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First Read:
International Relations - War Games Part 1

THE NEXT MORNING

17:21 Corporal_Luke_Walker: Around 3 am, I feel my watch vibrating, it was still an hour before everyone was meant to be up. The apple watch was linked to my phone and did the notifications as I never had my phone off silent while on deployment.

I leant over and picked up my phone and unlocked it, keeping it on the lowest brightness. I read through the message, frowning very slightly, but I didn't argue, that wasn't my place. I just texted back and asked for a security authorisation, and it came back a few seconds later indicating it was from who it said it was from.

Silently, for a man my size, I sit up, and lean down and slowly undo the lace in one of my boots, pulling it out, I wrap it around both my hands to create a garotte and get up and over to the man in the other bed, and in one fluid movement I slam the laces over his throat one hand sliding around the back of his head to get the garotte around the neck tightly and then I fell back onto my bunk, pulling the laces tight to cut off the blood and air to his head, putting one foot on his bunk to increase the leverage.

I wasn't here to question orders. Just to do them.

09:32 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Suddenly, savage agony erupts in my throat, and I'm fully wide awake. Instantly, my training kicks in. There is none of that momentary sleep-addled confusion that would prove fatal for an ordinary man in this situation.

I drop into combat mode without hesitating, recognizing the sudden mortal peril I was in. My Adam's Apple was only moments from being broken, which would be fatal. Already outrageous agony was knifing through my throat, hot flashes of white light erupting in my brain. Unconciousness, followed shortly by death, was imminent.

My hand dropped down beside, then under my cot, and seized Mark's combat knife, his gift to me back in Afghanistan when we parted. It was hanging on a loop off my pack. Smoothly, with my last strength, I sliced the cord threatening to kill me, cutting myself deeply in the process, but the tension released instantly, followed by a loud thump behind me.

Additional thoughts began to clamor for my attention as I rolled off the cot. I opened my mouth to shout for help, but the damage to my throat was so savage, I could only get out a weak grunt. I had to fight for every breath, focusing through the pain, ramming wind into my lungs through my partially crushed throat. It was bad, But I had no time. It was pitch dark in the tent, and I figured that the killer probably finished off the Corporal already, then came after me second. I scrambled out of the sleeping bag, naked, grunting and gasping, holding Mark's knife, dripping with my blood.

More blood leaked down my hard muscled body, from the damage to my throat. I strained my ears, falling back on my blind fighting training, to catch any clues about the whereabouts of my assailant. I had so many questions bubbling up inside me, namely WHAT THE FUCK.. But they all were far down the list of priorities. Right now, it was all about survival.

10:06 Corporal_Luke_Walker: I slam down onto my bed by the unexpected release of tension, breaking it in half, but I get up to my feet in a hurry, fights in hand to hand should end quickly, shouldn't let the opponent get the upper hand, shouldn't let them have time to adjust and think.

Having had time to adjust to the night vision, I was at an advantage and ducked down and slammed a massive fist into the Lieutenant's stomach, followed by grabbing the knife arm and slamming my thumb into the pad between hand and wrist to get him to drop the weapon.

I bare down on the Lieutenant in the confined space of the tent, I'm no stranger to using my weight and muscle to get the advantage on someone. He tried to call for help, but he couldn't. That was a good sign, that he thought he couldn't handle it, typical soft officer.

10:23 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Suddenly, I catch the sound of movement off in the direction from behind my camp bed, near the Corporal's bed. Well, he wouldn't need it anymore, no doubt the assassin had killed him already. Slowly, I caught sight of a dim blur scrambling towards me, straining my eyes, willing my night vision to settle in place, I start to slash my blade towards the oncoming form, but my assailant had an advantage, already adjusted to the dark.

I feel my wrist seized, and suddenly I'm shocked by the massive power of that grip, stronger than I'd expected. My wrist spasms as I'm forced to drop the blade. It's been a very long time since anyone has gotten the jump on me with that technique. I begin to adjust, bringing my left arm in, when suddenly a small bomb impacts the thick slabs of muscle armoring my core, sending a shockwave of agony ripping through me. My core was tensed, but that blow was fucking savage, doubling me up despite my flexed abs.

Whoever I'm fighting, he's as strong as a gorilla, easily a match for my own strength, and Luke's as well.

My training doesn't hesitate though. I'm in a fight for my life, and my pain spurs me on. I drive forward, latching my arms around my opponent's massive quads. That's when I get another shocker. He's fucking naked. I can feel his bare ass as I wrap up his quads. What the fuck is going on??

My nose suddenly erupts in a spray of agony and blood, as the fucking assassin lifts his knee into my face, my nose shattering.

I power through the blood erupting from my face, driving past the pain knifing through my wounded throat, forcing ragged, gasping breaths of oxygen into my muscle with sheer will, ignoring the throbbing in my gut, slamming my assailant down hard to the floor of the tent in a double leg take down. FUCK he's heavy. My eyes are slowly starting to adjust as I spin to the side, past his legs, to drive a heavy knee into his left hand ribs, backed by my 250 of Ranger muscle and power, that's a blow that would break a normal man's ribs.

I'm starting to see the dim outline of this naked fucker, he's an absolute unit, a total beast. He looks like ... no.... impossible. But I begin to wonder.

10:34 Corporal_Luke_Walker: Outside the tent there is a noise, mostly covered by the sounds of fighting inside, and the tent flap opens very slightly, and then there is silence in the darkness outside the tent as whoever was there has gone away.

As the lieutenant doubled over, I take the opportunity to slam a massive knee into his face, right into his nose, trying to break it and cause him more breathing troubles, that was another way of finishing fights quickly, but despite that he still smashes me down to the ground.

His knee comes into my ribs like a fucking truck, I grunt as it hits heavily staggering me, fuck the ribs are sore, but I just work through the pain, grabbing out with my hand and grabbing a large box magazine for my machine gun and bringing it around in a wide arc slamming it into the side of the man who is on top of me.

I can't allow him to get another decent kick in so as the box magazine opens and scatters ammunition over the tent, I bring my hands up to the mans face, slamming my left thumb into his eye, and my right thumb into the knife wound on his injured throat.

10:52 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: My knee to his side gets a grunt out of my assailant, but he's covered with so much fucking muscle that I don't get the broken ribs I'm looking for.

Suddenly, his arms lash out, and next thing I know, I'm leaning over hard, holding my right side. Something heavy and metallic smashes into my ribs, sending more agony knifing through me. I realize it was the ammunition box as it bursts open, scattering ammo across the floor of the tent.

Kneeling beside him, I cock my fist to smash him in the throat, when suddenly his hands are latching onto me, his thumb stabbing into my eye, and his other thumb gouging at the wound in my neck. I pull my head back, bringing up my left hand to force his thumb out of my eye. The pain in my eye is sickening, and I'm blind in my right eye now.

But his other hand is stabbing into my self-inflicted knife wound, and the blood is starting to spurt as he rips it open. A wave of sickening pain slams into me, but I react on instinct. I seize his right wrist with both my hands, and smoothly, with brutal training and precision, fall back, shooting my legs up and over his hard-muscled chest, gripping his right wrist, tearing it free from my neck, starting to extend it, going for a fall away arm bar to break his thick muscled arm like a goddamn twig.

It's then that I catch a clear sight of his right forearm in my left eye. HOLY MOTHER FUCKING .... the pattern of tattoos on that forearm... it's Corporal Luke's. The shock is like a lightning bolt.

11:05 Corporal_Luke_Walker: There's a wave of pain as my arm is extended, it’s heavily muscled, but that won't do much good if this continues for a long period as the lieutenant is strong as well, I growl in pain, but I know he has to be in more, and he's taken his weight off my body allowing me more movement in the other side of his body, and I slam my other arm down onto the tent floor for leverage and grit my teeth.

The arm was being pulled heavily, "ARRRRGH" I moan as I force myself to my feet, using my arm to lift the 250 lbs man up with the strength in just my one arm, this was something I'd trained for, and I can lift guys, but this guy was all muscle, but it was the only way to get him to release my arm.

Slowly I get to my feet bodily picking him up, the strain obvious on my face, although no-one could see it.

There's another noise outside, someone going into another tent, obviously the person who had been watching this from outside, maybe the person who instructed this to happen, maybe not.

As I get to my feet, the strain on my face, gritting my teeth against the pain from the arm bar and the power required to lift him up, once I'm on my feet, I bodily fall forward again, to the side, dropping the lieutenant onto the metal of the machine gun, trying to break his back and end the fight, or at least release the arm.

11:22 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: As part of my brain processes the shock that Corporal Luke Walker was trying to fucking kill me, another part of my brain is in awe as this massive gorilla of a man turns into my arm bar before I can straighten it to the breaking point, gets his feet under him, and lifts my entire 250 pounds of thick, hard, combat-forged Ranger Muscle.

