Well, it's been a while...again. I really need to find some inspiration :/ and not get sidetracked.
Hope this chapter is good enough, considering the long wait. I'm not entirely happy with it, but right now it's the best I've got. I think I need to start wrapping this story up; it might be Nomad's last major one for a while, unless I get a really awesome idea for another one...need to start working on some of my other ones, too.
Anyway, here you go. Hope you enjoy...is anyone still reading this? :p
Lockjaw glanced around uneasily, his gun raised as he squinted into the darkness. The stocky young man was quiet - it was surprising, given how he hardly ever shut his mouth back at the Pit.
Quiet…but nowhere near quiet enough. His boots rustled through the leaves on the ground, his BDUs caught on twigs occasionally, snapping them with tiny cracks. Tiny sounds that, to anyone who didn't know better, wouldn't sound out of place in a forest.
But the twigs cracked just a little too often, and the rustlings were too uniform to be made by any animal.
Nomad had been tracking the greenshirt for the last hour, watching him blunder through the forest. So many times she'd had to choke back a bitter laugh - Lockjaw looked exactly how she must have looked during her first couple of weeks in the Amazon. She'd been clumsy, too…and jumpy. Every sound had made her spin around, readying her gun, fearing an attack by insurgents.
Most often than not, the startling noises were birds taking flight. Once or twice, though…
She shook her head. There was no point thinking about that now; what was done was done.
Plus, if Lock caught her while she was reminiscing, Duke and Stalker would not let her forget it.
Lockjaw was alone. She pressed herself closer to her perch, a thick branch about four metres off the ground. She'd climbed up the big tree about ten minutes ago for a short break - there was no chance of losing Lockjaw, he'd been walking in the same direction since she'd come across him.
He hadn't seen her yet - stupid damn greenie, he should've known to be looking in the trees, going up against a team that included Recondo - but if he happened to look up and spot her, she had nowhere to go. He'd pin her down with his paintball gun, and that would be it.
He didn't look up. He walked right underneath her; she didn't move, but she followed him with her eyes as he went. It would've been so easy to drop down as he passed, to bring him ground and take him out.
She should do it that way, quick and quiet.
She should…but she didn't. Despite how annoying he could be when he wouldn't shut up, Nomad liked Lockjaw. This was his chance to become a Joe; she didn't want to take it away from him that easily.
She waited until the greenshirt moved on, then quickly swung out of the tree, keeping the trunk between her and Lockjaw. Both knees popped as she landed and she staggered a little - it sounded loud to her, but Lockjaw's footsteps didn't falter. Either he hadn't heard, or he was playing her.
Nomad grinned wryly to herself. If he was playing her, he was going to be sorry. Still, she waited until she could barely hear him before she crept cautiously around the tree. It wouldn't do to get shot by a greenie, no matter how close to being a Joe he was. She'd never hear the end of it.
Gripping the handle of her prop knife tightly, Nomad stalked Lockjaw, creeping along behind him, planting her toes first, then her heels. She had no other gear to worry about - Duke and Stalker had said gear would be packed for them, but what they hadn't mentioned was that there would be very little of it. What they had provided was hardly worth having; Nomad could do more damage with a sharp stone than she could with the fake knife, and she was sure the BDU's they'd been given were leftovers from laundry, too tattered and worn to be any use for anything other than rags. The shirt she'd been given was huge, with only a couple of buttons remaining and a ragged slash across the back, from shoulder to waist.
Then again, at least she'd been given a shirt. Somewhere to the east of her, Outback was making his way through the trees shirtless, shoeless, and with one 'broken' arm in a sling. To her west, Recondo had no weapons and a patch over one eye.
