Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Diamond Dust Job ❯ Nexus of Fate ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1: Nexus of Fate
March 2, 2008

The violent winds shook the large transport helicopter as it flew through the heavy rain storm of that turbulent night. In the cockpit the pilot jabbed violently at the controls, he was a big man, a fan of the culinary delights as he liked to say.

“Good cover sure, but this fucking storm aint cake to fly in!” The pilot’s voice was deep and had that friendly Cajun ascent he’d grown up with in New Orleans, he took a look back into the crew hold. He and his co-pilot were flying twenty armed mercenaries to the forest outskirts of an Old Russian military base. According to their briefing two known terrorists were meeting there; Yusuf Abdraja Salam, a Middle Eastern arms trafficker and Borislav Pyotr Lebedov, a Russian drug runner, arms dealer and money launderer. The pilot scoffed, “You boys had better get this right, I’ll be pretty sore if I don’t get my cut you know. Is anyone else curious as too…”

“Our’s is not to question why, BB.” One of the mercs said into his mic, “Do you really think the master explains the reasoning behind retrieving the stick to his hound? So long as I’m paid my asking price, I retrieve that stick. The only question is where and when.”

“Spoken like a true dog, Mr. Itachi.” BB chuckled over the noise of the shaking chopper, “You are one of the last remaining mercenaries, my friend. You fight and kill for causes you have no interest in; you slaughter men and women who’ve done you no ill. All this you do for the money, to satisfy your own greed.”

“No, greed is only part of it.” He paused, “It’s the freedom of it all. I follow my own rules, work for who I want when I want. I can use whatever beautiful masterpieces of death I want to take my prey. I am a wolf BB, not a house broken dog. My fangs are ones that bite.”

“You’re the last of the ronin of Japan, aren’t you Kuroudo?” The soldier across from him cut in. To the young soldier, the man across from him was a legend, a rock star of the mercenary world, before the greenhorn sat Kuroudo Itachi, the silent death. The young man studied Kuroudo up and down with his eyes, marveling at how relaxed the man looked in the trembling helicopter. Kuroudo himself wasn’t tall nor was he short, average height was what he was, however he looked taller due to his lanky form. His weasel like body sat sprawled in his seat, he dressed so unusual for his job. He had the black combat boots and the green camouflaged fatigue pants, usual equipment belt with the dump pouches, holster, canteens, and all the other usual gear; but he wore a black wife beater shirt, and his hair… To be honest it was dumbfounding to see someone in his line of work with such long hair, it was tied back but it definitely went to his mid back. His face too was surprising, one would expect a more Asian face, but he could almost pass as an Eastern European; and it was soft, almost girlish. In fact the only things confirming him to an outsider as Kuroudo Itachi were his weapons; in his holster sat a long noised magnum revolver a Smith and Wesson m29 .44magnum to be exact, blued finish so it wouldn’t shine, laid on his lap was a modernized AK47 known as an AK-103 definitely one of Kuroudo’s favorite weapons but the one that sold it was the rifle across his chest; a Yugoslavian Zastava M76 8mm Mauser sniper rifle variant of the Kalashnikov, looking as if it was just supersized and had a high-powered scope attached to it forcefully.

“I am the last master less samurai of my homeland, Nippon…” Kuroudo smiled and patted the M76 lightly as he talked, “Is in no need of a warrior like me anymore, the days of the samurai have long pass slipping away into the sea of time. I was cursed to be born in the wrong era, or maybe Okami Amaterasu has some bigger plan for me. However I am blind to the path I walk, I merely walk it. Using the gifts Amaterasu gave me at my birth and this rifle, I shall find what end lays waiting for me in this life time.”

“Just somethin’ about your words boy, they all sound so poetic before a battle.” BB said over the intercom.

“He is a true samurai, he owns a katana.” The hulk of a Russian sitting next to Kuroudo said, his voice deep and strong, with the heavy ascent he just couldn’t seem to shake off, he wore an old Spetsnatz sniper uniform from the Afgan war. This man, he was Kuroudo’s spotter; a polar opposite of the lanky Jap next to him this man stood tall and his build was a solid mass of muscle, his hair was chopped to military specifications, his jaw square, his eyes were piercing orbs that dug into your soul when he looked at you. Across his lap sat his weapon, a PKM light machine gun. His name as written on his dog tags was ‘Vladimir Groznisklov’. Together a sniper and a machine gunner are a match made in Hell. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah I have a katana and a black belt in Judo, but I’ve studied many forms of martial arts from around the world.” Kuroudo slipped a camouflaged jacket on and began to suit up all his gear, “One must train his body and mind. I myself train rigorously in every form of combat; to be caught off guard is a terrible thing.”

Kuroudo looked at the young soldier, “Always train yourself, with all of your weapons. Start with your mind, then your body, then an edged weapon, then your fists, then a bludgeon, and finally with your guns. Only a fool trusts his life to one weapon, a wise warrior makes himself into a weapon.”

“Alright boys ETA is ten minutes to the drop zone.” BB said into the intercom, “Get your gear ready now.”

Kuroudo strapped on the magazine holder for his AK and a large back pack, next to him Vladimir was doing much the same. All of the mercenaries in the helicopter were heavily laden with weapons of all made and model, countries of origin; they were bulked up with body armor, heavy assault gear, they looked ready for not a battle, but a war.


