Agents Universe

First read Forging The Bond - Trial by Fire Part 1

11:40 Sergeant_Travis_Manning: He has his scope trained on the door, a cartridge loaded, his finger on the trigger. He was ready for anything. So when the rolled up door suddenly exploded, his training and reflexes kicked in, and he pulled himself back behind the supply truck only just in time, as shrapnel from the destroyed roll up door sliced past. The truck rocked from the shockwave.

The highly trained SAS Sergeant slipped into the zone, as his mind analyzed the situation, considering alternatives. He glanced once around the corner, a brief look. He saw the private's mutilated corpse. In his current state, emotions were something that happened to other people. He was ice cold, focused on survival and killing the intruders. He could rage at the Private's death, one of his own SAS brothers, later. For now, there was no help there.

He didn't know how many enemies he faced. But it was clear that they were trying to penetrate the facility. Grimly, he thought, "Over my dead body."

He crawled into the back of the supply truck, opening the rear door with utmost quiet. He had a sidearm, a knife, and his sniper rifle. His rifle was no good, not unless there was only one of them. His side arm, a Glock 19, was his best bet. He'd let the bastards get behind him on their way to the locked door headed into the base, then shoot them from behind.

Just as the Sergeant crawled into the back of the truck, two more explosions erupted inside the garage, the shockwave cracking the glass of the transport's windows, and rattling every bone in the Sergeant's body. Grimly, he realized the fuckers had fragmentation grenades. His head was ringing like a bell, throbbing in agony from being so close to the detonation, but the supply truck protected him. He could see bits of metal shards decorating the side of the truck now. If he'd been outside, that would be him. He strained, listening as best he could for footsteps, but his ears were still ringing from the grenade detonations.

He risked sitting up high enough to look out the shattered darkened glass of the rear window, keeping an eye out for the first person to walk into his field of view, his Glock 19 held steady, ready to unload.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I follow after Kurt, putting down the RPG-7. It's done it's job, time to leave it behind us. The detonations of the frag grenades light up the inside of the garage for a moment. I catch the outline of a supply truck in the glare. I move forward as Kurt heads inside. I catch his shoulder, and pull him back before he steps through the hole. I motion with my hands, pointing out the Supply truck and the fact that there is only one dead body.

I know first hand from my IRA days how fucking brutally hard and deadly the SAS are. I didn't live this long by underestimating the enemy. The IRA taught me that. I whisper softly in Kurt's ear, "Use your shotgun to blow out the windshield, then I'll throw a frag grenade into the rear of the truck using the hole. The SAS would never send just one man."

06:26 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: The Lieutenant is desperately fighting the raging inferno in the generator room, with the help of Corporal Pennycook and Sergeant Richardson.

They are making slow progress. It's hard to get close enough to the intense heat to properly douse the flames. It's slow going. But they are making progress. Suddenly, more explosions rock the base. The Lieutenant swears.

He turns to Sergeant Richardson, the communication specialist, "Sgt, the Corporal and I will handle this fire, I want you to man the inner door."

15:44 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I had been about to agree to that, but the second explosion happened and I don't have time for fun and games. "Not now, he can piss on it himself if he has to, I don't have the capacity to worry about the shithole right now."

He looked down the corridor, "if they know here, they're going to know the layout of the place, and will come directly here."

"Pick him up and let's go, let's take him to the canteen, we know our way around there. Plus if he gets annoying it's got a lockable cupboard."

He then turned to Matt. "Right now, my orders are to keep you alive. But I have been known to accidentally slip on a trigger - and I may get shouted at but you won't care unless you have a nice window from the afterlife... Do you understand."

"Bring him Corporal," I say, opening the door slowly and speaking into my radio shortly. "Moving to a more secure location." And leave it at that. "Travis, any sign?"

06:26 Kurt_Davids: Kurt didn't need to be asked twice as he moved slightly towards the truck, and hoisted the shotgun and blasted it at the supply truck window, then he waited for the grenades to be thrown, then he pumped the shotgun and fired two quick blasts after it.

Two reasons, one if anyone was in the truck, they'd have to keep there heads down, and secondly the large explosions of pellets may actually stop them from hearing the grenades incoming and if they had their heads down they wouldn't see them coming either.

16:10 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I nod soberly, like Mark, I realized with that second series of explosions, shit had turned serious. I listened to Mark's orders, and easily hefted up the much bigger American soldier over my shoulders. I was strong, far stronger than a man my weight should be. Of course I was. I was SAS.

I followed Mark. Canteen was a sensible location. They wouldn't think to look there. My combat-forged muscles shouldered the heavy American with practiced strength. I grunted slightly, but followed Mark to the Canteen.

06:26 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: Desperately fighting the fire, covered in burns, exhausted, the Lieutenant's radio squawks. He answers Mark's announcement. "Acknowledged. Smart move Sergeant."

The Lieutenant hears the radio squawk again as Sergeant Christopher checks up on Travis. Travis begins to reply, his channel is open, but then there is savage sound of heavy gunfire... and then static. Suddenly, the Lieutenant gets a very tight knot in the pit of his gut. FUCK.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: In the wake of Kurt's first shotgun blast, he tosses his fragmentation grenade through the gaping hole, just in time for Kurt's second blast to wash it down.

There is a savage explosion deep inside the supply truck, blowing the sides out. Jordan creeps forward, and grins, pointing out the gore spattering the concrete through the blown out side. He advances past the blood stain and pile of ripped up meat that used to be Sergeant Travis Manning, approaching a sealed and locked steel safety door. He gestures towards Kurt, "Crack it open big man."

11:40 Sergeant_Travis_Manning: The SAS sniper-scout, Sergeant Travis Manning heard the radio buzz in his ear piece, it sounded like Sergeant Mark. He was about to respond softly when he was pelted by an explosion of safety glass he ducked and covered.

But he knew in that instant that whoever was trying to break into the facility was far, far, smarter than your average terrorist. He only wished he'd had a chance to say good bye to his wife and son. And then the second shot came in, along with a frag grenade.

23:05 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: Entering the canteen, I hear Travis on the open channel, I'd known Travis for a long time and he bodily grabbed Matt off Sam's shoulders and slammed him to the floor and then just because I can I slam my boot down on Matt's injured knee.

"If anything has happened to him, I will kill you, orders or not."

"Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Christopher, unknown assailants, you should get back here or into cover."

06:26 Kurt_Davids: Kurt whistled slightly as he headed over to the inner door and started to place C4 on the four corners of it, and took his time pulling wires out starting to trail them back to the shot up truck and started to work them into a detonator.

"Won't be a few more minutes, boss.... but you know what they say... apprehension is fun... or some shit like that."

23:05 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I wait for a minute or so more, but this isn't going to work waiting here for whatever assault force is turning up.

"Corporal, take all the MRE boxes out of the cupboard and open them all and put them onto the table opened. I also need a couple of sealable flasks and some cooking oil from the officers store."

This time I don't even spend the time opening it and I pull the crowbar off my back, insert it into the padlock and twist until it comes off in my hand.

"Add the cooking oil and about the same amount of water into the flasks and I'll be back in ten minutes. If I'm not back or the lieutenant isn't back, shoot the prisoner and get the fuck out of here. Use the air ducts if you have to, understood?"

08:18 Corporal_Sam_Mason: Grimly, everyone in the base hears what just happened to Travis. I feel a sense of total rage and the need to fight boiling up inside. We were under fucking attack. And we'd just lost a man. A good man.

Silently, I cheered as Mark took out his rage on this pathetic American, slamming him to the floor and fucking up his ruined knee. His life was not worth Sergeant Manning's life. And likely... Greg was dead as well.

Well, they'd poked the hornet's nest now. Time to do some killing. I was certain that a change of plans was in order now. No more fucking guard duty. This was war now.

06:26 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: The Lieutenant and the medic, Corporal Pennycook are desperately battling the blaze, the heat is fierce, and they are barely holding the flames back from the main diesel tanks. Peter makes a snap decision. He opens the channel again, responding to Sergeant Christopher. "Not that simple Sergeant. Corporal Pennycook and I are trying to contain the fire in the generator room. If the blaze reaches the diesel storage tanks, we are all dead. I hereby transfer temporary command over to you, Sergeant Christopher. Defend this base from the invaders by any means necessary. Sergeant Richardson, report to Sergeant Christopher for orders."

He cuts the connection. This was a goddamned shitstorm. What's worse... they had no backup coming. The destruction of the backup generator had disabled their comms. Their battle radios didn't have the range. And if these intruders had managed to kill two SAS Troopers.... they had come prepared. But Mark was one of the finest Commandos anywhere, that's why the Lieutenant had requested him for this duty.

He had total and absolute faith in Mark's ability to defend the facility. It was a fucking shame that Mark was enlisted. He'd make a damn fine officer.

06:26 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I leap into action almost before Mark finishes snapping his orders, scooping out MRE containers by the handful, laying them out on the table.

We didn't have any grenades or explosives with us and clearly the intruders did... but what the fuck did that matter? Time to make some of our own. I open them with rapid, precise efficiency, then head back and grab a couple of thermoses from the cupboard, laying them out, mixing in the oil and water in the right proportions, almost anticipating Mark's orders. I knew the drill here.

But then, I stop short, looking at Mark in shock at the rest of his orders. Instantly, I wanted to fucking bash him in the face, Sergeant or no. How fucking dare he treat me like I was some kind of coward? How fucking dare he. How fucking dare he go off and risk his life and leave me behind? I was boiling, raging mad. But there was a chain of command for a reason. And the middle of a battle was not the time or the place to argue with your NCO.