Nomad had started off barefoot, but had ripped the sleeves off her shirt and wrapped them around her feet; she'd rubbed dirt on her arms to camouflage her pale skin. The prop knife was the only 'weapon' she had. The only other items in her pack had been a few snack bars and a copy of their orders, which in layman's term basically said, 'Stop the greenshirts before they get to Duke'. They'd been provided a map to memorise, which showed them only the area the exercise would be carried out in…but it was a large area, and they'd only had five minutes each to look it over. All Nomad, Recondo and Outback could do was split the area between the three of them and scout. She figured it was all part of making the exercise worthwhile for the more experienced Joes.
Nomad froze as Lockjaw stopped and knelt, pulling something out of his pocket and unfolding it. She craned her neck, trying to get a peek at it, but couldn't see. If it was a map, it could be very helpful - especially if it had Duke's location on it. Of course, that wasn't likely…Duke wouldn't make it that easy for the greenies, surely.
If it was a map, though, it was more than what she had now.
Oh well. She was starting to get bored, anyway.
Lockjaw never even knew she was there. Sneaking up behind him, Nomad pressed the fake blade to his thick neck, holding back a grin as he drew in a sharp breath. "Move and you're dead," she muttered into his ear, making him jump. "Figuratively speaking."
"Dammit, I didn't even hear you." The greenshirt slumped forward with a groan, giving in far too easily for Nomad's liking. "How did you do that?"
"Lots of practice," she said, relieving him of his paintball gun and slinging it over her own shoulder. "Remind me to recommend more environmental training. I could hear every step you took, Lock."
Lockjaw sighed. "Sorry, Nomad."
His apologetic tone almost made her feel guilty. What if she'd just cost him his chance of becoming a Joe? It did seem a little unfair, given that the greenies were up against a team that had a survival expert and an actual jungle trooper on it.
Then again, sometimes you were just outmatched. Nomad knew that feeling well. Better the greenies learnt it now than in a real mission, when it might just cost them their lives.
…Or their friends' lives…
Nomad shoved Lockjaw forward. "You know what to do. On the ground and spread 'em."
Lockjaw obeyed, sprawling facedown and placing his feet wide apart. Nomad patted him down, searching for concealed weapons; she found a prop K-bar down the side of his boot (she would've stolen his boots if they'd fit her, but they were too big) and a handgun loaded with blood pellets tucked into his waistband. She took both, then snatched the piece of paper from his hand. A quick glance proved her right: it was a topographical map of the exercise area. There were no specific marks on it - Duke could be anywhere.
Still, it might save them both a bit of walking.
"Alright, Lock, you can stand up now."
Lockjaw got to his feet. Nomad studied him as he brushed himself off: he was only a couple of inches taller than her, but he had her outweighed by at least thirty kilos. He was far from the biggest guy she'd gone up against…that didn't mean she wanted him taking a swing at her, though. She kept her distance. "Do you know where Duke is?" she asked, waving the map.
Lockjaw looked at it, then shrugged.
"How many greenies are there out here?"
He shrugged again.
She raised an eyebrow. "Not talking, now?"
He shook his head.
"Well, that's a first." Nomad grinned at him. "Fine. Get moving."
They'd been walking for an hour. Nomad hadn't been allowed to wear her watch, of course, but she stole Lockjaw's, ignoring his half-hearted protests. It was just past two in the morning.
"Where's Duke?" she asked again.
Lockjaw clenched his jaw stubbornly.
"You might as well tell me," she insisted. "I know you know."
"I don't."
"Sure you do," she said, watching him carefully. "I've spent enough time with Psyche Out to know when somebody's lying."
The greenshirt glanced sideways at her, then quickly averted his eyes. "I'm not lying."
"You are." Nomad wasn't good at reading people - noamount of time with Psyche Out would change that - but she had her answer now anyway. Even she could tell the guy was a terrible liar. "So how about you tell me. Right now."
Lockjaw pretended to think about it. "Hmm…nah."
Nomad sighed.
Then she raised the handgun with the blood pellets and shot the greenie in the shoulder.
"Ow!" Lockjaw yelped. "Jeez! That stings, you know!"