FUCK... the power required is beyond phenomenal. Grimly, gasping for breath, blood dripping from my neck, and my bashed in nose, I'm fighting now for every single breath, and I'm starting to tire. In bad shape here, have to finish this quick. I gather my core strength, as I'm hanging off this Royal Marine's gorilla like arm, intending to straighten out my body and break his arm no matter the fuck what, but before I can pull it off, suddenly he throws me down.

There is a sickening crunch beneath me. He's dropped me right down, back first on a fucking machine gun. Every ounce of wind is knocked out of me, and my body goes limp from the shock of the impact. A fierce wave of destructive force and deep, brutal agony rips through my back. I'm seeing white stars in front of my eyes. I've lost the arm bar now, but despite the impact, I grimly keep hold of his wrist somehow, through sheer instinct and stubbornness.

I yank down on that wrist that I've refused to let go off, and kickup with my right foot, driving my heel into the underside of his chin, trying to either knock him out or break his fucking neck. I wedge my left foot into his bollocks, to crush his gonads against his pubic bone. I have to end this fast... I'm not sure I can even stand up after being dropped on the machine gun, something ain't right with my back... having trouble breathing, can't get the oxygen I need.... blinded in my right eye, bleeding heavy from my wounded throat, and now my busted nose.

Grimly, I fight on.

11:33 Corporal_Luke_Walker: I feel the kick slamming into me, already winded from lifting him up and I slam back into the lieutenant's bunk, my head smashing back and hitting the poles that make up the camp bed, my arm twisted by the ranger holding onto it, breaking my arm, as I crunch into the ground.

It dazes me for a few seconds, but then the pain is in my bollocks as they're crushed by his massive feet and I howl in pain as my jewels are being crushed and I bring my huge fist overhead and slam it right into the ranger's cock and balls, with every bit of muscle in reaction to the blinding pain in my bollocks.

The broken arm was the biggest problem though, I couldn't use it, and it hangs limply as I lean down and grab the foot that was crushing my massive balls, and twist it as hard as I can in the opposite direction, sliding down to the floor, dripping with sweat and in pain. But I wasn't going to give in, I have my orders.

I grab the knife that the American had dropped and crawled over to the American ready to slot him.

FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

11:33 Marine_Paul_Collins: Paul had set his alarm for 3am, he was surrounded by NCO's, Senior NCO's and officers, and apart from Roger, he was easily the lowest ranked person here, and he wanted to set a good example. The small vibration on his watch got him up, and he pulled on a pair of boxer shorts, his uniform trousers and his boots and taking a quick glance over at the sleeping Roger, he smiled, he was so looking forward to the exercise today, that would get the military competitive itch out of him, before he got to spend more time with the hot army Ranger.

He headed out for a piss behind one of the trees before he went onto Tik Tok and sent a couple of messages to a few of his friends saying how amazing his last evening had been, then headed back to the tent, and he could get breakfast started.

He heard a massive noise in one of the other tents, and then the unmistakable sound of fighting, he opened the tent flap slightly and as he'd adjusted to the night vision heading into the field, he saw Luke and the Lieutenant fighting and the way that Corporal Walker was going at the lieutenant and the fact that the Lt. was bleeding, he was sure that this wasn't just practising hand to hand... and the fact that Paul was about 1/2 of Luke's weight and so there was nearly four times as much muscle in that tent than Paul had, and he wasn't a slouch, he was a Unarmed Combat display team member after all, but he was also young and new to his limits.

He ran from the tent to where HIS Lieutenant was sleeping and headed into the tent. "Sir... sorry for waking you sir."

Perez was already awake, dressed and working on a laptop with a sat phone. "It's okay Marine, what up. Why are you awake."

"I was up early sir, wanted to give a good showing sir. I think Corporal Walker is trying to kill the American Lieutenant, sir."

Perez looked at Collins, "I'm sorry you were being diligent," he said closing the laptop and packing it into a rucksack and placing it on his back, then he pulled his pistol and shot Paul in the stomach.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: The sat phone bleeped and Patrick woke up immediately and he picked it up. "O'Mally." He said, as he listened for a second and then put the phone down. He opened up his bag and started pulling on a tactical vest and his red MP beret and put a gun in his holster.

Then he heard a gunshot, he couldn't mistake that. He headed to the tent and started to open it, but the zip jammed, wasting precious time, and he grunted and swore in Gaelic as he pulled a knife from his belt and just stabbed it into the material of the tent making his own opening.

12:00 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: The Corporal falls backwards, unbalanced by my brutal kick to his jaw and my foot driving into his bollocks. I refuse to let go of that wrist, and he falls badly, the arm twisting and breaking, before the force of his fall rips that arm out of my grip.

Starting to figure out if I can stand up, I don't get a chance to try as suddenly, in retaliation, the Corporal's huge hammerhand drives full into my gonads. My body shudders, and my guts twist making me want to puke, bile rises in my throat, and I choke on the hot burning liquid right when I desperately need to breath. Grimly, I keep my ankle wedged into his bollocks, trying to pop them.

Then, suddenly, that massive bastard grabs my ankle, and with a technique as sweet and professional as anything I've ever seen, he twists it hard. There is a sickening CRACKKKKKKk as my ankle snaps, and I let out a further muffled gurgle of agony. I scramble backwards, looking for some kind of weapon, slamming into Luke's huge backback. I force myself to sit up against it, my back screaming in protest as I lever myself up, I spy the glint of a short sword strapped to a loop on the pack, and draw it, holding it expertly in my hands, in between me and the Corporal, just in time to see him wielding Mark's knife. How fucking ironic would that be... if that over muscled murdering bastard of a Royal Marine stabbed me with Mark's knife.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out across the camp, followed by voices raised in alarm. I rasp out, barely able to talk, "The ... game's ... up... Corporal... " My hand moves, keeping the short sword between us. "You ... are ... a fucking ... dead man... I'd surrender now... if ... I was... you."

I hear a shout outside, in the distance, but coming closer, recognizing Sergeant First Class Timothy Phillips voice "Sir!!!

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Timothy had been sleeping extra light. Something about the big Irishman he was billeted with had raised his hackles. So, when the sat phone rang, the Army Ranger Sergeant was awake at once, listening.

Whatever it was that he heard on that sat phone got him moving, on the double. Timothy felt very uneasy, and when the shot rang out, he was up in an instant, sliding into his camo trousers, boots, and top in under 20 seconds, moving with practiced ease. He grabbed his sidearm and his tactical vest from his pack, and burst out of the hole in the tent, not far behind the Royal Marine MP, shrugging himself into his vest as he headed off. He started heading first towards his Lieutenant's tent. Something was wrong, very wrong. He shouted out, "Sir!!" as he headed off.

12:00 Private_Roger_Travers: Groggily, Roger stirred as he heard Paul get up and leave the tent. What the fuck was up? And what was that sound? Was someone fighting? It was close.... real close. The only tent near theirs was the Lieutenant's..

What the fuck? He checked the time, it was a few minutes past 3am. He cursed, that was a whole hour of sleep he'd missed out on. He got up to find out what the deal was, slipping into his combat gear, his trousers, boots, and his heavy uniform top. Then, a gunshot rang out, and he was alert, fully alert, as he left the tent, looking in the direction of the gunshot at first, then turned to stare at the Lieutenant's tent. It was shaking and moving, like someone was fighting in there. He heard Sergeant Timothy shout as he started to head over. He froze, ducked back in and grabbed a sidearm from his pack, and started running for the Sergeant to get orders.

12:34 Corporal_Luke_Walker: I don't care about outside of the tent, orders are orders, and I've been given my instructions as to what I am to do, and I'm a good Marine, following orders are what I do. I see him holding the short sword as I was going to stab him, but they were my weapon of choice, probably not his.

I make a feint slightly with the knife, which he will be able to block easily but then I throw the knife right at his chest.

"My job is not to surrender, my job is to kill traitors." And my eyes indicate that I am completely serious about this as the knife impacts and I fall backwards away from the sword grabbing my own knife from my vest next to my bunk in case it doesn't kill him.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: Instead of heading towards the tent, I head straight towards the sounds of the gunshot, which is the Lieutenant's tent, there's some blood outside the tent and I draw the gun and head inside and see Marine Collins unconscious and bleeding on the floor. I scan around, no backpack, no body armour, no weapons in here. I check Collins' pulse and it’s there, barely..

I put my head out of the tent. "First Sergeant," I shout loudly. "Get me a Medic ... Now... and Get me Wayne Reese and Your Sniper." my hands covered in blood.

