So here goes this chapter, it contains the first flashback (not Sinai yet, that one is later, and is going to be extremely bloody, violent, and brutal; in short, worthy of the M rating) into the Second Yom Kippur War, which I bet a lot of readers are wondering what exactly happened there. One more thing, a slight bit of politics is stated at the start, and that is only meant to give the view of the Israeli's. Not expressing my views, just telling a story. Anyways, I own nothing, but I really wish I did.
The boats moved silently across the Red Sea towards the Egyptian coast. A thick mist coated the waters, almost floating from them like smoke from a factory. The scout sat positioned at the back of the small landing craft, attempting to peer through the mist above the heads of his fellow Sayeret Golani. He could barely make out the probably bright lights of the enemy base atop the sand dunes and overlooking the coast.
The orders were simple, capture the outpost and hold the position until reinforcements arrived the following week. They seemed relatively easy to follow in the briefing, but he knew better. Every defender, skilled or unskilled, was worth at least three attackers, and the fact that the objective was heavily armed did not help matters.
But the IDF had tasked them with victory and nothing less. The operation would set up Israel for the decisive blow somewhere in the Sinai desert, a hook from behind. The strategy had been planned out for months, an attack by sea by the Sayeret Golani, and a strike from the air by Unit 669, similar to that of the Normandy Invasion of 1944.
The only difference was that it was all spearheaded by the special forces.
Our Victory is the will of God, the general had said, our return to the Promise Land.
They would fight for what was rightfully theirs, and nothing would stop them.
"Levi, where's our exit? I can't remember if it was Baker or Charlie," the voice of a friend, Joshua, spoke amongst the silent night.
"We got Charlie, Platoon A and B get Baker."
"Of course, A and B get the easy opening, those pricks."
"Less chances of getting a medal there though," the scout smirked at his friend who looked back at him.
"I knew you were a glory hound."
"Tried and true, white and blue, Josh."
"So how's that second medal looking on the mantle at home, eh Levi? Used it to seduce anyone?"
"Pervert. Is your mind always in the gutter?"
"You should try it, makes life very interesting."
"Shut it, we're almost there."
"Yes, captain, sir, by your will, overlord, sir," Joshua dramatically stated, flinging his hand up to his head, and sighing. The man never seemed to stop goofing off.
"Thirty seconds, get ready." the driver of the landing craft said, barely audible above the hum of the engine.
The boat edged closer towards the shores, thrumming up and down with the small waves, until scraping to a halt on the shore.
The Israeli soldiers dismounted the moment the vehicle stopped, leaping out and into the wettened beach silently. The scout immediately gestured for his men to move up to the edge of the seawall of sand away from their boats which would sooner or later be found.
The group of twenty men assembled on their leader, lying flat against the makeshift barrier, staring up at their objective whilst their supporting platoon, Platoon D, joined their comrades under the leadership of their corporal, Corporal Yasad. The subordinate raised an enclosed fist towards the scout, who in return pointed up the bank of sand. Cautiously, Platoon D scrambled up the side of the seawall, disappearing onto the other side.
"Alright, our turn, get over the top and head for the trenches as fast as you can; the gunners are gonna have you in their sights the moment they see you," the scout addressed his men, who nodded in agreement.
"Once there, clean out the bunker, and make sure none escape this place, orders straight from top brass."
"Yes, sir."
Platoon C made their way up the embankment, ready for what lay ahead.
The battle began.
The moment they crossed over, the Sayeret Golani charged towards the enemy positions, Platoon D hot on their heels as dust spewed up through the air, mingling with the mist.
The first shots echoed in the night as the enemy watchmen finally noticed the oncoming soldiers. The garrison fled for their defenses, most not even fully dressed, and taking up positions with whatever weapons were in hand. Their aim was not true; few, if any, IDF soldiers found their death as they crashed into the enemy entrenchments.
The scout, gripping his Galil rifle, sprayed bullets at his enemies in bursts of three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Bodies fell in quick succession while the living struggled in clashes of metal and skin. Death walked amongst the combatants of the outpost, stealing away their souls. The loud bangs of guns quickly faded away to the sounds of hand to hand combat, punches, choking, stabbing.
The scout was flung to the ground and into a barrier of sandbags just behind the trench line. A large bearded man pounced on him, bringing his fists around his neck, slowly squeezing his life away.
The scout's vision blurred, darkening at the edge, blackening with each second. Time dragged out and he felt his throat and heart burn with need for oxygen, which it could not receive.
His arms flailed about his belt reaching for something anything to pry the strangler's fingers from his necks.
He felt cold leather at his side.
He gripped it, tearing it from his belt.
He threw his arm forward, hearing the sound of flesh tearing and feeling the warm blood splatter onto his hands.
The man lost his grip and collapsed to his side.
The scout attacked, shoving his blade up into the enemy's chest over and over, ensuring his death.
