The Raid

Streets: A Bear of Prey

A man sat in a blank room, staring at a projection on the wall opposite of him. His head was shaved of what used to be his longer dirty blonde hair and his face sported a scar over his eye. His name was Yuri Drakovitch and he was a Bear operative, this country's domestic counterterrorism organization. Founded some time after BSC came to town and started allowing American based PMCs into the country to do their dirty work. Bears originally ran counterintelligence, but these days the land was far more lawless. Now they were the official cleaners of the region. Which brought his mind back to the projection. It was a briefing and for once, it was actually interesting. Normally these amounted to daily tasks or cleaning up the local conflict zones of scavengers or scavs, as they became locally known. Now though, they had some new intel. Reports of an unidentified helicopter entering the region last night, making several stops before exiting once more. It was more than likely one of BSCs military contractors. They seemed to be taking a renewed interest in the region since the fall of their labs to local raider parties. Rumors stated attempts to destroy the building had been stopped during the initial siege, so now it was time for them to come back and clean house. It was time they did the same. Their objective was to eliminate all hostile PMCs and destroy the labs facility. It was time for the Bears to get their teeth bloodied.

The air outside was frigid and full of gunfire but inside the APC was hot, stingy and sullen with five men packed in like sardines. They were in the field now, patrolling the last known location of the helicopter, the streets of the region's main trade city. What was left of it at least. Riots had broken out when BSC originally pulled out of the region as the influx of medicine and biotech was now gone and the balme landed on the government's shoulders. It WAS their fault, but it was for the betterment of the region. They wanted an end to foreign meddling in their citizens' lives. To the government it was an insult, one that said they were incapable of providing for their citizens. So they took it personally and thus the riots began. It started here, in the streets, but soon spread across the whole region. He was a kid when it happened and his parents, in desperation, volunteered him to be in the military and at a time the government couldn't refuse. One more soldier meant one less rioter. His thoughts continued to wander as they trudged along the city streets looking for any sign of life.

Eventually they found some. A lone man with a Mosin, wandering down the streets. Maybe he'd know something. They fired up the engine and trucked towards him, to watch the man respond by dodging into an alleyway. So he chose the hard way, that was fine by Yuri, he always had a pension for whipping the locals into shape. They were his countrymen, but had since been corrupted by the American capitalism that had seeped into the pores of this once great country. The scav gained a lot of headway by the time they cutoff the alley and Yuri, without missing a beat, threw himself out of the APC, charging headlong down the alley after him. He dodged and weaved down the labyrinth of alleys, sometimes emerging into the streets and catching the fleeting image of the scav. He was losing him, but he knew these streets almost as well as the scav did, he'd catch up eventually.

He continued to wander through the alleyways, his mind drifting as he did so. This was fairly routine to him, putting the local populace in their place was a past time of his. He walked through the streets looking for disturbances, and from time to time he would find a muddy footprint or some food bags left behind. He called out to the empty streets, "Come out little bird, I wish to hear your song." He approached the corner of an alleyway when he heard yelling in english. He readied his rifle and turned the corner to see a man with an eagle patch on his shoulder and the scav from earlier, staring at each other. "American!" He shouted. He began to press down the trigger aiming for the man with the patch. Bullets tore down the alley as the man threw himself out of the way, bolting out of view. Yuri turned his gaze to the scav, "You sang for the wrong handler." The scav spun around, waving his hands in a motion of denial. It was too late though, Yuri had made up his mind. He let loose several more rounds, striking the SCAV in the chest, dropping him instantly. They couldn't let the population communicate with the PMCs, they might give them intel on the area. It was his objective to stop them no matter what, even if that meant culling the population. These were not innocent civilians, most of those had emigrated years ago, most of what was left were scavs, pure and simple. They'd sooner pick him clean then go starving and he liked being alive, so thus his natural enemy. He was a Bear and anyone in his way was prey. He charged ahead, turning the corner to another street and fired off shots down the street at the PMC. He had an eagle on him which meant he was part of The Eagles, an american based PMC group who had originally been replaced due to mingling with the locals. They were deadly efficient when it came to it though and should not be taken lightly as they normally come in a pack. For the moment, the bird had escaped the bears, it was time to regroup and move out. The Eagle was headed for the suburbs, so they would continue the search there. He turned around, reloaded his gun and headed back the way he came. A game of cat and mouse had begun, and he would tear that mouse apart.