For a moment, Nomad felt a surge of…exhilaration. He clearly hadn't expected that. For once, she was in complete control of the situation; she could do whatever she wanted -
Exhilaration turned to horror, which quickly turned into disgust.
That feeling - was that how Goldilocks had felt when he tracked her down, killed her team and broke her? Had he felt that same thrill, taunting her at the cancer research building? Had Andy felt it when he was reopening her old wounds?
She was pretty sure they had.
So…did that make her just as twisted as he was? Or was she overreacting? It had only been for a moment…
"Uh…Nomad?"
Something must have shown on her face. She blinked stupidly at the greenie, who was rubbing his paint-splattered shoulder as he looked at her questioningly. "Forget it. You just…walk."
Lockjaw gave her an odd look and went to shrug again, but apparently thought better of it. He flapped his arm dismissively instead, turning to walk ahead of her. She followed behind, close enough to keep him in check yet still far enough behind so he couldn't turn around and try to launch a surprise attack.
"So, Nomad -"
She sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Do you want me to shoot you again?"
The trees thinned out a little as the ground grew rockier and began to slope upward - they were getting closer to the mountain range up ahead. There were gleaming patches of snow on the highest parts; Nomad was glad the area they were training in ended halfway up the mountain. She hated the cold, and in any case walking through snow in her makeshift shoes would've been seriously uncomfortable. Her feet were already starting to ache - the sleeves wrapped around them did nothing to stop the rocks jabbing in.
Still…it was nothing compared to having her feet smacked with a crowbar. Nomad allowed herself a grim smile. It seemed like Andy had done her a favour, toughening her up even more.
Next time she saw him, she'd thank him.
And then she'd -
No. Stop that. Nomad shook her head.
Every now and then Lockjaw would glance reproachfully at her. Somehow, he'd managed to keep his mouth mostly shut as he stumbled along, holding his 'wounded' shoulder, making far too much noise for Nomad's liking. She eyed him back, daring him to try something, almost hoping he would.
…Because if he did, she'd be able to forget - for a few minutes, at least - that horrible feeling. Even though she'd only felt it for a second or two, it was enough to make her feel slightly sick even now; her hands shook just thinking about it. Sure, it'd just been a pellet full of fake blood…and it wasn't as if she'd never taken any satisfaction in shooting certain Joes on the paintball range sometimes.
But she'd never shot somebody - paintball pellet or not - for no good reason. The fact that it was a training mission made no difference; she shouldn't have done it.
She was shaken out of her thoughts as a brief flash caught her eye, a small point of white light glinting on the mountainside. It was there, then gone - but Lockjaw's head had lifted as well. She pretended to be inspecting the map as the greenie cast her a look he no doubt thought was sneaky.
Whether Lockjaw knew something or not, Nomad decided to head for the light anyway. Why not, she had nothing else to go on. It was either Duke, or some poor unsuspecting campers were soon going to get one hell of a surprise.
She kept one eye on the mountain, the other on Lockjaw's broad back. The light twinkled twice more, exactly thirty minutes apart, before a small hill blocked the area from sight. That was enough, though - Nomad was almost certain it was a signal from Duke. No civilian would be that precise.
Lockjaw suddenly stumbled, losing his footing on some loose rock. Nomad raised her paintball gun immediately. "Up. Now."
The greenie gave her a hurt look. "What if I've broken my ankle?"
"Have you?"
"Nah."
Nomad couldn't completely hide her grin. "Then get up. Don't make me -"
Lockjaw flung a handful of gravelly dirt at her. She threw her arm up, shielding her eyes from the grit. She raised the paintball gun with the other, ready to fire off a few random shots in Lockjaw's general direction, but the greenie lobbed a fist-sized rock at her. It glanced off her shoulder just as she squeezed the trigger; the pellets she fired missed Lockjaw by a foot.
