I hadn’t even made it out of the doors before I began hearing the ping of bullets hitting the buildings. All around me chaos had broken loose. Men shouted, cursed, and you could hear the dull thud of fists against flesh. I began running toward where the largest grouping of men had gathered, and jerking my knife out of its sheath, I waded into the milay, at the same time evading the knife from the man that stepped in front of me. With an uppercut, I pushed forward, shoving my knife into the man’s stomach. I could feel the slight resistance as it sank into his flesh, destroying muscle and tissue as it continued moving forward under my strength, until unable to push it any deeper, I twisted the blade, seating it to the hilt. A sudden onslaught of liquid seeped over my hand and spread between my fingers, the coppery ting of blood greeting my nostrils. Pulling my knife free, I made to step around the man, but the glint of moonlight on steel brought me up short. Mother fucker was still coming at me. With a swivel and a step sideways, I positioned myself behind the bastard, then grabbing a handful of hair, I jerked his head back, as raising my knife at the same time, I made a smooth glide across his throat with the fine edge of my blade. The man dropped instantly, and kicking him off my feet, I went for the next one, then the next one….
An hour later, the skirmish was over—for now at least. We were exhausted, bloody and a few less men, but they were down a hell of a lot more than we were. After they surrendered, we’d allowed them to gather their fallen, then escorted them out of our territory with a warning to never fucking show their faces in our area again. Afterward, as I returned to the clubhouse, Burdock met me at the door, informing me, “We’re moving in fifteen. Grab your gear. I’ll brief you on the way.” I hadn’t even had the chance to ask about Marlowe before he was walking away.
From skirmish to black bag operation—I grabbed a hasty shower to wash the blood off, then slid into my usual black t-shirt and pants for when I was on an assignment. After twisting my hair into a long tail, I pulled it up and placed it back into its customary man-bun. Once finished, I slid my equipment bag over my shoulder and slipped out of my room. Fast paced, I moved toward Marlowe’s room. I needed to see she was all right before leaving. Raising a knuckle, I rapped on her door. Several seconds passed, and when she didn’t answer I raised my hand, giving it another rap. More seconds passed, and still receiving no answer, I turned, making my way into the common room. Tossing a glance around the room, I spotted Marlowe making her way through the injured men, administering aid. Drawing a breath at seeing she was okay, I placed my worry aside and set my concentration on the task soon to be at hand.
TWO HOURS LATER
Watching the warehouse through my scope, I silently mouthed. Make your move motherfuckers and I’ll gladly plant your asses six feet under!
We’d been watching this group of gun-smugglers for months now, but so far tonight, they hadn’t given us a damn thing to warrant my, or any of the others, shot! I’d been sitting in this same spot for an hour, nestled into the landscape like I was part of the fucking weeds, waiting for my chance.
My high-powered rifle was settled against me like a lover. My finger stroking the trigger like a woman’s clit—waiting, waiting for the moment I could give us both the pleasure we wanted.
A curse flew from my lips when from my earpiece, I heard Burdock call, “Mission scratched. All rendezvous at location cleared.”
Lowering my rifle, I pinched my eyes shut in frustration. FUCK! Blowing out a breath, I shifted, then lifting myself out of the prone position I’d settled into earlier, I set about clearing my rifle of the shell encased within it and packing everything up.
Fuck me, if this hadn’t been a fucking waste of time. Turning, I hunched my shoulders and set off to the rendezvous point.
When I reached Murdock, I snapped, “What the fuck?”
Murdock just shook his head. “Someone fucked up somewhere.”
“Dammit, this is a load of bullshit,” I snarled.
Burdock just gazed at me. “Got something better to do?”
I snorted. “Yeah, see a hell-cat.”
“Can I be a fly in the wall?” Burdock asked, smirking. “This ought to be fun.”
“Just shut up!” I snapped, then turning I walked off, Burdock's laughter following me.
Disgusted with everything, I drew up next to a tree, then sliding my rifle off my shoulder, I let it rest on the toe of my boot. My leg was aching again, and I reached down, absently rubbing at the muscle. From above me an owl hooted and I flinched, before looking upward toward the sound, I growled, “Go away, you creepy mother fucker!” Few things bothered me, but the fact an owl could turn its head until it was looking over its shoulder, then keep going until it’s head was looking over its spine, and then *keep* going until it's eerie yellow eyes were looking over the opposite shoulder, did. And I sure as shit didn’t need its mythical omen at the moment, true or not, I didn’t need a supposed harbinger of death screeching above my head.
I wouldn’t say I was superstitious, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t either, but what I could say was that I didn’t like the damn things, so, when I heard the owl take flight, I let out a relieved breath. *Fucken hooter*!
Glancing at my watch, I was surprised the rest of the team weren’t here yet. *What the hell was the hold up*? I wondered as suddenly the unmistakable sound of gunfire ripped through the air, and lifting my rifle, I took off at a run.
Catching up with Burdock, I ducked to miss the low hanging limbs of a tree as we sprinted forward. “What the hell happened?” I panted, now running full out. We still obviously had men around the house.
“Fuck if I know,” Burdock snarled back, then face darkening, he snapped, “But something sure as shit went wrong. Why the hell have they not made contact?”
I could now hear return fire from our team, and turning in the direction the fire-power was coming from, we ran as far as we dared, before hunching over, we continued forward. The ricochet of bullets now hitting the trees around us, we dropped even lower, as now in a squat we began practically duck walking, but still moving forward. When we finally found two of our men, Surgeon and Houseshoe, Burdock growled, “What the hell is going on? Are your fucking headsets broke?”
Surgeon shook his head. “I ain't got a fucken' clue, Boss. I’ve been trying to get Slimer and Pattycake to check in, but I’m gettin’ nothin’.”
Burdock, adjusting his headset, called into its microphone, “Pattycake, radio check!”
Having moved far enough away, we couldn’t communicate without shouting at each other, I signaled Burdock the headsets were dead.
I read his lips. “SON OF A BITCH!” Then, rasing his voice and uncaring who might be sneaking around us, he called, “We gotta go get’em, otherwise this thing is gonna turn into a fucking slaughter!”
We still had six men unaccounted for.
At my nod, Burdock ordered, “Satan, you and Surgeon go left. Houseshoe, you, and I’ll go right. We don’t fucking come back until we have’em all.”
I was gone before he’d finished his last word.
The sound of limbs breaking and pounding feet accompanied the continuous gunfire, and I knew shit was not good. We were surrounded, but it didn’t stop me, I continued moving forward. Surgeon was right behind me.
Like any military or elite force, our motto was, *a man is never left behind*.
We had just hit the tree line leading into the gravel yard of the warehouse when I felt the bullet hit me in the leg, and a sudden warmth cascaded down my calf. *Goddammit, I didn’t have *time* for this shit*!
Shaking it off, I kept going, but I hadn’t taken twenty steps when I felt another bullet hit my shoulder, then everything began to whirl around me. Dropping to my knees, I tried steadying myself, as placing both hands on the ground, I peered down at myself. Even lightheaded and in the dark, I could see the blood saturating my shirt and pant leg.
Coming up beside me, Surgeon asked, “You okay, man?”
With a shake of my head, I breathed, “So didn’t fucking need this,” then I lost consciousness.