"Kestrel, Todd," Xander said, sticking his fingers through the blinds and widening the gap. He looked out the window onto the street below. It was near midday, and the temperature was in the nineties. He didn't see his backup amidst the crowd of locals and tourists, though he didn't imagine that he could. They weren't picked for being less than the best. First round draft picks. Cream of the crop. "Second infantry. Out of Luffenham."
Xander let go of the window blinds. He wasn't particularly nervous, despite the fact that he was only working with a few men on the ground. There was no bird in the sky working on keeping things under control. No warthogs or gunships to provide CAS. Not that such a thing would have been expected. Too expensive.
Not to mention the fact that they were in a country that wasn't exactly one of the members of the Axis of Evil. They couldn't run an AWACS plane or even a bird to run aerial surveillance. A UAV was even out of the question. Not in Egypt. Not without governmental approval on both sides. Approval that would require explanations that they couldn't give.
Sure, there was the beta team down there. All of them, doing their damnedest to get him back home alive. When it came to it, they were among the best to be watching his ass. But, they were down there. Not up here with him. Here, he'd have to do it on his own. Just like he used to.
"Let me check." The handler typed in the name into his computer. Despite his cover as the owner of a mid level souvenir shop, his computer system was top of the line. That was the way of the 21st century. Nobody had rolodexes or black books anymore. No paperwork kept to keep track of the hundreds of rotating men that he had working in different countries in Africa.
It didn't take that long to come up. The information age had fairly revolutionized the work, and it was a lot easier to keep updated about the status of any assets currently in the field. Not cheap, but not too expensive to be unaffordable to a runner of even less than top talents.
Fahim read the fairly recently updated entry and looked at the man that was in his office. A man he hadn't seen in more than a year. It had been as surprise when the mercenary had called him. The old fixer had had his suspicions and had required a face to face before he would talk about anything. "He's dead. Died in New York City a couple of weeks ago."
"I know." Xander turned around and walked back to the desk. He looked at Fahim. A man in his late forties, he ran quite a few of the hirable guns in the country. Mostly those on the lower end of the spectrum. Disposables. "I need to know where he was located. Where he was working out of. Who he was running with. Who he was working for. Especially on his last job or who asked for him more than once."
"Jack," Fahim said reproachfully. "You know I can't tell you that. It's against the rules. I have a duty to my contractors. I start letting these details out, well you know how things go. It just isn't done."
Xander smirked at the older man. "Please, you're not running Berlin. Or even Rio, for that matter. This is Cairo. I give you five hundred, you tell me what I want to know. And, we both forget that we ever talked. Nobody needs to know."
"Five hundred?" echoed Fahim. He laughed from his stomach; a deep laugh of genuine amusement. Jack was nothing if not the kidder. "You think I'm cheap?"
Xander shrugged, not laughing. "Life is."
Fahim laughed aloud again. "Be that as it may, I can't tell just tell you. You should have known that already."
"Then why don't you ask me why I would be asking you for it anyway. You know, if I knew that already." Xander smiled coldly at the man. "He's dead already. Handler mercenary confidentiality has its limits. Two thousand."
"Nice try," Fahim replied, shaking his head. "It's not going to happen. I do have some scruples you know."
"I'm surprised you know the meaning of the word." Xander leaned into the desk, resting his hands on it. "I'll tell you this much. Kestrel was running an operation against me. I killed him. Thing is, the people I think he worked for probably aren't going to want me to come looking for them. They'll be looking to tie up loose ends."
Fahim didn't react. But, his mind started winding up, pondering the fallout of Kestrel's last contract.
Xander leaned back and pointed at the half-Arabic half-Greek man. "You're a loose end. You want to end up alive after this, you'll tell me what I want to know."
The one-eyed man raised his hands, shrugging. "Or, I could just wait until they come after you. And, hope, I guess, that I manage to get them before they get you. Hope. How much do you think you got of that?"
"Not going to happen," Fahim leaned back in his chair, laying his hands on his stomach. "That's not how the game is played. I just supply the men. Nobody goes after fixers like me. Not if they ever want to hire on more men from anybody. Or, you know, expect to live for much longer."
The special agent working an old cover narrowed his eye. "That was one of your contracts wasn't it? The Brits aren't playing games here. They will come after you for this. New York was fucked. Nobody got out well."
Fahim tried to mask his surprise. The mercenary of sorts in front of him obviously knew quite a bit about what was going on. "I, I don't know what you mean."
It was weak, and they both knew it.
"Snake Eye, this is Big Bear." Xander heard a voice in his head. It was technically former Sergeant Major Ryan over the radio link.