The greenshirt lunged at her, making a clumsy grab for the rifle. He missed and caught the strap instead; the gun slipped off Nomad's shoulder. They both overbalanced.
She let the gun go, pulling out her prop knife instead. He wouldn't be able to get a good shot in with the rifle if she could stay close to him -
"Oof!"
But not that close.
Nomad gasped for breath as Lockjaw landed heavily on top of her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. Instinct took over as he started to squeeze and her fingers popped open; with her free hand she seized his collar, yanked him down toward her and headbutted him before shoving him sideways. He hit the ground and rolled to all fours; Nomad, her head already pounding, bounced to her feet.
Lockjaw scrambled for the paintball gun. There was no way Nomad could reach it before he did.
She launched herself at him, grabbing his legs and yanking him backwards. He kicked out at her, but only half-heartedly.
"C'mon, Lock, I've had worse," Nomad grunted, still grasping the greenshirt's ankles. "This is your chance, mean it!"
This time the heel of his combat boot connected firmly with her sternum, driving her back. For the second time in as many minutes, Nomad struggled for breath.
"Sorry!" Lockjaw called over his shoulder, making a final desperate dive for the paintball gun.
Okay. He'd had enough chances, now. Nomad pulled the handgun from her waistband and fired a warning shot into the dirt in front of him. "Stop!"
He jerked as a backspray of red paint hit him in the face, but he didn't listen. He should have - fighting hand-to-hand was one thing, but when your opponent had a gun…
Then again, Nomad couldn't really judge him. She probably wouldn't have stopped, either.
Lockjaw grabbed the rifle and threw himself onto his back - but Nomad didn't give him time to get a round off. She fired again; this time the blood pellet splattered all over Lockjaw's chest.
He stopped, looking down. "Aww, dammit."
Nomad tucked her gun away, retrieved her knife, then plucked the paintball gun from Lockjaw's hands. "You just got yourself killed," she said, not unkindly. "Next time somebody with a gun says 'stop', you stop. That way, you might live long enough to get another chance to escape."
She held back her derisive snort. That was real rich, coming from her. Still, if it saved his life one day…
He nodded, chastened. "Sorry, Nomad," he said.
She waved a hand dismissively, grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Yeah, well…now you know," she said.
Lockjaw grinned. "And knowing's half the battle, right?" he replied, completing the well-known Pit catchphrase.
"I guess so." Nomad started to walk.
Lockjaw crashed after her. "So, I can talk now, can't I?"
"No," she answered sternly. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Oh. Right." He shut his mouth.
The relative silence lasted a whole five minutes. "It's just that -" the greenie started.
"Lockjaw."
"Okay, okay. Only -"
"Lockjaw."
"I know, I know, but I just -"
Nomad turned and raised the paintball gun threateningly.
Lockjaw stopped, holding his hands up in surrender. "Hey, sorry. I just…" He trailed off, shrugging instead.
The look on his face was enough to make Nomad feel a little guilty. Again. She sighed. "Fine…but keep it down. This is training for me, too, you know."
Lockjaw raised an eyebrow. "Oh, sure, like you need any more training," he grumbled, coming up to walk beside her. "Duke said we'd be up against a team of jungle specialists, but this is just unfair. Like you guys need any more training in a place like this."
It took a moment for Nomad to realise what Lockjaw had just said. When she did, she stumbled slightly. Lockjaw turned to her; she covered up by kneeling and pretending to adjust the material around her feet.
Duke considered her a jungle specialist?
…Seriously?
Nomad mentally shook her head. Nah. He must've just meant Outback and Recondo; she wasn't a specialist. She'd never had any specific training. She'd just spent a lot of time in the jungle, that was all.
Standing up, she eyed Lockjaw critically…and was a little satisfied when Lockjaw shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "First, Lock, there's no such thing as enough training. Doesn't matter how good we think we are; we can always be better. That's why we're Joes."