13:07 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Suddenly, he moves in, and I deftly move to block his blade with my sword. The knife suddenly hurtles towards me, but I’m out of position, and can’t block it. I stare down dumbfounded at the blade sticking out of my hard muscled right pectoral. My pecs are so massively developed, that the blade doesn't penetrate all the way, the heavy muscle fibre and my ribs stopping the blade before it pierces through to my lungs.

But the pain is outrageous, and my right arm falters, dropping as my injured chest is badly weakened by the knife strike. I pluck the blade out, Mark's blade, out of my quivering chest with my right hand, and deftly swap weapons, holding the lighter dagger in my right hand, and the heavier short sword in my left. I try to struggle up to my feet, but my broken ankle can't take any weight, and I compromise falling to one knee, my face turning white from agony.

I see the Corporal reaching out for his own combat blade. I hear shouts and voices outside, and suddenly the tent flap bursts open, and there is Private Roger Travers, handsome and grim as he surveys the scene in front of him. He looks at me, bleeding badly from my neck, nose, and now my chest, my face grey from the pain I'm fighting.

Then he turns his eyes onto the Corporal, who has just retrieved his combat knife, his right arm hanging broken at his side. He looks stunned for a moment, not yet a seasoned enough soldier to react with instant violence, but then he reaches down to draw his sidearm, starting to get a bead on the Corporal.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Suddenly, as I'm heading for Lt. Armstrong's tent, I hear Sergeant Patrick bellow out at me, telling me he needs a medic and the two snipers. He's not my CO... but if someone is injured or dying, then that takes precedence. Still, I need Armstrong... But then the problem solves itself. Private Roger marches up, kitted out in his combat gear, I snap off an order, "Private, get the Lieutenant, on the fucking double, NOW."

He looks like he has something else to tell me, but suddenly, the need to obey his superior ,hammered deep into his brain, takes control, and he turns running towards the Lieutenant's tent. Good. I sprint across the campsite, to the other side of the makeshift camp, where Sergeant Bill McKaine and Corporal Wayne Reese set up their tent. Both of them step out of the tent, dressed in their battle gear already. They must have heard the gunshot. I shout out, "To Lieutenant Perez's tent, NOW. There's been a shot fired, a man is injured."

Then, grimly, I continue heading to Corporal Max's tent. In addition to serving as our armorer, he doubles as our medic. Likewise, Corporal Max and Sgt. Tommy, roused by the gunshot, are just heading out of their tent, I shout out, "Corporal, follow me. We have a wounded man in Lieutenant Perez's tent."

13:26 Corporal_Luke_Walker: Someone threatening to shoot me doesn’t stop me from trying to complete my orders as I charge at the weakened American.

A gunshot rings out and then it all goes black and I hit the ground.

13:26 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: The quartermaster pointed to one of the boxes. “Medical kit in there, Corporal. I’ll go and find our lieutenant and find out what is going on.”

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: The military policeman looked over at the first sergeant. “I need to talk to you now. Urgently. Is your man safe?”

He turns to Wayne and Bill. “Find a high point and watch over the campsite. See if you can see anyone leaving it in any direction. Report only to me and your first sergeant. No one else.”

The authority in his voice is clear, behind him is the body of Collins and blood covered the tent. “Lieutenant Perez is to be shot on sight. Orders from Lieutenant Colonel Sam Watson of the British military Police.”

13:51 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I raise that short sword, ready to use it on the Corporal if Roger misses. But he doesn't miss. Despite being a bit slower than I would like on the draw, he fires, centre mass, just like he was taught, the bullet slamming deep into hard muscled naked Corporal's torso, knocking him backwards, slamming to the ground, bleeding from his torso. I grunt, gasping, "Good ... ... shot ... private... now ... go ... get the fucking... medic..."

I sway, bleeding heavily, falling to my side, the adrenaline fading, along with my grip on consciousness. The high levels of pain slamming into my brain are starting to send me into shock along with blood loss.

13:51 Private_Roger_Travers: The private turns, and leaves the tent, running full speed across the campsite, leaping over a bush. He's a fast fucker. He has a ton of respect for his Lt, and there was so much fucking blood. He bursts into Lt. Perez's tent to find a whole group of men gathered around, Sergeant Bill, the Royal Marine sniper, Corporal Wayne, the big gruff looking hot as fuck Royal Marine MP, First Sergeant Timothy, Corporal Max, and the other armourer, Sergeant Tommy.

Roger looks down, and sees the body of Collins. More blood. He ... just a few hours ago... he and Collins were... Oh fuck... He pulls himself together, then gasps out, "Sirs... it's your man, Corporal Walker. He ... tried to kill our CO. Lt. Armstrong, he's hurt bad a lot of blood... I had to shoot Corporal Walker, I think he's still alive." Roger ducked out of the tent and sank to his knees, his hands shaking. He can't seem to get the sight of Collins lying there on the ground out of his mind. Fuck.. Fuck... Fuck..

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Corporal Max opens the box that Sergeant Tommy points out, retrieving a medkit and checking on Collins. He looks grim, swallowing hard, inspecting the young Marine.

Timothy turns to the Colour Sergeant, his eyes flashing as he gives orders to Sergeant Bill and Corporal Wayne. Sergeant Bill glances at Timothy to see if he agrees, and suddenly, Timothy thinks that he's realized what the fuck is going on. He nods slightly, reinforcing the Royal Marine MP's commands. They turn to go, and Timothy doesn't react when the MP gives the order for Lieutenant Perez to be shot on sight.

He'd already put the pieces together. Except for one bit... and then the final piece falls into place when Private Rogers rushes in, breathless to deliver his news. The Ranger's First Sergeant feels rage pulsing inside him as he snaps out the order, "Corporal Max, take Private Rogers and see to the Lieutenant, on the fucking double."

Then he turns to Colour Sgt. Patrick, motioning him to follow him outside the tent. Corporal Max, is heading off with Private Roger in tow. The kid has had a shock, well we all have. The two snipers head off, as Timothy turns to the Colour Sgt, nodding at him to start talking.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: Patrick looked at Timothy, "The military police had intelligence that encrypted communications from a member of the Royal Marines to a foreign power had been happening over the past week. We hadn't narrowed anything more than that down, we had no idea what was going on, only that there were non authorised communications. There are four possible units that it could have been, and all four have an MP assigned to them currently."

"All communications from all four units were being monitored. The call I got at 3am was a call that they had found an encrypted communication from THIS location. I was expecting to arrest one of our guys, I didn't expect a blood bath."

He stretched his neck. "It's possible that Perez and Walker were in it together, I need to get more intelligence first - but when I got in here and saw Perez' kit was missing including his armour and weapons and Marine Collins had been shot, it's obvious the person that I'm looking for is Lieutenant Perez."

"That's why I wanted snipers out there.. two reasons, one to get Perez if he's still here, the other is to keeps eyes on in case of anything else going on."

"Thanks for backing me up. Until further notice the UK Troops will report to me. But right now I care less about Perez and Walker, I care about Marine Collins and your Lieutenant. If Walker dies because your men are too busy saving two other lives, then I don't give a single fucking shit."

"Considering Collins is our medic, we're relying on your guy, First Sergeant, to treat both of them but Collins has lost a lot of blood."

He was calm and organised as he looked at Timothy. "Your guy is the medic, I know you want to look after your lieutenant, but Collins is going to die if he's not treated, you have to make that call."

11:33 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: Tommy saw the young US private shaking outside the tent and he walked over and knelt down. "Hey, kid, Private Travers isn't it."

"Right now... you need to buck up and pull yourself together, there's a lot of shit going on and everyone needs to be doing something - there's some injuries, the medics are going to need clean water, there's a whole load of that with the food supplies, go and get it and bring it to the medics."

The Welshman was calm as he looked at the private. "The time for breathing comes later, Rangers lead the way, right... find some water, get it to the medics, then start making some tea and coffee, it's 3am in Scotland, the moment the adrenaline dies down, it's fucking cold, they'll need that. You can do that Private." He stood up and patted the youngster on the shoulder and headed to go and find out what was going on.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Timothy listens carefully without interrupting the Colour Sergeant as he lays out what the fuck is going on.

Timothy reaches out his hand and gives the buff, grim faced Royal Marine MP a quick squeeze on the shoulder, then he turns and shouts out to Corporal Max, "Treat Marine Collins first." He didn't know the Lieutenant's condition, but the Irish Sgt. was right about Collins. The boy looked bad. He would himself personally check on the Lieutenant and the Corporal.

12:00 Corporal_Max_Thompson: Obediently, the big, strong muscled Iowan farmboy turns around and heads back into the tent. He was grim faced. Collins was almost certainly going to die whether he treated him or not, he'd seen enough men to know that, but he had no clue about Lieutenant Armstrong's condition. His first loyalty was to the Lieutenant. But he knew better than to disobey Sgt. Phillips.

