The Grey Line
Charles Grey and the rest of the unit emerged out of the wet ocean scape of Liberia, on yet another important mission to god only knew exactly where. It was dusk; the sun behind them was painting the sky in a vivid orange for all of time to come.
He hugged his M-4 closely about him, scanning the area from side to side, as if expecting to see something, anything that might look like a threat. All he could see was a lone guard walking on patrol some where, looking board out of his mind, just doing his day to day activities.
Jonas made the chopping hand signal letting everyone know it was time to move up the beach, once more into the fire. Jonas, Bob, Mack, and Grey, all moving up with a single mind, and with a single intent, but no Hector? Where was Hector the one man of the team of any other that he could share almost anything with. He was not here, he died somewhere in Beirut. Taking with him a legacy, as all such men did. The Unit still might have been a single group, but now they had lost a good deal of brainpower, one of their many arms.
The realization for the millionth time threatened to consume him, his lone buddy, and his best friend gone. A quiet rage began to build up within him, as he nearly stopped, his legs started to refuse to do the task at hand. He continued to move, nearly stumbling. The rage continuing to build, he went through this process during every mission. Letting the rage build, then finding some poor hapless tango to release it on.
He found one, he came out of an outhouse, with his Assault Rifle looking surprised. Grey brought up his M-4 and fired two rounds, both hit the man in his chest.
The shots caused the guard on the walk way above to spin around. Jonas and Bob both put two rounds into that one as well, all of them had to have hit. Then yet another guard came up, Grey fired, cutting him down. This was not working, it was too easy, too automatic, too be an outlet for his ever-increasing rage. They reached the catwalk and turned left, weapons pointing.
They were now out in the open, anything could happen. They were now on full alert. Any movement was now probably a terrorist.
Grey could not do it, could not fully concentrate his own personal demons kept on catching him unawares, kept on causing his distraction to drift. And one man snuck past his zone, he was about to open fire, when Bob picked him up and fired off the rounds as well. He looked to Grey, making sure that he was all right. After all he went through the same thing not to long ago, Grey did not know what that was about and did not ask, letting a man and his demons be at one with eachother.
They reached their destination, the tall metal structure jutting itself out of the sand. They flattened themselves against the walls, then fired up ward. This was just to cause the guards on the railings to look, to see who was attacking them. It worked, Mack, and Bob instantly cut down three men.
Jonas and Grey then began the steady climb up ward, Grey was now calm, and the calmest he had been all mission. They reached the door, Jonas covered the hallway as he covered the other two-team mates on the way up the stairs.
They entered as a group. Jonas, Mack, and Bob turned left into an office, and Grey continued to protect the rear. He was well rewarded for his efforts. A tango came shooting down the corner, only to be met by the lethal double tap, another, who met the same fate, immediately followed this. The third was smarter and more patient, he fired his rounds as he was crossing the door way, forcing Grey around the corner, he peeked around and fired off four or five rounds, none of them hit as his quarry had taken cover. He moved back around and reloaded. Now this was more like it, a major firefight to concentrate all of his hate and anger out on an unsuspecting foe. Grey heard the man reload. He moved around the corner, and fired, one round caught him in the rib cage, and the other hit him directly in the stomach, the man sprawled out on the ground. Helpless. Grey coldly squeezed the trigger hitting the defenseless man in the head, his rage was now nearly blinding, but he felt a presence behind him.
"Mack!" He yelled.
Mack shot out of the office, gun in hand just as the tango also appeared behind Grey. The last thing that their nemesis saw in this life was a round to the head.
"Alright I got the intelligence, lets go lets go." Jonas said in that voice of cool calm chaos that he had learned to adopt.
Grey led the way out of the room and into the hot desert sun. He held there covering his team as they went down the stairs. Then he went last.
Back on the ship, another successful mission completed. Grey had his eyes closed but his mind was racing. He was forced into the sudden realization that his feelings did not have to deal with loosing Williams, at least not directly. He had gotten past the rage part, and now was left with sorrow and regret, and a huge emptiness from the lack of Hector's presence.
So what was this?
The realization hit Grey so hard that his eyes shot open. He was enraged because his perfect worldview had been shattered. This team had been together for two and nearly a half years, without getting a single casualty, they had survived numerous missions, a mine field, lone wolf's and Hector had even survived a cake bomb in the UN, voluntarily wanting to exchange his life for some random diplomat. Only to be taken out by some sniper's bullet. He was enraged that his vision was shattered of their team being invincible. It was such a stupid assumption for a man who was so smart and gained to such high levels as this. But yet this team had survived so much, and he had known Williams in the Unit for four years, that how could the mind not entertain the thought?