Xander didn't visibly respond to the message as it continued. While the small device in his ear wasn't really invisible, his hair covered it for the most part. It wouldn't do to make anyone think he was wired for sound.
"We have incoming, still a few minutes out. Two cars, green sedans, ten men," Ryan reported. He had situated some of his men above street level and they had noticed the two cars come in. Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but that was why they had to pay attention. "Weapons visible. Looks like MP5's and HK 53's. Moving to support positions. Thirty seconds."
Xander moved to the window and looked out it. He saw the vehicles approaching from a distance. Given the traffic, it would still be some time before they got there. At least a couple of minutes like Scott had said. It was Egypt after all. Traffic regulations were a quaint joke in Egypt. Nobody did high speed infiltrations and getaways here.
He reached behind his back and pulled out his sidearm. He pointed it at Fahim, while nodding back towards the window. "There are people coming with nasty weapons. You sell me out to the Brits? You fucking me over?"
Fahim raised his hands slowly, trying to talk his way out of the situation. "What are you talking about Jack?"
"I'm talking about ten men with British issue weapons driving as fast as they can to get here," Xander replied, raising the weapon to point at head level. "We only have a couple of minutes. You send them after me?"
"No." Fahim shook his head, gulping audibly. He thought quickly, deciding that he needed to cut his losses. The better part of valor and all that. "Looks like you're right. They aren't playing by the rules. So what now?"
Xander pointed the gun down and walked away from the window. He picked up his bag from its position on the floor near Fahim's desk. "We need to get out of here now. You got a back way out?"
Fahim nodded. Even though Jack had tried to buy him, the situation had changed. He was in a dangerous line of work, but he was no match for a group of armed men if they were determined to get to him. He needed Jack. For the time being at least. "There's a stairwell into the alley out back. Through the window."
"Good," Xander replied, he walked over behind the desk. He dropped the bag down. "You have any weapons?"
Fahim nodded as he stood up, and moved to let Xander past. He walked to a cabinet against the far wall and opened it up.
While that was happening, Xander placed the handgun into his belt. He pulled the computer out and unplugged the power cord before he took off the plastic front cover and thin metal housing that hid the machine's inside workings. Xander took his multitool out of the front pocket of the shoulder bag and worked it into a screwdriver. He unscrewed the four small screws that connected the hard drive to the computer and unplugged the cables that attached it to the rack that held it in place.
"What are you doing?" Fahim asked, as he checked the magazine in a CZ P-01 and shoved it into his waistband. He picked up a Tavor MTAR 21 and loaded that with a magazine as well.
"I need the info on Kestrel," Xander said, as he shoved the freed hard drive into his shoulder bag. He slung the pack over his shoulder and looked at what Fahim was holding. "We got a problem here?"
The handler looked the man in the eye. He had no doubt in his mind that if he tried something, he would not be the one walking out of the room. His position meant that he should protect his contractors at all costs. But, he wasn't exactly the untouchable handler he had been a few minutes ago. "No. I have something better than that pistol here for you."
Xander walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a 9mm Uzi. It had a 50 round magazine already inserted. Xander took another loaded magazine and put it into his shoulder bag. He looked at what the handler was holding. It was new and obviously well cared for. The assault rifle had the ITL MARS reflex sight on it, instead of the less expensive red dot that had become common.
"Nice," Xander said, looking at his own weapon to make sure that the Uzi would function properly.
Fahim shrugged his shoulders. "Allah damn the Jews, but they do make some fine weapons."
Xander just stared at the man. He just shook his head. "Well, you got half of that right I suppose."
"Snake Eye, forces have reached your building and are exiting their vehicles." Ryan spoke over the com link.
"We need to move," Xander said, opening the door. He spoke aloud, his mike would pick it up. "Back alley. Stairwell. Twenty seconds."
Fahim looked at him quizzically.
"I don't walk into a room I can't walk out of," Xander said, looking at the other man. It had taken a long time to get where he was now. It wasn't just the training. He could fire guns well even before. The tactics took longer, but he seemed to have an innate skill for it. Evidenced by the fact that he was still alive and hadn't gotten his team killed. The real difference was the confidence. Confidence he lacked in high school and even sometime after. Screwed up a lot of things. Not anymore. He couldn't afford it. "We need to go now."
The handler shrugged and picked up a small dough-like brick from the open cabinet and went to place it onto his desk. He stuck a detonator into it and set it for ninety seconds. It activated with a small beep. He looked back at the younger man, and shot him a crooked grin. "Yes, we should."
Xander nodded and brought the Uzi up. He opened the door slowly and carefully made his way down the short hall to the back window. Fahim followed behind, covering the inside stairwell as they passed it.