He'd do his best to save the young Marine, but if the Lieutenant died... He knelt down immediately, and started doing what he could for the handsome young Marine.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: It was a tough call, but we wanted all the wounded in one place anyways, rather than sending our medic scurrying about. Sgt. Phillips looked at Sgt. Patrick, then at Private Roger. He looked shaken, but the big Welsh Sgt was calming him down, giving him something to do that would help him cope. He nodded at the Private who looked his way for permission to follow Sgt. Morgan's suggestions. It was tough being a private in a bloodbath like this

Then he made a snap decision,

"Sergeant Morgan, I need your help to bring our Lieutenant and your Corporal back here. Better to keep all the wounded together." He glanced at Sergeant O'Mally to seek permission to command his men, then headed off at a brisk run towards the Lieutenant's tent.

13:51 Private_Roger_Travers: First the Corporal tells me to follow him, then our Sarge says stay. My head is spinning and I stand there, outside the tent trying not to think of Collins... of the Lieutenant ... the Corporal. What the fuck was going on?

Suddenly, the big Welshman, Sergeant Tommy was there, speaking to him in a firm, calm voice. He had a calming presence, and he talked sense. He took a deep breath, his hand steadying, then with a quick glance at Sgt. Phillips for confirmation, he ran off to get clean water and make a pot of coffee for everyone.

11:33 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: Tommy didn't even bother checking with the Colour Sergeant, he knew what was the right thing and what wasn't, and it was the right thing. "Will do, Sergeant."

He headed into the tent, it was a mess in here, the two bunks were demolished, but that may be a benefit as he took a large hammer off his belt and slammed it into the legs of the beds to remove them, creating two makeshift stretchers.

It was a few minutes later when he came out of the tent. "Colour, could do with a hand, boss."

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: The Colour Sergeant came over and helped carry the two stretchers to outside of the tent with Collins in placing them down outside.

"Tommy, I've got a medical team coming here, but it's going to be 90 minutes out, I'm going to need to keep these patients warm, can you rig up the truck to some sort of heater, failing that if we need to, we can hammer it down to the nearest hospital, it'll be a bumpy fucking ride, but it's life or death... right... I'll take ten bruised ribs over three dead guys." He then went back to his sat phone and dialled his boss, holding a second phone in his hand.

11:33 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: The Welshman shrugged. "Sure... ask me something harder next time, boss," and headed off to where the trucks were left, on the way he pulled out his phone and loaded up his app to start the truck's heaters. He'd installed it himself, £100 from amazon, and expensed it. Meant he didn't have to get into a cold truck of a morning and he went into his tent to get his keys.

That £100 from amazon probably saved his life as the truck exploded while he was safely grabbing his keys rather than inside the truck.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: Patrick walked over to the First sergeant. "Right now, can we assume I can call you Tim and you call me Patrick or Paddy... we don't have time for US/USA whatevers right now."

He pulled out a phone. "I got this from Walker's side of his bunk. Army issue. Standard, so I unlocked it. He got a message from Perez at 3am exactly giving him instructions to kill your lieutenant, he asked for an authorisation security code for deadly force and it was given. He was informed that Perez had proof that your Lieutenant had plotted to kill some SAS general in America."

"The authorisation given didn't come from anyone in Perez' chain of command, I checked. Perez is the only bad apple here, he just has a stupid thick pawn that has bigger muscles than brains. I think..." and then his comments were interrupted by the truck exploding.

"TOMMY!"

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: The Welsh Sergeant follows Timothy at a trot, along with Patrick. The Ranger First Sergeant ducks into the tent, immediately kneeling down beside Lt. Armstrong. The Lt. was really fucked up, and there was a lot of blood. Timothy felt his pulse, it was there, but not as strong as it should have been.

Grimly he stood up, as Patrick helped Collins carry the two makeshift stretchers outside. As gently as he could, he scooped up Armstrong in his arms, and laid him out carefully on the makeshift stretcher, buck naked. Damn. He looked at Armstrong one more time, then frowned, noticing that his ankle was badly broken.

He went back in the tent, and tasted rage when he looked over at the prone form of the steel-cut, hard muscled Royal Marine Corporal who had nearly killed his Lieutenant. Nonetheless, he carried the Corporal dutifully out to lay him on the other stretcher. The wound in his thick muscled torso was savage, and it was clear it would be touch and go. Frankly, Timothy didn't care one way or the other about the Corporal. Fucking murdering bastard.

He overheard the conversation between the Welshman and the Colour Sergeant, watching as Tommy went off to heat the truck and bring it over here to load up the wounded. He appreciated the Irishman's efficiency and skill.

He stood by, staying calm and focused as Patrick walked over and started talking. Timothy nodded with a grim smile, "Patrick, I think we are definitely on a first name basis at this point."

He listened as Patrick explained about the orders Luke had received from Perez. Holy shit... a Royal Marine Lieutenant ... a traitor? Fuck. He looked over at Luke. His rage and contempt for the hard muscled Royal Marine didn't dissipate though. There were some orders that you had to question. The Corporal should have known better.

Then, suddenly, a fireball lights up the early morning as the truck explodes. Turning at a dead run, Timothy bolts towards the explosion, prepared for the worst. He wondered as he ran, how many other traps were set in the area. He wished he had more than one of Max. They'd need to sweep every inch of ground, and check the other truck with a fine tooth comb. Why the fuck did someone want the Lieutenant dead so badly?

16:26 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: Tommy put his hand up as the others approached. "Okay - I'm okay..." he showed off the keys in his hand. "I put the truck's heaters on when I was in my tent, otherwise that would have gone up as well."

"We can't risk taking the other truck until it's checked over and I just don't have the EOD gear here in order to do that, but whoever was doing this did not want anyone to get out of here."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I'll work something out for heating one tent up, I can do Perez's tent, but that's all I can do with what I've got to hand. Corporal Thompson could have given me a hand, but he's about ooohh.... a thousand times more important right now with what he's doing."

"I think the tent's are probably safe, we were in them all night, the trucks were unguarded because they didn't NEED To be guarded."

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: The Irishman took a deep breath. "Right... at the moment we have two snipers out watching for Perez. Everyone else needs to stay together." He looked at Tim. "Can you allow Tommy to go through the weapons you unloaded for live-fire, your armorer is saving lives right now, I think we arm everyone just in case. "

In Perez tent Collins was in bad shape, the worst thing was the blood loss, the best way to save his life was a blood transfusion, the Lieutenant's throat had been bandaged (not brilliantly, but it's good enough) but the other wounds would need seeing to.

Luke's injuries had been bandaged, but even worse, very little care was spent on him by the brit's it seemed, someone had done the bare minimum to keep him alive.

11:33 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: Wayne and the Texan had taken to the top of the hill looking down into the valley where the live firing exercise had begun. Wayne had been very vocal on the march up the hill about exactly what he wanted, he wanted to be the one to kill the lieutenant. They didn't know the details on Luke and the Lieutenant but Perez had shot a young marine, and Wayne felt personally offended by it. The sniper was angry, in a way that made his youthful good looks almost vanish, turning into the battle hardened soldier he actually was.

They'd been on the hill for twenty minutes now, looking through the scopes of their rifles - and in the distance there was movement, what looked like a land rover with its lights off heading towards a small outcropping and at the small outcropping was movement, although it was impossible from the angle to see exactly what was there.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: His senses were on full alert, and he had his sidearm out in front of him as he approached the burning wreckage of the truck, scanning the moon lit landscape for any possible hostiles.

He saw Tommy joining them, approaching from his tent, and he felt a surge of relief that the big Welshman was alive. When shit got real, Timothy's voice reverted to his Chicago roots, speaking in a deep working class twang. "Da fuck, man, you alive.. " The deeper he went into "combat mode" the less things like your accent seemed to matter to him.

He listened as Tommy spoke up. Timothy nodded, "First priority, get the Lieutenant and your Corporal into Perez's tent and get them some goddamn warmth. They are both in shock, the cold ain't gonna help matters. Private, Get the Lieutenant and the Corporal in Perez's tent, on the double."

Roger darts off to start dragging the men to Perez's tent, and the First Sergeant turns towards Patrick, listening. He nodded, snapping off a quick, "Good idea, let's get everyone armed with more than just sidearms. This whole business is clearly well planned out, we don't know what else we are facing. Have it at Tommy."

Having finished his discussions with Patrick, Timothy heads off and joins Roger, helping him quickly move the two men into the tent so Max could treat them. He snaps off another order, "Private, help the Corporal here."

12:00 Corporal_Max_Thompson: Max is focused on stabilizing Collins, working feverishly to try and suture the mess of his abdomen. He manages to control the worst of the bleeding, but Collins is in bad shape. The young private desperately needs a blood transfusion. Sighing, washing his hands, he administers some morphine to the handsome young Marine, just as Roger and the Sarge enter with two more men.

