The International Raiders
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Three female commandos raid an enemy nuclear-weapons factory

The twin-engine plane flew through the night sky over the desert of 
Iran.  There were five people aboard - the pilot, the copilot, and three
young female passengers.  The pilot, keeping his fingers crossed that no
radar or enemy fighter jets would detect them, looked at the instrument
panel that indicated their location.  He called to the passengers over
the noise of the engines. "We'll be at the jump site in five minutes,
ladies."

"Affirmative, Captain," came a soft but strong-sounding female voice.
The speaker looked at her two companions.  All three of them nodded and
began making the final checks on their gear.  They were about to embark
on a daring and dangerous mission.

For the past few years, the Iranian government had been busy developing
a nuclear weapons program.  At the same time, they had been making 
threats of violence towards the United States, Europe, and, in 
particular, the nation of Israel.  Knowing that a time bomb was ticking,
certain world leaders had gathered together to come up with a plan to 
stop the growing danger.  

The Iranians had built their nuclear facilities deep underground, where
bombs from airplanes couldn't damage them.  Airstrikes and cruise 
missiles were out of the question.  Instead, the plan that had been 
agreed upon involved the use of small, highly skilled commando teams.
Several of these teams would be inserted into the country, one for each
of the known nuclear facilities.  They would infiltrate and destroy the
nuclear weapons factories, then, if possible, make their escape.  The
team members were chosen from the best of the best of the world's elite
services.  

This particular team was unusual, not only because of its small size, 
but also because all of its members were female.  Since one member was
American, one was British, and one was Israeli, the three women who 
made up the team were sometimes called the "International Raiders," or,
more informally, the "International Chicks." All three ladies were 
skilled, deadly, and sexy fighters, and all of them had long histories 
of combat experience.

Kara, at 35 years of age, was the oldest of the three women and a 
member of America's Delta Force.  She had been born in Nicaragua and 
had grown up under the rule of a tyrannical dictatorship.  As a 
teenager, she had been a guerrilla warrior fighting against the 
dictator's army.  When she was 18, she and her family had moved to the 
United States and eventually became U.S. citizens.  

Susan, the second-oldest member of the team, was 31 years old and in 
the British SAS.  She had been born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and
had grown up under the dark cloud of IRA terrorism.  Her younger sister
had been killed in a terrorist bombing, and Susan had a large amount of
experience in vicious street fights against IRA-supporting thugs.

Shamira, at 26, was the youngest of the three ladies and an agent in 
the Israeli intelligence service, the Mossad.  She had been born in a
small Israeli town which had faced many attacks from Palestinian
terrorists.  Like her two companions, she had a lot of up-close and
personal fighting experience from her teenage years.

All three women were very easy on the eyes, being impressively fit,
muscular, and feminine.  Kara had olive skin and shoulder-length dark
brown hair.  At 5'6" and 125 pounds, she was average-sized for a woman,
but rather little for a fighter.  Susan was slightly bigger at 5'7" and
130 pounds.  She had blonde hair and deep blue eyes.  Shamira was 5'4"
and 112 pounds, the smallest of the three.  Her long brown hair went 
down to the middle of her back, and her innocent-looking face made it
very easy for people to underestimate her.

The gear that the women carried included night-vision goggles, C-4
explosives, radios, wire cutters, and various other gadgets.  For
weapons, each woman had a submachine gun from her country - a Thompson
for Kara, a Sterling for Susan, and an Uzi for Shamira. The ladies also
each carried four hand grenades, a combat knife, and several spare
magazines of ammunition.  All three women were dressed in tight black
outfits that would conceal them in the darkness (and also showed off
their slender, sexy, muscular figures).

The women strapped on their parachutes.  Everything was ready.  They
were a little nervous, but also excited, not to mention eager for the
chance to kick some ass.

"We're here," came the voice of the pilot. "Good luck and come home 
safely."

"Thank you," responded three female voices in unison.  The three women
then jumped out of the plane one by one, disappearing into the darkness
below.

