AN: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Corbsxx, Colorful Raging Cancer, and even USMCKempeitai :) They were much appreciated.

*On another note for all those who are reading this, please try to remember that this is in first person from Sam's point of view, so she may not know everything or get everything right, even if I (or the audience) knows it. Some mistakes may be intentional. Other than that, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

Eye of the Tiger

"Looks like you're riding with us beautiful!"

I turned my head and looked up at the grinning face of Ray. "What?"

"Godfather says they're not cas-evacing anyone out of this region. Since we need to continue on with our mission, and we can't just leave you out here alone, you're coming with us," Brad said as he walked passed Ray to open the passenger door.

I was sitting on the right back seat of the Humvee, leaning over so that I was fully in the shade. "Wait, so I'm riding with you guys?"

"Sure 'nough. As long as 'all marines act accordingly around our female guest'," Ray said, quoting one of the officers no doubt. "But don't worry sweetheart, we'll take good care of you."

"Somehow, that doesn't comfort me too much."

"What? We've got the best Humvee in this platoon. Hell, in this whole Goddamn country!" he said as he walked around to the driver's side, pulling himself in. "Brad's a fucking ninja out here with all his equipment and shit," he said as he motioned to all the night-ops gear and monitors they had installed. He paused for a moment as he glanced back at me, "though he's still out here looking for dragons to slay." He turned around and pulled out his glasses before slipping them on. "And then of course, there's me."

"Don't flatter yourself Ray."

"You're gonna have to look out for Trombley though," he continued, not letting Brad's words affect him. "He's one psycho motherfucker. Ain't that right Trombley?"

"Fuck yeah," Trombley nodded.

"Hey, what about me?"

"Walt, all you do is stand up there and shoot people with a big ass gun," Ray replied. "That's not something that requires too much skill."

"Man, fuck you," I heard Walt mumbled to himself.

"Alright," Brad cut in to the back-and-forth banter between the guys, "our orders are to stay on the road we're on now." Brad began pressing buttons on the monitor mounted to the dashboard, switching between maps until he found what he was looking for. "This," he said, pointing down an aerial shot of a road, "is the road we are currently on. We're to go forty klicks north," he illustrated, his finger following the line, "until we reach here." He pressed another button and the map changed to a closer view of the area. "There's a town that will be to the east of our position. And it is that town that we have been tasked to recon."

"Holy shit! You mean command actually gave us a real fucking recon mission?" Ray said in what seemed excitement, turning wide-eyed to Brad.

Brad was about to say something before he was interrupted by the radio.

"Hitman Two-One Actual, this is Hitman Two over."

He sighed and picked up the radio. "Hitman Two, this is Hitman Two One Actual. Go ahead."

"Interrogative, is your team ready to go?"

"Affirmative."

"Alright then, let's move out."

"Solid copy. We're moving out."

"Hitman Two out."

"Pack up ladies, we're Oscar Mike!" Brad yelled out of the window, hitting the side of his door.

"Right on, right on," Ray said as he strapped his helmet on and threw the Humvee into gear.

I stepped out for a moment so as to let Walt get in, but I grabbed his sleeve before he could get inside. "Hey, Walt? Is there any word on the helicopter?"

"All I heard was pilots were KIA. Dunno if anyone else was on board." He turned, about to go in, but stopped when he looked back at me. He sighed and shook his head, "Hey, don't go blamin' yourself for this. No one saw that comin'. Just, forget about it, alright?"

I nodded slowly. "No, I'm fine," I assured him, "just curious is all." He nodded and pulled himself up to the gun. Once he was up I slipped into the seat and closed the door.

Brad picked up the radio once we were all in the vehicle. "All Hitman victors, be advised, we are now Oscar Mike. I repeat we are Oscar Mike." With a nod from Brad, Ray started off, and the convoy followed behind.

I could faintly hear the men behind us; it sounding as if they were cheering, glad to finally be on the move again. However, I found myself unable to share in their excitement. I was currently stuck here in Iraq with a bunch of marines. And I was a woman. Not exactly a good combination. Plus, I had no idea what it was they were doing nor what I was expected to do (or, more probable, what I was expected not to do), when I would be shipped back, or even what area I was in. I was sitting in the dark about everything with no authority to ask around about it. Not exactly a thrilling position.