He looks over quickly at the two men. The Lieutenant is covered in blood, and the Corporal, besides a broken arm, has a savage gunshot wound to his abdomen. Fuck... This was going to be a long night. Sarge orders Roger to stay and help, and Max is greatful. He quickly checks the Lt's pulse, and the Corporal's pulse. The Lieutenant's pulse is faltering a bit, but stronger than Luke's.

"Roger, clean up the Lieutenant and bandage his wounds, just try to stop the bleeding. It's not rocket science. I'll take care of Luke."

With that, Max turns towards the steel-cut, hard muscled Royal Marine bodybuilder, working feverishly again to suture the gunshot wound, extracting the bullet, and trying to stabilize him.

12:00 Private_Rogeer_Travers: The Oregonian was normally a pretty cool cucumber, followed orders, and went with the flow. He made a good private, he knew it. He didn't let too much get under his skin, having an easy going nature.

But tonight had shaken up the handsome, fit young Ranger pretty bad. Sure, he'd killed men before, over the past few weeks while on deployment chasing down that whack job Eli, but this was different. This wasn't some terrorist shit bag he'd shot dead, these were his friends... Collins and he were fucking and sucking just a few hours ago... and the Lieutenant. Fuck in a lot of ways, Armstrong was like a dad. The man was so self-assured, so strong. He'd never forget when Armstrong had taken him aside after his first kill and made sure he was okay. He was in awe of the Lieutenant.

And now, here he was, laid out on the stretcher, covered in masses of blood, looking pale. He started to shake violently again, but then glanced over at the Corporal, deep in his work on that fucking shit bag Corporal Luke. The man who had fucked over his Lieutenant. The rage bubbling up in him helped to break him out of his paralysis, and grimly, he turned to the task of cleaning up the blood to find the wounds. There were several, a savage wound in the side of his neck, a stab wound in his massive hard-muscled right pec, and his nose, which looked broken.

He cleaned, sterilized, and applied the bandages to his Lieutenant's wounds. A bit inexpertly, but the bleeding had stopped at least. Then, Max looked over at Roger's work. Roger looked over at Luke. It looked like Max had been a lot less thorough with the Corporal then he had been with Collins.

"Good", Roger thought fiercely, serves the muscle head right.

12:00 Sergeant_Bill_McKaine: As Bill marched alongside the young Corporal, he could sympathize with the fierce Royal Marine's rage. He and his fellow Marines had been betrayed by their commanding officer. That didn't sit well with him at all.

Bill drawled, "He's your's partner. If we get him in our sights, that kill is yours. I'm with you all the way."

They both settled down, scanning the quiet pre-dawn night. The moon was up and full, which was a fucking godsend, increasing the distance they could see tremendously.

Bill spotted the movement at the outcropping at the same time Corporal Wayne did. But fuck if he couldn't catch sight at this angle. He dropped his sight, and spoke to the Corporal. "Fuck. That don't look like no welcoming party. Whaddya say I go down there and be yur spotter? I'll let the Sarges know we got trouble brewing first so they can prepare. You can move to the other side of the hill to get a better angle, and I'll scout in nice and close and see if I can't help you drop your double-dealing bastard of a CO. Who knows? We drop him, the rest might run and scatter"

10:26 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: About five minutes later Tommy arrives with a few SA80 assault rifles on his back and two of the army ranger's SCAR-H assault rifles and placed them down onto the large tent's floor. "Here you go, orders from the bosses... with there being a bomb on my truck, we don't know what else is out here. So getting armed up."

He also brought out a warm bacon roll and handed it to the guy he'd been billeted with. "We have a saying, look after the medic...." he smiled slightly, he liked the guy anyway, he'd have done it without him being a medic. "You're the one we can't have crapping out with hypothermia... take a moment and eat Max."

"While..." he said, pulling out his tool kit. "I get some portable heaters set up in here for your patients, it'll get noisy for a bit, lads, can't be avoided... but it'll end up warmer for you."

He was a Royal Marine, but he wasn't the most combat trained, he normally sat and drove the trucks, sat and dealt with the weapons, he'd been on multiple deployments, and had a few kills under his name, but he wouldn't be the first pick to send into unarmed combat, he wouldn't be the first pick to go out on a fireteam for a fifty mile march across the desert, but he got on with everyone, he knew everyone, he could get what people needed, not through random theft, but by being nice, friendly and likable.

Plus he was a really good mechanic, as the portable heaters started blowing out warm air to start against the cold as he macgyvered the wiring together with a battery charger to get it working. "We lost the heaters in the truck explosion, so this will have to do , should get an hour or two out of it... but it'll be morning by then so it'll start heating up."

10:26 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: The Texan was nothing like other American's he'd met... but he had just met normal soldiers not Army Rangers, maybe it was just the American army who were mostly tossers who bragged about everything and that they were the best. He was offering to do the spotter's job, offering to let Wayne be the lead sniper, no arguments, no discussions, an understanding of the anger that Wayne felt right now.

In Wayne's mind right now it wasn't a Texan and a guy from Aldershot it was two brothers with one single job to do.

And in return, his response was a single nod of understanding and a quick "45.2131" as he changed his radio to that frequency and put his earpiece in so they could just be in communication with each other. He hoisted the L115A1 sniper rifle up, a weapon that the US didn't use, as he pointed to where he'd be heading on the hill, his weapon was highly customised, the stock was definitely not one that came with the weapon, it had been moulded, probably to fit the Corporal's shoulder and the sight was a massive affair on top of it, painted Royal Marine green, which was also non standard.

"Cowboy," he said as he headed off across the hill top. "If the others run and scatter, they'll just make fucking easy targets." He wasn't in a mood right now for letting anyone just scatter. "You stay safe down there, don't be a hero." He fist bumped the American and then headed off.

As the Texan headed down towards the movement, in the darkness, he could see bits of a Royal Marine uniform behind some of the trees in cover, and as he got closer, the land rover contained three guys, all wearing black combats, with weapons hanging off them heading towards the soldier, but none of the weapons were drawn, this was if anything an extraction.

11:25 Sergeant_Bill_McKaine: Bill nodded with a grin, and adjusted the frequency of his own radio to "45.2131" He raised his fist, bumping the fist of his hard-faced, determined Royal Marine brother in return.

Just before he headed back to the Sarges, he hefted his M24 SWS Sniper Rifle over his shoulder, tipped his helmet to his brother, and grinned, replying, "Army Rangers lead the way, bro. Can't do that without some heroics now and then." He winked and headed off.

He slipped down quickly back to camp, at a fast trot. He caught Sergeant Timothy and Sergeant Patrick conferring outside Perez's tent. He handed Timothy his sniper rifle for safe keeping, it was just a burden now. He needed to move fast and scout hard. His Glock 19 would be all the weapon he'd need, along with his combat knife. A fucking shame they hadn't brought any grenades for this exercise. A frag under their rover would make his day.

He explained the situation to the Sarges, and his intention to spot for Corporal Wayne. Timothy nodded, and the big Texan shot off towards the location of the rover.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: After getting the news from the Texan, Timothy glanced over at Patrick. "I figure we better get some defenders in place in case that party decides to move this way." He ducked into the tent, closing the flap to keep the fresh warmth in, surveying the weapons the big, friendly Welshman had laid out in front of them. The three wounded were bandaged, and most of the blood was cleaned up. He hefted the SCAR-H assault rifle, strapping it over his shoulder, with the heavy rifle resting against his tactical vest.

He noticed that Roger and Max had also gotten themselves armed, along with Tommy. The smell of a warm bacon roll reminded the First Sergeant that he'd missed his breakfast, but there were more important things to deal with at the present. "Private, you are with me. Sergeant Morgan, if you could guard the tent with Corporal Max here? I'm going to take the Private here along with Sergeant Patrick and make sure to provide a welcoming party if those unfriendlies our snipers have spotted decide to come this way."

With that, he headed out, Private Roger in tow, hefting his own SCAR-H.

He nodded to Patrick, tossing him an SA80 that he'd picked up from Tommy's pile, figuring the Colour Sergeant would be most comfortable with a weapon he knew well. Then, he turned and headed off, consulting with Patrick, selecting three spots, a thick brush, a boulder, and a hollow to set up an impromptu defensive line to protect their wounded and their Lieutenant.

12:00 Sergeant_Bill_McKaine: The Texan sniper turned spotter/scout moved like the wind. He was conditioned, fit as fuck, and could run for hours. In addition, he'd been hunting since he was knee high to his pa. He knew how to move silently, instinctively choosing each boot step with precision and care, avoiding twigs, loose stones, sticking to solid ground the entire time.

