226: Chapter 226 Hellfire, Back to You

Colonel Black stared at the screen. On the display, the outline of the abandoned hospital appeared in warm yellows and reds on the thermal imaging. There were several distinct heat sources clustered in the underground area, making it truly look like an active command center.

"Confirming any civilians in the vicinity?"

"Zero, sir! The area has been designated as a 'Complete Clearance Zone.' There are no signs of civilian activity."

"Very well," Colonel Black picked up the encrypted communicator. "'ghost 01,' this is 'Shepherd.' You are authorized to use dual-mounted AGM-114K 'Hellfire' missiles. Target coordinates: grids 42-Alpha-7, abandoned hospital, basement level, suspected C&C node. Repeat, authorized to strike. Execute immediately."

"Copy, Shepherd. 'Hellfire' away. Impact in two seconds."

Mark Stevens took a deep breath, his thumb hovering over the launch button. Then, he pressed down hard.

"Missiles off the rail!"

“Swoosh— Swoosh—”

Two AGM-114K "Hellfire" missiles, trailing slender plumes of fire, detached from the short-wing pylons of the "Reaper" drone. Like two sharks scenting blood, they lunged straight toward the abandoned hospital eight thousand meters below at a speed of 450 meters per second.

The composite semi-active laser/millimeter-wave radar guidance system in the missile heads locked onto the intense "heat center" simulated by the "Hummingbird" decoy sub-drones.

In the control room in Nevada, Mark Stevens stared intently at the thermal imaging on his screen. The trajectories of the two missiles traced two clear white lines on the display, rapidly converging on the red dot representing death.

"Ten seconds... nine seconds... eight seconds..." He counted down subconsciously, his heart racing. "Impact!"

“Boom!!!”

A massive fireball suddenly erupted from the top floor of the abandoned hospital! The high-explosive anti-tank warheads tore concrete and rebar to shreds, and the shockwave swept across the entire floor. Immediately after, the second missile bored into the interior of the building, triggering an even more violent secondary explosion in the basement—caused by the small amount of fuel and smoke devices Sinwar had placed there in advance.

Looking down from high altitude, the entire abandoned hospital looked as if it had been struck hard by an invisible giant hand. Dust and smoke billowed up, reaching dozens of meters high.

"Direct hit! Target destroyed!" Mark shouted excitedly, pumping his fist. "Beautiful! Command, this is 'ghost 01.' Confirm destruction of enemy command node. Battle damage assessment... at least fifteen armed personnel, over."

Colonel Black nodded in satisfaction and spoke into the communicator, "Good job, Mark. Maintain your orbit and capture damage assessment footage. I want..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the image on the screen suddenly jerked violently. Then, a piercing alarm began to blare frantically!

"Warning! Warning! Infrared lock detected! Source: Ground, three o'clock position, distance... three thousand meters!" the onboard AI's electronic voice reported coldly.

"What?!" Mark's smile instantly froze, his face turning pale. "That's impossible! How could they have..."

"Evade! Emergency evasion! Release flares!" Black roared into his headset.

But it was all too late.

The system-modified version of the "voroshilov-2" anti-aircraft missile utilized dual-band infrared/ultraviolet composite guidance. While the turboprop engine used by the MQ-9 "Reaper" to enhance endurance had a lower infrared signature than a jet aircraft, it remained as conspicuous as a torch in the night to the high-precision thermal imaging seeker of the "voroshilov-2."

Furthermore, the mother ship of the "Hummingbird" electronic warfare drones had implemented a brief but lethal frequency-hopping interference on the "Reaper's" data link at the exact moment the "Hellfire" struck. This caused a 0.5-second delay in its communication with the rear command center—in air combat, that 0.5 seconds was the distance between life and death.

On the top floor of a residential building, the gunner's eyes were as cold as iron. The crosshairs were steadily locked onto the gray drone attempting to maneuver and evade.

"For Gaza," he whispered, pulling the trigger.

“Whoosh— Boom!”

The first "voroshilov-2" trailed a white wake as it rose from the ground at supersonic speed, like a sharp sword piercing the heavens. It completely ignored the magnesium flares released by the "Reaper"; those fireworks, with temperatures of only a few hundred degrees, were instantly filtered out by the dual-band guidance system. The missile's seeker bit hard onto the high-temperature turboprop engine and slammed right into it!

"No—!" Mark screamed in the control room.

Eight thousand meters up, the "Reaper's" right engine nacelle took a direct hit. The high-explosive warhead blew the precision turbine blades into a cloud of flying metal fragments. Losing power and balance, the drone, like a large bird with a broken wing, trailed thick smoke and spiraled downward.

"Second round! Follow-up shot!" Sinwar's command came through the encrypted channel.

“Whoosh—”

The second "voroshilov-2" launched almost simultaneously, its target being the wingman "Ghost 02," which was in the nearby airspace and stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Evade! Evade now!" the wingman's operator shrieked in terror, desperately pulling the control stick as the drone performed a violent evasive maneuver.

But this "Reaper" had terrible luck. The second missile utilized a "thermal imaging + trajectory prediction" mode. It slightly adjusted its angle and bored unerringly into the belly of "Ghost 02"—where the drone's fuel tank and ammunition bay were located.

“Boom!!!”

A second fireball blossomed in the sky, even more brilliant than the first. Two MQ-9 "Reaper" drones, with a total value exceeding millions, were turned into two balls of burning scrap metal in less than five seconds, trailing long plumes of black smoke as they plummeted toward the ruins of Gaza.

...

On the ground, three hundred meters away from the abandoned hospital.

Sinwar leapt out of a derelict bus, followed by several Junior Death Soldiers carrying cameras. They quickly ran toward the predetermined filming spot—where they could clearly see the falling drone wreckage.

"Quick! Get close-ups of the wreckage! Especially the USAF (United States Air Force) markings and serial numbers!" Sinwar ordered loudly.

The cameras were quickly aimed at the burning drone wreckage nearby. Although the fuselage was shattered into pieces, the clear Stars and Stripes logo on the tail fin, as well as the "USAF" lettering and factory serial number on the body, remained clearly visible in the reflection of the flames.

Even better, half a decal that hadn't been burned away was stuck to one piece of the wreckage, showing the logo of General Atomics Aeronautical Systems—the manufacturer of the MQ-9.

"Got it! Very clear!" the cameraman shouted excitedly.

Sinwar walked in front of the lens, his face smeared with gunpowder and war paint, his eyes as sharp as a blade. Behind him were plumes of black smoke rising to the sky, as well as local armed personnel who had rushed over upon hearing the news, cheering and jumping for joy. They held their AK rifles high, firing into the air.