• There was an explosion not so far off in the distance, and then gunfire that could only come from M16s or M4s. The sounds of a Klashnikov firing soon mingled in with it. The gunfire stopped soon, the last shots came from the M16's so no doubt the squad was moving again. Hassan knew right away that it was the squad of Americans and the Abrahms tank that was escorting them. He shifted his backpack, the weight of the RPG-7 and other gear that he carried was making his shoulders sore. He gripped his Klashnikov AK-47 tighter as he was spoken to, he was a bit jumpy. "Come on, Hassan, we must catch that tank." a squad mate said to him, and he nodded and began to move. They were taking cuts through buildings while the tank patrolled the street, so they were nearing it. They soon came across an area littered with bodies of fellow fighters. Hassan didn't want to see them, but he had to collect what he could from them. They took grenades, clips of ammo for their AK's, and a few extra rockets for the RPG. There were no American corpses. "There is nothing else we can do here. Let's move, we are nearing the squad." the appointed leader said, and they began to move again. At the next turn, they managed to see the last of the soldiers rounding a corner further down that street.

    "There are the Americans! Bashir, take Hassan, Waleed, and Aharon and go through that alleyway to cut them off ahead. We will defeat these oppressors!" the leader called, and the four of them began to move down the alleyway. About halfway down the alley, they heard gunfire from the American squad and their own. "There is no time to circle around! Through the building!" Bashir said, kicking open a doorway into the back of a small shop. Doors to each side led to other shops, and there were stairs to the rooms that were on the upper floor. "Hassan, go up to get a better sight. Use your RPG and aim for the tank." Hassan nodded and ran upstairs, but suddenly he felt lightheaded. He unwrapped the red cloth he had around his mouth and forehead, taking a deep breath as he unveiled his mouth. He dropped it, taking the RPG off his back and loading a rocket into it. He flipped up the sight at the end, walking to the window. As soon as he looked out, bullets slammed into the brickwork beside him and he ducked back in. He heard gunfire below as his teammates returned the shots. He looked out again, more carefully this time, and took aim at the back end of the tank. It's turret was turned to fire at the men down the street, so it was open to attack from that angle. He sighted down and put the tank's tread wheels in the metal circle on the RPG, pulling the trigger and then ducking out of the way as the exhaust shot out both the front and back of the tube. There was a small explosion as the rocket propelled grenade hit the wheels, he looked out to see that the treads had successfully been broken. It could not move now, but the turret was still active and it was turning towards his window. He ran out of the way, diving for the stairs as it fired.

    His head felt like it was split wide open, his ears were ringing constantly. He blinked his eyes open, but all he saw was smoke and dust. He felt himself being pulled to his feet, and the figure of Aharon came into view. "Hassan! Find the RPG, the tank is still active and it's firing on the men down the street. They had set up mortars but I think they're gone now." he said loudly, but he barely heard it over the ringing. Finally it cleared, and he understood. He began to search the rubble of what once was the wall by the window, and he found the metal tube of the weapon. "Got it!" "Okay, then fire! Get downstairs once the tank is out of commission." Aharon ran back down and started firing, while Hassan loaded a new rocket into the RPG and crawled to the window. He aimed down the sights again, this time at the linkage between the turret and body of the tank. "Take this, invading scum. Take it with you when you leave." he said, his voice full of anger as he fired. The rocket rushed forward in another blast of smoke, and made contact. The tank's top portion stopped rotating, and it went still. The other freedom fighters began cheering, and the remaining Americans ran into a building across the street. "They got the tank! Get down there and take cover in the buildings so we can eliminate the rest of the devils." the officer yelled, who was miraculously still alive as one of the last five down the road. They rushed down and joined them in the buildings, one took Hassan's place with the RPG while he went downstairs with his Klashnikov.

    "Good job, Hassan. Ala will reward you for sure." the officer said, before turning his attention to the Marine's who were still firing from the building across the street. Hassan went to the window beside Waleed, firing a burst from his AK. "Cover us, Hassan! We are moving forward." Bashir said, before tapping Aharon and Waleed on the shoulders. Hassan let loose a long burst of fire at the building to keep the Americans hiding, and the three ran to take cover behind the tank. The officer ran after them, leaving only the five of them in the building. One of the soldiers alongside Hassan let out a cry and fell backward, blood leaking from the wide holes in his shirt. Hassan didn't pay attention to it, still attentive to the Americans. One of the Arabs made a run for cover behind a car but he never made it, cut down by M4 fire. Hassan instantly turned and fired on the window that the shots came from, and succeeded in killing the American. The man pitched forward, falling to the street, but more fire came from the window. The man upstairs with the RPG fired, but it went wide and hit a wall. He soon joined them downstairs, yelling "RPG's out! We're down to grenades and bul-" He was cut off as an explosion sparked right between him and the other soldier he was covering behind, sparked by an American's grenade launcher. The men fell, one was dead and the other was screaming and staring at his left arm which was completely blackened and burnt. Aharon popped up from behind the tank, throwing a grenade through the window on the second floor. There were shouts and then the grenade went off, and they all assumed the men on the second floor had been killed since now the only shots came from ground level. Before he could duck again, a burst of three shots made contact with Aharon's upper chest and throat.

    Based from the shots, there were only three American's left in the building. Firing started coming from the second floor again, one must've climbed the stairs. Waleed stood to fire but no shots got out, his nose exploded into a burst of red as a bullet pierced it. His finger still held the trigger of his gun as he fell, firing in an arc until he hit the ground and it bounced out of his hand. The bullets shattered into the wall next to him, but Hassan was unhurt as he peeked out to fire more. He heard a scream from the building, his bullets had made contact. "Two left!" he yelled, running for the tank and ducking down beside them. "I'm running low on ammo." Bashir said quietly, shaking his head. The officer had already ran out, he was firing with only his sidearm but still hadn't killed anyone. There was a cease in gunfire from the building, the Americans were waiting for clear shots to conserve ammunition which meant that they were near the windows to get those clear shots. "Die filth!" the officer, yelled, standing up and bringing his pistol to bear on the top window. He fired six shots, three of which hit their mark while eight hit theirs in him. The American on the second floor screamed, as did the officer as he fell to the ground. His scream ended in a gurgle and he fell still, his eyes open but non-responsive.
    "Bashir. Go to that side of the tank, I will stay at this end. Rise and fire when I do." Hassan whispered, Bashir nodded and crawled to that side. "NOW!" he yelled, and both stood up at the same time and aimed towards the last soldier. They unloaded their clips, he was dead after the first few but they continued to fire until he hit the ground. They walked toward the building, watching carefully for movement but there was none. Bashir dropped his rifle with a sigh of relief, turning to Hassan. "We did it, Hassan. This filth has been purged." he said, his face flooding with happiness. Hassan returned the smile, but then his face turned to horror as he noted the hatch of the tank opening. "Bashir, get down!" he called, but it was too late as the soldier brought around his weapon and fired. Bullets slammed into Bashir's back, then as he fell more slammed into Hassan's chest. He felt a sharp pain, but then as he hit the ground he felt nothing. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Bashir's lips moved and then stopped, his eyes faded as the life slipped out of him. The American was climbing out of the tank, approaching him...

    Hassan reacted by his heart, not his brain. He drew his sidearm out of the holster and brought it up in his only working arm, squeezing the trigger again and again. The man was dead before he knew what was shooting, stone dead before he even fell. Hassan's arm dropped, the pistol popped out of his grip as his hand hit the ground. Breathing was growing harder and harder, his sight was fading. "Take care of us, Ala..." he whispered, before he felt himself slipping away.