But he would fucking know exactly what I thought of those orders. I snarled, not hiding the rage in my voice, "Understood.... SIR."

I'd already decided though, on my own, that there was no fucking way I was crawling out through the goddamned air vents like a rat. If the Lieutenant or the Sergeant got in trouble, I was goddamned going to disobey those orders, court martial or no.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I watched Kurt work with a low whistle. He was fecking good. The man knew his explosives.

I watched as he got everything wired, then ... we both stepped back, well out of the range. This was going to be a big boom. Fecking huge.

Then, we detonated the C4. The blast wave of concussive force shattered that steel safety door like it was made of fecking cardboard, and shook the ground like an earthquake.

As we walked back into the underground garage, there was chunks of rubble lying around on the cracked pavement. I peer down the passageway, and huge piles of broken concrete lay strewn about, along with the remains of the door. It looked like there had been at lease one inner safety door, but the shockwave had knocked it off it's hinges, it was hanging askew about 10 yards in. I grinned. Then, I took a deep breath. I needed to make sure Kurt fucking understood what we were about.

"Big man... Listen up. Listen up real fucking good. Don't get cocky. Don't get overconfident. We've had it fecking easy up to now, but we are walking into a goddamned den of vipers. These bastards, every single fecking one of 'em, knows about 100 ways to kill your ass with their little pinky. DO NOT let your guard down for one fecking moment. Assume they are hiding behind every fecking corner, in every fecking air vent, beneath every fecking pile of rubble. These bastards will kill you deader n' dead in a heartbeat. I don't want you dead. I don't wanna be dead either. So look fecking sharp. We get in there, we kill Matt Lewis, and we get out, and we get fecking paid the big bucks. You with me big man?"

12:25 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I hear Sam's tone of voice, and ignore it right now, he'll do what he's been asked as he's a good soldier, and that's all I care about right now.

I nearly get to the door when the Lieutenant tells me he's going to stay with the fire and I grumble under my breath at the fact that no-one listens to the people who know what they're doing and all officers think they know what they're doing.

I don't have time to run everything out and find out what's going on. I get onto my radio. "Sergeant Richardson, I need you to get an outside line to the nearby base. I don't care if you have to plug this bases' radio into AAA batteries, just get an outside line and an SOS."

A massive explosion ripped through the building as the inner door was blown off. "And do it now," I say as I get my footing right from the blast wave and turned to Sam.

"In each of the MRE's there is a heater to heat up the food in the field, it's activated by water, you know the pouch thing... if you take all the chemical heating blocks and put them into two of the plastic bags and seal it into the flask with the oil and the water on the outside you've basically got a bomb waiting to happen. They don't teach you this in training..."

"If thrown hard enough you'll break the inside glass wall of the flask, the sharp glass shards are enough to pierce the plastic bag containing the chemical heating elements so the water mixes with it."

"The inside of the flask is about to get very very hot very very quickly, and all that pressure will build up on the inside and explode like a fragmentation grenade... but the oil is there to basically make it napalm. It'll stick to any surface or any person you throw it at and they will be in for a bad day."

"But it's very very improvised, try not to shake the flask too much before you throw it."

I go back on the radio. "Lieutenant, you and Adam need to lock yourselves in that room - the generator room can't be completely encased as there has to be an exhaust vent and a maintenance tunnel, find it in case you need to use it."

I turn to Sam. "You're not going to fucking leave and go and fucking get help are you." I recognize enough of myself in him to know that.

06:26 Kurt_Davids: Kurt smiles as he lights a cigarette off the smouldering wreckage of the door and looks around. "I've got it. Don't give them the chance to get fucking smart."

"I'm with you, we go in to kill the squealing little shit, and get out before reinforcements turn up."

"Wouldn't mind a few more turning up to shoot though, that last one in the car looked so miserable before he died." He shrugged and pulled his shotgun up. "Lets go."

13:16 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I look over at Mark as the Lieutenant tells him to defend the base since he has to keep the diesel tanks from blowing up.

Then the whole fucking floor rocks as another explosion rips through the facility. That was the safety doors no doubt. Fuck. What the hell are they packing? Concrete dust sifts down from the ceiling. After giving Richardson new orders, he turns to me, explaining what he's planning for the thermoses.

I've got two here. Fuck, that's fucking clever as shit. I was thinking along other lines. My hands fly across the table, extracting the chemical heating blocks, wrapping them into plastic bags, and sealing them in the flasks filled with the oil/water mixture.

06:26 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: The radio buzzes as Mark gives orders to Richardson, but I zone it out, focused on keeping the fire from spreading. But despite our best efforts, we are only just keeping it at bay. Then, it buzzes again and the Sergeant suggests we lock ourselves in the room and find an escape. The Lieutenant feels a surge of rage, then bottles it, calmly speaking into the radio, "The Generator room doesn't have a door anymore, Sergeant. The fucking generator exploded. McAlistair is dead. There is a goddamn inferno in here that is threatening the diesel tanks. If the diesel tanks go, we are all dead, and the assault force trying to kill us won't need to bother. There is no fucking way we are getting to the maintenance tunnel. Do you honestly think I haven't already thought of that? Now, keep whoever the fuck is attacking us off our backs so me and Adam can keep us all from blowing to Kingdom Come. That will be all Sergeant."

13:16 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I finish prepping the improvised grenades, we've got two of them to use.

Then, I turn and stare at Mark. My stare is not the stare of a Corporal to his Sergeant. It's the state of one man to another. I turn the question around on Mark, "Would you fucking leave and abandon your brothers like a rat leaving a sinking ship to go get fucking help if you were in my position? .... " I wait for a long moment, then add, "Sir."

13:16 Sergeant_George_Richardson: George had taken position in the doorway of a storage closet, covering the inner door, per the Lieutenant's orders, with his Assault rifle. He'd found time to shrug on a tactical vest, so he had some protection.

Then the whole fucking corridoor rocked back and forth, and the inner door burst it's gaskets, hanging at a crazy angle, but still partially blocking the doorway. The pressure wave and smashed George into the frame like a rag doll, and he was stunned and disoriented as his radio crackled to life. He realized belatedly that his nose was bleeding. Stunned, he focused, fighting through the pain knifing in his skull. They were packing some serious shit.

Grimly, he regained control of his addled senses, and covered the door again. Then, the radio came to life with new orders. He was under the command of Mark now, apparently. Fine, what ever the fuck. He cared more about machines than people anyways. But he thought Mark's idea was a fucking good one. He instantly began to think of ways to wire the batteries for the electric torches and spare radios into parallel to power the base radio. Enough batteries should do it... and he could bypass the radio's power supply to feed it direct DC power. The voltage was correct already...

His mind was ablaze with how to solve this problem as he trotted off, his torch leading the way to gather his supplies back in the main communications office.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I snapped on my night vision eyepiece over my right eye, and extinguished all my light, leaving my left eye uncovered. There was always the chance these fuckers had night vision gear, but I was betting not for an isolated facility like this. If they were using torches, they'd make themselves mighty fucking fine targets, and if they weren't they'd be fecking blind as bats.

I gestured for Kurt to follow suit, then led the way down the dark hallway, carefully placing every single boot step to avoid making noise, approaching the half blown out door up ahead. I hear a slight noise, and gesture at Kurt to stop. I scan ahead, and I hear the sound of boot steps retreating. Falling back to a more defensible position perhaps? I gesture for Kurt to follow again, scanning every square inch as I went along.

The corridor was in bad shape, the C4 had really fucked it up. We approached the door, I nodded to Kurt. Forcing open a door, even one half blasted off it's hinges like this one, left a man vulnerable to whoever was covering it on the other side. There was no sign of light from the other side, and no sound, but I wasn't fucking taking chances.

I gesture at Kurt, motioning what I wanted. The two of us would charge the door, rip it the rest of the way off the tattered hinges and use it as a fucking mobile shield to soak up any fire that might come our way.

13:39 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I am just having none of this. "Lieutenant, you put me in command of this, so listen," I say not having time for this shenanigans from an officer right now. "We are being attacked by a force of unknown number and currently I can count five of us alive. They have enough hardware to take down the place as we've seen so far. So fighting them head on is stupid, SIR."

"I'm suggesting you and whoever is with you, if you can't stay locked in that room, then our best single bet is to let them in here, and we fucking get around them since we know this building better than they do, and blow the fucking place up with them inside."

I turn my radio off and take a deep breath. "But... whatever you say goes.. sir."

I turn to Sam and shook my head. "If I was ordered to .. yes... because I have to assume that unless it's an officer, who tend to not know anything... that the sergeant has a good reason."

"It's not running, it's getting the rest of the lads to arrive and kick these people's heads in. It's never fucking running. But I understand the desire to be here.. and since the lieutenant isn't listening to fucking reason I don't see why you should."

13:39 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: I look up at the two of them bickering like school children wincing through the pain in my knee. I know full well that something of this scale isn't going to be done to rescue me, I'm too far down the totem pole, it's likely to stop me saying anything.

"Look... I'm sure you two know all about self preservation right... and yeah I'm coming around to the fact that these people are not here to take me back.."

"Uncuff me. I'll fucking help you out here. This isn't about me fucking becoming your fucking friend, this is about wanting to get out of here alive... which I'm sure you can fucking appreciate."

14:10 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: Fuck all Sergeants. The Lieutenant takes a deep breath, he's beginning to think that they are not going to get this fire under control. Escape is the only option. He's annoyed, but he has to admit that the Sergeant's idea offers the best chance of them escaping alive. He replies shortly, "Signal once they are inside, Sergeant, and we will proceed to evacuate. After Adam and I abandon fighting this fire, we have five minutes, ten tops, before this entire place goes boom."