"I guess…"
"Second; nothing is ever fair." Nomad paused, realising she sounded a little bitter. "And third, I'm not a specialist."
"But…sure you are," Lockjaw insisted after a few moments, glancing sideways at her. "I mean, not everyone could do…you know, what you did."
She threw him a sharp look. Was he trying to put her off? Keep her distracted so the other greenies had a chance?
"Well, it's true," he went on. "I mean, we all know, too - the greenies, that is. It's like, a Pit legend."
Nomad raised an eyebrow…and yet, she was strangely flattered. There were so many stories that were 'Pit legends'; she honestly didn't think hers was worthy, compared to some of the things the others had done. "Yeah, well…There's nothing legendary about it. I was just lucky," she said bluntly, striding past him.
"But when you were -"
"That's enough, Lock," she said firmly. "If you have questions, I don't mind. But not right now. Save them for when we get back."
Lockjaw looked at her, horrified. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean - please don't shoot me again."
"Forget it." She waved his apologies off, giving him a small smile to take the edge off her rebuke. "Anyway, tell me what you know about working in a jungle environment. What've they taught you? Because honestly, you suck at it."
Duke was waiting about a third of the way up the mountain, standing at the very edge of a steep drop and gazing south with his hands on his hips, looking very commanding even though he couldn't have known anyone was watching.
Typical Duke. Nomad grinned to herself - even she knew how to relax better than Duke did.
And that was saying something.
She shifted, sweeping aside the sharp stone that'd been digging into her thigh, then flattened herself to the ground again and peered down at the top sergeant. He had a scrap of material or something sticking out of one pocket, hanging down beside his leg. The only move he'd made in the last forty minutes had been to check his watch, then hold up a torch and click it on and off a few times. She hadn't seen anyone else yet…but that didn't mean they weren't there. There were plenty of places to hide. With the drop in front of Duke, there were only three ways to approach him; from the west, the east, or from the steep rise to the north. Nomad had chosen to skirt around Duke's camp and climb about a hundred metres higher up the mountain, where she found a small outcrop of rock to survey the area from.
She tensed as she heard a faint scratching coming from behind her. "Lock," she hissed, turning around. "Stop that."
The greenshirt froze guiltily in the middle of scratching a smiley face on the rock he was leaning against. Nomad sighed, wondering how Beachhead managed to not kill all his greenies; she could barely restrain herself from throttling just one of them.
An owl hooted softly nearby, somewhere to the left.
Well…she couldn't sit here all night. Time to go.
She wondered if Duke would attack her. He probably would...he wouldn't want to make it too easy, after all. "Lock, stay here."
Lockjaw sat up straight and went to say something. Nomad pointed warningly at him; he snapped his mouth shut again and gave her a thumbs up instead.
Nomad picked up her paintball gun - but before she could slither into the trees on either side of her outcrop, a dark shape burst into the clearing below, making a dash for Duke.
There was a pop from Nomad's left. The figure dropped to the ground, grabbing his thigh with a frustrated 'dammit!'. A moment later, a second figure darted out, grabbed the first under the arms and hauled him back under cover.
The owl hooted again.
Nomad rolled her eyes and headed into the trees, slipping from trunk to trunk as quietly as she could. "I heard you the first time," she muttered.
Outback, now wearing combat boots and a shirt (unbuttoned and with the sleeves ripped off because it was far too small) started, half-standing and swinging the barrel of his paintball gun around. "Dammit, Nomad, don't do that!"
"Sorry. Can't help it," she retorted, pushing the gun aside.
Outback snorted quietly, then jerked his head toward Duke's camp. "I think that was Cactus I just shot. Other one looked like Kismet. I took out a couple of the others a few hours ago, they're waiting somewhere back there." He gestured vaguely over his shoulder, further down the mountain.
"Lock's up there. I haven't seen anyone else," she said with a nod toward her outcrop, relieved that she hadn't been the only one to let her victim tag along. "So…shall we get this over with?"