"You alright man." Bob asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Grey lied, then closed his eyes to attempt to get some sleep. The Grey Line
Charles Grey and the rest of the unit emerged out of the wet ocean scape of Liberia, on yet another important mission to god only knew exactly where. It was dusk, the sun behind them was painting the sky in a vivid orange for all of time to come.
He hugged his M-4 closely about him, scanning the area from side to side, as if expecting to see something, anything that might look like a threat. All he could see was a lone guard walking on patrol some where, looking board out of his mind, just doing his day to day activities.
Jonas made the chopping hand signal letting everyone know it was time to move up the beach, once more into the fire. Jonas, Bob, Mack, and Grey, all moving up with a single mind, and with a single intent, but no Hector? Where was Hector the one man of the team of any other that he could share almost anything with. He was not here, he died somewhere in Beirut. Taking with him a legacy, as all such men did. The Unit still might have been a single group, but now they had lost a good deal of brainpower, one of their many arms.
The realization for the millionth time threatened to consume him, his lone buddy, and his best friend gone. A quiet rage began to build up within him, as he nearly stopped, his legs started to refuse to do the task at hand. He continued to move, nearly stumbling. The rage continuing to build, he went through this process during every mission. Letting the rage build, then finding some poor hapless tango to release it on.
He found one, he came out of an outhouse, with his Assault Rifle looking surprised. Grey brought up his M-4 and fired two rounds, both hit the man in his chest.
The shots caused the guard on the walk way above to spin around. Jonas and Bob both put two rounds into that one as well, all of them had to have hit. Then yet another guard came up, Grey fired, cutting him down. This was not working, it was too easy, too automatic, too be an outlet for his ever-increasing rage. They reached the catwalk and turned left, weapons pointing.
They were now out in the open, anything could happen. They were now on full alert. Any movement was now probably a terrorist.
Grey could not do it, could not fully concentrate his own personal demons kept on catching him unawares, kept on causing his distraction to drift. And one man snuck past his zone, he was about to open fire, when Bob picked him up and fired off the rounds as well. He looked to Grey, making sure that he was all right. After all he went through the same thing not to long ago, Grey did not know what that was about and did not ask, letting a man and his demons be at one with eachother.
They reached their destination, the tall metal structure jutting itself out of the sand. They flattened themselves against the walls, then fired up ward. This was just to cause the guards on the railings to look, to see who was attacking them. It worked, Mack, and Bob instantly cut down three men.
Jonas and Grey then began the steady climb up ward, Grey was now calm, and the calmest he had been all mission. They reached the door, Jonas covered the hallway as he covered the other two-team mates on the way up the stairs.
They entered as a group. Jonas, Mack, and Bob turned left into an office, and Grey continued to protect the rear. He was well rewarded for his efforts. A tango came shooting down the corner, only to be met by the lethal double tap, another, who met the same fate, immediately followed this. The third was smarter and more patient, he fired his rounds as he was crossing the door way, forcing Grey around the corner, he peeked around and fired off four or five rounds, none of them hit as his quarry had taken cover. He moved back around and reloaded. Now this was more like it, a major firefight to concentrate all of his hate and anger out on an unsuspecting foe. Grey heard the man reload. He moved around the corner, and fired, one round caught him in the rib cage, and the other hit him directly in the stomach, the man sprawled out on the ground. Helpless. Grey coldly squeezed the trigger hitting the defenseless man in the head, his rage was now nearly blinding, but he felt a presence behind him.
"Mack!" He yelled.
Mack shot out of the office, gun in hand just as the tango also appeared behind Grey. The last thing that their nemesis saw in this life was a round to the head.
"Alright I got the intelligence, lets go lets go." Jonas said in that voice of cool calm chaos that he had learned to adopt.
Grey led the way out of the room and into the hot desert sun. He held there covering his team as they went down the stairs. Then he went last.
Back on the ship, another successful mission completed. Grey had his eyes closed but his mind was racing. He was forced into the sudden realization that his feelings did not have to deal with loosing Williams, at least not directly. He had gotten past the rage part, and now was left with sorrow and regret, and a huge emptiness from the lack of Hector's presence.
So what was this?
The realization hit Grey so hard that his eyes shot open. He was enraged because his perfect worldview had been shattered. This team had been together for two and nearly a half years, without getting a single casualty, they had survived numerous missions, a mine field, lone wolf's and Hector had even survived a cake bomb in the UN, voluntarily wanting to exchange his life for some random diplomat. Only to be taken out by some sniper's bullet. He was enraged that his vision was shattered of their team being invincible. It was such a stupid assumption for a man who was so smart and gained to such high levels as this. But yet this team had survived so much, and he had known Williams in the Unit for four years, that how could the mind not entertain the thought?
"You alright man." Bob asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Grey lied, then closed his eyes to attempt to get some sleep.