13:16 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I look at Mark. "I'll follow orders Sergeant, that doesn't mean I have to like them. But I don't follow orders blindly, and neither do you. There is every chance that I wouldn't make it out of here in time using the air vents if those diesel tanks blow. Whereas here, fighting with you and the others, I might make the difference between life and death for us all."

I don't say it, but I highly doubted that if Mark was in my position he would obey those same orders.

I turn to look at Matt Lewis, contempt on my face. But I hold my tongue. I'll let Mark answer him.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: We charge in, using the door as a shield and ... fucking nothing. As empty as a tomb. We make a fair amount of noise in our charge, so after I put the door down, I motion Kurt. "Let's go. Keep your eye out sharp, look for the faintest hint of light, and check every fucking nook and cranny as you go along. Wherever Matt is being kept, I bet your fucking ass he's not there now."

I begin to head down the passageway, moving swiftly, but silently, checking every single fucking corner, keeping my ear strained for any sound. I use the standard procedure for exploring an unknown building, sticking to left turns at every junction, building a map of the facility in my head. I notice that is fucking warm in here. Far fucking warmer than it should be. Up ahead, there is a glow, as though from a fire. I turn to look at Kurt.

14:34 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: Thank the gods, the officer has realised the sergeant with ten years service and four tours of duty under his belt knows what he's talking about. "Yes sir... We understand. We'll be out of the building. I'm with Mason, you get your guy out."

He changed channel. "George, you're still doing what you're doing as long as it doesn't take more than five minutes. I want you outside in five minutes, but you stick to the fucking shadows mate."

Then... THEN I turn to the American and look at him.

Survival instinct is inbuilt, I know that, some people have it and some don't, this guy has it, and there is a chance that if the guys had just been assaulting a building, he'd turn his back and defect to them... but if they were looking to kill him.. and right now he looked scared... so they probably did. Then he just cares about getting out alive.

It's a hard choice, but ultimately it's the right one. "Uncuff him. I believe him."

14:34 Kurt_Davids: Kurt smiled, "Looks like that's where the Diesel Generator went up. Now.. if I was a group of highly trained people in a building with a burning generator... I'd be trying to put a fire out."

I go into my best and pull the thermite out. "Did you know Thermite burns underwater, doesn't create an explosion AND reaches a temperature of 2500 degrees."

Lesson over I held it in my hand as I walked down the corridor, getting closer to the fire and I put the cigarette to the trigger and lit it before looking at Jordan. "I put one of these in my Lieutenant's car.... he smelt lovely afterwards... tosser shouldn't have thought he could sleep with my girlfriend."

And then the grenade gets tossed into the generator room which explodes into a white hot ball of flame.

14:59 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I look over at Mark as he considers Matt's offer. Then the orders come through. I glance once at Mark, but don't question his directive. It's pretty clear that whoever is here doesn't want Matt to talk. Easiest way to achieve that is to kill the sniveling git. Hence, enemy of your enemy is our friend. Not that I want a friend like him.

I kneel behind Matt and uncuff him. "But what use is he going to be, Sarge? He can't walk. We could use him as bait maybe..."

Suddenly, another explosion rocks the facility. I turn to Mark, "FUCK! That came from inside, not outside."

14:10 Lieutenant_Peter_Edwards: The Lieutenant was focused on fighting the fire, and never saw the thermite grenade. Adam did, and he started to open his mouth to yell, but he never got a chance. There was a blinding white flash, and then the facility no longer had a medic or an officer.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: After the brilliant flash lights up the generator room, I rolled my eyes at Kurt, "No big man, I didn't fecking know that. Cause see, I'm not fecking special forces like you. I'm self taught, as you might say, in how to kill them."

I chuckle, "Your Lieutenant huh? I always wondered what you'd done to get booted."

I motion for Kurt to stay back, guard our rear and I slice forward, poking my head into the generator room. I see two badly charred corpses. But that's not what really worries me. What really worries me are the two big fucking tanks of fuel in the other room. HOLY SHIT! The pain on those tanks was starting to bubble. HOLY SHIT! I turn back, running, "We are getting the FUCK out of here NOW! The generator fuel, it's gonna blow, and I'm not waiting around to find out when. If these bastards know about it, which I'm sure they do, they ain't sticking around either. Move fast, but look sharp."

15:13 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "I have a problem with allowing anyone to shoot a tied up prisoner. Unless I'm the one doing it." I take out a glock and pass it to Matt. "You even point this near me or Mason and the other one will shoot you in the head. Clear, Prick?"

Matt took the gun and cocked it expertly and for a second considered it, but then nodded. "Yeah.. got ya."

He slowly got to his feet and leant against the wall. "Your prison is fucking shite anyway, it's got fucking holes all over it."

I ignored his yammering. "Lieutenant..." I said into my radio. "Edwards?" but only static came back. "Fucking hell."

"I'm guessing that was the generator room going up, but... that felt more like an explosion... not just a fire out of control." I swear loudly as I look down the corridor, there were patches of light down there from fires it seems.

He looked at his watch. "Five minutes max he said." I look at the watch go back on the radio. "George.... bigger problem now, get to the canteen quietly, we need to get out of here in a hurry."

I look at Sam. "You take the American, he can fucking walk on one leg, then we head straight down and out of here before that blows, hopefully keeping the fuckers inside this building."

14:34 Kurt_Davids: Kurt looked at the room. "I know explosives," looking at it. "This is seven to eight minutes away from being enough heat to combust the tanks of fuel." I look at Jordan. "We go back the way we came, stick down this corridor and shoot the fuckers as they run out like rats from a cage."

"We need some fucking proof of the snitches' death, aye?"

15:50 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I take out my Glock, removing the safety and nailing Matt with a hard stare. A part of me almost wishes he would start to make a threatening move so I can have the pleasure of putting a bullet in his head.

I feel that white hot rage boil up again. The Lieutenant's not responding. He and Adam... that explosion.

I keep the American covered, nodding at Mark. I think to myself, hurry the fuck up George.

14:34 Sergeant_George_Richardson: George is buried deep in wiring the batteries together. Shouldn't take much longer, when another explosion rocks the facility. He growls at the interruption. Then, his channel activates, and once more he gets new orders.

He acknowledges the orders, then curses to himself. He was so close. He heads out rapidly now, taking a deep breath, treating this journey as though he were in unfriendly territory, which no doubt it now was.

He adjusts his assault rifle slung over his shoulder, where it is resting against his tactical vest, he's keeping the light off realizing it's a dead giveaway to the invaders. But after he stumbles over a pile of rubble that shouldn't be there he curses softly. He's going to have to risk it, or he'll break his fucking neck in the dark. Moving faster now, he approaches the intersection with the main corridor leading to the exit. Speed is more important now than stealth. The canteen is not far beyond that.

Suddenly, he is violently smashed forward onto his front as a bullet slams into his back. Gasping, he crawls forward, around the corner, but another bullet slams into his hamstring, ripping through the muscle. He curses into his radio, "Under fire... intersection ... with the main corridor... will try to hold them off..."

He manages to get himself hauled around the corner, his leg burning with savage pain. He ignores it. No time for it. All that matters now is the fight. He fires a burst of his assault rifle around the corner. He peeks out around the corner to catch whatever the torch of his assault rifle might be illuminating, but nothing except two open doorways. No doubt they are taking cover there.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I nod at Kurt, "His dog tags for the reward. And yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking big man."

I head down with Kurt, and just as we retrace our steps, turning down the corridoor that intersects the main hall leading out, we catch sight of a light ahead of us. I motion towards two empty doors, telling Kurt to cover there.

I unload my assault rifle and fire two bursts at the well-illuminated SAS Trooper. He goes down from my first, and gets blooded from the second burst. Well fuck. A quick kill would have been much better. We don't have time for this. I radio softly as the bastard fires back, "Kurt, how many grenades you got left? We can't take time for a fecking gun battle just now. I'm all out."

16:11 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I listen to George and take my assault rifle off the shoulder and look at Sam. "Bring him. George needs help, and I'm fed up with just listening in as things are blowing up around me."

I take one of the bombs that we'd made and stick it in a pouch and pulling my assault rifle out I run off down the corridor. "George I'm coming in for you, mate. From the canteen. Don't shoot that way." Keeping my torch low I head off.

I've really had enough of this today. I'm sick of my friends being killed and doing basically nothing. I run down the corridor and turn left on to the main corridor and hear George returning fire and the glint off his torch. I turn my light off and edge around down the corridor towards him.

14:34 Kurt_Davids: Kurt is a lot more gung-ho than Jordan about this, especially after everyone being killed off. "You're saying these know a fuck tonne of how to kill you... all I can see is how they know a fuck tonne of ways to die." I say into the radio. "Yeah I've got a couple of grenades. I'll toss one in if you give covering fire for a second."

16:28 Corporal_Sam_Mason: Finally, we get to fucking do something other than sit around and listen to our comrades get killed. I grab the other bomb, and attach it to my belt. Then, I get my shoulder under Matt's propping him, up and take the both of us as fast as we can after Mark. I snarl at Matt, "Hurry up."

I hope like hell he comes in handy, maybe as a bullet shield if nothing else. What a fucking nightmare this whole mission is turning into.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I listen to Kurt over the radio, replying, "Tell me that again big man, AFTER we've nailed that fucker Matt and gotten out of here alive. Believe me, these bastards aren't all dead yet. We've gotten lucky. Don't fool yourself." I peek out, my nightvision lense giving me the lay of the land. "I've got you covered." I drop to one knee and stick my muzzle around the corner, laying down several bursts of my AK-74 to keep that wounded SAS trooper pinned down.

