Four figures weaved their way through the morning crowds pouring into market street of the Imperial capital. They went unnoticed, it wasn't unusual for travelers from distant lands to make an appearance, traders and mercenaries, diplomats and even tourists, this group fit right in. Wearing heavy cloaks, skullcaps and other such garments they blended into the masses easily though these men were not even from this world. Green Berets tasked with a special mission to cripple the legislative body of the Empire and if they were lucky, decapitate it's leadership. They were alert, eyes scanning every last man, woman and child that crossed their path for signs of trouble, noting escape routes, vantage points. Under their cloaks each man was strapped, H&K Mp7's with a chest-rig loaded down with spare magazines, small and concealable. One of the men had a rucksack, a leather and cloth affair that you could buy at any low-end stall in market town but inside was something completely out of place in Odd-World.
One of them nudges the other with two fingers, they all trace his gaze to a large church tower and nod. They had worked together so long that words weren't even nessecary, not to mention speaking English could possibly blow their cover. They filed into the church discreetly, the followers were taking seats and preparing for that mornings sermon, no one noticed the four men duck into a backroom and scale the ladder into the bell tower. Once at the top the device inside the rucksack was withdrawn, a GTLD III or Ground Target Laser Device. It only took a minute to set it up on the edge of the railing and line-up a sight picture with the huge dome roof of the senate building in the center of the city.
"This is Saber, we're in position." One of the men checks in.
"Saber, we copy you. This is Lancer flight, we're passing over the Duma Mountains now. We'll approach the capital from the East at a low altitude." The reply came from the two F-16C's that were fast approaching.
The two F-16's were carry a full payload of GBU-28 laser guided missiles, though ideally they wouldn't need them all they had prepared for the event that the eyes on the ground identified any other targets of opportunity. "What's this about a low pass?" Asks the pilot of Lancer 2. "You can call it a wake-up call." The reply came back like it was a joke, it wasn't like the enemy had anti-air capability but there wasn't any need to create a risk like that. "Whatever, it wasn't my idea though." Lancer 2 sighs, letting the hot-shot wing-leader make the call. It wasn't like he didn't like to show off himself. "Lancer Flight, descend to 3,000 feet. Follow me in and activate your afterburners."
Below in the capital streets the typical morning routines were being carried out. Even in the relatively
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