Outback grinned roguishly.
Nomad knew that look. She grinned back.
When Outback said he 'took out' a couple of the other greenshirts, Nomad had thought he meant 'killed' - like she'd 'killed' Lockjaw. She hadn't expected to see Tracks the tank jockey and Fidget the data analyst tied to a tree with their socks stuffed in their mouths. Both glared lethal weapons at Outback, but spared Nomad - they didn't know her well enough to risk it. She smiled sweetly at them anyway.
While Outback got his greenies ready to move, Nomad circled around the camp to bag herself a couple more.
Cactus was sitting with his paint-splattered leg in front of him, grumbling to himself. Kismet knelt beside him, her medical kit by her knee as she wrapped a bandage around the 'wound'.
Nomad deliberately snapped a twig as she approached the pair - they hadn't noticed her yet, and as with Lockjaw, she wanted to give them a chance. After all, they'd got this far.
Kismet spun around immediately, snatching the paintball gun from the ground beside her. The mousy little medic was quick - quicker than Nomad expected.
She dashed sideways as Kismet squeezed off three quick rounds, but was saved trying to fire back as Recondo materialised from apparently nowhere (something he was fond of doing) and grabbed Cactus in a headlock. "Put it down, Kismet."
"Don't," Cactus urged, before throwing a curse at Recondo.
Kismet looked from Nomad to Recondo, then to her medical kit, and lowered the gun. "Okay…just let me get my kit," she said. Her voice was stronger than Nomad had ever heard it; perhaps the medic was like Tripwire - he always seemed out of his depth, until he had a bomb to focus on.
"You can get the kit if you drop the gun," Recondo bargained firmly.
Without argument, Kismet slipped the strap off her shoulder and gently lowered the paintball gun to the ground. "Alright."
Recondo hauled Cactus to his feet and gestured to the kit. "Easy now."
Kismet moved forward slowly and picked up the case.
"'Atta girl. Now -"
Recondo jerked backwards as Kismet rushed him, swinging the kit rather violently at his head. Cactus broke free and turned to help the medic; a pellet from Nomad's paintball gun splashed across his back, pulling him up short. "Aaah, goddammit."
Nomad stopped to watch as Recondo blocked Kismet's attack with his own gun, knocking the medical kit aside. She overbalanced but recovered quickly, spinning around and swinging the kit again, this time backhanded. The jungle trooper ducked the blow and stuck his leg out; Kismet nimbly hopped over him, jabbing her fist toward his head. Recondo dropped his gun, grabbed Kismet's arm and allowed himself to fall backwards, planting a foot against her belly and flipping her over his head.
Nomad let out a snort of disbelief as the medic arched her back and landed lightly on her feet. Then, feeling that she should probably do something to help Recondo, she took aim. "Stop, Kismet."
Kismet froze…though she looked slightly mutinous as Recondo tore a strip from his shirt and tied her wrists behind her back.
Nomad smirked. "Lifeline wouldn't approve of you taking people out with a medical kit," she pointed out.
"Lifeline's not here, though, is he?" Kismet glanced over at the kit, and her defiant expression turned into the familiar worried one. "Wait…you're not gonna tell him, are you?"
Recondo clapped her on the shoulder. "Pretty sure Lifeline wouldn't care less if it saved your hide, but your secret's safe with us, Kismet." He looked over at Nomad. "You seen Outback?"
And now it was back to business. "Yeah, he's back this way," she said, waving a hand vaguely back the way she'd come. "We've got a plan."
"How come I have to do it?"
"Because he won't expect it from you. Now quit whinin' and start climbin'."
Nomad rolled her eyes and handed Outback her paintball gun. "Fine. Just make sure he doesn't see me; he'll jump at the chance to take a swing at me."
Outback grinned. "Deal." He clapped her on the shoulder, then glanced up toward the top of the cliff looming above them. "Ready?"