I leaned back against the seat and stared out of the window for a majority of the time. I hadn't ever really looked at the countryside, but as I watched it roll by now I had to admit, Iraq was actually quite a beautiful country. The red sandstone that made up the small mountains practically glowed in the morning sunlight, like the burning embers of a fire. The tan grasses swayed gently in the breeze that swept by, and within the grasses stood trees hardened by the unforgiving climate. While sparse, they dotted the landscape with green bursts of color, announcing that life still flourished within this desert landscape.

"Risin' up, back on the street; did my time, took my chances."

I turned my head curiously towards Ray as I heard him begin to sing.

"Went the distance now I'm back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive!"

"Ray," came the ominous voice of Brad, "what did I tell you about singing songs like that?"

There was a moment of silence following his question, before Ray answered with, "It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rival! And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's watching us all with the eeeye (pause for dramatic effect) of the tiger!"

As Ray continued signing horribly off-key, I couldn't help but feel the corners of my mouth turn up slightly. It was just so damn amusing.

"See, I knew it was only a matter of time before I got you to smile," Ray said as he turned to glance back at me. I didn't know how to take this statement, but the smug look on his face didn't ease my uncertainty. So, with a roll of my eyes, I quickly dropped my smile.

"C'mon, there's no need to be so uptight. I mean look, we're invading a country!" he said as he motioned forward. "Have some fun!"

I narrowed my eyes slightly at the back of Ray's head. This kid baffled me. I'd never met anyone quite like him before; he was definitely one of a kind. What was odd was how he seemed to fit so perfectly in this fucked-up situation, as if we invaded the country just to give him something to do. Either way, the idea that invading a country could be fun went right over my head. Not that I didn't know he was just kidding (or maybe he wasn't), but I just didn't have the mental capacity to register his brand of humor at the moment.

So once again it fell silent. The only sounds were that of the Humvees trudging along the road and the occasional shouts from the men behind us.

And in this silence I began to think about what it was we were going to do. I looked over at Ray, going back in forth in my mind whether to ask the question or just let it go. In the end, my curiosity won out. "You said you're going to recon a town, right? Is that really the kind of stuff Recon Marines do?" I quickly realized that I probably shouldn't have asked that question.

Ray immediately responded with, "No, it's not what we do! We are Force Reconnaissance Marines – fucking warriors, man! And here they have us watching a bunch of Haji kids run around and play 'who's the next terrorist'. That's not even close to a real fucking recon mission! You see that?" he said, referring to two helicopters that flew over us, heading in a northeastern direction. "Those birds are flying into the war zone. And where are we going? In the wrong Goddamn direction, away from all the action. You know what, in the opinion of this marine, fucking command probably made up this bullshit mission for the safety of the Iraqis. I mean, imagine if they'd really let us out! We are a team of heartless, bloodthirsty killers trained in the subtle art of dismembering our enemies and defiling their civilizations. If they were to actually let us out this whole fucking war would be over in a week! But, of course, Republicans would never stand for that-"

"Ray, do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"Hey, fuck you Walt!"

"But can't you-"

"Don't," I was interrupted by Brad. "It'll only encourage him."

I could sense the annoyance in his voice so I quickly stopped talking. I gathered that this must be a common occurrence, especially with Ray, but I was still curious as to what exactly it was that they were doing. I knew enough about the four basic branches of the military and its culture but I'd never actually spent time within one, especially a spec-ops unit, and I wanted to know more about it.

However, I wouldn't be getting that information anytime soon. For now I resigned to sit quietly in my seat and stare out into the desert land.

"Hey!" Walt shouted, "Looks like there're white trucks on the side of the road up ahead."

"How far?"

"I dunno… maybe two klicks? Looks like three of 'em."

Brad looked through the scope of his weapon. "Yeah, I see 'em." He turned back in and reached over to grab the radio. "This is Hitman Two-One Actual. All Hitman victors, be advised, we have three, unmarked, white victors about two klicks out, possible foot mobiles."

"Hitman victors copy all."

"Roger that. Interrogative, is anyone aware of our current R.O.E?"

"Hitman Two-One Actual, this is Hitman Two Actual. That's a negative. Let me check with Godfather."

For a moment it was completely silent. Then the crackle of the radio announced Fick's response.

"We are not clear to engage unless they show hostile intent. I repeat, do not engage unless they show hostile intent."

"Solid copy – do not engage unless tangos show hostile intent. Out copy." Brad sighed and placed the radio back on its holder, turning back to his weapon. "Everyone watch their sectors. And stay frosty."