The pilot began making a wide turn to take the plane back to base.  He
remarked, "Don't you think that was strange, a team of all girls?"

"Yeah," replied the copilot. "But they look pretty tough.  Plus, they're
nice to look at."

As the plane disappeared over the horizon, three dark-colored parachutes
billowed open over the flat desert landscape.  It was a clear, moonless
night.  The stars shone brightly and the night air was comfortably cool.

The three women all made neat landings not far from each other. Removing
their parachutes, they met together in a brief huddle. "We've all got 
our plans.  We all know the drill," whispered Susan.

"Good luck," added Kara. "See y'all on the inside."

"Let's kick some terrorist ass," grinned Shamira.  The three female 
warriors held each other in a quick group hug, then put on their night-
vision goggles, readied their weapons, and started off across the desert.

The bomb-making facility came into view before them.  From the outside,
it looked like a small, ordinary building.  However, the women knew that
the little facility was only the above-ground covering for a large
underground complex.  They split up, each of them sneaking silently 
across the desert sand.

The complex was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence (which the women easily
cut their way through). There were only four guards on the outside.  They
carried AK-47 assault rifles and wore ill-fitting uniforms.  Apparently,
the Iranian government was quite confident that their facilities would 
not be attacked.  One guard sat in a makeshift gatehouse near the 
building's front door. Another was seated in a chair by the rear entrance.
Two more guards walked separately round and round the building.  A pair of
military jeeps were parked near the fence.

Shamira waited silently, gripping her knife tightly in her right hand, as 
one of the roving guards walked unsuspectingly closer to her. At the right
moment, she drew back her arm and launched the knife in a powerful and
accurate throw.  The blade buried itself deep in the guard's chest, 
penetrating his heart.  The only sound he made was a faint "thump" as his
body hit the sand.

The guard at the gatehouse suddenly felt a knife blade pressed against his
throat.  He had time for one action (wetting his pants) before Susan 
swiftly and brutally slashed his throat.  As his corpse slumped down in
the chair, the blonde woman looked with a slight degree of amusement at 
the wetness of the man's pants.

Kara rolled her eyes when she came up on the guard by the back door and
saw that he was fast asleep.  She yanked the snoring man off his chair and
wrapped her lethal thighs around his neck, squeezing tightly with her 
muscle power.  That caused him to wake up, but the brunette female's leggy
garrote rendered him unable to yell for help.  She choked him for a few 
more seconds, then gave a 180-degree twist with her powerful hips, 
breaking his neck.

Shamira snuck up behind the final outdoor guard.  She was able to walk
right up to him and give him a spank on the butt.  As he whirled around in
surprise, she grabbed him by the neck.  Although her wrists were slender,
they packed a lot of strength.  Without further ado, she calmly snapped 
his neck, then released the corpse to fall to the desert sand.

The female commandos met at the front door of the nuclear facility.  They
nodded quickly at each other, then entered the building quietly, making 
good use of a key that they had found on the corpse of one of the guards.

It was dark inside the building.  With their night-vision goggles, the
women could see that they were in a large, sparsely furnished room.  A
corner of the room seemed to serve as a kitchen and dining area.  There
was a staircase leading upward on the left side, and an elevator on the
right.  Besides the three girls, there was only one person in the room -
a bearded, uniformed man sitting in a chair.  A rifle lay on a table near 
him.

The man heard the door open, but he couldn't see in the dark. "Who is it?"
he called out in his native Persian.

Kara, who was in the lead, responded in his language (all three women were
fluent in the language of the enemy). "It's your worst nightmare.  Tough
chicks with weapons."

The man sat up straight in panic and began groping around for his rifle.
Kara calmly drew her knife and hurled it through the air. It lodged itself
deep in his throat.  He slumped backward, a vacant look in his dead eyes.

Kara nodded at the staircase to the other girls.  Susan and Shamira began
padding quietly up the stairs, weapons at the ready.  Meanwhile, Kara
extracted her knife from the dead guard's throat and wiped the blood off
on his uniform shirt.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom.  The bathroom door was
open.  No one was inside.  Susan and Shamira nodded at each other and each
took a bedroom to investigate.