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"What's the game plan, Top?" Oscar asked, as he sighted the men get out of their vehicles. Once the vehicle had been sighted they had descended from the second story room for hire and discretely converged on the bedroom.
The others would be following after so as to always keep the potential, but probable, attackers in sight. They would have to move in close if they wanted to take the men outside.
It would be unfortunate if that had been necessary. There were a number of people walking outside, including some suited police with MP5's under their coats. A lot of people in the crossfire. Including some that would contribute to it.
"Wait for Xander to make his move. Cover him if need be," spoke the former sergeant major. He triggered his radio. "Blood Hound, walk the front. You may have to keep the police off of us if we run into trouble."
Scott waited for the confirmation and then looked over at Browning, nodding once. "Let's go to work."
They walked down the street, heading to the vicinity that the alley would end at. The others would cover the front.
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"I don't like this, sir, " Chad said as he exited his vehicle. He took a quick scan around. Nobody was looking directly at them in what he would call a suspicious manner. Still, skilled individuals wouldn't do something that stupid. For all he knew, any one of the multiple people could have a weapon stashed somewhere just waiting to pull it out and start shooting at them.
There were too many people to be able to identify threats, and it made him itchy. Not to mention how little they had to go on in terms of the building they had to infiltrate. It wasn't like the old days. Even though they had had to improvise much of the time, it was done with a group of people he could rely on standing with him. People he could trust.
Barring the guys he knew on his current team, he didn't have that anymore. Two men weren't enough to make him feel confident of the situation. Still, he had to push on. Stiff upper lip and all that.
"No shit," Lyle said, as he and the rest of the men exited the green sedan they had ridden in. He checked his surroundings, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Just the normal mix of passerbys. "You know what to do."
Five men exited the twin car that was parked next to them.
What they were doing was dangerous. It was one thing to do a snatch and grab in a foreign country when you had helicopters running air support and could expect armored vehicles to run the exfiltration. Now, he had to rely on two rented cars that cost way too much. And weapons that were procured from some rather shady dealers. They worked, that was something at least.
"Yes, sir," Chad replied, making sure that his HK 53 was hidden under the jacket he was wearing. It wasn't exactly conspicuous, but hopefully they wouldn't be out in the open for very long. They had the specific location they needed to hit, so it should only be a couple of seconds.
"Roger, Al, watch the cars," Lyle spoke into his throat mike. It was covered by a high collared shirt, so as to not draw attention. His own weapon was secured under his jacket, and he looked up at the building. It was a modest five story building. The office was likely on the top floor or the floor right below. The team hadn't been able to access any blueprints for it. Not enough time. Not enough backup. The street maps would have to suffice. Hardly a desirable situation to be in at the start of a mission. "Mac, take two and go around back."
"Right," Mac replied, picking out his team with a nod of his head. He hadn't known the guy put in charge prior to a week ago. He had done mostly light work for the Council before for a number of years. Mostly transport and protection. He had failed out of CIC, though he hadn't seen it as his fault, and had gotten a job from his uncle. Steady work, and mostly routine. He had seen some action and staked a couple of vampires in his time. He could handle himself for the most part and did win the bar fights he got into. He was just itching for a chance to prove to these guys that he had what it took. He'd seen the way that the new guys had looked at him. Like he didn't belong. Like he wasn't one of them.
Lyle hadn't picked him for his talents. He was simply the most experienced out of all the members of the team barring Roger and Chad. And himself, of course. "Chad, go with him."
"Yes, sir." Chad nodded and walked over to the other car to stand by Mac. Duncan and Fred were the other two men that would go with. Both of them had apparently been watcher trainees that had been assigned to the Council's Special Ops team. They'd been on assignment during the First Evil's attack and had been spared.
It hadn't been any extraordinary skill that had saved them. That wasn't why they had been selected for what the Council amusingly called Special Ops. It was simply luck and timing. They could shoot straight. Seemed like that was all that was needed for the Watchers' Council.
Chad glanced over at the two men he knew from the before times. He didn't like the situation anymore than his superior did. Lyle had come to him when he had been particularly disinterested with being in charge of security for a small tech company in Ireland. He had jumped at the chance for some action, but was starting to wonder if it was a mistake. He wanted to go back home to his wife and kids, but the former soldier didn't want to let his boss down. It was an open contract. He could decide to cut bait tomorrow.
Lyle nodded to Chad, knowing that it was his presence that had resulted in Chad and Roger being there. They had been called up pretty quick to serve as team leader. As a veteran of the Paras, he along with Chadwick and Roger, were the most formerly experienced in the whole team, even if that hadn't mean vampires and demons. As a former captain, he hadn't exactly been impressed by the people that he had been assigned.
