Second Lieutenant Kimberley Milne, one of the handful of medical officers in the Task Force's internal medical unit, looked up with barely restrained frustration at the black-clad Shadow Company soldier that stood at her doorway. "What is it?"
"Prisoners have requested medical attention for one of their walking wounded. Need you to take care of it." The soldier replied flatly. Milne tried her best not to roll her eyes at how she was being spoken at; ever since General Shepherd's own little side project came to town, the rest of the Task Force had been treated less like fellow soldiers and more like inmates at a low security prison.
With a sigh, Kimberly set the report she had in her hands down on her desk and fixed the man before her with a frustrated glare. "Well, do you have any indication on how they're injured?"
"They just said it was a simple re-dressing of wounds and a refresher on some pain medication."
She frowned, leaning back in her chair slightly confused. "Okay… and you couldn't ask one of the regular medics because?"
The Shadow Company trooper shrugged, "Look lady, the woman just asked for some medic called Jay. I don't know who that is, so I'm bringing you instead."
Kimberly's frown softened as she clued into the identity of who had requested her. She wheeled back her chair and straightened up her utility uniform before walking around her desk to brush past the soldier in her search for a particular medic.
She didn't have to go far, finding Jay stepping outside of the guarded room that was home to the critically injured Second Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant Sanderson. He wore an expression that was equal parts concern and frustration, which morphed into confusion as he saw Lieutenant Milne approach him.
"Jay, grab the antiseptic creams and a fresh bandage kit," She said as she walked past him, stopping at a small stores closet that was home to a few ready-to-go first aid kits.
"Okay…" he said slowly, eyes flicking between his boss and the Shadow Company member that stood at the opposite end of the hallway with their arms folded across their chest, "... did one of the Shadow's hurt themselves?"
"No, but our services have been requested by Rebecca," she said quietly as she walked back over to him, a kit slung over each shoulder. Jay nodded in understanding, hurrying over to retrieve what was needed before the pair were escorted away.
"Somebody call for a medic?" Kimberly said as she stepped inside the conference room that Hotel Team were confined in. Her eyes flicked over the heavily fatigued operators before her, taking in their haggard appearances and whatever injuries were visible to her, before she stepped over towards Dash, Shade and Rook.
"It's a relief to see you again," the doctor said warmly as she set down her bags by Rook's side, "I just wish it were under better circumstances…"
"The feelin's mutual there, Doc," Shade responded with a humourless chuckle, eyes flicking up to Dash before focusing back on the doctor beside them.
Kimberly didn't miss the glance, but she played it off as she knelt down to get a better look at Rook. "So, Jayson… what the hell happened to you?"
"Took a few rounds during an extract," Rook responded casually, grimacing as he stretched a little to get his shirt open for the doctor to get a better look at the bloodstained bandages wrapped around his chest and back, "Dash and the Captains patched me up as best they could before we reached a trauma unit in Saudi Arabia. They put me back together again, but it's been a few days now and I could use a bit of a clean up." He bit back a wince as Kimberly began peeling away at the tape that held the bandages and gauze in place.
"It definitely looks like it," she mused out loud as she carefully inspected the stitched wounds with a steady eye, "no obvious signs of infection or tearing, which is rather fortunate for you." From the corner of her eye, she watched as Shade stepped away from the pair and made his way over to Jay, who'd been giving Chemo a once-over.
"You are the living embodiment of 'doctors make the worst patients', now sit still before I sedate you," Jay threatened as he tried to get a hold of Chemo's wrists. The extremely fatigued medic had waved off Jay's request to check up on him, though he had failed to mask a grimace as he shifted around on his chair. Jay fixed him a flat stare as Chemo lightly pushed off his advances.
"You need a hand, Jay Jay?" Shade said as he approached, mildly amused by the situation playing out before him. Jay shook his head as he tried once more to begin his check up, and Shade sighed before stepping in between them. He held Jay back with one hand before looking down at Chemo. "Mate, sit the fuck down and let him do his damn job. You've worked more than hard enough to look after us, now it's your turn."