Susan opened her door slowly and quietly...and came face-to-face with a
scowling guard.  Before he could do anything, however, she performed a
fast but brutally powerful high kick to his jaw.  He fell to the floor,
stunned.  The blonde woman raised her leg up to a full vertical split,
then brought it down with lethal force on the man's head.  The impact
shattered his skull.  Susan looked at his corpse dispassionately for a
moment, then used the blanket on the bed to wipe the blood and brain
matter off her boot.

Shamira came into the room and looked at the scene with a little smile.
"My bedroom was empty," she said. "I guess I'll have to have my bedroom
fun after the mission." Both women shared a quiet laugh.  They then went
back downstairs to rejoin Kara.

The three women stood in front of the elevator. "No stairs to the nuclear
laboratories," said Kara. "This is the only way in or out." She took out 
a plastic card that she had taken off the corpse of the man she had just 
killed and inserted it into a slot by the elevator.  A green light came 
on, accompanied by a faint humming sound.  The elevator doors swung open.

The women took off their night-vision goggles before entering the well-
lit elevator.  They looked around, but there were no buttons to press.
Looking at each other, they shrugged.  The doors hissed shut and the
elevator began to descend.

It was a long ride to the bottom.  Finally, the elevator came to a halt
with a lurch and a squeak.  The ladies clicked off the safeties on their
submachine guns and aimed them at the door.

The six guards assembled on the other side of the elevator doors looked
at each other, curious and a little worried, but not really alarmed.
When the light that indicated the elevator was descending had gone on 
when there was no descent scheduled, they had radioed the guards on the
top, but had gotten no answer.  These six had then been ordered to meet
the elevator to see what was going on.  None of them really thought they
were being raided, however.  They thought it was much more likely that
Mohammed and Achmed were playing some silly practical joke again.

The elevator doors came open...and so did the mouths of the guards.
Instead of the grinning faces of their fellow guards, the elevator was
occupied by three beautiful women with guns (and grinning faces).

Kara, Susan, and Shamira opened fire, quickly cutting down all six of
their opponents before any of them could get off a shot.  The best that
even the fastest of the guards managed to do was swing his assault rifle
in the general direction of the women before he slumped dead.

The shooting had taken less than two seconds. Shamira checked the bodies
of the men to make sure they were all dead, while Susan and Kara each
covered one of the two doors in the room.  In the distance, they could 
hear angry shouts and Persian curse words. "Now it's time for the real
fireworks," said Susan.

"I'll take the left door, you two take the other one," said Kara. "Stay
safe."

"You too," called out Shamira as the women separated.

Kara walked through the open doorway and into a narrow hallway.  She
rounded a corner and came face to face with a fat man in a white lab
coat.  He stared at her in shock, then let out a scream and began
reaching for a pistol from his pocket.  Before he could take aim, 
however, Kara had placed the barrel of her gun into his open mouth and
pulled the trigger.  As the fat man collapsed to the floor, she said, 
"How did you like my low-fat, all-lead diet?" She laughed at her line.
"I'd make such a tacky action heroine," she said to herself.

Meanwhile, Shamira and Susan had gone through their door, which led 
into a large room filled with piles of boxes and barrels...and several
guards.  Outnumbered, the women managed to take out a couple of the
guards with quick shots and then dive for cover behind a large stack of 
boxes. A violent shootout ensued, with the remaining guards firing back
from behind the cover of another pile of boxes.

"Keep 'em busy," said Susan to Shamira. "I'm going in." The blonde 
commando began maneuvering her way quietly across the room, keeping 
behind the cover of the various box piles, while the Israeli girl 
continued firing at the guards from her position.  One of the men made
the mistake of standing up straight.  Shamira rewarded his lack of
intelligence by sending half a dozen rounds from her Uzi into his
(likely empty) head.

Susan reached a point directly behind the guards, who were still firing
wildly. She tossed a grenade into their midst.  There was a loud KABOOM,
then the shooting stopped.  The two women rejoined each other, nodded,
and continued on their way.