14:34 Sergeant_George_Richardson: George hears the reply from Sergeant Mark. Grimly, he assesses his options. He only has to hold out for less than a minute. They would make these bastards pay, and pay hard.

He was about to keep them busy, fire his assault rifle again, when suddenly a blast of fire pinned him down, preventing him from firing. FUCK. They were up to something. He decided to pull back, backing himself away from the corner. Never be where the enemy expects you to be.

16:58 Kurt_Davids: I hold the grenade in my hand while I hear Jordan's gun firing, I think he's being way overcautious on this. Last time in Russia, the guy had the element of surprise, this time they had the same thing.

The angle of throwing was a bit awkward from this door, but he was a good pitcher and threw it in a neat arc and into the room.

16:58 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I round the corner to see a hand retreating into one of the rooms and something goes flying in.. I grab the radio quickly. "GRENADE" I call into it, I don't know if George can get away, but any notice may help.

I spray a hail of bullets down the corridor to stop any follow up.

16:58 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: "Well if your fucking officer hadn't shot me, I'd have been fucking more useful wouldn't I, kid." Then there is more gunfire ahead and the sound of a grenade going off.

"Another one bites the dust? Maybe it's your mate that didn't like my fucking knee." Matt grumbles as he limps along, but his gun is held out in front of himself, straight and ready for anything.

08:15 Corporal_Sam_Mason: Suddenly, I feel the walls shake again as another fucking grenade goes off, more dust sifting from the ceiling, I stumble against the wall as I'm trying to help our prisoner along.

It was close, around the corner I judge, in the main corridoor. I feel a wave of frustration and rage boil up in me, the need to be there, with Mark and George so overwhelming that I simply squat down, and throw Matt over my shoulder in fireman's carry. Adrenaline sings in my veins as I hurtle around the corner, catching the flashes of Mark's assault rifle.

Suddenly, I feel my guts clench. There, on the other side of the corridoor, the pathway out is blocked by a huge pile of rubble. That last grenade caved in part of the ceiling. In front of the pile of rubble, near the intersection, lay Sgt. Richardson. Snarling, I pour on more speed, about 10 meters behind Mark.

14:34 Sergeant_George_Richardson: George scrambles back from the intersection with the corridor, as across the way, he sees Mark angling in, running full bore. The radio booms to life with one single fucking dreaded word. That split second warning made all the difference. The grenade flies overhead at a steep, curving angle, it bounces off the opposite wall and comes angling right in towards Greg's hiding place.

With razor sharp instincts and a ice cold calm, George swings his assault rifle like a club, sending the deadly fragmentation grenade sailing further down the corridoor as he ducks and covers his head with his arms, using his assault rifle to the shield the back of his neck, presenting his armored back to the retreating grenade. The grenade detonates against the ceiling of the corridoor, and shrapnel expands out in a deadly cloud, along with a concussive shockwave.

The weakened ceiling, already stressed by the C4 used to blow the doors out, gives in, dumping huge chunks and shards of concrete, followed by a rain of rock and dirt, blocking the path out of the facility!

The shrapnel tears into the back of Sergeant George Richardson, most of embedding itself in his flak vest, some tearing into his assault rifle, and more riddling his arms and legs. The concussive shockwave then knocks the SAS trooper out cold. He lies there, bleeding out from multiple savage lacerations to the back of his legs and arms.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I curse as the grenade goes off, the detonation followed shortly by the clear sound of a ceiling collapsing, followed by assault weapon fire.

FUCK FUCK FUCK. That was the fecking way out!!! We just caved the fucking only exit out of here under rubble. I think quick. Kurt is on the other side of the corridor from me. The room he is in looks like it abuts up to the corridor leading out of here. If the room is big enough... maybe we can blow a hole in the wall past the collapse and make a new exit. I want that money... FUCK yes... but if I'm not alive to spend it, what's the fecking point?

I wait for a pause in the hail of bullets being pumped down the corridor by some trigger happy SAS trooper stops for a moment, probably he's got to reload his magazine. Then, I charge across the corridoor in a savage burst of speed, snarling at Kurt, "You heard that fucking cave-in right? You had better make us another fecking exit at the far end of the room." I scan the room, it's big, and long. Some kind of conference room, with tables. Perfect. "I reckon down there, at that end, will take us past the cave in. Blow the wall out without bringing the roof down, and I'll hold off these SAS feckers. Sure as shit, they are gonna try something. We are all fecking trapped in here."

I seize one of the tables, to make a barricade facing the door, then take cover behind it. "I've got your back Kurt, make us that fecking exit, now!"

10:21 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: To his credit that was an amazing display of cricketing by George, which I admire for a brief second before the rumbling of the ceiling knocks me over with its concussive force and the dust washes over me lingering in the atmosphere.

I cough as I get up and drag George back into the room I was in. I saw the figure moving into the conference room. That was the person firing and then there was the hand with the grenade. At least two. But no more. Maybe others on the outside of the rubble.

I check George’s pulse and he’s still alive. Thank god for that. But there was now no way to get to the base exit. That was the more immediate problem. This place fucking needed more fucking access ducts.

I take a syringe off George’s vest and inject him with some painkillers which should ease things when he wakes up.

I go to my radio. “Mason. Two XRays at least in the conference room. One with grenades. One with an automatic weapon.”

I stand up and walk to the wall by my door shouting into the conference room. “Looks like you’re trapped in here as well, whoever the fuck you are. Put your weapons down and come out.”

I didn’t care what they did. I wanted to see if I could gauge how many there are. They’re dead no matter what after what they’ve done.

10:21 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: “Fuck you run like a fucking girl,” said Matt as they came to a stop near the rubble. “Now would be a good time to figure a second way out of this SAW movie level prison.”

I look at the guy. “Your friends are mostly all fucking dead. These people aren’t messing around. If they weren’t messing around at the start. They’re not messing around now. It’s you or them. Now I don’t care if you die. But you’re my fucking way out of here Brit.”

10:21 Kurt_Davids: I turn sharply to Jordan. “We’re in this together. You have the plan. But you don’t fucking order me around like one of your fucking Paddy lackies in the IRA. Right.” But having got that off his chest the Canadian headed over to the wall. “We used all the C4 on the internal wall that we had to get through. This will take a few minutes. And can’t risk this ceiling coming down. He started to take his last three grenades and started wiring them all up on the wall.

“Because it’ll be fucking bad if we get this wrong, boss.”

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I turn around to look at Kurt, as he snaps back at me for ordering him around. "I'm trying to keep us both ALIVE you gobshite. If you got a better fecking plan, then you give me the fecking orders!!" I growl in a low voice, not meant to carry outside the room.

Then, suddenly, right outside the door, I hear a voice. I voice I know all to fecking, fucking well. You could have knocked me over with a goddamned feather. Mark fucking big man Christopher is here... right now... on the other fucking side of that fucking door... The man who goddamned near ruined me back in Siberia.

I'm seeing red, actually seeing red as the sudden surge of hate and rage boils inside me like a goddamn hurricane. All I want is to see the mother fucker dead. Then, all the rage freezes solid, like a massive block of ice, and my mind starts kicking into overdrive.

That shouted voice was coming from near the intersection, not far from the collapsed rubble. I strained my ears, listening, thought maybe I heard other sounds of movement, then clearly, I heard another voice, coming down from the same area. There was more than one of them.

We didn't bring enough fecking grenades or C-4, that was for fecking sure. I racked my brain. I stopped for a moment, realizing suddenly that as soon as I heard Mark's voice, that I wanted him dead more than I wanted that reward. Wanted him dead so fucking bad that I would risk my life to fuck him over.

Only thing that kept me from running out there now all guns blazing was Kurt. Wasn't gonna screw him over... wasn't right. We were fucking in this together. Then, I get an idea. Silently, I make my way back to Kurt, and grab a double handful of his shotgun shells off him. I whisper, "Got a plan, don't worry."

Working quickly, taking a second or so for each shell, I snip the end off, and gather together the powder into small pouch fashioned from some medical gauze. I soak the mixture with some rubbing alcohol, and coat it in concrete grit so it looks like a bit of rubble. I have some spare blasting caps for the C-4, remote detonated. I shove one into the little goody bag.

Then, I poke my head around the corner. Things are quiet, momentarily. But not for long.

We all know time is running out. Kurt should be done any minute now. I toss the small innocuous ball of alcohol soaked gunpowder and throw it silently into the corridor, just this side of the intersection. In the dark, there's now way those fuckers will expect it. I can see it just fine though, through my nighvision goggles. Even if they use their torches, it will look like a bit of rubble. If those fuckers come this way, then I'll detonate it.

It won't be strong enough to kill a man, but should knock him off his feet and stun him long enough for me to get the drop on him. And now... for a little bait. I call out finally, in my loud Northern Irish accent, "Well if it's not me ol' mate, the SAS badass hisself, Mark Christopher. If I'd a known you were here mate, I'd have made sure we had a fucking chance to share a pint and get caught up. Hope you enjoy your stay in hell when this whole fucking place goes sky high. You see, I don't plan to stick around that long. You, and that fucking American gobshite you got with you, can all die when this place goes sky high."

My ears are straining, for the faintest sound, and I've got my nightvision eyepiece and my good eye peeled, watching that intersection like a fucking hawk, my finger over the detonator for the cap.

11:52 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I reach the intersection, carrying the massive weight of this fucking useless American who thinks he's funny, crossing the intersection quickly as we pass the room Mark has taken George into .

I drop his heavy sarcastic ass down, sweating slightly from my sprint with him. I catch Mark's message over the radio. Two of them, in the conference room.

