A/N: There were a few requests on AO3 from readers wanting to see how the boys won a game of bingo. I was suffering a bit of creative exhaustion with my planning on my bigger story, so writing something completely separate had been my way to help my brain recover from that. There has been SO MUCH planning that's gone into that one to make everything work, oh my god.
Minor admission here, I have taken creative liberty with Somalia – I just presumed that Somalia would have mountains in the South, when I looked – nope. It's all flat, and from what I'm reading/seeing on Google Earth, it's more or less at sea level. Guh. So; creative liberty that I've taken is that there's a gorge surrounding the Burgabo River that is roughly where this mission takes place. Flat at the top, but it's not as ground level as the maps appear.
I'd change it, but the whole point in me writing something different was that I didn't have to do research to make it entirely accurate, so please forgive me creative lords for I have sinned and opted the slightly lazy route.
Brock was the first one to win a round of bingo, but it was a close race; and as far as Clay was concerned, the brunet cheated.
To be fair, the way in which he'd won had been so badass that Clay couldn't help but admit it was, by the rules of the game, a fair win, but still. He'd basically forced his victory, the way he saw it. Would he be petty about it? No, of course not - Clay Spenser was nothing if not gracious in defeat.
Begrudgingly gracious was still acceptable, in his book.
Plus, the fact that the brunet had had to deal with an irate Jason and Trent meant he wasn't as grumpy about his defeat as he could be, given he was spared the hour long lecture. But still, losing had proven to be really expensive.
He refused to lose the next one.
Burgabo River, Lag Badana-Bushbush National Park, Somalia
The last few kilometers of the drive was slow going – understandable, given they were driving on a narrow track dug into the side of a gorge with no safety rails to stop them going over the edge and plummeting into the water below.
Brock had all of his attention on the road, on the cliff, on the edge – so having Sonny's incessant muttering from the back seat added to the mix was the last thing he needed. The road was narrow enough as it was without the Texan threatening bodily harm if he 'went that close to the side again', when there was literally nowhere else for him to go.
Thankfully, Ray seemed to sense his irritation and stepped in before he could do something deliberate. Like drive them off the side just to piss the Texan off.
"Can it, Sonny," Ray warned. "Yammering from the back seat ain't gunna get us off this road any faster."
"Roads like this should be illegal," Sonny retorted.
"You gunna take it up with the Somalian President?" He snapped, easing the truck around the corner. "United Nations, maybe? No? Then shut it."
"Keep your attention on the road, Brock!"
The car was barely moving, and he now had enough of a straight stretch ahead of him that he turned his head and glared at the Texan.
And was rewarded with the sight of Sonny going white as a sheet.
"I swear to God, Sonny; if I die because you can't keep your mouth shut I will make the rest of your existence a living hell!" Ray barked. Brock noted he sounded a wee bit panicked, and turned to face the front again. Torturing Sonny was good and all, but not at Ray's expense. "Shut it, and let Brock concentrate. Brock, for the love of God please keep your eyes on the road."
He grunted irritably, didn't reply. But he did keep the car rolling forwards.
"Bravo 2; this is 1. Everything okay up there?"
"Copy 1, we're good."
"Except my underwear," Sonny groused, but he stayed quiet after that.
Brock had his window down, so he stuck his arm out and gave Trent a thumbs up; spotting his brother return the action through his wing mirror before both vehicles started moving towards their target location.
A week ago, the Somalian Prime Minister, on behalf of the President, had contacted the CIA to tell them that a Chinese gang, whose name Brock couldn't even hope to begin to pronounce and refused to embarrass himself by trying to do so, had been spotted in the Lag Badana-Bushbush National Park. According to Mandy, the gang was of particular interest to the CIA as they were shipping guns and drugs to the States, and to date, government departments had yet to track down just how they were getting their shipments into the country. The FBI was doing what it could at home, but the CIA was determined to cut the head off the snake internationally, as it were.
Because the Somalian's relationship with the Chinese was important to their government, they didn't want to be involved in trying to stop the gang. For one, they didn't want to inadvertently bring the wrath of the Chinese government down on them for arresting or killing any of their citizens, regardless of whether their activities were legal or not, and for another – their military just wasn't cut out to take on a gang of that size or notoriety, and trying to do so would result in deaths their police just couldn't afford to suffer.
Which was where Bravo came in.
At the moment, they were there solely to gather more intel; although if they had something actionable then they'd deal with it as needed. They had permission to operate in Somalia, but the Prime Minister had made it clear that they were on their own; as far as the Somalian government was concerned, the US wasn't in the country.
Under the cover of darkness, they had HAHO'd with two vehicles into a clearing in the National Park, before the C17 returned to Malindi International Airport in Kenya where Havoc would operate from until their return. Once Bravo had finished in Somalia, they would cross the border into Kenya to catch their flight home.