As we got closer to the trucks, I could feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I tried to hide my unease, though there was no real need since all the guys were too focused on the road ahead. I don't know why I suddenly felt so on edge – it's not like this had been the first time I'd been in danger. But as the sun scorched the side of my arm I could hear the rhythmic pounding of my heart in my ears growing louder and louder as the white trucks grew nearer. Goosebumps began crawling their way over my arms when we were close enough to see the outline of the men standing off to the side, all turned in such a way that only half of their bodies were visible. As we moved closer they began shouting to one another, making wild jesters with their hands. I vaguely heard someone in the car utter a warning but it became muddled in the ever-growing volume of voices. In the corner of my eye I spotted a man sitting in the bed of a truck who was leaning back ever so slowly the closer we got. His arm was reaching further and further into the depths of the bed until all I could see was him looking up at us with only one eye. I drew in a quick breath and parted my lips.

Then we were past them.

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. It was as if a balloon had just been deflated; you could feel the tension leave the Humvee once the trucks became distant white mounds in the side-view mirrors.

"Did y'all see all those electronic lookin' things in the back of that one truck?"

"Yeah, looked like C-4 to me."

"One of 'em had an AK in the back."

"Man, hostile intent my ass; we shoulda lit 'em up."

"Fuckin' A," I heard Trombley mumble next to me. The men in the Humvees behind us were all yelling back and forth to one another about how they should have been allowed to take those men out. I could only catch bits and pieces of what they were saying but I got the gist of it pretty quickly.

"Watch your sectors. We're not out of this yet," Brad said without ever looking up from his scope.

"Brad," Ray began after a moment, "we're in Iraq. We'll never be out of this."

"Ray, concentrate on driving please."

"I mean think about it – we're invading a big-ass, fucking desert country that half our platoon didn't even get maps for, because if we actually knew where we were going then of course the terrorists would kills us."

"How exactly?" I tentatively asked.

"If they know all of the roads that we know, then they could set up ambushes along all of those roads. But if we don't know where we're going, then they can't know where we're going. But since they don't know where we're going, then they set up IEDs and ambushes along, like, every road. So now every road will be booby-trapped all because fucking command can't give us the necessary shit we need to effectively invade this God-forsaken country!"

Brad looked away from his weapon for a moment to turn and look at Ray. "You done?"

Ray glanced at him and shrugged. "For now."

"Good. Now take a left on the next road up ahead."

"Oh, you mean the road that leads into the tall grass that is just perfect for an ambush? Of course. What other road could we possibly go down?" Reluctantly, however, Ray did as he was told.

"The town should be down here soon," Brad said after a moment.

I took a deep breath and pressed my palms against the top of my legs.

"Hold on, hold on," Brad said as he adjusted himself in his seat, propping up his weapon. "I got movement at my three."

"See! This is exactly what I'm talking ab-"

"Shh," Brad whispered harshly to silence Ray. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Trombley, you got anything over there?"

"Nothin' Sarge," he replied instantly.

"Walt?"

"Same. I got nothin'."

I could see the end of his rifle following whatever he was saw. I pushed myself to the edge of the seat, leaning my head ever so slightly out of the window, trying to see what he was looking at. I scoured the tan sea of grass, waves moving about by the wind. In the midst of all the movement I saw the tops of some of the stalks suddenly jerk by an unseen force. My senses perked up and I was about to announce that I saw what he was looking at until I caught the flash of a black streak go by.

"It's just a dog," Brad said as he pulled away from the window.

"Damn homes," Ray grinned as he looked over at Brad, giving him a nod, "eye of the tiger."

"Why didn't you shoot it?"

"For the millionth time Trombley, we don't shoot dogs – we shoot people."

"I woulda shot 'im," he mumbled.

"Don't worry Trombley," Ray said reassuringly, "we'll find you some dogs to shoot soon enough. Or maybe a camel or two."

He turned towards Ray with what looked to be a hopeful expression on his face. "Promise?"

"Of course! Would your dear ol' pal Ray ever lie to you?"

"Well… yeah, actually."

"What? After all I've done for you, that's how you think of me?"

"Name one thing you've ever done for me."

"Well, for starters, how about the time I saved your ass-"

"Whoa, when the hell have you ever saved me from anything-"

"If you'd let me finish-"

"Enough you two," Brad cut in. "That's the town up ahead. Drive to that hill; we'll set up up there."

"Aye-aye, captain," Ray said, punctuating the statement with a salute. Brad didn't seem to take notice. Instead, he picked up the radio an announced that we had arrived at our destination.