The two maintained their small 'stare off' before the PJ broke eye contact and looked at the ground, "Fine…"
"Christ," Shade sighed with a chuckle, "you sound like a five year old that's been told he can't play in the sand pit anymore…"
Jay rolled his eyes and took Chemo's arm, inspecting the deep graze on his forearm and the various minor shrapnel wounds around it, "If it makes you feel any better, Shade, he's worse than I ever was. Actually he's among the worst medics I've ever had to deal with."
"Honestly, that doesn't surprise me," Shade commented, folding his arms, "So.. Jay Jay… you got contact with Aphid and Nike?"
Jay's hands paused and his shoulders dropped before he continued, "Aphid's dead. Exxon is India team leader now. Kilo's been deployed to help fight off the Russians. No word or contact with any of them since they left. Parts of India were sent back to their units to fill in gaps. But to answer your question, the majority of my contact with Ex' is through Poet. Why?" He didn't look up from cleaning Chemo's wound, instead he finished and moved to press lightly on spots on Chemo's chest, frowning when he winced, "You have cracked ribs, Chem, have you rested at all since this happened?"
"Of course I have," Chemo responded indignantly.
"Liar," Shade coughed and chuckled at the glare Jay aimed at Chemo.
"Aphid's gone?" Dash spoke up, concerned by the news.
"Out on the eastern defensive front," Jay responded, glancing up at her, "India was running a counter-strike against a Russian artillery position that was shelling an evacuation point in Boston. Aphid took a shot to the face; was dead before he hit the ground." He sat back and rubbed his face, showing clear signs of fatigue. "Why do you want me in contact with Ex?"
"We need help, and we figure you're our best bet."
"No shit Sherlock. I mean, who wouldn't believe a bunch of shady ass goons who show up out of nowhere and claim that people you've worked with for several years are traitors?" Jay's voice grew in volume as he focused on wrapping up Chemo's chest, "It's totally not a red flag when they put wounded men under constant guard and question everyone who's ever worked closely with said 'traitors'," Jay's tone was sour through the sarcasm and Shade didn't dare interrupt, clearly his feelings towards Shadow Company matched those of the rest of the team in the room, "What do you need me to do?"
"Jay," Milne said in a warning tone.
"Don't 'Jay' me, Kim," Jay turned to face her as she finished redressing Rook's wound, "you and I both know that this is premium grade bullshit. Besides, I saw the look you gave that guy on the way in."
"That doesn't mean we can do anything about it," Milne responded and moved to the next member of Hotel, "Just focus on your job."
Jay scowled at his boss, "My job? My job is helping people. You know damn well the Shadows are just gonna kill them as soon as they get an opportunity. My job is not letting them."
Milne shook her head, "You'll just end up a prisoner alongside them, if they don't kill you on the spot."
"You think I care about that?" Jay scoffed, "It's not like it's a huge change from where I'm at. At least I'd go down swinging." He left the statement unfinished, but his tone said it well enough.
Shade stepped between the two in an effort to defuse the tension, all eyes on the medical officer and her subordinate. He looked over at Kim with an apologetic half-smile, "Look Kim, while I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jay has the capability to go on the offensive if push comes to shove while you don't: you're a doctor, not an operator;" Shade then turned his head to look at Jay, "And mate, while I appreciate that you're chomping at the bit to get the ball rolling, you need to reel it back. This all hinges on being low profile."
The two medics exchanged a glance and looked back up at Shade, before stepping back away from each other, the tension between them settling down and peace relatively restored. Kimberly broke the silence after a few moments, "So, what's your plan then?"
The sun was rising as a group of four soldiers crossed the empty tarmac, approaching the parked C-17 in one of the base's many utility pickup trucks, slowing down as they steered to get closer to the aircraft. From his standing perch in the tray behind the passenger cab, Hazard could spot a trio of Shadow Company troopers seated on the side edge of the lowered cargo ramp. "Heads up guys, got three contacts."
"Ease up Haz," warned Exxon, India Team's assistant team leader, who was in the front passenger seat, "act casual. Don't give them a reason to smoke us, alright?" He glanced over to the vehicle's driver, Boxer, and pointed to a place by the tail of the aircraft, "Stop us there and park side on. Gives us cover plus a faster escape route."