Lifeless eyes stared at him, fear evident in the orbs never to see again. Droplets of red marked the edges of the deceased's mouth, which remained agape in a final scream. The scout stumbled to his feet, prying his knife from the dead man's chest, and jumped back into the fight.
When daylight dawned on the base, bodies covered the ground, forming a new floor of which the survivors were forced to tread upon.
===line break===
Levi woke up to find himself asleep in the belly of the dropship, headed straight for Gibraltar. Rays of sunshine, peeked through the doors of the metal beast, gliding through the sky, illuminating the interior. His neck tingled lightly in the place where the dead once gripped his neck, but shortly after stretching out his arms and rolling his neck, the tingling subsided.
Like all soldiers, he had his own nightmares of his time in combat. After undergoing such stress and brutality, it was impossible for him to not be haunted by it, but unlike many, he did not let fear control him, nor did he turn to substances. His saving grace was his family and his faith, and he steadfastly devoted himself to both as a means of coping.
"Mornin', sleepin' beauty," Tracer said from position at the front of the dropship. She lounged on the ground, hands behind her head, in a rare moment of stillness.
"Boker tov," he replied, standing to his feet and attempting to peer through the cracks that separated the door from the armor of the ship.
"What?"
"Boker tov, it means good morning in Hebrew."
"Well then, boker tov to you, luv."
Turning away from the door, he looked back at his British associate.
"How long have I been out?"
"About three hours, I think. Don't worry, we'll be landing soon," she chuckled lightly, "you hit the ground like a bloody dead man the moment we got in here, Angie thought you might 've been wounded."
Levi cast a look over at the infamous doctor, who, like the other team-mates, save for Tracer and himself, was asleep, curled up in a ball with her back resting against the wall.
"She looks like my little sister curled up like that."
"Ooh, the mysterious sniper has a sister."
"And a brother."
"Details, details, details," she asked, her hyper demeanor returning and zooming over to him in a flash of blue. "what are their names?"
"My sister's name is Misha, and my brother's is Anoush."
"Ages?"
"Misha's eight, and Anoush is ten."
"They a lot like you?"
"Not really. Misha is basically a miniaturized version of mama, but with a bit more energy. And Anoush, well, he's his own thing, you know, little brothers and all."
"Not really, I don't have any siblings."
"Lucky you, sort of. Don't get me wrong, I love them with all I got, but they can be extraordinarily annoying sometimes, especially when all you want is peace and quiet."
"People tend to say the same thing with me, sometimes."
"You are literally energy made human."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"More of a fact than either. It's not really positive or negative, it just is."
"A little philosophical, ain't ya?"
Levi rolled his eyes at this remark, "It seems to happen more and more as I grow older."
"Speaking of which, exactly how old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
"And how long have you been in the military?"
"Six years never to return in defense of Israel."
"Seems, you and I were the same age when we entered the military."
"Cool. You don't need to be a genius to know why I joined up, but why did you?" he asked, witnessing the bubbly Brit's face quickly turned serious.
"To put it simply, I just needed to get the hell out of where I was living."
"Why, specifically?"
"Now that's too personnel, luv."
"Oh, and here I thought we were enjoying team bonding," Levi said, steering the conversation's mood to a more playful nature. She immediately picked up on his antics.
"Sorry, luv, but it ain't team bonding without everyone else. We would be selfish to not include the others."
"Oh yes, we should be ashamed of ourselves."
Tracer grinned back at her Israeli friend, who likewise returned the gesture. For the first time since arriving he noticed something new about his British team-mate; whenever she smiled, she smiled with her eyes too, and it was a wonderful sight for him to see.
===line break===
The superiors had deemed the overall mission very successful, when they received the mission report from the returned heroes. Many forgot the scout's role in light of Tracer saving the representative from the elusive Widowmaker. A majority blamed him for the politician's injury, saying he had failed at his simple, but he could really care less—God knew what he did, and so did his family, who called him immediately after he returned. His brother and sister were ecstatic about what he did, while his mother released a floodgate of concern upon his unfortunate ear.
When all was said and done, and after a short victory breakfast, Levi Kohen retired from his peers and associates, unnoticed as everyone crowded around his British friend, Mercy, D. Va, and Pharah, whose arm remained wrapped in a sling procured by Dr. Zieglar.
With a happy sigh, he found his way to his room and collapsed sound asleep on his bed, finding rest with Sandman after a long couple of hours in action.
His first mission as a member of Overwatch was complete.
Now then listen up, this chapter was meant to be shorter because the next one is going to be quite long—my estimates, 3,000 words or more with more time in the Second Yom Kippur War and confrontations between Levi and the other inhabitants of Gibraltar. So, looking forward to writing that. In other information and busted stuff (DMB reference), what should the second pairing be in this story (and before anyone asks, no multi's, they bother me a lot)? Also, would you like any other OC military figures from the IDF to show up? Now that that's done, until next time.