I turn suddenly, and put my Glock up against Matt's head, whispering fiercly, quiet, and low, my voice pitched and directed for Matt's ears only, "You mother fucking piece of shit. Keep your goddamn mouth shut. Just around the corner, we got two bastards who want you dead. But if you give away our position with your fucking chatter, I'll do their job for them."

I hear Mark shout out, trying to gauge the enemy's reaction. Time is ticking. Any second could be our last. Any delay could sink us. There is no response. Then, I look up, examining the wall near the ceiling. I see a vent.

I shut my eyes, thinking of when I was in that conference room just a few hours ago, getting briefed. I replayed the memory, and saw in my mind's eye the wall in the corner... and up top, near the ceiling a vent. I open my eyes, look at the corner again.

That vent ... was a duct that connected the hall and the room for ventilation. I could climb through that. I thought furiously, I radioed Mark, speaking in a low fierce voice, "Sergeant, I'm sitting with the prisoner beneath an air vent that connects the conference room to the hall. If we do this right, we can take them. I can hit them from the vent while they are focused on a frontal assault. We don't have time, we have to find a way out. If we drop them fast, and if they still have explosives, we might be able to blow a hole back into the corridor past the cave in."

I break the connection, letting Mark mull over my proposal. Then, just in case he was on board with this plan, I turn to Matt, dragging his ass across to the wall beneath the vent. I whisper fierce, "Stay fucking still, sit here on your butt, you are finally going to be useful." I climb up onto his shoulders, to get the height I need. I reach down to my tactical belt, grateful that I always carry a small toolkit with me, standard. I take out a small screw driver and begin unscrewing the grill on this side, quiet as a mouse. I can bash in the grill on the other side, leading into the room with the butt of my assault rifle, drop down, and flank them. Risky as hell, but hey, Sarge wanted to send me climbing through vents, so why the fuck not?

13:37 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I snarl out of the door. "Shouldn't you be dead. I'm obviously slipping you Irish fucking prick." I kick the wall in annoyance. "Well you're fucking trapped in here right now with me aren't you."

I take the makeshift bomb off my belt and hoist it in my hand.

"I could give you the American, but you know what, now I know you want him, that's not going to happen. I'd rather see you fucking dead here with me than get your hands on him."

I go to my radio and just say, "Go" to Mason before talking back to Jordan. "And this time I'll do it properly, serves me right for rushing. I hope all that nice IRA money you had stashed in your office is going to some nice Russian widows and orphans now. Pretty darn sure it is."

"Bet you're fucking skint now though aren't you... guessing your help isn't as good as last time with the fact that you probably had to take a loan out for your gun."

I keep talking, waiting for Sam to move closer to being in position.

"Oh no it's not second hand is it... Oh I'm so fucking sorry you prick... How's your eye, healed up has it... should have fucking pressed harder, I could have had it on my shelf when I needed something to take a fucking piss on."

I've had it with this guy now, IRA killing MORE of my friends and colleagues. I hoist the canister up in my hand and head out into the corridor and throw it over hand right at the voice, hitting the makeshift baracade and starting the chain reaction inside... it was only a couple of seconds left to go before it went up.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I listen to the SAS bad ass mouth off a string of insults. And some of them fucking hit home. Hard. Threatening to let that primal rage take control. That's where my fucking rainy day fund went? He set that up? He fucking robbed me as well as ruined my company of mercs?

The only thing that keeps me from losing my head to rage is knowing that the fucker is walking right into my trap. As I'm covering behind the barricade, I see him step out around the corner. He's holding ... what looks like a thermos in his hands? What the fuck?

But I stay focused.... closer .... closer.... let him step over it ... and he does... then, I hit the button on the detonator, just a millisecond after he flings that thermos at me. Some kind of homemade bomb? FUCK... I duck down behind the barricade just as the corridor lights up with sudden flash of light and a loud BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMM as the improvised bomb goes off right behind Mark, the blast wave smashing into him from behind with savage force.

The thermos smashes against the barricade, making a loud CRACK and CRUNCHHING noise as the glass lining inside it shatters, but nothing happens. It must be a dud. Not gonna waste my opportunity, I leap over the barricade, starting to charge towards Mark, reading to unload my assault rifle into his fucking skull, when another explosion slams into me from behind. WHAT THE FUCK????

I'm thrown forward onto my hands and knees, and I feel several savage knifing shards of pain on the back of my hamstrings and calves. It feels like fucking shrapnel. And something else... there is a heat, and a burning sensation, coming from the back of my legs and the back of my flak vest, I can see the glow... whatever the fuck was in that thermos... it's stuck to my battle gear, and it's still fucking burning. I look over my shoulder, and the walls and floor of the corridor is coated in runners of flame. The mother fucker made some kind of improvised napalm bomb. HOLY SHIT...

I scream in rage, scrambling forward, closer to Mark, rolling onto my back to try and keep the flames from spreading. Starve them of oxygen. I can feel my legs aching, perforated, bleeding. Holy shit. I'm going to fucking kill this bastard. FUCKING KILL him... I look over at him, and have the satisfaction of seeing that he's not in any better shape.

11:52 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I get the go ahead from the Sarge, and I'm already on it. I quietly pass down the grating to my human ladder, then grab the edge of the now open vent. It's just barely big enough for me and my battle gear, and no more. There is maybe a foot to the vent's exit. This is gonna be fucking tight. I growl.

I grunt, and gather myself for a supreme effort, with one hand, I muscle myself up to the opening, my bicep surging and rippling as my combat-trained muscled arm pulls me up, and my gear, one handed. I'm exerting every ounce of my effort to pull this off, but there is no way I'm not gonna make it.

With my other hand I grab my assault rifle, and turn it butt first, then I wait for it, I hear an explosion.... good, that would be the thermos bomb... then, I hear a second explosion a second or two later. WHAT? Two explosions... WHAT THE FUCK?? No time... have to strike... I bash in the vent with a huge swing of my arm, having to pull my rifle off my chest to get room to swing it. The vent clatters open into the conference room, I throw my assault rifle in, and HEAVE with all my might, literally throwing myself through the vent hole.

Can't give them anytime to anticipate me, have to be fast. I dive down towards the floor, tucking and rolling on instinct and training, no time to grab my assault rifle as I assess the situation, seeing only one other man in here, working on something in the corner.

I'm hoping like fuck he's too caught off guard, too focused on what's he doing to anticipate me, as I reach down to my tactical belt, and draw my Glock 19, firing off a rapid shot, not taking time to aim properly. This is all about speed.

15:50 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: The blast knocks me straight into the rubble from the ceiling, slamming my face and army into it ripping my shirt to pieces and causing blood to run down my arm. Fuck what the fuck was that. My ears were ringing as I collapse onto the rubble unable to stand properly. My balance completely shot for a few seconds.

I see the ira man got at least part of the napalm bomb but was putting it out. Fucker needed to die. I lunge forward aiming a kick right at his head but miss due to the injury throwing my balance off and a collapse again next to him as he puts the flames out but his gear is ripped up. I grab him and slam my fist into his face in pure anger.

But then three bullets impact my body armour slamming me to the floor. Then one slams into my shoulder sprays blood everywhere.

10:21 Kurt_Davids: The bullet nearly hits kurt and slams into the wall before he has time to react. But that’s his one free shot gone as I turn and bring my shotgun around and it’s pointing straight at the guys face and I fire expecting his face to be blown off across the room but the gun just clicks. Jordan has used the shells for his bomb.

“Fucker,” Kurt grunts in Canadian and instead brings the gun down onto the shoulder to try and disarm him. He’d have to finish this the old fashioned way.

15:50 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: Matt pulled his gun up and decided that the chances were better with Jordan. He’d known of him from Ivan. And he needed money. So matt could make a deal and he turned and fired five bullets down the corridor. Four of them hitting Mark. Before the gun started clicking and he disposed of it.

“Fucking kill the bastard, Byrne,” he shouts.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I'm grunting in agony, forcing myself to stay on my back, despite the danger I'm in, cause I'm on FUCKING fire.

I can feel the heat start to decrease, but the fucking pain in my sliced up legs isn't going fecking anywhere. I'm raging to smash this bastard Mark, but I ain't fucking stupid.

He comes at me with a kick, but misses, blood from his arm flinging on me as he stumbles, his balance all fucked from my little gift.

But I learned back in Siberia not to underestimate Mark Christopher, and he doesn't fucking dissapoint, recovering even as I start to move, reaching over to grab my flak vest and smash his fist into my face.

I grunt, seeing stars as I'm knocked back to the rock surface. Dazed, fighting to roll over, but then, suddenly a gunshot rings out, five shots one after the other.

What the fuck? Who the fuck is shooting at us? I look up, and over to see the goddamn American we were sent to kill firing at Mark. They gave him a fucking gun??? The fecking idiots... what the fuck? Are they fucking trying to do my job for me? I dismiss him for the moment, I have bigger fish to fry.

I growl, rolling over, and sink my fingers into the bullet wound on Mark's shoulder, rage and hate fueling me, causing me to forget the agony knifing through my legs and jaw.

I scramble up on top of him, trying to get up on my knees, but my legs are screaming in protest, so I settle for letting my chest, and all my gear rest on top of his, then I lift my up right elbow, as my left hand tears and digs at that bullet wound in his shoulder, then I bring my cocked elbow down like a fucking battering ram into Mark's hated face with a savage CRUNCHHH.

16:55 Corporal_Sam_Mason: My bullet goes wide, FUCK. Then, the bastard turns and comes at me with a fucking SHOTGUN. Holy hell. I start to throw myself out of the way, but the blast never comes... FUCK..