Still, the special request had been put to him by certain members of the House of Lords. That meant something. He'd been thrown into the deep end and briefed on the existence of demons and slayers. Magic and monsters. He'd been reluctant to accept once he met the men he would ostensibly be working for.
The former soldier hadn't been impressed by the Council's shooters, and he hadn't much been impressed with the upper echelon either. He could read between the lines. They must have lost a number of people to have him conduct an operation so soon after forming the team. They had barely trained together before being ordered to take their target. Some type of mercenary runner in Egypt. Probably supplied the previous men that this Watchers' Council had used. Covering their tracks. Smart, but the fact that it was necessary spoke much as to the Council's ability to pick its assets. Which was to say, not very well.
Lyle advanced on the building, moving aside to let some tourists move past. Eddie, Phil, and Cole followed behind as his backup. He hoped that they wouldn't end up shooting him in the back. FNG's the lot of them.
Chad tossed him a nod, and another worried look, as he started off with Mac and the rest of the guys. Lyle didn't say anything, though inwardly he agreed. He looked back to the three men in his own team. "Get ready."
He waited until Mac and his group had reached the end of the street before starting for the souvenir shop.
Lyle had just entered the door when an explosion burst through a window on the fifth floor of the building. Debris started to rain down on them, as smoke filled the air.
"What the fuck?" Eddie was tempted to go for his gun, but he saw the two suited men coming towards the site of the explosion, their hands going for guns and radios. He froze, not knowing exactly what to do. Dumb, but it was better than pulling his weapon in front of cops.
"We need to get out of here, right now," Lyle told him, ordering the nervous man not to act with his expression. He activated his radio. "All teams, exfil now."
Shots rang out as he finished talking.
"We're taking fire," Lyle heard in his ear. It was Chad, speaking rather calmly. He heard a ripping sound that denoted the sound of a gun firing fully automatic. "Duncan's down. We need backup!"
"Damn," muttered Lyle as he walked as fast as he could toward the end of the street. The alley behind was the likely source of the shots. Right where Chad and the rest should be by now. "Come on."
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"Motherfucker," Xander grunted as he hid behind the dumpster. He reached his hand around and fired off a short burst from his Uzi. Across the street, Fahim had taken cover behind a pile of rocks. Evidently there were still buildings being torn down for renovation and construction. They made for easy cover.
Fahim let go with another burst of his assault rifle. Just to make the other guys keep their heads down. They had been spotted coming out of the alley. He had managed to bring up his gun and take one down before they had had to take cover and start shooting back. The young blonde man's hesitation had cost him his life. Luckily for him.
The handler looked across the street at the American who he was now on his side of the fight. The Brits had obviously been unhappy with his performance. Usually that just meant words and harder to collect payments. "What are we going to do now?"
Xander ignored the question. He ducked down a little as return fire came back. A couple of holes appeared through the metal above his head. Likely from the HK 53 breaking through bare rusted metal. He fired a few shots in response. "Big Bear, this is Snake Eye. Am taking heavy fire. Need backup."
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"Roger that," Ryan said into his mike. He moved as quickly as he could towards Xander's position. The former soldier didn't take out his weapon yet, there were cops coming and the man they had monitoring communications had told them that more were on their way. They didn't have long to get their man and his package out of there alive. "Blood Hound, we need cover on the right flank. Take the others and keep those cops off of us."
He stopped at the corner, taking a quick look. It was enough to get a layout of the battle that was ongoing.
Xander and the handler were halfway down the alley. About thirty feet from their vehicle. They were pinned by fire from three men. A corpse lay about halfway between them, an MP5 on the ground near his hand.
Scott glanced beside him at Oscar. He motioned the other man to quietly make his way across the intersection to the other side of the street.
Oscar was able to do so in seconds. The sounds of the battle at hand covered his run. He pulled out his handgun and took his place, nodding at Ryan.
Together they shot at angles, catching two of the men in the head.
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The shots rang out and men went down. Two of them. Dead before they hit the ground.
Chad felt like he had been hit in the back by a hammer. He fell to the ground, rolling and snaking his way next to a parked car as best as possible. They had been ambushed from behind.
Fred was behind and was supposed to keep an eye on their flanks and rear. Evidently he had failed at that. A quick glance at his head, a small hole blown through the front, revealed the price the man had paid for his failure. Mac had gone down as well, with a head shot. Obviously there were expert shooters there. He had been lucky to have been the third chosen to hit. It had given him the chance to move and thereby avoid the rate of the others.
He fired a couple of wild shots to keep the gunmen back as he looked for better cover. His best bet was to wait for backup to arrive and then press on. He couldn't think about the three men that had just died.