"Got it boss," Boxer replied, steering as he'd been instructed. It was only half a minute later when the pickup pulled up to a halt and Exxon, Hazard and Taco all dismounted, leaving Boxer behind the wheel with the engine running. All four of them were in civilian attire, but were wearing covert LVBAV plate carriers and had their sidearms concealed underneath their shirts just in case their little mission was compromised. Additionally, Exxon had stashed an MP7A1 in the centre console for Boxer to use if the need arose.
"What's the meaning of this?" One of the Shadow troopers spoke up as he stood up to greet the three India Team operators.
"We're just retrieving some leftover gear that Hotel forgot when they touched down," Exxon explained with their cover story, "just some general equipment that we need to return to storage."
The trooper wasn't buying it, crossing his arms over his armoured chest. "We already swept the aircraft from nose to tail, and didn't find anything else that was worth keeping or returning. Unless you're looking for some of their bloodstained uniforms." He chuckled, amused by his own remark, and it took all of Exxon's self control to not deck the man right then and there.
"Well, let us have a once over, alright? We have some idea on what we're looking for."
"And what are you looking for?" The man asked with a suspicious stare.
Exxon rolled his eyes, "Luggage. Personal belongings, the like, we're takin' them to storage for safe keeping till we can sort through it and see what goes back where."
The guard kept his expression level as he gave Exxon's request a little thought, before stepping aside and allowing him and his men to pass through. "You got five minutes."
"We'll be out in three." Hazard snarked as he walked past, shaking his head. Once they were in the cargo bay and out of earshot of the three Shadow troopers, he spoke up again, "So, the bags are in the…"
"Crew carry-on compartments: two in the cockpit and another two down at the loadmaster's station. From what Jay passed on, there are three duffels."
"We got any idea on contents? I mean… what if those Shadow fucks decide to bag-check us?" Taco commented, heading towards the loadmaster station, "We don't know for certain that Hotel's in the wrong or not."
"If I had any doubts about their supposed innocence," Exxon said firmly as he rounded on the marksman, stepping up and closing the distance between them, "I wouldn't be helping them right now."
Taco had the decency to look sheepish after his team leader's little outburst, "Right… sorry…"
Exxon waved him off, "Don't stress about it. We're all wired at the moment with all of this bullshit, right now we just need to focus on the task at hand."
Taco nodded in agreement then turned back around to approach the loadmaster station at the front of the C-17's cargo bay. He began his search as Exxon and Hazard climbed the steep stairwell into the cockpit for their own search. It didn't take him long, opening the storage bay to reveal an assault backpack almost ready to burst from the seams. He pulled it out and opened up the zip for the main compartment of the bag to quickly inspect its contents, and pulled out a random piece of paper that displayed a series of numbers and dates. Not able to make much sense of it, he stuffed it back away and closed the bag, slinging it over his shoulder before standing up to wait for the other two to return.
He didn't need to wait long, as both Exxon and Hazard both climbed down the ladder with two duffel bags and another assault pack over their shoulders. They too were fully packed, and together the three began their walk down the cargo bay and towards the ramp. Subconsciously, they increased their pace as they neared the three Shadow Company troopers that stood guard. Exxon waved as they walked past, internally hoping to high heaven that they were not stopped for a random check.
Someone must have been looking down on him, as they returned to the pickup without incident and started the long drive back towards the base. Hazard spoke up as they exited the airfield section and returned back into the base proper, "So now what?"
"Jay said to pass this on to our intel guys, get them to parse through it." The team leader replied, going through the assault pack in his lap, "he said that he wasn't exactly sure what this stuff was himself, only that it'll be enough to clear everyone's names when the need arises."
"When? Not if?" Taco wondered then slumped back in his seat, "Man… the fuck is going on around here…"
"Wonder if they got the intel…" Robot wondered aloud, "Y'know… before Shadow Company…"
"Shadow Company likely doesn't even know it exists," Chemo commented from his place lying on the floor.
"Shouldn't you be resting, Chemo?" Rook asked pointedly.
