room. He ran up to the house and was greeted by a wave of searing heat which almost made him stop. Almost. he crashed through the burning front door and struggled up the stairs. Already he was feeling weak from smoke inhalation. He fumbled in the smoke trying to find the bed-room and just as he did. He felt the floor give-way. "Heleeeen!" he screamed as he fell to his doom.