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Oscar noticed the men coming at them up the street. He aimed downwards, shooting down the street towards the armed men coming at them. He managed to tag one in the chest while the rest scattered, as the three other men from the beta team started to open fire. As the man fell to his knees, the former army Ranger was able to shoot him again in the head. The man wouldn't be getting up again.
Scott didn't see an open shot at the remaining man on the street he had been aiming at, so he turned around, scooping the area for the men that the other man had been shooting at. He watched as Ramirez, Ellison, and Reacher came up quickly, firing their TMP's again at the men that had been angling to get the drop on him and Oscar. He turned back around, looking for the man that hadn't been stopped.
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"Shit," Lyle spit out as he ducked into the street to avoid the fire. He had just seen Phil take one hard in the chest and then the head. It was a pistol round and hadn't penetrated the armored vest that the man was wearing, but they didn't have helmets so the man was dead. He didn't want to leave the bodies behind, but they had no choice. They weren't in the army anymore, and truthfully, it wasn't like most of the guys on the team were soldiers. Or former ones.
He heard the sirens getting louder and saw the police officers begin to get a bead on him. A couple of shots from the other side and from his own had sent the officers looking for cover, but they had gotten courageous again. He raised his MP5 and let off some rounds in their general direction. He was careful not to hit any of them. The former paratrooper might have been conducting illegal operations inside their country, but he wasn't going to kill some cops for simply doing their jobs.
Even though the cops were armed with automatic weapons, they were rather reluctant to use them when the street still had quite a few civilians running around.
Lyle looked at his scattered men and then back over his shoulder towards the waiting cars. He triggered his radio. "Everyone, back to the cars. We're leaving."
The team leader watched as his team made its way back to the waiting cars under fire. Roger and Al were providing cover fire. He noticed with some distaste, as Al fired off his gun. He wasn't too careful about picking his shots. Some of them hit a couple of the remaining civilians in the street. It was sloppy. Too damn sloppy.
He couldn't worry about that though. He made his own way back to the sedans.
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"Alpha one, this Alpha two." Chad grimaced, he looked around and noticed an old wooden doorway on his left, not too far away from his present position behind the cover provided by a parked car. It looked like it led to an abandoned building. "Cannot make the vehicles, will secure alternate route of exit."
Once that statement was confirmed, Chad fired off a couple of more rounds as he picked a smoke grenade off of his belt and tossed it a few feet away. Once it had detonated he made his way as quickly as possible to the door. A hard shoulder and he was inside, making his way in the dark for the other side. He dropped another smoke grenade, and kept going, hopefully for an exit.
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Xander heard the door give and presumed that the man firing on them had left. He took a peek around the dumpster and noticed Scott and Oscar coming up from the other end of street toward him. He glanced to his left, noticing that Fahim was slumped behind the pile of rubble he had taken cover behind.
With a fleeting look at the bloom of smoke that was rising, he made his way carefully, but quickly, towards the handler. The shooter would be gone by now. Or hiding in that building waiting to get the drop on them. They didn't have the time to check it. Or the resources to clear the building while keeping the police at bay. They'd have to let him get away. It was the nature of the work sometimes. They couldn't always be thorough. But, it didn't mean that they had to leave with nothing though.
Xander bent down, looking down at Fahim. Without needing to check vitals he knew that the man was dead. The hole in his eye was probably from a stray shot. Unlucky for the criminal. Unlucky for him as well.
"Big Bear, search the corpses and take pictures," Xander instructed as he conducted his own search of the dead man before him, putting his gun away. He extracted Fahim's cell phone and wallet. The only things of interest.
Scott conducted his own search, taking pictures of one of the two men that were lying in the street with the camera on his cell phone. Oscar did the same with the other man.
"We need to get out of here," Scott said, walking up to Xander. He looked at the body of Fahim and frowned. He just hoped that whatever they had found would provide a lead. "The rest are going to have to bug out soon."
The three men that were again firing at the cops a bit away from them wouldn't be able to sustain a long battle with the police that were beginning to converge on their position. Numbers would soon be against them. As would the firepower.
Oscar walked up to them, putting his phone into his pocket. "Xander, your neck."
Xander placed a hand to the side of his neck. He pulled it away and looked at it, noticing some blood. It had mostly dripped down onto his shirt. Good thing it hadn't nicked his carotid artery. No spurting. "Must have been a ricochet or a rock splinter or something. I'm fine."
Oscar simply nodded.
"I got what I need let's go," Xander said, standing up and placing Fahim's cell phone and wallet into his bag. He took one last look around to make sure that nothing had been left behind. The only things there in the street were shell casings, smoke, and bodies. "I'll patch up in the car."