"What does it look like I'm doing, running a marathon?" Chemo shot back.
"You two are as bad as my younger brothers," Milne spoke up, flashing a smirk at the pair of bickering soldiers like a bemused mother dealing with her children, "always trying to pick out the other's faults or actions, no matter how minor or insignificant they are."
"Isn't that like any sibling though?" Shade jumped in, pulling over a spare chair, "I mean, I used to give my brother and sister shit all the time. Then again, I gave as good as I got, and none of it was actually demeaning or anything. When they tag teamed against me…" he trailed off with a chuckle, shaking his head at the memories.
"I think I drove my older sister insane," Rook began, a far off look in his eyes, "always used to pester her for anything and everything."
"My cousins were like that, as I didn't have any actual siblings myself," Chemo sighed, "only got to see them rather infrequently though as they were across the state from us. But every time we did hang out, our parents often needed to have nine one one pre-dialed into the phones."
"I am both intrigued and concerned…" Dash commented. Chemo shrugged from his position on the floor.
"Why do you think I became a medic?" When nobody answered, he chuckled, "I had gained experience from patching myself and my cousins up all the damn time. I'm sure that some of the stuff we got up to would make the boys of Jackass say 'no'."
Scarecrow chimed in, shaking his head, "That actually answers a lot of questions I've had in my head… I always wondered if half the shit you do to keep us alive is legitimate combat first aid or just some kind of voodoo, black magic, dark medicine you conjure together."
Chemo chuckled along with Shade, the Aussie speaking up, "Reminds me of a phrase I heard from a medic assigned to my company: 'we do the voodoo so you can do what you do.'"
"Sounds legit," Scarecrow said.
Shade checked his watch, noting it'd been about an hour and a half since Jay had left to find whoever he needed to to get the intel for them.
"I feel like he should be back by now…" Dash said, crossing her arms.
"Relax, D, he's probably waiting for word from whoever he sent to get the goods," Shade commented, "It'll probably be a while yet."
As if he was summoned, Jay appeared in the doorway and paused, his eyes seeking Milne and Shade. "Hey, boss," he called out across the room, catching the attention of everyone.
"Yes, Jay?" Milne answered, looking over from where she sat by Shade and a few others.
"Need your help in the infirmary with something. Severe case from what Gambler just told me." He said plainly, his voice even and unwavering. Shade fought to hide a smirk and stole a glance at Dash while Milne shook her head and stood from her seat.
"Right… well, I said this earlier, but it's a relief to see you all alive and relatively well with all things considered…"
Chemo smiled as she passed him, "Appreciate it, doc. Don't let those Shadow Fucks mess you around out there."
"Only if you lot do the same in here." With that, Jay and Milne closed the door behind them and left Hotel Team back by themselves once more. Archer, Scarecrow and the other members of the team not sat by where Shade and Dash were, gave the pair a curious look, while Robot voiced the obvious.
"Hey… since when did we get a Gambler?"
Dash shook her head, "We didn't… we just needed a way to talk about the gear without tipping off Shep's men."
"I mean, we are gambling our freedom on that intel…" Shade added with a dry chuckle, growing a little louder at the pointed glare he was receiving from his partner.
"Of course you had to make it a damn pun," she rolled her eyes. "Now we just need to hope it's enough to clear our names and get Shadow Company shut down. Or at the very least, gives us a chance to do it ourselves."
"It's all well and good, but we can't forget that Shadow Company likely doesn't know that Shepherd's a liar and a traitor. As far as they know we did what he said we did, and they're following orders," Archer pointed out steadily, "Once the truth gets out we might know, but they could always think it's all fabricated intel and stay on the offensive. But they're still just following orders, we can't condemn them for believing whatever bullshit Shepherd fed them. He might be an asshole but he's a damn good liar."
"You make a good point, Archer, but what do you suggest we do about it?" Dash sighed, sitting on the table in the middle of the room, "I mean… if they start shooting…"
Archer shook his head, "Not saying we shouldn't defend ourselves. Just…. try not to shoot to kill unless there's no choice? Shepherd's sent enough people to their deaths in the past few days, we don't need to add to that number…"
Dash nodded at him and the silence dragged, she sighed, "Now what…" We wait, of course. The anxiety of the situation certainly wasn't about to let her sleep, but there was little else to do.