As he approached the location, he doubled up as he ran, keeping cover, trees, boulders between him and his marks. When he spotted the flashes of green that signified a Royal Marine uniform, he stopped, taking cover behind a boulder. He took out a pair of field glasses, and got a closer look at the figure hiding in a clump of trees.

Not far off, the Land Rover was creeping closer. It was moving slow, trying to stay quiet, the headlamps were off, and they were picking their way slowly through the wild terrain. He didn't have much time. This looked like an extraction to him, not an attack force. There were only three other men in the rover, all dressed in black combat gear. Weapons were not drawn.

It was now or never. He calculated, in his mind, in a flash the distance to the figure hiding in the trees. Wayne had a clean line of sight, but he wouldn't be able to make out the figure in the low light and the distance. But Bill could. The Texan thought furiously, then lifted his radio. He was about 20 yards from the figure, and had maybe 30 seconds before he was sure the figure would break and run for the rover.

He whispered, "Clump of trees, 15 degrees to the west of the setting moon, down low. I'll flash you a light. Take your shot 1 meter above the flash. Should be a solid hit. Here goes." He cut the radio link, measured the angles and the distances one more time, got it firm in his head, then trusted his gut, and lifted his phone, turning it so the light faced Wayne. There was a chance that the three men in the rover might see something, but it was the best he could manage on short notice.

He held it at the perfect height, then flashed the electric torch on the phone briefly, for less than a second.

12:18 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: Wayne lay down on the wet grass, the sniper rifle in front of him, he adjusted the sight on it, listening to Bill as he adjusted the notches on the sight. I meter above the flash... okay... just wait for the flash.

He took a couple of breaths, calming himself, waiting patiently, the anger dissipating, into the ground, into the air, there was stillness as he just looked through the sight, only him and the blackness through the glass and mirrors.

It could have been a few seconds, or an hour, he didn't know, he was just there waiting, he could have waited for hours, he wouldn't have known, he would have been ready.

But then he sees the flash, he adjusts himself very minorly, 1 metre above the flash, the flash illuminated the blackness for a second, and he saw the figure of what he assumed had to be Bill next to the light, and he trusted the numbers, and he didn't pull the trigger, he touched it gently, almost caressing it, like he caressed his girlfriend, the rifle didn't even move as he stroked the trigger, and there was the sound of a bullet leaving the gun, abrupt and violent.

Next to Bill the air displaced less than a second later, and a crack of noise followed after it in its wake.

Lieutenant Perez was packing up his laptop ready to go and meet the other syndicate members that were extracting him, and he would have been surprised to find that there was a small hole in the front of his chest, if not for the fact that a millisecond after that small hole went through his chest, just next to his shoulder, the exit wound went out of his back, a massive hole the size of a man's head, the bullets' shockwave instantly erupting the internal organs, and the tree was covered with what had been a moment before the internal structure of Lieutenant Adam Perez.

The syndicate members though took a moment to be shocked by the fact that the man they were here to bring back was no longer alive, but the flash had caught their attention and they drew their weapons quickly firing near Bill.

13:22 Sergeant_Bill_McKaine: The shot rang out, the Royal Marine's aim was true. Bill caught the explosion of gore from the former Royal Marine Lieutenant. He was impressed. The shot, in the dark, guided by nothing but a flash of light, was something only a true elite marksman could pull off. Quietly, the Texan saluted Wayne. The man wasn't just an elite Marksman. He was his brother now, in a very unique way. They'd made this kill happen together.

Suddenly, just as he feared, the three black combat suited figures reacted quickly to the sudden death of the traitor. WElllll. FUCK All he had was his Glock and his combat knife against three kitted out men with assault rifles and battle gear.

Bullets started slamming into the ground around him. Quickly he scurried around to find cover, taking out his Glock and firing a few shots back at the three men. He caught one, right in the chest, but the man stumbled back slamming into the Rover, then coming back again. FUCK. Tactical vests. Of Fucking Course. He turned to fall back, then caught sight of one of the man making a gesture in the dim light, sending the other two off to the right and left to flank him.

Fuck again. The Texan looked grim, then rapidly fell back. The two men running to flank him opened fire, and a bullet slammed into his back, feeling like a fucking horse kicked him in the spine, sending a savage shockwave of pain ripping through his lean, hard muscled body. Then, as he was thrown down by the blast, another bullet from the assault rifle ripped into his right arm, tearing clean through his bicep in a spray of blood as he slammed into the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Well shit, this weren't good at all.

Pain was slamming into his brain, and he'd dropped his fucking Glock when his right bicep was ripped to shreds. This might be my time... The tough Texan thought as he tried to stay low, in the brush, scrambling forward, desperate to find some cover.

12:00 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Suddenly, off towards the distance, the Army Ranger Sarge sees a flash of light, followed by the retort of a sniper rifle. Then, about 15 seconds later, bursts of assault weapon fire.

Instantly, he thought only of Sgt. Bill McKaine and the danger to him. He burst out of his cover, holding his assault rifle charging full bore towards the gunfire, grimly determined that they were not going to lose a man tonight. Bill was his brother.

12:00 Private_Roger_Travers: Roger doesn't hesitate as he follows the two Sarges out to set up a defensive line. This is his jam. This is what he's trained to do. The rattled young private finds his cool again, focusing, waiting.

Then, all kinds of crazy ass gunfire rips through the night. SHIT... FUCK.... His heart starts pounding. Suddenly, off to his left, his Sarge bolts out of his cover and starts to charge towards the assault rifle fire. Roger doesn't hesitate.

This is his fucking Sarge. Where his sarge goes, he follows. It's his job to keep his brothers alive. His job to be first, to take that fucking bullet that's meant for his Sarge or another of his brothers. He has the heart of a hard-edged soldier beneath his cool Oregonian exterior. He has courage to fucking spare. He charges, heedless of his own safety, assault rifle held at the ready, pouring on a burst of speed to overtake his Sarge.

It was his job to be the fucking meat shield for his brothers, his life before theirs. He didn't hesitate.

14:07 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: The three men were surrounding Bill now, two coming through the bush and one fired again at close range, the bullet slamming into his side and then he was on him, this guy had killed their source of intel, he brought the butt of the gun down on Bill's face as he launched upon him violently beating him. He pulled his gun up to Bill's face.

The gunshots were coming thick and fast, and Wayne swore, it was moonlit so he could see shapes, but nothing else, even through the rifle's scope. There was also not enough time to be able to get down there to help him.

"Cowboy," said Wayne shortly. "Phone."

The sniper stood up and put the gun to his shoulder to get an angle down into the valley where the shadows were moving.

He heard Bill's voice coming through, there was sounds of fighting and Bill's voice wasn't as clear as before, but the instruction was. "Your left, close."

Wayne didn't answer, but he continued looking down the scope, and saw the light, he figured that if Bill was holding it in his hand, the enemy was to my left when looking at the flash, but close, probably the two shapes close together. That can now be seen. The phone glare illuminated Bill's frame for a second and the sniper fired once.

The man's brains exploded all over Bill, the sound of the bullet impact right next to Bill's head... a little TOO close for comfort, but the man never got to pull the trigger. He didn't even have a face any more.

"Cowboy?" came Wayne's voice, calm, measured, the concern only evident in the question at the end of the name. "If I didn't kill you, you've got two coming in from your right, head back down to where you were. There's two incoming figures behind you from our camp, put the enemy between you and them. I've got your back."

The sniper didn't wait to see, he was already moving to a new vantage position. You had to trust your colleagues.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: It was the first time today that Patrick was really frustrated with the Americans, they were meant to be protecting the casualties, and here they were charging off like the Alamo... or some other John Wayne crap.

He swore under his breath. Every single instinct was to follow them though. But the military policeman wasn't governed by bravado, only what needed to be done, they had run off, he had to trust they knew what they were doing. He shouted. "FALLING BACK TO PROTECT CASUALTIES."

It made no sense to commit all the forces to what may be a small skirmish when the casualties were being guarded by two armourers. He swore and headed back to the tent.

"We've got company, don't know how many," he looked at Max. "You stay here with the injured. You're their last line, right... Tommy and I will be outside. Unless you hear my Irish or his Welsh accent, you fucking shoot anyone that comes into that tent, understand corporal?"

14:59 Sergeant_Bill_McKaine: Suddenly more bullets slammed around him, and one smashed into his side, once again feeling like a horse kicking him. The blow knocked him over onto his back, and smashed his ripped up arm into the dirt. He gurgled in agony, then his assailants were on him.

His handsome, hard featured face exploded in a spray of blood as the assailant brought the butt of his rifle down into his face. His nose and jaw shattered, driving spikes of agony deep into Bill's brain.

The Texan was in bad shape, fighting to hold onto consciousness, when suddenly his earpiece erupted into the calm, measured sounds of Wayne's voice. Bill fought manfully, heroically through the crippling pain, his left arm grabbing his phone as he forced his broken jaw to speak, his finely trained Ranger mind cutting through the agony to calculate distance and position from the perspective of his brother sniper.