They hurried to the vehicle that Xander had driven up to the building in. Scott radioed his men to begin their own getaway while he made his way down the alley after the others.
From the explosion to the time that Oscar started up their car it had been less than five minutes. Felt longer to them all.
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Lyle leaned closer in to Chad's bare back. There was a red circle on his skin where the bullet had impacted after hitting a coat, shirt, and bulletproof vest. "You'll be fine."
"Thanks," Chad said standing up and putting his shirt back on. He looked around at the dank room that they were in. It was their current base of operations along with the two additional rooms in the cheap motel they had taken rooms in. Of course, now they were under occupied. "Well, that sucked. Who the hell were those guys?"
Lyle shook his head. "I have no fucking clue."
The team leader turned around to the other men. Roger was on the phone to their superiors, while the others just looked confused. It hadn't gone as expected, though he hadn't been particularly surprised by the results. The only ones there with decent training and hard experience were among those that made it back. That shouldn't be a shock to anybody.
Roger ended his call and walked closer to the center of the room by one of the beds. "Boss man wants us back first thing. He's not pleased."
"Bloody hell," Chad grunted out, still feeling the ache in his back. If it had been a rifle round, or armor piercing, or he hadn't had the trauma plate in the back of his armored vest, he would have been dead. It had been close. If he hadn't stood when he had to respond to the incoming fire, the bullet would have caught him in the head instead of the back. Just the way of things sometimes.
Lyle turned to look at the others. Four of ten men dead in five minutes. Probably the worst operation that he had ever run. Though those had all been legit battles with fellow soldiers beside him. Not mercenaries and wannabes playing at soldier.
He looked away in disgust. They were still his men though. He had been in command and it was ultimately his responsibility that they were dead. Even if he had thought the plan and the orders were foolhardy and dangerous. Orders were orders. Even if they came from idiots.
"Pack up," Lyle said, going for his bag. "We need to get out of here before anybody starts looking for us."
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"That didn't turn out so good at all," Xander muttered from his seat on the couch. It was comfortable, and allowed him to sink in deep. He turned to his left and looked at Scott was sitting in a chair next to him.
The former Delta operator shrugged. "Still got something. We'll have to get it back and see what we can pull off of it."
"I know," Xander replied, taking another sip from his beer. The computer hard drive should be gone over by experts. Which meant it stayed in baggage until they had the opportunity to deliver it into the hands of the good computer techs in their organization. "What went wrong?"
"Nothing," Oscar put in from his seat opposite of his team leader. He took a sip from his whiskey. "Couldn't put men anywhere else, and it's not like we had the pull to do a real extraction. We all get to go home. They don't. Take it as it went. Shit happens."
They spoke softly, but it was unnecessary with no one else in the hotel bar. There was nobody to overhear them.
"Yeah," Xander said, turning to look straight ahead at the window that showed what was outside. It was dark, but the lights in the garden showed grass and few bushes. Not exactly poetic or awe inspiring. Oscar was right, there really wasn't anything else they could have done. "Let's pack it up. We gotta get home."
Scott nodded in agreement, taking a drink from his own beer. He remembered back when he had been asked to volunteer for the assignment. Which was odd in and of itself. The operators in his unit were used to orders. That was simply how they operated. The whole supernatural thing was a surprise, but once the facts and rules were laid out it was easy to accept.
Vampires were killed by fire, sunlight, beheading, and wood to the heart. They were also vulnerable to holy water and holy symbols. Despite what Blade showed, silver didn't work. Lycanthropes of their many assorted types, on the other hand, could be killed by silver. Just like Fyarl demons. Demons that possessed people had to be exorcised out. Magic. Magicians were tricky, but sufficient firepower or a spell slinger of their own solved that problem.
The list went on and on. It wasn't random. There was an explanation of biology, or magic, or physics that defined them. There was nothing to fear from the supernatural simply because once explained, it became natural.
They understood that world now. And once understood, it could be fought. Fought and beaten. By men like him, with their soldier's ways. By women like Abigail, with her slayer abilities. Or Cindy, with her magic. And, by men like Xander.
No magic. No supernatural strength. Not even the same training that he had had. Sure, Xander had undergone much, and had learned much in his time on his own and with the company. He had had Ranger training of sorts, but he wasn't a Ranger. That usually meant black ops. Dangerous men who would sacrifice others as if pawns in a game of chess. Men that didn't care about others, only about their objective and some fuzzy idea like patriotism. Or democracy. Or oil.
Xander wasn't that either, though he could be just as dangerous.