In and out within two days. Nice and simple. Easy peasy.
Assuming, of course, that everything went to plan. As they were Bravo, Brock knew full well that 'to plan' wasn't really their thing, so he expected the shit to hit the fan somewhere along the line. Hopefully it wasn't on this road, because that would be a shitty way to go.
Turning another corner, he noted that said road started creeping upwards, as well as widening. Thank god for that – it was, by far, one of the worst he'd been on in some time and he was more than ready to get off of it.
"Bravo 1, this is 2; looks like we're nearly off the road."
"Copy, 2." The relief in Jason's voice made him grin despite his still simmering irritation with Sonny.
They had to zigzag up the last little bit, then go across a vehicle bridge that was actually as well maintained as the imagery had suggested, much to his surprise, and it was as they were going across that he glanced back to where they'd just come from.
Huh. He looked between both sides of the gorge, calculating, before switching to his personal isolated channel and activated his radio. "Havoc, this is Bravo 5."
"Havoc receiving, go ahead 5," Lisa replied, her voice going a bit staticky as something interfered with the signal. He frowned, but left the radio alone. There was nothing he could do about a semi lousy connection right now.
"Once we're dug in, I'd like the terrain info for both sides of the gorge, over."
"Copy 5, I'll have it ready for you. Havoc out."
Satisfied, Brock switched back to the open channel, and focused on getting them off the bridge.
"Why the hell do you want to know more about that devil's staircase?!" Sonny grumbled. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Brock the Texan was shaking his head. "It was bad enough drivin' over it, who gives a shit about what it's made of!"
He rolled his eyes. "Are you one of Bravo's drivers?" He asked. "Are you in charge of driving the team out of hostile situations? Are you responsible for the lives of everyone in your vehicle? No? Then shut up, Sonny."
"Someone's tetchy today."
"Someone's going to leave the handbrake off, lock you in, and roll your ass off this cliff, you keep it up."
"Boys," Ray warned. Sighed, really – Brock didn't much care. "Enough."
"I'm just sayin' -"
"Well don't! Brock knows what he's doing; leave it alone."
The remainder of the drive passed in silence. There was another uphill track that zigzagged three times up the cliff to the top, but the track was a lot wider than it had been on the other side which he knew was a relief to everyone. At the top, Brock pulled over so they could all regroup. As he stopped, the radio crackled to life again.
"Attention all Bravo elements, just as a reminder, this is primarily a recon op," Blackburn said. "Get in, see what you can find, get out again."
"If you happen to come across the drugs or weapons, let us know," Mandy added.
"Copy all," Jason replied. "Bravo 1, out."
Everyone left the vehicles, and they migrated together to discuss the next step.
"You think we're going to find anything?" Trent asked as he slung his gun strap over his shoulder, squinting due to the bright sun as he looked around. "I don't even see any tire tracks from other vehicles."
Jason shrugged, fiddling with his GPS. "Mandy said the Somalians intel was pretty patchy, but there was enough there that it was at least worth checking out. Could be this was just a holding area before stuff was shipped offshore; guess we'll find out either way." He turned, watching his GPS closely and eventually found the direction they were supposed to be going. "We'll drive over, keep the vehicles close in case we need them."
The area around them was flat; based on satellite imagery it was a similar circumference to a football field, the ground sparsely covered by grass and not a lot else. At the edge of the plains there was a rocky outcropping, which was where they were aiming for, and directly behind it there was a dense forest. It was basic – but according to Mandy, that was Somalia.
It only took a couple more minutes for them to reach the rocks, and after dropping the rest of Bravo by the rocks to start investigating, he and Trent continued on to park the cars in the shade of the trees.
"Bravo 5, this is Havoc. Isolate your radio for your report, over."
Brock did as instructed as he climbed out of the car, activating his mic as he shut the door. "Go ahead Havoc." Trent joined him, looking at him questioningly. "Terrain report."
Trent nodded in understanding, and led the way back to the others.
"Bravo 5, terrain report as follows: current height one hundred and eighty meters above sea level, height of the other side of the gorge approximately one hundred and forty meters above sea level. Distance between them forty meters." There was a pause then, "do you need anything else?"
"Negative, Havoc," he replied. "That's all I needed to know. Thanks, Lisa."
"You got it."
"What was that about?" Trent asked as he flicked back to open comms, looking curious.
In all honesty? He wasn't sure, exactly – but something told him that knowledge was important. He shrugged. "Just wondering, is all," he said instead. No point worrying Trent over nothing. "The road was a bitch, just wanted to know what it was we've just put ourselves through."
"Ugh," Trent replied, shaking his head. "I swear Jason didn't stop griping the whole way - I was this close to telling him to get out and walk."
He snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. The Great Jason Hayes walking to their destination because he didn't like being in a vehicle on a winding road? Yeah, like Trent stood a chance making that happen. "Sonny was the same; I threatened to drive him off the cliff if he kept it up. I'm strapping him to the hood the next time I drive a road like that with him so I don't have to hear him."
Trent barked a laugh. "Better to strap them to the roof; throw them around a bit more than you can if they're on the hood." Brock laughed at that, and bumped fists with his brother as they rounded the corner and rejoined their team.
"Everything all good?" Jason asked, eyeing them both as they arrived. Well, he was eyeing Brock more, probably wanting to know why Lisa had asked him to isolate his radio.
"All good, Jase," he replied, nodding at the cave and deliberately ignoring his boss' nosiness. If Ray or Sonny hadn't told him he'd asked for a report earlier, that wasn't his fault. "You find an entrance?"
Jason narrowed his eyes, but didn't pry. "Sure did. Ray, Sonny, Trent, and I are going to go in, see what's what. You and Clay are going to pull security, make sure we don't get any unexpected visitors."
They all nodded, and after Trent handed Clay the keys for his vehicle – in case they had to move the trucks for a quick getaway - the senior members of Bravo made entry.
They got unexpected visitors.
As it turned out, the entrance led to quite an expansive tunnel under the earth, which indicated the gang had been there for some time, or stumbled upon something that was older than them and were using it to their advantage. There were a few crates of drugs and a small pile of weapons – but nothing that could be classed as a shipment. The boys had found some documents, and were currently taking photos to give to Mandy.
Clay and Brock had been in the shade going on twenty minutes, eyes on the clearing ahead of them and talking about a hike they had coming up when the radios crackled to life; Blackburn sounding frantic as he called them.
"Bravo's 5 and 6, be advised you have company!"
Brock scrambled to his feet, sharing a startled look with Clay before they scanned the area. They hadn't seen or heard a damn thing that sounded out of place – so where the hell were they coming from?!
"Havoc this is Bravo 6; we don't see anyone, over."
"Three vehicles have just exited the tree line to your seven o'clock; they're two mikes out. Be advised, it's unknown at this time if they're friendly or hostile – but they're heading for you, not the bridge."
"Shit. There must be a camp in the forest somewhere," Clay hissed, running a hand through his hair. "What should we do?"
Brock glanced the direction Blackburn had indicated, then to where he and Trent had stashed the vehicles. "Go into the cave and raise the others on comms," he told Clay, thinking quickly. "Get them here asap; we may have to make a quick exfil."
"Where are you going? Brock!" Brock ignored him, sprinting for the trucks. "Brock! You – argh! Bravo 1, this is 6…"
Clay's voiced faded into the background as Brock moved away from his brother and towards the trees. "Havoc, this is 5. They still coming our way?"
"Affirmative Bravo 5," Blackburn replied. "Be advised, we've only got a few more minutes before ISR moves out of range. We're working on getting another satellite in position, but there may be a gap between feeds."
Fuck. Just what they didn't need. "Roger that!" He reached his truck, and was about to jump in the driver's seat when he spotted Sonny's MK48 in the back – the Texan had refused to HAHO without it, but had taken his HK416 with him into the tunnel as it was more practical for what they were doing.
He snagged it from the rear and set it on the passenger seat as he climbed in, before setting the machine gun into position on his lap. Winding the driver's window down, Brock rested the feet of the gun on his sill, thankful the belt of bullets was his side, and the spent shells would fall into the foot well, not his lap. Hot casings on his groin was the last thing he needed right now.
Having the machine gun balanced across his lap was weird, but it was the only possible way of firing and driving without leaning across the center, or without the weapon falling out of reach. His own 416 went on the floor of the passenger seat within easy reach, and he prayed it stayed there. "6, this is 5. You got eyes on?"
"Negative, 5. Where are you?"
"I'm in the truck, ready to run decoy until Bravo's 1 through 4 rejoin you."
There was a pause, then; "copy 5." Despite the seriousness of the situation, he grinned. Oh, but Clay did not sound happy.
"Bravo 6, Havoc. You should have eyes on in ten seconds. Take cover until you can confirm if they're friendly or hostile."
"Copy Havoc."
Brock turned the truck on, primed to respond the moment he knew that his brothers were in danger. With most of the team underground, they were all vulnerable to an attack, which meant it was up to him and Clay to protect them until such a time the remainder of Bravo could join them topside.
The vehicles appeared, and they weren't friendlies.
Either Clay's hiding spot wasn't as good as he thought, or the gang members had already known they were there, because they started firing on the tunnel entrance the moment they were in range.
"CONTACT!"
He didn't even need Clay's radio call, he could hear the gunfire and yelling.