He gasped out, "Your left, close" Then, he flashed his phone, holding it up.
He only had moments to live, as his assailant was about to unload his assault rifle point blank into his face, before suddenly the man's head erupted into gore, spattering all over the injured Texan.

Wayne's voice came over the radio again, giving the wounded Army Ranger some more instructions. Wayne groaned into the radio, a vague sound of affirmation and acknowledgement. He rolled over to his hands and knees, his face a bloody mess, his right arm bleeding heavily.

He started to get up to his feet, orienting himself towards the camp. He could see two figures running towards him. He started off, forcing his legs to work, every step sending jagged knives of pain from his shredded right arm.

Then, another round of assault rifle fire from the two enemy combatants rakes him again. One round slams into his left calf, where there is no armour, and shreds it. He collapses to the ground again. Another bullet smashes into his helmet, dazing him as the shockwave scrambles his brains, then a third bullet slams into his side... And it's a lucky, or unlucky shot depending on how you look at it.

The bullet smashes into his left oblique, and the way that he'd fallen on the ground hitched up his tactical vest in such a way that there was no protection. The bullet sunk deep into his left obliques tearing up his guts. The agony knifed through him like a super nova... the Texan's last thought was ... "At least we got that fucking son of a bitch..." Then everything went dark for him.

14:59 Private_Roger_Travers: There in front of Roger, he saw the form of Sgt. Bill stagger up, move towards them, then drop again as a hail of bullets sprayed his location.

The two enemy combatants hadn't seen him or Sarge yet, they were too focused on killing Bill, and couldn't hear their approach over their own loud gun fire. Roger could see the body of another enemy combatant, his head gone, sprawled out. He saw more bullets slam into the now prone Army Ranger Sniper, and something in him snapped.

The young private from Oregon charged forward with a supreme burst of speed as the enemy combatant sprang forward to kill Bill with a point blank hail of bullets to his head. But Roger coolly raised his assault rifle, and blew off the black-clad enemy's head with a precise burst of fire from his assault rifle. His enemy never saw him coming.

But now the other combatant saw him, and the Sarge as well. But he was alone now, and outnumbered, with a sniper somehow finding kills despite the night. His nerve was breaking. This had all gone to shit in a hurry for him and his men.

14:59 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Timothy looked on with pride and awe as the fleet-footed Private Rogers sped past him, blowing off the head of one of the combatants just before the black clad man could unload his assault rifle in Sgt Bill's head.

He'd heard the second sniper shot, and saw the headless man lying on the ground. There had only been three men, and now there was only one left.

He was worried sick about Bill. He wasn't moving. But they had to neutralize the threat of the remaining combatant before they could check on Bill.

One thing was sure. He was going to personally see to it that Private Travers received a medal for his bravery.

He had seen the flash of light that had illuminated the area just before the second sniper shot had killed the combatant. He wondered. Rather than engaging in a long drawn out fire fight with the remaining enemy... He barked into his radio, in a sharp, but soft voice, "Private, take cover now. Pin down the enemy, don't let him fucking move. I've got a plan."

He cut the connection, and instantly Private Travers had dropped into cover, and was covering the final enemy with sharp, sustained bursts of his assault rifle. The Sarge just had time to see him duck behind a boulder, pinned down, and afraid to move for the moment. They didn't have much time though. Timothy darted around in a wide arc, running silently now, desperate to hurry, desperate to check on his fallen man. But this way was quicker. They had a sniper... he just had to let him see what he was shooting. He breathed in deep, then visualized the hill as he took cover.

Yes, the enemy soldier was in Wayne's line of sight, to judge where he was in relation to the hill. He had something better than a phone though. He had a powerful flashlight on his tactical belt. He got in cover, and aimed the flashlight at the final enemy, about 50 yards from him. The light lanced out, and illuminated him perfectly. He thought, prayed almost, "C'mon Corporal Wayne, let's finish this."

15:29 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: Given time, and given preparation he would have been able to be set up for the dark, but he wasn't, he was set up for a daytime shooting competition, he didn't have a night sight on his gun, which would have made everything here entirely trivial as he reloaded.

The single grunt of acknowledgement was enough for him to know that he'd done his job, but he saw the ranger now running, but he was getting shot badly.

Wayne couldn't make out the shooters for the trees in the pitch black, but he knew where Bill had been running to and he hoisted the rifle onto his chest and jumped down the muddy bank of the bill, his boots giving scant purchase as he started to slide down before running down towards the American.

Gunfire erupted from the distance but then there was a single glowing source of light in the distance illuminating a man with an assault rifle.

Wayne dug his heels in to the mud slamming down on to his back and raising his rifle to his shoulder and looking through the scope he fired, missing the man's head by inches slamming instead into the boulder, despite the bad positioning and being on the muddy side of the hill and not entirely stable it had been a very close shot.

He moved the handle on the sniper rifle, it felt in slow motion, but it wasn't, it was purely training, muscle memory, he pulled the bolt back, ejecting the former spent cartridge, the bolt went back up, then slid forward, another cartridge into the breach, a small intake of breath, the most minor of all adjustments.

A single caress of the trigger... a massive loud noise in the quiet, the sound of a gunshot slamming through a kevlar plate at supersonic speed, the force of the impact throwing not just hot lead into the body, but superheated kevlar, the exit wound through the back blew off the man's entire chest cavity.

There was silence in the forest, broken only by Wayne finishing his descent of the hill and putting his rifle down and pulling off his scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet for Bill’s leg, wrapping it around and tightening it before taking off his own t-shirt and jamming it in the Texan’s abdomen wound to staunch the bleeding jamming it under the remains of the tactical jacket and using his own belt on top of the armour, pulling it tight.

He didn't know the status of the others, he knew one had a flashlight, but he didn't know what the other one was like and he didn't think he had time to worry, no-one was firing, that was a good sign.

He grunted as he lent down and tried to pick up the Texan, but his boots skidded on the dewey grass, he swore and kicked his boots into the mud to give himself leverage and then leant down further maneuvering the bigger guy over his shoulders and stood to his feet, his back straining until he got Sergeant McKaine into a fireman's carry. He gritted his teeth and called . "Whoever has the flashlight, come and get my rifle," and turned and headed back up the hill.

15:58 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Timothy shines that light, steady, unwavering. And his prayers are answered... not by God, who undoubtedly is busy, but by the next best thing, an elite Royal Marine sniper. His first shot goes wide, but Timothy holds that light steady.

The enemy soldier hears that sharp retort and suddenly, desperately realizes he is in deep shit. He looks like a dear in the headlights. He doesn't quite know what to do, and he makes the fatal mistake of trying to shoot Timothy, trying to extinguish the light making him a target.

It was the last mistake he ever made. In front of his eyes, the enemy soldier's chest exploded into gore. A clean shot. The Royal Marine sniper had found his mark on the second shot.

A huge wave of relief washed through him. Then, he got up, speaking into his radio, "Private Rogers, inspect the perimeter, make sure that there were really only three others, then return to Perez's tent."

He turned off his flashlight, and put it back on his belt, then turned, and began sprinting towards Bill. He was sick with fear.

But by the time he arrived, he stared in amazement. There was Corporal Wayne, the Royal Marine sniper, and balanced over his shoulder, was Sergeant Bill McKaine. He'd received some rapid, rudimentary first aid.

Sergeant Timothy realized at once that the Royal Marine sniper must have started running towards Bill as soon as he saw him fall. He'd taken his shot, killed the final enemy combatant, and arrived at Bill's side well before Timothy could get there.

Sergeant Timothy had his flashlight out in an instant, illuminating the ground for Corporal Wayne Reese. His opinion of the Royal Marines rose several notches. He wasn't sure what the process was, but he would be sure to suggest to Patrick that Corporal Wayne Reese deserved a medal for his actions today.

He illuminated the way back to Perez's tent for the Royal Marine, helping him lay out Bill on a makeshift stretcher. He knelt down, next to Corporal Max, rapidly helping him strip the badly injured hard-bitten Texan of his combat gear. It was clear the rapid thinking Royal Marine had saved the Texan's life with that tourniquet. Timothy brought clean water, helping to clean off the blood while Max worked feverishly to stabilize the critically wounded Ranger Sniper.

Fuck... Timothy stepped outside, leaving Max to his efforts. He breathed heavily. He sought the company of Patrick. "How soon can we get these men to a hospital? We are likely to loose Collins and McKaine if we don't get them proper medical treatment soon. For Fuck's sake.. this was supposed to be a fucking training exercise... Talk about a goddamn shit storm." Now that the situation seemed more under control, some of the stress was starting to get to the Chicago man.