Nomad followed his gaze. The sun was just coming up; if they left it any later it'd get in her eyes. "Yeah."
The big man nodded and turned, then glanced back. "Hey, about before…with the greenies -"
She waved him off. "Don't worry about it. Get going. Give me five minutes before you let them go."
Outback studied her for a moment. "Yeah. Right," he said finally.
With a sigh, Nomad knelt and tightened the laces of the boots she'd taken from Kismet.
And then she started to climb.
The flag hanging from Duke's pocket made it pretty obvious what had to happen to complete the mission. Kismet had confirmed the Joes' suspicions under duress; Outback had threatened to 'hurt' Tracks and Fidget if the medic hadn't told him what he wanted to know.
Nomad wasn't sure how she felt about that tactic - especially after what had happened with Lockjaw - but she'd kept her mouth shut.
Recondo's eyes were on her though. And Outback had been unusually apologetic.
She readjusted her footing, wincing slightly as a pebble rolled beneath her toe and she dropped a couple of centimetres. It wasn't far - but being fifty metres off the ground without a harness or ropes, it was far enough.
Hell, even an extension cord had been better than nothing.
Nomad grinned wryly to herself. She really was starting to hate heights.
She was about ten feet from the top of the cliff - Duke's camp was right above her. If he looked over the edge, he'd see her clinging to the side of the cliff, and then she'd be screwed.
At least he probably wouldn't shoot her on sight and risk her falling. He'd let her climb up. Then he'd shoot her.
"Duke!"
Nomad tilted her head as she heard Tracks' deep, albeit muffled, voice. She began to climb slowly, fingers digging into crevices in the stony wall, pushing herself up with her legs. She was no rock climber, but it was easy enough - she might have enjoyed herself…if she'd had a harness.
She reached the top and cautiously peeked over, half expecting Duke to grab her by the shirt, haul her up and proceed to beat the crap out of her…but all she could see were the heels of the first shirt's boots. Which, to be honest, was better than the toes of his boots and the muzzle of a loaded paintball gun. His attention was on Tracks and Fidget, gingerly stumbling toward him barefoot and blindfolded, their hands tied behind their backs. Both had pieces of torn up shirt stuffed into
"Huh." Duke sighed, half-shrugged and shut his mouth, watching the two greenies approach. Nomad couldn't see his face, but she was pretty sure he was wearing his exasperated look.
She knew that look well.
Taking a deep breath, she heaved herself over the top of the cliff and drew the handgun from the waistband of her ragged BDUs. She crept forward slowly - he was only a few metres away…if she could just reach him without him hearing…she was so close…
The flag hanging from Duke's pocket was right there. She stretched out her arm -
Duke spun, grabbing Nomad's wrist just before her fingers closed on the flag. Startled, Nomad threw herself backwards; Duke released her and she landed heavily on her ass and elbows, wincing as the rocky ground scraped off skin. Her gun skittered away in the direction of the cliff - she hoped it hadn't fallen off the edge. She was vaguely aware of two faint pops and Tracks and Fidget dropping to the ground behind the first shirt…probably shot by Recondo and Outback.
"Nice try, Nomad." Duke drew his own gun from his thigh holster and pointed it at her.
"Not done yet, Duke." Nomad pushed off the ground, arching her back and lashing out with her foot in what the ninjas might have called almost a roundhouse kick. Duke's hand flew wide as he squeezed the trigger; a paintball pellet exploded across the ground a few metres away.
Despite herself, Nomad was smugly pleased with the brief look of surprise that flitted across the first shirt's face. Take that, Duke.
Nomad followed through with the kick, rolling onto her knees and shifting her weight to swipe her other leg around low. It wasn't graceful - not that she cared - but it was all she needed; her calf smacked into Duke's hard enough to throw him off balance. He stumbled.
Nomad bounced to her feet and tackled him.