I readjust, raising my Glock to blow his fucking brains out, but instead he swings it like a club, cracking it against my shoulder, sending sharp savage pain knifing through my arm, forcing me to drop my Glock, my arm stunned and spasming from the savage blow. The fucker is fast.

I grunt, and shove myself forward launching myself at him, going for the knees, drawing my combat knife in my left hand as I charge at him, my right shoulder screaming in pain, my arm numbed. The way to fight a big man is to get him off his fucking feet, then go for the fucking throat.

17:47 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I snarl in pain as the blood starts spurting from the wound in my shoulder, I can see down the corridor where it's come from. I will fucking kill him if I survive this.

I'm barely thinking this as I bring my other hand around to grab the Irishman's wrist before his entire weight slams into my face breaking my nose, and slamming my head back into the rubble causing a wound on my head to start bleeding profusely.

But I could smell charred flesh and I don't think it's mine, he slams his elbow into me again, I can feel his weight across my body, but he's not in the optimal position, he's not stupid, he's a good fighter, there has to be a reason.

I need to get into a better position than this very quickly, and I have to let him hit me again, and fuck is he in a better position for that right now, when his fist comes down for a third time, I use the change in how he's lying on me to bring my legs up, not to try and get him off me, because there is a chance he's in a too good position for that, but just to lock around his legs and press down HARD... I'm hoping the charring I can smell is from the napalm and that will hurt.

10:21 Kurt_Davids: I smile at the smaller guy as he charges, I know these moves, I was taught them as well, as he charges I instead step forward, and slam my arm into him, grabbing the knife arm and using that as leverage , drop slightly, hip tossing him over and only his back, his arm still in my hand, being twisted in the opposite direction. I wanted the knife from him. I'll take pleasure cutting his face off him with his own knife.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: My elbow smashes down into his ugly ass face fucking hard, I feel his give way with a satisfying crunch. In a rage, I smash my fist down again, then again. Each time, I heave up, using my back, my legs are in too much fucking pain to lift me. They are burnt and lacerated pretty bad. But I got no time to worry about that now.

But as I raise my fist up to smash down a fourth time, suddenly Mark's legs wrap around mine, driving the shrapnel deeper into my burned calves and hamstrings with the pressure. I freeze in my tracks letting out a fucking ungodly howl of agony.

I'm nearly paralyzed with the pain, seeing spots in front of my eyes. I dig deep, struggling to get control of this white hot agony with every fecking ounce of will and discipline I can summon. I will NOT FECKING LET THIS PIECE OF SHITE GET THE BETTER OF ME AGAIN. I reach out with my right elbow and through screams of agony, I seize his left wrist, planting my hand down on it, pinning his fecking arm to the ground.

I pull my left hand out of his shoulder wound, it's already ripped to fucking shreds, and make my bloody hand into a fist, gritting my teeth, I jam it up against his neck, screaming in pain as I pressure it into his caratid artery, looking to cut the blood off to his fecking brain and knock him out cold.

19:03 Corporal_Sam_Mason: This big burly bastard is goddamn fast as fuck. He uses my own tackle against me. There is no FUCKING way in hell a man this big should be able to move that fast, but he fucking does all the same.

He tosses me over his hip, holding on to my arm as he does. I slam savagely into the floor of the conference room, unable to land properly with him still gripping my hand. I grunt as he twists it my arm, sending pain knifing down my left arm. Suddenly there is a sharp CRACCK.. As the big man fucking breaks my arm. I stifle a scream, but surf the pain. My right is still stunned from the blow to my shoulder, and suddenly my fingers pop open dropping my knife.

FUCK. Not out of weapons yet though. As he bends over me,breaking my arm, I focus hard tense my abs, suddenly crunching from my core, coiling my legs up, lifting my torso partially up off the ground with core strength rolling up onto my shoulders, then kicking my combat boot, brutally, right into his fucking jaw in a bid to make him release my left arm before it breaks.

19:47 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I growl in pain as he rips more away from my arm like a fucking zombie I’m not going to last long. I obviously really pissed him off last time. But I dug my legs in. That was getting to him even as he is dripping in my blood, I can tell his legs are his weak spot.

But my back is, quite literally, to the wall and he’s got the upper hand, mostly due to the guy I gave a gun to. That was a mistake that could be really costly. But it was a mistake I’d own.

I lift my head up trying to lessen the pressure on my neck and exactly what I did to his underling Charles last time I quickly move my head forward, my arm burning with pain and gushing blood and I bite down onto his nose yanking my head back pulling cartridge away.

10:21 Kurt_Davids: Kurt grabbed the knife as it was dropped with his hand and he twisted it brutally to break it but that move which he considered tactically important made him too slow to avoid the up kick from the soldier and he slammed back against the wall, the ceiling dropping some more concrete down on both of them. Kurt slammed back to the floor momentarily dazed from the kick.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: I scream out, "JUST FUCKING DIE YOU CUNT!" as I try put him to sleep, but he doesn't go out right away. Instead the bastard sinks his teeth into my nose and rips part of my fucking nose off, blood splashing down from the new wound.

My legs are fucking on fire, as he's got his legs wrapped around them, pressuring the burnt and lacerated flesh intensifying my agony tenfold, and now this. As pain spikes through my brain, something snaps in me, and I pull my fist back from his neck, screaming, my hand covers his mouth and nose to smother him, as I pull his head to the side exposing his ear, reaching down and latching onto the cartilage of his ear lobe with my teeth and ripping, like a wild insane fucking beast, totally consumed by pain and my hate-fueled rage.

08:03 Corporal_Sam_Mason: My upkicked boot crunches into the big man's jaw, knocking him off me, making him drop my arm. It's fucking aching, the bastard broke it. Now both my fucking arms are not at 100%, my right shoulder is throbbing from being slammed by his shotgun, and now my left arm was nearly twisted off, pain lancing through it, but I've got to fucking get up.

His big body smashes into the wall, and the shock dislodges some weakened pebbles and concrete dust from the ceiling. I have to fucking get up, my mind is on fire. I heard gunshots outside in the corridor, and this fight has to finish, fast.

I stagger up to my feet, lift my boot, and aim a kick at the big man's head. He looks fucking dazed. Let's see if I can't double down on that and knock him the fuck out.

09:51 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: Matt by now had hobbled over to them. “We got him. This fucking place is coming down Jordan. We need to get out. Now. You’ve got him. No fucking time to eat him as well.” As he looks at Mark’s unmoving form.

10:21 Kurt_Davids: The dust came down and covered Kurt and he coughed slightly as the SAS guy got up quickly. The fucker was fast even with what had to be a broken arm. But he was trying a kick again. This guy liked his kicks. Fine. Everyone has a fighting style. The Canadian though had one as well and that was to systemically remove the limbs from the fight. He saw the kick coming and moved just enough so the boot slammed into the wall next to him. He grabbed the boot and using his legs pushed forward off the wall bending the leg forward and extending it before twisting it and falling forward so the big Canadian fell down on top of the SAS trooper and they both hit the floor.

That’d stop any more kicks and his arms were weak now he smiled at the good looking guy getting a hard on being this close to someone so handsome and someone he was about to kill. He slammed his head down onto the soldiers face in a massive headbutt. He was much more overconfident than Jordan was. But no less skilled.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: Suddenly, I hear Matt's voice. I release Mark's ear, and look up. My hand is totally covering Mark's face, the fucker couldn't breathe and passed out.

I look up, the rage starting to fade as I realize Mark isn't moving anymore and that fucking American cunt is actually speaking sense. Mark's face is covered in blood. I heave up, his legs finally releasing their pressure, I scream in agony, the burnt, bleeding flesh searing. I roll off of Mark, beside him, looking up at Matt. I didn't come here to fucking rescue that American gobshite, came to kill him, but we can sort that out later. He might be useful for a bit longer.

I snarled, "Get the fuck in there and help Kurt." The sounds of fighting were apparent. I turn to look at Mark's bloodied form, feeling my nose. I want a little something to remember him by. I reach over, and fish around his neck, seizing his dog tags, ripping them off his bloodied head. "Just a little trophy for me fucker."

I reach down and take my Glock off my tactical belt, realizing I was so fucking berserk while I was fighting Mark that I hadn't even thought of simply reaching down and blowing his brains out while I was on top of him. But why not now? I removed the safety, and pointed the barrel at Mark's head. But then, I noticed how rapidly he was bleeding out from that shoulder wound that I had torn open in the fight.

He was going to die soon anyways, why waste the bullet? Besides... he might wake up one more time when the ceiling caved in on him. I wished him a slow, long painful death, then crawled over to the door of the conference room, and grabbing the door frame, I hauled myself up, letting out a scream of agony as my legs exploded in pain. I entered the room, leaving Mark for dead.

10:42 Corporal_Sam_Mason: Again, the big man is fast, far too fast for a man his size.

I kick my boot at him, but despite looking dazed, he dodged my kick, and my boot slammed into the wall. I gritted my teeth, the jolt making my arm vibrate with pain.

I go to pull my boot back, but he's snatched it like a fucking viper. There is a flurry of movement as the big man pushes me backwards, and twists my boot, followed by a sickening crack, and an ungodly surge of agony ripping through my leg as I slam down hard to the ground, that big man smashing down on top of me, his full weight and the weight of his gear driving the wind out of my lungs, stunning me. My head was swimming in pain, but I focused hard, just in time to eat a massive headbutt that smashed my head back to the concrete, causing an explosion of blood from my now busted nose, and giving me tunnel vision.

Almost without thought, despite the monumental levels of pain slamming into my brain, I reached my right arm up, this is pure survival instinct kicking in at a primal level, I latch onto his face with my hand, heave to the side with my good ankle to throw him off me as I do my level best gouge his left eye out with my thumb.