16:31 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: The Royal Marine sat against the side of his tent, covered in Bill's blood, only wearing his assault vest, the t-shirt that had been below it had been stuffed under Bill's vest. He held his rifle on his knee, taking long deep breaths now the adrenaline had gone from him, remembering what he'd talked to Bill about last night, that his former girlfriend had said that being so far away from the action it wasn't like being a soldier, I wasn't in any danger. He took a deep breath, the anger hadn't gone anywhere.

He walked over to the medical tent and looked at the Corporal. "How is he?" The Corporal was busy dressing him up and didn't look up, his job currently taking a bit too much of his attention.

The southerner didn't take that well. "HEY... I ASKED YOU A FUCKING QUESTION.. IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY?"

16:31 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: Sergeant Morgan looked up from where he was working on the heater again, and he stormed past the medic and looked at Wayne. "Corporal, this guy is trying to save people's lives, he doesn't have time to listen to you shouting."

16:31 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: Wayne turned and looked at the Welshman. "I FUCKING WANT TO KNOW IF HE IS GOING TO BE OKAY."

16:31 Sergeant_Tommy_Morgan: Morgan, not known for outbursts slammed a massive fist into Wayne's face knocking him to the floor, and he pointed at him. "Corporal... Cool it... Right Now... You'll find out when the medic has done his job... right..." he pointed away from the tent. "Disappear.... right now."

16:31 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: The sniper looked at the Sergeant, and finally thought better of things. "Yes, Sarge." And headed away.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: Patrick glanced at his watch. "Forty minutes at the earliest, we can’t risk using the other truck after the first one exploded," he said thinking as he spoke. The two of them went back and forth for nearly five minutes going over the options and there were no good ones.

He looked around at the American's truck. "We're going to have to comb every inch of that truck, but we know from our one going up that it's not a small bomb and as Sergeant Morgan said, we didn't bring EOD kit, because... we didn't fucking need it."

The Irishman was frustrated as well as he looked around, two Marines were down and two Rangers were down, he wasn't counting Perez in the list in any way right now.

"I'm going to get some tools from Tommy and I'm going to go through the truck, we can't have both of us doing it because we need someone in charge. If anything happens to me, I authorise you to take charge of my men until they're back at base."

"And god help you if anything happens to them, because you'll be fucking haunted by me," he patted the Chicago native on his shoulder. "And you wouldn't want that, I'd be a fucking terrible ghost."

11:33 Marine_Paul_Collins: In the "medical" tent, Paul could feel coldness, he wasn't sure what had happened, and he felt vaguely disconnected from the rest of his body, he couldn't move and he couldn't really concentrate or know his surroundings. "It's cold Sarge," he said quietly, not even knowing who he was with and the voice was light and raspy.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: The Irishman had brought the toolbelt back to where he'd been talking to the First Sergeant. "Tommy's said that tempers are getting a bit... heated. Mainly from our side, may need to give a pep talk, may leave that to you.. I'm a military policeman, no-one listens to my fucking pep talks."

"Stay with from the truck Tim, and I'll try and find the bomb and see what we can do to gett..." he stopped as there was a noise on the road as what looked like another black landrover drove at high speed over the ground. He pulled his rifle around on his shoulder. "Fuck!"

11:33 Corporal_Wayne_Reece: The Marine leant out of the window and called, "FUCKING LANDROVER!" to the two senior sergeants, he'd figured the keys would still be in the ignition and the fighting had happened away from it so it would be undamaged.

High on adrenaline he skidded to a halt in front of the two first sergeant's. "Two minutes to take the back seat out, tight fit, but we can get the fucking stretchers in and get Bill to hospital.. .all of them... all of them to the hospital."

17:33 Corporal_Max_Thompson: As Max works feverishly to deal with the brutal mess that the assault rifle round made of Bill McKaine's guts, he wonders again... what the fuck is a farmboy from Iowa doing here in the middle of nowhere desperately using his meager skills to save a man he counts as his brother? He's not up to this job... he's only a fucking medic, not a doctor.

Then, he finds some kind of deeper inner strength. He knows first hand the brutal realities of nature, he's worked to save horses and cows on the farm, with a deft hand and a steady calm. This is fucking Bill McKaine, the Texan bigger than life, his friend, his brother. He can fucking do this. He will fucking do this. He refocuses grimly, tapping deep into his inner reserves, believing in himself, his training, in his determination to save his brother.

He hears shouts going on around him,and a loud thump that might be someone getting clocked with a heavy fist, but he is so deep in the zone, the words just feel like a background buzz. His brain refuses to process them. They don't matter. Nothing matters, but the race to save Bill.

17:33 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I feel ... trapped in a nightmare... I'm standing in front of Luke... open admiration for his hard, steel cut muscle firing every nerve in my body. His thick, powerful physique fills my vision, my hands can feel every granite slab of those perfect abs, trace the hard sharp lines of his tattoos.

What a man... so much hardness, so much power, so much danger... fuck... the Lieutenant thought... "I could love this man... so fucking easy... as easy as I could love Mark Christopher... why the fuck am I drawn to such dangerous men..."

Then, calmly, with a hard, stiff cock, Luke suddenly has a knife in his hand, and stabs me, deep in my thickly muscled chest... and then the dream starts over as the deep, profound sense of betrayal fades to be replaced by that deep sense of lust and attraction..

15:58 Sergeant_First_Class_Timothy_Phillips: Timothy stands, feeling somehow, that even though he'd only known Patrick less than a day, he could vent with him. Let down some of those walls he kept in place between him and the lower ranked men. Patrick was ... a true equal. He didn't have to be anything but totally sincere with him. Crisis like these, they brought men together, fast and hard.

Forty minutes. FUCk... Forty fucking minutes... Bill might not make it that long..

But that big loud-spoken Irish Royal Marine MP had a way about him, a way of bringing a bit of lightness to a situation, something that First Sergeant Timothy Phillips didn't have in his character, but something that Timothy appreciated and admired. He laughed at the MP's comment about haunting him, replying, "Don't worry Patrick, I'm sure I couldn't possibly fuck your lads over any worse than you already have."

As Patrick walked away, Timothy stared to the east, where the pre-dawn light had just started to glimmer. It was early spring here, and the mornings were beginning to come early. He took a deep breath, enjoying for just a moment a pure space without life and death demands crowding it.

Then, Patrick trotted back with the toolkit he'd gotten from Tommy. Immediately, Timothy became a bit concerned at the news from Patrick. Morale was flagging was it? Well, he'd have to try and fill Armstrong's boots. Which were not easy to fill. Not at all. He opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly he heard an engine gunning. There, coming at them was a fucking Landrover.

His assault rifle was out, aimed at the vehicle, but suddenly he dropped the barrel. It was Corporal Wayne! And Private Roger was hanging off the back!! FUCK... The Landrover!! OF COURSE.

He had instantly made the same mental leap as the Corporal had already done, and in a flash was on the back seat, spying the toolkit tucked away, a wrench in his hand, unbolting the back seat. Between him and Wayne, the back seat was off in about a minute. He snapped out orders, "Private! Go help bring the men here!"

In under five minutes, all four wounded had been stacked like sardines in the back of the Landrover. Sergeant Timothy took the wheel himself. He was a good driver, and he didn't trust anyone else for this job. He'd avoid every single fucking rut and bump while driving with his pedal to the metal.

He shouted out orders, "Corporal Max!! Get in the back, keep those men alive!!" He looked over at the Colour Sergeant. "You got a suggestion for a navigator? Sorry to say... but this ain't my stomping grounds. Don't have a fucking clue on how to get the hospital, but I fucking swear... you won't find a better driver anywhere in Scotland." Few of his men knew this ... but before joining the Army, Timothy Phillips was this close to becoming a formula one race car driver.

11:33 Colour_Sergeant_Patrick_O’Mally: Patrick looked at Wayne, but he knew the Corporal needed some time to decompress and take a moment. He was pent up full of anger and frustration.

He nodded to Tommy. “Sergeant Morgan, because if you get a flat tire it’ll be fixed by the time you slow down. The last thing you need is breaking down in the wilderness.”

Tommy didn’t need to be asked twice and slid into the passenger seat. “On it Colour.” He looked at the first sergeant. “First sergeant. Ready when you are.”

Patrick looked in. “Drive well Tim. You get them to hospital. I’ll get your lads here home safe. We will all get a pint together when everyone is better. No sneaking off back to America before that.”

“Go,” he said standing back from the landrover.

He looked at the private and Corporal. “You too, get some food in you, change you uniforms. Your covered in blood and mud. When the relief crew get here. I want you too looking like you’ve spent all night with your fucking girlfriends getting your fucking nails and hair done. Vanish. Go get cleaned up.”

He took a deep breath.

Published: 2021-07-27, viewed 52 times.