They entered another large room, this one with several long counters
covered with lab equipment.  A lone nuclear scientist was in the room.
He looked up and gasped in shock when he saw the two ladies.

"Here, catch," said Shamira, tossing a grenade at him.  The man reached
out and caught it.  A split second later, it exploded.  When the smoke
cleared, all that was left of him was a pair of lab-shoed feet. "Pretty
dumb for a nuclear scientist," commented Susan with a snicker.

"Well, you know what they say," replied Shamira. "Book smarts don't
always equal street smarts.  Think of a book-smart kid who gets mugged
walking down the street because his mind is away with his thoughts about 
quantum physics, or a street-smart kid who locks himself in the library
and starves to death because he doesn't know how to use the card catalog
to look up 'How to Find Food'." Susan tossed her blonde hair back and
laughed.

Kara rounded another corner.  The hallway opened up into a large room.
Inside, crates were piled up in neat stacks, each pile a considerable
distance away from the others.  The international symbol for nuclear
material was stamped on the crates.  At the far end of the room were
three armed guards and one nuclear scientist.  When they saw Kara, the
guards immediately opened fire with their AK-47s.  However, their aim
was woefully inaccurate and she easily killed all three of them with her
submachine gun before any of their bullets found its mark.

The scientist, a terrified look on his face, began begging and pleading
in broken English. "Please, no kill me! Me no have gun! Please!"

Kara rolled her eyes as she strode across the room towards him.  She
responded in Persian. "Listen here, asshole," she said (hoping she got
the Persian translation for 'asshole' correct. "Maybe you don't have a
gun right now, but you've devoted your life to creating weapons that are
a lot more dangerous than guns.  And you and your friends are going to
use those weapons on innocent people whose only 'crime' is to be of the
wrong nationality or believe in the wrong religion.  You're nothing more
than a pathetic chickenshit coward.  I could shoot you right now, but I
want to see what you're made of.  Come on, try and get me." She lowered
her gun and beckoned with her finger.

The man let out a loud roar as he charged directly at her.  Kara calmly
watched and waited, then, at just the right moment, fired off a powerful
kick to his chest that abruptly ended his charge.  Before he could 
recover from his meeting with her size 8 boot, she kneed him in the gut,
then aimed a little lower and kneed him in the crotch.  The look on her
pretty face remained cold and expressionless as the nuclear scientist
howled in pain at the brutal impact to his family jewels.  She followed
it up with a strong punch to his face, feeling some of his teeth come
loose.

As her opponent stumbled around dizzily, Kara casually looked at her
watch. "I'd love to beat the crap out of you some more, but we're in a
hurry here," she said.  With that, she performed a powerful back 
handspring, kicking him as she flipped.  As her kick landed, there was a
loud CRACK. The scientist's body crumpled to the floor, its neck broken.

As she looked at the corpse (along with the corpses of the other three
men in the room), a smile appeared on Kara's face.  She remembered the
first time she had used her back handspring kick to finish an opponent,
back in Nicaragua when she had been 15. "I can't believe it's been 20
years," she thought to herself. "So much time...oh, speaking of time,
I'd better hurry back to the others."

Meanwhile, Susan and Shamira had now reached a narrow hallway.  Two
armed, scowling guards appeared and began aiming their guns.  Of course,
the women were much too fast for them.  Susan shot one guard in the 
head, while Shamira greeted the other by blasting several bloody holes
into his chest.

Suddenly, a door on the side of the hallway crashed open and two men
came charging out.  The first man, a tall fellow in a white coat, swung
a lead pipe wildly at Susan.  She ducked under it, then calmly blew him
away with her submachine gun.  She looked at his corpse with contempt.
"What a moron, bringing a lead pipe to a gunfight."

The second man swung a wild punch at Shamira, who easily blocked it 
with her slim but strong forearm.  She then delivered a vicious kick to
his knee, shattering his kneecap.  The man collapsed to the floor,
screaming in pain. "Oh, shut up," said Shamira.  Drawing her knife, she
flung it downwards, directly into his heart.  The screaming stopped.
"That's much better," she said, retrieving her knife and wiping the 
blood off on the dead man's pants.

