Reflexive Fire - 01 Read Online Free

could hear more gunfire, followed by shattering glass as Ramirez's private army began firing on the Colombian military helicopters from the villa's second floor. 
       The second Black Hawk nosed up into the air at a vicious angle before seeming to crest an invisible ridge like a roller coaster.  Now the pilot brought the helicopter screaming down towards the villa, opening fire with 2.75 inch Hydra rockets, and strafing the entire side of the building.
       The concussion shook the ground beneath the Americans’ feet sending them ducking for cover as glass and cement showered down from above, the rockets pounded into the mansion.  The settable fuses on the rockets allowed them to detonate somewhere deeper in the mansion, flames erupting from the windows above them.  Gunfire could still be heard sporadically, but it was clear that the gunship had significantly reduced the enemy's numbers.
       Groaning as he got back to his feet, Deckard brushed concrete dust and glass shards off his shoulders.
       “Aw, fuck,” J-Rod groaned.
       Like a giant dragonfly, they could hear the rotor blades buzzing through the air.  Someone had cleared the twin gunships for immediate re-attack.  However, across the lawn Deckard could see the silhouette of someone up on top of what had been the maintenance shed for Ramirez's helicopter.  The large caliber anti-material rifle the man lugged onto the roof was unmistakable even at a distance.
       As the AH-60L helicopter lined up for another gun run, the cartel sniper opened fire; .50 caliber Raufoss rounds echoed across the compound with each shot.  The exploding anti-armor incendiary rounds flashed with each strike against the helicopter's metal fuselage.
       Seeing the splash off the skin of the helicopter, the sniper continued the lay the fire on, each shot rocking the barrel to the rear on its internal recoil absorbing springs until the ten round magazine had been exhausted.  Getting closer to its objective, the Blackhawk amazingly seemed to withstand the barrage of gunfire, if only for a moment.
       Deckard and the two Delta operators turned and stumbled back into the villa as smoke began to billow from the rear rotor, the gunship literally going into a tail spin.  The pilot desperately auto-rotated the aircraft the entire way down to the ground before it smashed into the ground and spun onto its side.
       Rolling over, the rotors chewed into the grass lawn before they broke off into pieces, flying as red hot shrapnel, a few landing in one of the above ground pools with a hiss of steam.
       With the wreckage of the first AH-60L still smoking, the second bird continued its assault, walking a line of .30 caliber fire from its M230 chain gun across the top of the maintenance shed in a single stunted burst.  Sustained fire from the heavy machine gun created a yawing effect when long bursts were fired, the recoil pushing the aircraft off target, making shorter burst necessary.
       The blast caught the sniper completely exposed, tearing him to pieces and leaving nothing but cauterized flesh and a red vapor mist as evidence of his presence just a second before.
       J-Rod limped along with agony spread across his face until Deckard ran up behind and threw the operator over his shoulders into a fireman's carry before he had the chance to protest.
       “Take point,” he said to Pat, as they dashed through the foyer.
       Pat nodded, stripping another fresh magazine from Deckard's combat vest.
       The foyer took up the entire center of the villa, the now pockmarked marble columns standing in front of a half dozen shelves containing what Deckard hoped were just forgeries of Inca artifacts.  The stone faces glared at them through shattered display cases as they ran past.  More buzzing, more muffled gunfire could be heard outside.
       The three men shouldered their way through the front door to find another two Black Hawks hovering outside.  These were transport