They fell in an awkward tangle of arms and legs, Nomad landing heavily on the top sergeant. He rolled, shoving her off, and lunged for something.
The gun.
Nomad grabbed Duke's foot with both hands and threw all her weight backwards. It didn't stop him...but it slowed him down.
She dived over him, snatched the gun up and spun around - only to see Duke already reaching for her.
Nomad squeezed the trigger.
Duke glanced down at the red spray across his shirt, then raised an eyebrow at Nomad. "You're getting better. The extra hand-to-hand's paying off." He offered his hand to help her up.
Nomad eyed him suspiciously, reminded of her first - and until now, only - one-on-one session with Duke. She yanked the flag from his pocket.
Duke grinned. "Alright. Joes win."
Nomad took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. A cheer came from the trees as Recondo and Outback emerged, frogmarching Kismet and Cactus between them. Lockjaw wandered into sight behind them.
"You know, you could've shot him for me," Nomad muttered to Outback as they helped Tracks and Fidget to their feet.
"We were going to," the survival expert answered, "but that one gave us the slip." He jerked his head in Kismet's direction.
Nomad gave him a look. "Really?"
He nodded. "Yep. Reckon we've got an apprentice ninja on our hands."
"Huh. Who'd have thought?"
"I know, right?"
The flight from McChord was almost over; Ace had just given them the ten minute notice. The atmosphere in the back of the plane was more subdued than it had been on the way over; Joes were tired, greenies were tired, and everyone was pretty much agreed on wanting to get back to the Pit, having a shower, hitting up the mess hall for lunch and grabbing a few hours sleep in the half day off Duke had given them.
"So."
Aching, bruised, grazed all over and just starting to doze off, Nomad grunted irritably. "So what?"she grumbled.
There was an expectant pause.
Shit.
Nomad sat up straight, turning to Duke as he settled beside her. "Uh...I mean - yes, sir?" she finished lamely.
He looked at her a while longer. She was just about to shift uncomfortably when, surprisingly, he grinned. It was a little unnerving; Nomad shifted uncomfortably anyway.
"Honest opinion," Duke said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "What did you think of that?"
"Uh..." Nomad started, confused. "Of what?"
Duke sighed. "The exercise, Nomad," he said patiently. "What did you think of it?"
Why was he asking her? "I…well…I guess it wasn't too bad. Why?"
He shrugged. "I thought you might have something to say about it. How did the greenies go?"
Nomad glanced past Duke to Lockjaw, who was exuberantly re-enacting what appeared to be his escape attempt to Tracks and Cactus, who honestly looked like they couldn't care less. Nomad couldn't blame them; this had been their chance to become Joes. With the unexpected exception of Kismet, the rest of the greenies had been taken out easily. There'd still be missions for them if they didn't make it - after all, some had already been on missions under Joe instruction - but Nomad knew how it felt, working so hard just to get nowhere.
Still...she didn't want to say anything that might hurt their chances.
But then again, if she didn't, and they weren't ready...
The top sergeant clearly wasn't going to wait much longer for an answer.
"Well...I mean, they did alright, considering," she said quickly.
"Considering what?" Duke pressed.
Nomad shrugged. "Considering they were up against Recondo and Outback, for one," she pointed out. "And...to be honest, they could've been quieter. A lot quieter. I mean, it's hard to move around out there and not make noise; it takes practice, and they haven't had much training for an environment like that, but -"
Nomad broke off awkwardly as Duke fixed his blue eyes on her, studying her. "I mean...it's just...It's not easy."
Oh, yeah. Real intelligent.
Duke nodded. "Good." He stood up. "Oh, I want to see you in my office tomorrow, 0800," he added.
She looked up at him, dismayed. "What? Why? What have I done now?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Duke chuckled. "It's nothing to worry about. Just something I want to talk to you about."
The top sergeant strode away, heading toward Recondo.
Nomad sighed. Now she was definitely going to worry.