"Okay so this looks like it's just notes on event times and dates," the translator slid the loose paper to the side, "Nothing inherently valuable there it's all already past."
Exxon sighed and sifted through more pages of notes. It was all in damn Russian. He passed the translator another page, this one looked more words than numbers hopefully. Words were helpful right now, numbers were hit-or-miss.
They'd been at this for hours, a few translators sifting through papers while others worked on accessing hard drives.
"Hazard?" Exxon asked, "Anything?"
"Not yet boss… this one looks like a damn coffee order…" Hazard groused.
"Hey, I think I have something over here?" One of the techies called out in a confused tone, drawing the attention of the other techs and the members of India over to the station. The tech resized the relevant information on his screen for everyone else to see, "Looks like communication records between Kingfish and an unknown party. I can't be sure who the second is though."
"And this is reliably translated?" Exxon questioned, his eyes already sore from the exhaustive amount of Cyrillic he had to parse through by this point.
"Well, that's the thing. It's in English, for the most part. A few Cyrillic phrases here and there, but the vast majority is English."
Exxon and the others nodded in understanding, and the group all leant down to read off the screen.
Makarov: I shan't lie; I am still questioning your motives towards sharing this information with me.
Unknown: You don't have to worry about it. Once the fire starts, we'll be too busy putting it out to chase you down.
Makarov: No flame stands eternal, and even a man such as yourself cannot make any promises.
Unknown: If you play your cards right, our paths shouldn't even come close to crossing. And you have no reason to doubt me on that. I proved that with our mutual 'friend', after all.
Makarov: Borodin. Yes, you did. But I still don't see how you earn anything out of betraying your fellow man.
Unknown: Rather hypocritical of you to suggest that I am betraying anyone.
Makarov: Betrayal implies there was a relationship with any form of trust to begin with. Allen trusts you. I don't trust anyone.
"Allen? That can't be referring to that CIA deep cover that got blown at the airport massacre, right?" Exxon questioned aloud. The tech frowned, and pulled up a window besides the transcript. With a few quick shortcuts, the unredacted file for Joseph Allen was on display. Exxon whistled lowly, "Dare I ask how you got into that file?"
The technician returned a smug smile, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answer for." A few more clicks in Allen's profile had a brief of Operation 'Exodus' visible, including the name of Allen's cover id: Alexei Borodin.
"They mentioned 'Borodin' at the start… whoever this person is, they had access to highly classified information and leaked it to fucking Makarov," Hazard muttered out, his grip on the back of the tech's chair tightening.
Exxon frowned as the pieces started to fall into place. He tapped the tech on the shoulder, "Can you run the message time and contact information against signal pings?"
"And extract the location information for the second party?" The tech supplemented, running yet another program on his terminal with the required search fields. "It'll take a few minutes, but we should have a rough idea of where this person was when the messages were being sent. Can't say it'll help, but I like the idea." With that, the tech began the search.
As the clock ticked and the progress bar filled out, Exxon was running through a list of possible contingencies alongside potential suspects. Already, one person was coming to mind, but he didn't dare voice it for fear of sounding equal parts delusional and conspiracist.
The program finished it's search and displayed the results. Hazard muttered out a string of expletives, the tech slouched back in his seat and rubbed his face, while Exxon simply sighed to himself. The results showed the pings running along the George Washington Memorial Parkway, headed from the Pentagon towards the CIA headquarters in Langley.
The same time that Shepherd was in Washington after Allen had finished his training with the Task Force and was being escorted to Langley for his assignment.
"Shepherd ratted him out."
Authors' Notes
(Spitfire)
So that happened. It honestly took us forever to get this one written. For various reasons. The team is more than ready for this to be over and done with. But we the authors still have a bit of fun to have I believe.
Thanks for Reading, Fly High Aim Higher
~Spitfire out
(Shade)
This one took a lot longer to finish than I am willing to admit. I don't really have much to say that Spitty hasn't yet already said.
