Polynesian Midnight

Polynesian Midnight is a Call of Duty Modern Warfare fanon novella written by Foxtrot12 which takes place during the events of Modern Warfare 2 in the south Pacific Ocean, French Polynesia to be exact. Following Gunnery Sergeant Vance Hawthorne of the United States Marine Corps, as he leads a midnight raid, Polynesian Midnight is the first of several installments written by Foxtrot12 which serve as fanonical expansions to the Modern Warfare universe.

Prolouge - "A New Front"
"As of nine hours ago we can confirm success in a joint operation to disable Russian oil platforms conformed to serve as sam sites. But that doesn't mean that our role in the Pacific is over." Lectured the middle aged Captain as he pointed to a cluster of red x's on a map of the Pacific near Russia with a two foot cherry wood pointer stick. "In fact it is now shifting south towards French Polynesia." He said as he moved his stick to the cluster of islands.

"We're invading a French island chain?" Asked the young Lieutenant Moreno curiously as he looked at the Captain. A man in a dark navy blue officers uniform whose uniform had the name "Saul" sewn on his right chest and wore two bars of colorful ribbons the highest of which was the blue and white ribbon which represented the Navy Cross, an award the Captain had won for actions against Khaled Al-Asad's navy five years earlier on the left side of his chest.

"No Lieutenant, some SEALs aided by a joint special forces task force recovered intelligence reports on the rig. One of those reports indicated that Moscow Electronics Incorporated is moving their fleet on a rather peculiar course through the Pacific." Saul said as he dragged his pointer from Russia south through the Pacific to French Polynesia.

"Moscow Electronics Incorporated?" Moreno asked.

"They're a government subsidzed company founded discreetly by KGB operatives in the 70s. They started sending out shipping vessels all over the place, Africa, Vietnam, Laos, China, Venezuela, and Cuba. Initially they were transporting personnel and weapons to communist and anti-American militias until in '87 nine CIA agents lost their lives to get us photographs that showed that the Russians had made their freighters capable of launching long range missiles." Saul said as he pulled several photographs from a stack of papers on the corner of the desk and slid them across the table to Moreno who picked them up.

"So they're going to use a shipping fleet disguise to hit us up." Moreno concluded, drawing a nod from Saul. "What's their target? L.A., Seattle, Alaska?"

"According to the intel our task force recovered, they're stopping to fuel up in French Polynesia and then going straight for the coast of Brazil where they plan to zig zag near the biggest oil platforms owned by the Cardinal Dawn Oil Corporation. Now since they discovered the fourth largest oil reserve in the world off the coast of Brazil two years ago, they've been supplying the states with twenty percent of its oil and with the Iranians, Russians, and Venezuelans refusing to keep supplying us they are now pumping ninety percent of all our oil to us, but the fleet can't protect the rigs on account of the war and due to the blocking of drilling by environmentalists over the past decade we don't have the infrastructure to keep the oil running without Cardinal Dawn." Saul said as he traced the route of the vessels over the map with his stick.

"So you want my marines to hit them while they're docked?" Moreno asked.

"We take out the fleet there, or run out of oil within two weeks. I think we both choose the first option. The fleet will be there in sixteen hours, get a team of men ready who can be there to greet them. And make it small, the French don't know and will likely try to scramble and attack if we take to long or come in with a battalion."

"Alright, I think I can get you a roster within four hours, sir." Moreno said as he walked for the door.

"Make it three."

"Yes sir." Moreno said saluting as Saul returned the salute and the marine lieutenant walked out the door and into the darkness of San Clemente Island.

Chapter One - "From the Sea"
"Gentleman." Gunnery Sergeant Vance Hawthorne began as he faced the twenty four marines assembled before him in the briefing room of the USS Santa Fe, a Los Angeles Class Submarine. "Our target, is a cluster of trojan horses. To be exact, we are dealing with five large Russian shipping freighters which are capable of launching ballistic missiles, their targets are nineteen oil rigs located off the coast of Brazil which just so happen to be our largest remaining oil suppliers. Now on open waters, they have submarine escort but in port they stay far away from authorities so as to avoid anyone finding the ship is full of Russian sailors and all the ships huddle together." Vance said as several photos of the merchant ships popped up on a projector behind him for the marines to see.

The small platoon of marines was a ragged bunch, professional and hardened they were among the finest black operation specialists in the Marine Corps' 2nd Reconaissance Battalion. Silent and motionless as the dead, the troopers watched as Hawthorne picked up a cigarette from a small wooden table two feet to his right and lit it with a small wax candle the Gunnery Sergeant had lit ten minutes previously for that very purpose.

"Now." Hawthorne resumed as he kept the cigarette in his mouth for several seconds before removing it and blowing a ring of smoke. "We are in French Polynesia and so are they. The only reason they are in French Polynesia is because they have the need to refuel which they will do in about an hour via a tanker which another team will commandeer for us. Our objective is to board the flagship, located in the center of the cluster, we will quietly infiltrate it, rig the missiles to explode, and then escape via the tanker which will be leaking oil all the way. The explosion from the missile, combined with the oil will start a chain reaction which should take out the fleet. Any questions? None, then let's go." Hawthorne said as he reached for his weapon, an M4A1 Carbine, equipped with a tactical rail mounted laser, rail mounted flashlight, suppressor, ACOG scope, an M203 underbarrel grenade launcher, and an eighty round drum magazine.

As Hawthorne began walking out the door his men followed. Through the dark corridors of the submarine they plodded along until reaching the ladder to ascend to the deck of the warship.