10:21 Kurt_Davids: The bastard slams his hand into my face, and I feel a blinding pain out of my eye and I am thrown off him to the side, moving from offense to defence, trying to get him away from my face before he blinds me, the fucker is fast and brutal, a trait I'd normally admire if it wasn't for him being in the SAS and currently my target I'm here for.

"Get off me you fucking cunt," Kurt snarls as he can't see, but he can feel the SAS man getting the upper hand, moving on top of him...

10:21 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: Get in the room he says, with fucking burning barricades... fuck... luckily my arms were working even if one leg wasn't, and I grab the top of the door frame and use it to jump over the burning table. Landing neatly on the other side on my good leg, and taking a second to right myself and pick up the assault rifle dropped by the soldier earlier.

I could shoot him.. but there were more and better things to do. I walk over slowly to where he's fighting some other big guy , who I didn't give a crap about. I'd seen the Corporal smile when the sergeant had given me a kicking earlier, he'd enjoyed it, so I will enjoy this.

Matt walked over and slammed the butt of the assault rifle straight into the nuts of the SAS corporal, and then did it again, and then a third time, and then a fourth time, in quick and rapid succession. "LAUGH AT ME WILL YOU, YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKING PRICK"

11:26 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I sink my thumb into his fucking eye, and he falls off beside me, I twist as he falls levering over using my good ankle, I'll fucking drive his eyeball right into his brain, my primal fight instincts are firing on all cylinders.

But then, just before I can roll myself on top of him, Matt Lewis, that fucking piece of American shit is on top off me, wielding my own goddamn assault rifle, smashing the butt of the rifle in my nuts, four times. I'm wearing a cup of course, but the fucking cup ain't designed to handle concentrated brute force. It shatters, and the final few blows drive deep into my gonads. I fall back, letting out a strangled scream as my nuts turn to liquid fire and my guts churn into hot, burning naseua.

I vomit off to side, unable to control the nausea, but I'm not out of this fucking fight yet. My right hand shakes violently as my body heaves in the throws of nut-smashing agony, reaching behind me, up over my head, fumbling for my back holstered Glock, when suddenly my head explodes in white hot agony, and I fall into blackness.

06:26 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: Avoiding the flames, I use the wall to help hold me up, as I stagger forward, every single fucking step is an exercise in agony. Every fucking step is a goddamned agony thanks to Mark fucking Christopher, may he rot in hell.

I grunt, and use my boot to push the burning barricade aside, screaming with the pain, and squeezing by just in time to catch sight of that American doing his fucking best to smash up some SAS fucker's nuts. The fecking idiot is so focused on busting his balls, he doesn't see the SAS man reach behind him, where I can see the butt of a Glock sticking out. Snarling, I brace myself, and kick out with my boot, the toe of my heavy combat boot smashing into the handsome, fierce young trooper's temple, knocking him out cold and rolling him over.

I ignore Matt for the moment, and reach down for Kurt, "Big man, you all right? We got to get the FUCK out of here now."

11:52 Kurt_Davids: Kurt slowly got to his feet, he could only see out of one eye now but nodded to Jordan as he stumbled over to the far wall and pulled the strings back to where the fight had been happening and pulled on them.

The thermite ripped through the steel beams weakening them and eventually, there was a creaking sound and the wall crumbled in on itself creating a way out.

"See boss , told you..." said Kurt his hand still over his eye.

Then there are gunshots and he falls to the floor.

11:52 Sergeant_Matt_Lewis: Matt was holding the assault rifle having shot two bursts into Kurt's back and he looked at Jordan, the rifle pointing at him. "You didn't think I'd notice how you reacted outside.. if you were here to rescue me, you'd have been a fucking tonne nicer, but you weren't. I know therefore you were here to fucking kill me."

"Car keys... now... then we're going to head outside, you're going to go one way and I'm going to take your car and get the fuck away from here, and we never see each other again."

12:07 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: FUCK. THIS FUCKER IS DEAD. I watch as the mother fucking piece of shit unloads a burst of assault gun fire into Kurt's back knocking him down. He's wearing heavy body armor thank fuck. But his armor can't be trusted to stop a second volley like that.

Jordan feels murderous rage boil up. Should have killed this fucker earlier, still he served his purpose. He took out that other SAS bastard. But now, clearly his purpose is at an end.

Jordan looks bloody murder at Matt Lewis. He walks towards Matt, moving slowly, his legs clearly giving him trouble. He reaches down for the keys to the unmarked van the pair were planning on using to escape, then he stumbles, his legs giving out, dropping on top of the knocked out SAS man's back. He groans, "FUCKkkkkkkkk." But then, he lifts up his hand holding out the keys for Matt.

But.. with his other hand, while the dumb-ass American is focused on the keys, he relieves the SAS trooper of his back holstered Glock, surreptitiously pointing it up towards Matt. He drops the keys into Matt's greedy outstretched hand, while whipping up the Glock with lighting fast reflexes, and firing a round, directly into Matt Lewis's ugly, stupid, useless fucking face.

12:17 Sergeant_Matt Lewis: The last thing Matt knew was the gun pointed up at him, his only reaction was to fire the assault rifle at Jordan, one bullet grazing the side of his neck causing a large spurt of blood to come out down his neck.

And then he did nothing else... ever.

12:07 Commander_Jordan_Byrne: That fucking cunt manages to get a shot off before he took the bullet to his face... and suddenly, Jordan feels a burning agony erupt on the side of his neck. He grunts, lifts his hands up to his neck, feeling the blood pouring out. The bastard missed the artery, but he's gonna fucking bleed out none the less. The gash was savage and it burned. Suddenly, Jordan felt so fucking tired.... He'd already lost some blood from the shrapnel and burns to the back of his legs, his nose was gushing blood, and now his neck.

He grunted, gasping out, "Kurt... fuck..." as he fell forward, "Don't forget ... the fecking yank's .... dog tags..." Then he toppled down to the floor.

12:26 Kurt_Davids: Kurt staggered to his feet throwing his body armour off, he couldn't carry it any more, especially if he was going to have to help Jordan. He picked up the SAS Troopers' tags by yanking them off his neck brutally causing a large red wound, but he didn't care, as he then went over to Matt and took his, sticking the two of them in his pocket.

He leant down and stripped Jordan's armour off his top and grabbed the keys and then hefted the man onto his shoulders. "It's okay boss... we got what we came for."

And then he walked out of the hole he'd made and was gone.

13:22 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I woke up suddenly, my head throbbing with a savage pounding that threatened to fucking split my skull. I spasmed, my body still thinking I was in a fight. Groggily, I look around, but it's dark and quiet.

Memory rushes back to me now, as my brain catches up. First thing that slams home is Mark and George, and the overriding, burning concern for them. The second thing that slams home is that I am in a facility that is due to go boom. Third thing that hits me is that I have a fucking broken right ankle and a broken left arm, and my nuts are swollen with a feeling of nausea sloshing around in my stomach. Oh, and to top it off. I have a fucking concussion from having my head nearly kicked in.

Priorities. Light. Splint my ankle so I can walk and rescue Mark and George, if they are still alive. The idea that they weren't felt like a knife twisting in my guts, so I ignored that possibility.

I feel around next to me, and feel a body, my hand searches, and I shy away from the bloody mess of the face that seems largely missing. I keep feeling, and there, my hand runs across an assault rifle. I feel for the control, and flip on the torch. I look around, there, in the corner, a hole blown in the wall. The exit... they must have made it with explosives they had left over from killing everyone.

There's light. Next, a splint. I reach out and grab a broken table leg, I remove my tactical belt, find my combat knife and cut it into strips, working rapidly with only my right hand able to do much. I could use my left hand a bit to hold things steady, but only if I whistled through the savage pain knifing through me. That big man I fought... he was fucking good. I nearly had him though at the end, if it hadn't been for that American shit bag.

I shined the light over, remembering the body... Well, that American shit bag wasn't going to be bothering anyone anymore. Nor was he going to be interrogated ever again. The taste of failure was bitter, but none of that mattered now, what mattered was survival and saving Mark and George.

I use the strips of my tactical belt to hold that table leg in place along the side of my right ankle up to my knee. Then, I haul myself up to my feet. I nearly pass out again as my ankle screams at me, but pain is to be endured, and it can take weight now. The fires from the improvised napalm grenade have all been extinguished now. I realize I never had a chance to use mine.

I was fucking lucky it didn't go off when I was being tossed around. Using one hand, I shrug myself out of my heavy battle gear, stripping down to my t-shirt. I didn't need the extra weight right now. Quickly, I hobbled out the door. What I saw nearly made me sick. Mark was laying on the floor, covered in blood.

My mind flashes back to last night.. when we sparred. To the depth of that connection we shared afterwards. I felt it, like a living thing inside me, and the idea of losing Mark... hurt bad. Grimly, I pushed that aside. No time for any of that now. Just do your job Sam. Do your fucking job. I check Mark, he has a pulse, but it's weak. I have to move him. But if he bleeds out while I'm getting him out of here, then what is the fucking point. I need some help.

I fumble at Mark's waist, and pull out his medkit. In it, there is a shot of adrenaline. I give it to myself, injecting it in my arm, counteracting my own shock and giving me the surge I need to save my brothers. Then, whistling through my teeth I work Mark out of his heavy battle kit, stripping him down to his t-shirt, I fashion a tourniquet by cutting the sleeve off his top, into strips, and wrapping it tight just above the mangled mess of his shoulder. That's all I have time for now, and the bleeding slows. Please fuck be enough. Then, I stand up, and head in to check on George, down at the end of the hall.