He sat on a beaten down sofa in a room with a leaky ceiling deep inside the abandoned Russian base, his brown eyes scolding the rain in front of him. His black business suit remained unblemished; his neatly combed black hair was the panicle of formality. This well dressed man was Yusuf Abdraja Salam; he was handsome with movie star good looks, white teeth and a perfect build. To Yusuf the world was his oyster, life was a game of enjoyment. Allah had blessed Yusuf greatly in looks and mind, for this Yusuf felt that he owned everything to Allah. He often felt guilty that his only way of showing his great thanks was to pray, he wanted more than anything to truly show his gratitude for his great many gifts. Lately however that guilt had left him when Yusuf had realized that good fortune had kept befalling him, to him this meant that Allah had understood his deep gratitude and had understood Yusuf’s predicament and had continued to reward him as a sign that he was pleasing Allah with his devoutness. Yusuf himself never felt more joy than that moment when he realized he had pleased Allah, his joy now shown through in his daily prayers. Even Yusuf’s growing congregation of soldiers sensed the change in his personality. Yusuf’s men were not only his soldiers but his congregation, he was their Mullah and he acted as their mobile preacher reading daily from the Qur’an. His congregation stood at one hundred strong.

Making his way to meet with Yusuf in an old BMP was a much different man; Borislav Pyotr Lebedov was a haggard man. His suit was dirty; his unruly graying hair looked as if he’d slept on it, his teeth were yellow and a few were missing. Borislav’s only redeeming qualities were his well toned body, good looking face, and brilliant mind. Borislav wasn’t old either, rather young actually but one could not tell by merely looking at him. As the BMP rocked back and forth over the mountain path Borislav looked around. With him were four ex-SPETSNAZ soldiers, each armed with AK74’s and TT-33 pistols, one also had a Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle. Borislav himself carried a Gold IMI .50AE Desert Eagle pistol with a custom ten inch barrel, the gun itself wasn’t too bad a gun but he carried it more to look impressive. Next to him sat his world; Tanya Lebedov, Borislav’s wife. She was an average looking girl with long blonde hair and a thin build, her skin was smooth and her eyes a deep blue color she was to her husband the most beautiful woman in the world. She smiled at Borislav as she adjusted her tight shirt, tight around her swelling belly. Tanya was five months pregnant with their first child, Borislav wanted not to bring her along, but she spoke Arabic much better than he did so he needed her. He was meeting with Yusuf Abdraja Salam; nothing could afford to be lost in translation. This was the one deal in Borislav’s career that could not go wrong.


Over a large clearing the mercenaries disembarked from the helicopter. Kuroudo and Vladimir ran for the tree line together as soon as they hit the ground, acting as if they were already under fire. Soon BB pulled the copper back up into the crying sky and vanished into the clouds. All of the mercenaries grouped together under a large tree after a short period of time to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. A large ex-marine pulled out a map of the area he had laminated, and Kuroudo took out his GPS unit, the Marine looked at Kuroudo in disgust.

“Damn Japs and your electronics.” He said, with a chuckle

“Maps are useful too my friend, with a map one does not have to rely on battery power and one can draw on a map, but one cannot draw on a GPS. I took it out merely to confirm our location.” Kuroudo said as he pointed to a spot on the map, “Currently we are here, a click and a half from our destination. Me and Vlad will take up a sniper’s position overlooking the target building and provide recon and sniper support from there.”

“Right, I’ll take three guys with me and hit the building from the South entrance, our team will be Kilo.” The Marine pointed to the South entrance of the complex.

“Another three will come with me and we’ll hit the motor pool with rockets to prevent their escape and to cause confusion within their ranks, and if they have any armor, which I doubt but I have two AT-4’s just in case.” Another ex-marine pointed to the motor pool this time, “And I’ll take anyone with me who has and rockets or anti-armor weapons. After we knock out their vehicles we’ll assault the entrance using the smoke as a cover. We’ll be Romeo.”

“I’ll take five guys and hit them directly in the front entrance right after the rockets hit. We’ll be Sierra.” An Israeli soldier pointed to the complex’s front with his Uzi barrel.

“The remaining men will come with me to cover the back exit to cut off their last escape route. Our call sign will be Mike.” Said the young soldier who was chatting with Kuroudo in the copper, “I’ll take who ever isn’t already taken or whoever has the least combat experience, this is a delicate mission and a screw up cannot be afforded.”

“That’s a really good idea actually.” Kuroudo said, “Ok my call sign on the radio is Fox One, Vlad’s is Fox Two. We’ll give our go ahead using the command Zulu, got that? On Zulu Romeo will attack the motor pool, Fox one will eliminate any threats within range and in the open. Then Sierra and Kilo will strike, then Romeo will also strike, Mike will hold the rear of the building and eliminate anyone who tries to evac from the target zone. Sierra, Kilo and Romeo will sweep and clear the complex proper, Mike will hold in reserve if they need back up. The abort command is ‘Major Tom Zero’. We’ll head to our respective locations immediately and hit the complex in the early morning. Oh, the command for a positive ID on the targets is ‘Yankee on the plane’, any questions?”

“No.” This was the unanimous vote.

“Ok everyone say your call signs.” Said one of the marines

“Fox One” Kuroudo said again

“Fox Two” Said Vladimir

“Romeo One” Said the AT-4 ex marine; he also had an M-4 carbine slung across his chest.

“Romeo Two” a big African American with an RPG-7 and a G36c

“Romeo Three” another RPG wielder

The call sign declaration went on for ten minutes; Kuroudo logged the weapons they carried in his mind. Four men had M-4’s, six had AK47’s, one had a Galil, two had M249’s, one PKM (Vlad’s), Kuroudo already knew his guns, three had shotguns, two had G36’s, one had an Uzi, plus two AT-4’s and four RPG-7’s. Their equipment was nothing to scoff at, but they were going against an enemy whose numbers were unknown, and they were going against Salam. The man defied bullets with over four hundred attempts on his life and none have managed to scratch him. The job’s difficulty level was high to say the least.