Still, what he lacked in any formal training or supernatural powers he made up in tenacity. And a complete lack of fear. And a complete disregard for everyone that wasn't one of his own people. That caused confidence. It made him dangerous. To others, and to himself. However, it also made him good. It could make him a nightmare. When it came down to it, it was why they let him out there. Why he was good enough to run with the big dogs given his limitations.
He never did tell Xander about his orders to execute the younger man if he ever felt that it was necessary. But, working with him so far, he had the distinct feeling that the one-eyed man actually knew that. The fact that Xander was still doing what he was doing was a testament to his commitment. A lot of loyalty in that kid.
Scott stood up as the others did, placing his empty bottle on the short coffee table in front of them. He dropped a few bills on the table as well to cover the tab. His eyes met Xander's for a moment, his natural ones to the younger man's one natural and one medical acrylic.
It was sometimes said that men in his position, men in his line of work, often came from less than ideal backgrounds. Alcoholism. Child abuse. Absentee parents, usually the father. Though he hid it well, Scott knew that there was some truth to that for the man that very well could have joined his ranks, given a few different twists of fate. He didn't know exactly, and he didn't pry. Given how he treated his girlfriend, it couldn't have been that bad. But, there was the work. Coldhearted or ruthless wasn't even half of it. That was the nature of the beast, and all of his men had it in spades. But, if Xander beat them in one thing, it was that. The cold heart. The snake in a suit attitude combined with absolute commitment to the team. A contradiction that kept people's loyalty while making him a dangerous man to cross. Looking at Xander sometimes, when he was on the job, or with his girlfriend and friends, it was like looking in a funhouse mirror. He saw himself so many years ago, simply twisted. Darker.
He didn't know the background that would create someone like that. Dr. Farmiga might. He did wonder sometimes what exactly had to have happened to make someone like Xander.
But, that wasn't his job. And, he had a plane to catch.
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"You mind telling me what the bloody hell we're up against?" Lyle almost shouted at the smug man looking at him. They had been up all night and the flight hadn't been easy. Couple that with having to report right after getting back and it meant he was not in the best state. Irritable didn't describe it by half.
"I take it you failed completely?" Roger Wyndam-Pryce stated, taking a seat in his office chair. He didn't offer one to any of the others.
"Well no shit," Lyle snarled. "You send me in with a mostly green team, little intel and, oh, fail to mention that we might go up against a trained team of gunmen. I thought all we had to worry about where demons and half-trained slayers. I didn't see any schoolgirls or horns out there. What the fuck was that then?"
"I thought you were supposed to be good," Roger said, dispassionately. He raised a hand and pointed at the team leader. "That was why we hired you."
Lyle smiled, dangerously. "I'm one of the bloody best. But, you stick me with losers and you're never going to get anywhere. Fahim's dead. But, I can't guarantee what he may have given up. Now, who the fuck was that?"
"Describe them," Roger spoke again. Leaving all emotion out of his voice. Inwardly, he was seething. Another screw up. Giles and his party was increasingly making him angry.
"We didn't get good looks at most of them," Chad replied. "There was a black man. Three Caucasians. And one that may have been Arabic. They all had long hair and thick beards. No positive ID's."
The watcher sighed. "Can you give me anything?"
Chad glanced over at his superior. Then he looked at Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. "All of them had to be well trained. The way they moved. The way they operated. That's military training. But, that doesn't mean much. Maybe Australian. American. French. German. Hell, Russian for all we know. I mean, the man that was extracting Fahim was white too. Dark brown hair. Beard. Thing is, he only had one eye. Wore an eye patch over his left eye. Moved pretty damn fast."
"So some type of soldiers." The watcher asked, not understanding exactly what was being said. "Would you be able to identify them? Him?"
Chad just looked at the man. The list he had just read off meant it could be SAS, SEALs, GIGN, GSG 9, or Spetsnaz. And that was only if it was the top line guys from those particular countries. Hell, the way things were in the world, with a bit of natural talent, they could have been hit by a bunch of American National Guardsmen.
He just shrugged. "I'll work on it. See if anything pops up."
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Xander leaned his head against the inner hull of the plane. He looked down through the plane's window at the blue sky and white fluffy clouds whipping past. They still had a number of hours to go before they would land. He couldn't sleep though.
Things hadn't gone well. Fahim was dead, and all that remained where the contents of his laptop, and whatever could be pulled from pictures and phones. With a little luck they might be able to identify the gunmen that had ambushed him and Fahim. Going up that chain of corpses and people to who was really pulling the strings.