The two young women gave each other high-fives as they looked at the
corpses with satisfaction.  Susan pointed at the man with the lead pipe.
"This loser looks just like one of the street thugs I used to know back
in Belfast," she said.

"Funny you should say that," Shamira responded.  She pointed at one of
the men she had just killed. "This one looks a little like the terrorist 
who broke into my parents' home in Israel with a knife, intending to 
kill them in their sleep."

"What happened?" asked Susan and Kara (who had come up quietly and 
joined the others), both in an alarmed tone of voice.

"Oh, nothing to be alarmed about," said Shamira. "My mom killed him with
his own knife," she continued proudly.  Kara and Susan smiled and patted
the petite Israeli girl on the back.

The women then turned their thoughts back to the mission.  Kara pointed
to the door at the end of the hallway. "I think this is the last one in
the complex," she said.

The three sexy female warriors advanced down the hall.  Kara sent the
door down with a powerful kick, then all three women charged into the
room, Kara covering the center with her gun, Susan covering the left, 
and Shamira covering the right.

There was only one other person in the room, a short man in a lab coat.
He was yanking wildly at the large nuclear reactor in the center of the
room, but looked up at the women as they entered.  He had a look of
defiance and desperation in his eyes, but a new look - shock - appeared
on his face when he realized that the raiders were female. "You should
all be at home cleaning your kitchens!" he shrilled.

Kara, Susan, and Shamira looked at each other and simultaneously rolled
their eyes. "Who gets the honor of finishing this prick?" said Susan.

"I think Shamira should get it," said Kara. "Her country would have been
the first target of these nukes."

"Thanks, hun," the Israeli girl called out.  She advanced on the short 
man. "I wonder if I can finish him with one kick," she said, a thoughtful 
look on her face.

The man squealed like a girl and tried to get into a fighting stance.  He
was obviously not used to it, as he looked quite dorky trying it. Shamira
snickered. "Come on, don't be such a pussy," she sneered.  Although the
man was short, he was still two or three inches taller than her, and
considerably heavier.

He swung a clumsy punch at her face.  Shamira sidestepped it easily and
launched her own attack while her opponent was off balance from following
through with his missed punch.  She performed a brutal and extremely
powerful roundhouse kick to the side of his head.  As her size 6 boot
impacted, there came the familiar CRACK.  The man's corpse, with its 
broken neck, collapsed to the floor.

"Yes!" cheered Shamira, raising her arms in the air in victory. The other
two women applauded.  Shamira blushed and took a bow.

"You go, girl," said Susan.

"Nice work," added Kara.  She then turned to look at the reactor. "We're
almost done."

The female commandos placed the C-4 explosives they had been carrying at
various strategic points around the underground complex.  After fitting
and setting the timers to them, they headed back up on the elevator.  
Kara called their contact on the radio. "This is Amazon One, reporting
mission accomplished, right on schedule."

"Glad to hear that," crackled the responding voice over the radio. "Good
work.  Congratulations, ladies.  Proceed to the pickup point.  We'll be
there shortly."

"Thank you, sir," responded Kara. "On our way.  Amazon One out."

A few minutes later, the three women had exited the facility.  They made
their way to the rendezvous point.  Soon, three helicopters appeared in
the night sky.  While two of them remained circling overhead, the third
landed in the desert sand and the women quickly climbed aboard.  All
three choppers then headed off into the night.  The ladies cheered when
they saw the nuclear facility explode in a brilliant fireball, then
cheered again when the helicopter pilot reported that the raids all 
across the country had been successful. "This should put a big dent in
the power of those nutty fanatics," he said.

The biggest cheer, however, was reserved for when the helicopters safely
cleared Iranian airspace.  The three women shouted excitedly and gave
each other high-fives and a tight group hug.  They then leaned back and
closed their eyes to get some well-deserved rest.

THE END

Comments, compliments, and constructive criticism encouraged.

silverstar222b@yahoo.com