That's when all fucking hell breaks loose. The entire goddamn hallway lurches to the right. I see a savage flash of light down at the far end of the hall and a sound of collapsing rubble and cracking concrete. I'm thrown hard into the wall. When I regain my senses, there is no point checking on George. There is a pile of concrete and rubble where he was.

A spike of rage and hate burns in me suddenly, briefly. I swear I will kill the fuckers who did this. George.... The Lieutenant... Adam.... Travis... Greg..

I want to scream. I can feel my heart beating faster, thanks to the adrenaline shot. I turn back to Mark, and somehow, I don't know the fuck how, I got him up onto my shoulder. I turned, walking back into the conference room.

There were weird creaks and groans coming from all around me, and I know this whole place was being held up by spit and polish. Every single step was like walking into liquid fire, and I fought back the tears of pain as I forced my fucking leg to take the weight. I steadied Mark on my shoulder with my right arm, my left guiding the torch of the assault rifle dangling off my shoulder.

One side of the conference room had collapsed, but the exit was still there. I walked over, enduring the pain, then carefully, tenderly, lowered Mark's body down. I scrambled through the hole, and pulled him through after me. I resumed my position, getting him balanced over my shoulder again, and kept walking. I could see a light ahead of me. The passage, somehow, hadn't fallen in. I could hear groans and rumbles as behind me, more pockets of the damaged base began to collapse.

Those 20 yards to the garage, and then outside were the hardest steps I'd ever taken. My ankle was beginning to swell up like a balloon, despite the splint, and the pain was making me sick. The adrenaline began to wear off as I exited into the garage. Huge chunks of the ceiling had fallen in, and I had to make my way through a maze of rubble.

The exit was so close now... I stumbled once, and fell down onto one knee, and only kept Mark over my shoulder with a dint of herculean effort and will.

I turned aside, and vomited from the pain. I almost would have rather been dead right then if it meant I didn’t have to keep walking. But I forced myself up, staggering to my feet with a scream of agony. This wasn't about me. This was about Mark. He wasn't going to fucking die on me. He fucking wasn't. He WASN'T. I thought again back to last night with Mark...

I made it somehow out of the exit, blinking in the morning light, as more rumbles came out of the tunnel, followed by a sudden wave of dust. I stumble, losing my balance, falling sideways into some bushes. Mark falling on top of me. I looked up into the sky, gently rolling Mark off, and feeling his pulse. It was there, weak, but there. I took a moment now to stuff gauze into his shoulder wound, tape it up to stop more bleeding, then clean some of the blood off his face. His face had been pretty messed up as well. But it was a fucking handsome face, hard and strong. His body was every bit as hard and strong. When I looked at him laid out, so fucking vulnerable right then, my guts twisted up inside. I didn't have time to process the emotion right then. Later. Now, there were other priorities.

But he was alive. I was alive. Now what... I look up and see the huge column of smoke rising up from where I guessed the exhaust vent for the diesel generator had been. Then, suddenly as I was trying to find the strength to keep going, I heard a vehicle approaching. I looked up. It was a fire service vehicle from the Park Service. There was a national park just a few miles west of here. Of course.... They had seen the smoke and were coming to investigate. Fuck. I laid back, feeling drained of every possible emotion, every bit of energy. I let go then, as the truck pulled up to a halt, and several uniformed rangers started swarming around us as I drifted off.

THREE DAYS LATER

14:04 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: They told me it had been touch and go. I had Sam to thank it appears. He’d carried me out on a broken leg. Fuck I was proud to serve with him. They’d managed to stitch my ear back on and they pointed out this shoulder was the same shoulder I’d injured six months ago. And I should stop doing it. I was glad that American was dead. If he hadn’t shot me I’d have killed that IRA bastard.

I was back in the SAS barracks in Hereford now. I’d given a verbal report but the main report will have to wait until I’m better.

I knew Sam and I were the only people to get out of that hell hole. And I only got out due to my buddy. I had hoped George would make it. But he’s been crushed along with all the other casualties. I felt like crying. No one outside the regiment would know and no one would care. I’m sure the rest of my friends would be feeling the same feelings of loss and rage.

It’s nearly midnight when I wake up next from the painkillers. I get out of bed. My arm in a sling AGAIN. I open the door quietly and go into the medical bay door next door.

“Sam?” I say closing the door. “You awake?”

14:15 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I was in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. My right ankle and my left arm were in a cast. The doctors had given me a right good bollicking about the state of my ankle,when it had become clear that I'd compounded the injury by forcing myself to walk on it, but I'd endured it. It had been necessary, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I needed to.

I was alive. But George, Lieutenant Edwards, Adam, Travis, and Greg were not. I was alive, but I wasn't happy about it. Not right now. I felt like I hadn't done enough. Hadn't been good enough to save them. I should have done more. But Mark was alive. If he had died, I don't think I could live with myself.

Suddenly, the door opens, and for a moment I feel a burst of adrenaline, who the fuck is coming into my room at this time of night, then I hear Mark's voice. I chuckle softly. "Yeah, can't sleep. You?"

14:22 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: “Not really,” I say, coming in and grabbing a seat and placing it next to him and sitting down. “Too much thinking. Did you know Travis and I joined together from the Royal Marines. I’ve known him since we were 16.” I put my head on the bed taking a deep breath, deeply miserable. This wasn’t a side of me anyone saw.

“Thanks for the carry. I’m greatful,” I say eventually sitting up. “Glad they didn’t get you as well. I’d have been distraught if I’d woken up and you’d been killed as well”

14:34 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I grunt, sitting up straighter in bed as Mark sits down next to my bed. I lean back and listen as he tells me about Travis. I can hear the misery in his voice, and it's something I know all too well.

I speak into the silence, "Greg and I trained together. As all the other candidates were dropping out of the training like flies, we stuck together. Sometimes I think that the only reason we both stuck it out was because we couldn't have faced the other if we'd dropped."

I grin over at Mark, just able to make out his face in the dim light. "You would have done the same for me."

I turn somber at his next statement, it resonated with me. "I don't think I could have lived with being the only survivor. When I see you laying there in a pool of blood..." I trail off, unable to put words to the feelings that had seized my guts in that moment. I let out a sigh, feeling that deep sense of depression sinking into me. Unconsciously, my right hand reaches out and grabs Mark's good arm, giving his hand a hard, strong squeeze. I needed human contact right then.

I try to change the subject then, remembering something. "Hey Mark... did you know those fucking shitbags took my dog tags? The docs asked me where they were, but there was no sign of them. Just a wound around my neck, as though they had been ripped off. I swear... those bastards, they are going to pay. I'll fucking rip their nuts off, one at a time, and make them eat them." My voice turned harder than steel as the rage started to boil up inside me. The rage... the rage was better than the black depression. Better than that sense of failure.

14:41 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: My hand takes his and holds it tightly. The loss of Travis. I’d been the best man at his wedding, I’d slept with two of his friends that night. It had been amazing.

“Of course I’d have done the same for you. I’d always do the same for you. And they took mine as well. The guys name was Jordan Byrne. The Irish one anyway. I met him when I destroyed their facility in Russia. That’s why he was fixated on me. I nearly killed him. I thought I had.”

“Next time I will.” I look over at Sam and I grip his hand harder. “I’d have fucking hated to lose you.”

14:59 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I crush his hand tight in my own grip, holding it like an anchor.

I look over and stare deep into his eyes as he starts to crush my hand. The pain feels good. Connects us. I feel a surge of emotion churning inside me, and suddenly I seem to remember every single step as I carried him on my shoulders, every moment of agony. All of it was for him. And I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. A small tear starts to gather in the corner of my eye.

"You misspoke, Mark. You said, 'Next time I will.' But what you meant was 'Next time we will'. Seeing you lying there in a pool of blood ... thinking I had lost you. I don't want to go through that again." I want to say more, but I can't. I'm getting choked up, crushing Mark's hand in my grip, unable to keep speaking.

15:02 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I stand up and lean over the bed and kiss Sam on the lips. It’s gentle and caring and not like I normally do. But it’s full of emotion and I’m nearly crying over my lost friends.

“We will. We will.”

“But first we need to get better. Back up to strength. I'm probably going to take some leave to recover.”

15:09 Corporal_Sam_Mason: He kisses me then, gently, softly. And it's so different from the aggressive passion we shared the night before the attack. And yet, at the same time, it feels just as right in it's own way. That tear escapes, running down my smooth cheek, as I look up at Mark, feeling that anguish of losing Greg and the others, and the depth of my connection with Mark at the same time, that connection deepened by our shared loss. I knew all of them. I trained with many.

I'd been deployed with George and Adam. They survived Afghanistan to die in Wales. Where it was supposed to be safe. A part of me was missing. I should have done more.

"Yeah, my CO has arranged for me to take some leave as well. He said I'm no good to him until I'm healed." I chuckle.

"Where are you going to spend your leave?"

15:13 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I shrug. “Don’t know. Maybe London. Maybe go into the county somewhere quiet.”

“Want to spend it together? I could do with someone who can make me… not think about things. I don’t want to think right now.”

“I can’t sleep. I just … think … what I could have done differently. I don’t want to be like that. I just want to fucking sleep.”

15:24 Corporal_Sam_Mason: I nod slowly. I knew about wanting to sleep. About replaying my actions over and over in my head, every single fucking one. Convinced I could have done something different to change the outcome.

"Yeah. I want to spend it with you. Let's help each other forget. Heal. Remember what's important." I squeeze Mark's hand tighter, feeling that connection, that bond, between us sustain me like shelter in a storm.

Published: 2021-08-02, viewed 42 times.