He raised a hand to scratch his neck, but stopped himself. The small bandage over the scratch made his skin itch. It wasn't so bad, but he knew he was lucky. Of course, that was the way it happened. In the thick of things, you don't notice the bullets coming at you. You just finish up. If you're dead, you don't notice a thing. If you're hit you feel the pain. If you're alive, you see the holes in your clothes.
Just the way of things.
The one thing that he was worried about was the one that got away. The one that had seen him. At least from afar. He had had to wear the eye patch to the meet. He had used a little cover, longer hair and the like. That would prevent a positive identification all the way back to who he really was. Hopefully, at any rate.
The eye patch. That could give him away if any existent data could link up to what the man had seen. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to get a good look at that particular man. Only the other two. Whom they already had pictures of.
He closed his eye, still not sleeping.
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Former Army Ranger and Delta operator Ryan walked into his house, shutting the door behind him. He made sure to lock it behind him. It was something that he started doing ever since they had started the gig. Back when he was an official soldier and had lived in various locations when he was stationed in the US, it hadn't been necessary. Nobody was dumb enough to try to rob houses in the neighborhood completely inhabited by soldiers.
Now though, there were things in the dark that had to be defended against. Enemies right there, on their home soil.
The man walked into his house, hearing his wife in the living room. It had been a long day and he was tired. As he walked into the room, he saw her typing on her computer. She did some copywriting. A holdover from when he had simply been a soldier. Even the elite weren't paid that well. Double income households weren't exactly rare in the army.
"How did everything go?" Audrey asked, glancing over at her husband. She didn't expect a full answer. She'd been an army wife long enough to know that. Still, she cared, especially once she saw the tired expression on his face.
"Just another day at the office," Scott replied, leaning in and kissing his wife on the top of her head.
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Xander walked into the apartment and locked the door behind him. He left his bags there and looked into the kitchen where Vi was washing dishes. It was late afternoon and her classes had already ended. She had probably been studying and had made a snack.
He watched for a moment as she placed the finished dishes onto the rack beside the sink and wiped her hands on a towel. He walked over to her as she bent down and hung the wet towel on the handle to the cabinet beneath the sink.
Grasping her from behind, Xander leaned in and kissed the side of her neck. Her red hair tickled his cheeks.
"Xander," Vi giggled as she turned around to face him. She noticed the small bandage on his neck. "What happened?"
"Just a scratch," Xander said, muffled into her neck as he kept kissing his way to her lips.
Vi whimpered slightly as he managed to hit some particularly sensitive spots. He knew her too well at times.
Xander leaned back and looked her hungrily in the eyes. "I want you. Right now."
Vi smiled and embraced him, feeling Xander's hands as they unbuttoned her shirt. She knew that he was troubled. His conversation a week or so ago about what had happened in New York City had been proof of that. She felt bad about what had occurred with the mind controlled slayer. But, she knew where the fault lay. With the bastards that sought to use her sisters in such a way. Xander had promised to do his best to do what he could for any slayers that were under that Council's control. That was the best she could ask for or expect.
She felt Xander continue to touch her. His slightly rough hands felt intoxicating on her body. There was trouble and danger out there, but she knew that there would be time enough for that later. The slayer moved her arms around her boyfriend and pulled his shirt off as well. He had gained quite a bit of muscle, though he was fairly lean and flexible. The better to move. It wasn't like he was training for a weightlifting contest. Vi licked her lips as she pressed herself against him hard, feeling his excitement grow.
Xander took off her shirt, making sure that her arms were clear. He tossed it behind him before picking up the slim slayer and placing her on the empty counter space on the other side of the sink. He ran his hands up her toned stomach and up behind her back, feeling her shiver under his touch.
He smiled lovingly at the woman seated in front of him. Xander kissed her again softly as he unclasped her bra, letting it drop into her lap. He reached back in front, never taking his hands off of her smooth skin.
She gasped slightly in his mouth as she felt him cup her breasts. There would definitely be time to worry about the future later. Much later.
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Author's Note: It occurs to me that I haven't touched upon the thoughts of some of the supporting characters. Giles and the others haven't even appeared yet in this story. Though, I suppose if it was television, it would be in a spinoff like Angel was from Buffy. Hopefully, I can touch upon more of the various plotlines that are being interwoven. At least in more than just small bits and pieces.
I hope that Vi's characterization is multi-faceted. She was fairly badass in the first story I think and had her action moments in the second. Basically, I didn't want to make her simply the girl.
Also, I hope that Xander isn't too over the top. I figure it's after the first story so he's gained experience, training, and especially confidence. There's a reason why they let him do what he does, so he has to be good. Most of all, he's an adult now, with all the responsibility that entails. He's not invincible and he is being challenged, but his failures aren't due to screwups that he should know better than to do.
Thanks for the reviews. More please.