Brock gunned the truck and went barreling out from the tree line, one hand on the wheel, the other on the trigger of the 48 the moment he was in range, and started shooting.
There were three technicals in the clearing, and what looked to be a dozen or so men; some of them diving out of the way as soon as he came up to them, a couple falling as he nailed them, the rest doing exactly what he wanted – jumping back in their vehicles and following him.
Brock let the gun go and kicked his vehicle up to the next gear, yanking the wheel to the right and looping back around for a second pass; noting with some satisfaction that the gang members were chasing after him. Good luck to them, trying to hit him – with just him on board, he had no issue doing some maneuvers that if Jason or Sonny had been with him, would have them swearing up a blue streak and him running hills for weeks as payback.
One of the vehicles was coming up from out wide, and he executed a quick handbrake slide to the right which put the enemy windscreen directly in front on his gun, and he swapped the handbrake for the 48, firing and hitting his target – the vehicle careening off to the side.
He slammed the accelerator. One down, two to go.
"Bravo 5; the boys will be with us in two mikes, how copy?"
He nodded, but before he could answer he was forced to pull another sharp turn to avoid being rammed – Brock raced down the length of the plains, the enemy technicals coming up hot behind him.
"Bravo 5, radio check, over."
"Busy!" was all he had time to yell, because he had to handbrake a one-eighty spin when he came up to the trees at the edge of the clearing, then shot off back the way he'd come.
He had a plan. He knew the numbers; knew what speed he had to do – knew that he had one shot not to mess it up, and he knew he had to be going as fast as possible for it to work.
The enemy technicals were right on his ass, and, if he was lucky, they wouldn't notice what he was doing until it was too late.
He kinda hoped no one else would notice, either.
"Bravo 5, be advised you're heading right for the cliff."
Well that hope lasted all of two seconds. Duh, Blackburn. He knew that. He pushed the vehicle even harder. Here's hoping the transmission didn't blow on him. That'd be hard to explain to Jason – assuming it didn't mess up his jump and he somehow miraculously survived to be berated in the first place.
"Bravo 5, be advised you're heading right for the cliff, and we're about to lose ISR, over."
"BROCK!" Oh look, Jason was finally in comms range. Shit. "BROCK YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
"We've lost ISR!"
"BRAVO 5, ABORT!"
The two vehicles were on his ass, and there was no way he could stop now without either one of them plowing into him, even if he wanted to. So yeah, he was about to do what Jason thought he was doing.
Gritting his teeth, Brock held his breath as his truck went sailing over the edge. What a bummer, there wouldn't even be video of this.
The few tangos that had remained when Brock went hurtling past were now no more than remains, themselves.
Clay had quickly dispatched the hostiles, and was forced to wait for the rest of the team to join him while watching the four vehicles go on a merry chase. Brock eventually stopped one of them, but he still had two tails that refused to let up.
He'd thought that Brock would swing by and pick him up, or at least swing by so he could help pick the enemy off, but no. Brock stayed well away, and he was forced to stand there and watch. In Brock's defense, it was rare his brother got to put his driving skills to the test as much as he was right now, so he figured he'd let him have his fun until the others rejoined them.
But then, they did rejoin him, Havoc radioed Brock that he was heading straight for the cliff, and Brock continued barreling towards it in a straight line.
"You've gotta be shitting me!" Trent yelled, looking furious. "He – I – ARGH! JASON!"
"BROCK!" Jason roared into his radio. Clay and Sonny both took a small step back. No need to be so close to Bravo 1 when he wanted to hit something. "BROCK YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
"What… is it you think he's doing?" Ray asked, looking concerned. Whether it was by Jason and Trent's reactions, or Brock's refusal to answer their calls, he had no idea.
"THAT FUCKER IS ABOUT TO JUMP THE CLIFF!"
No sooner had Trent said it, than all three vehicles disappeared, flying through the air. Someone braked through, kicking up a cloud of dust before they went over the side. Clay gaped, lost for words.
"Holy shit," Sonny breathed. "Is he-?"
"Dead?" Trent snarled, shaking his head. "No. He cleared that jump, no problem."
There was a muted explosion, followed by engines revving, gunfire, then silence.
Clay looked at Trent, the grief that had filled him now being batted backwards by hope. "How do you know?" he asked, looking at the medic. How the hell did Bravo 4 know that their brother hadn't just sacrificed himself to save them all?
Trent apparently misunderstood what he was asking, snarling; "because I'll fucking make him wish he was when I'm through with him!" which made Clay balk in surprise.
"Get in line," Jason growled, pacing like a caged tiger.
"Bravo 1, this is Havoc. ISR is back online. What the hell just happened?!"
"Bravo 5 just drove off the cliff," Jason retorted. "Can you tell us what's happening on the other side of the gorge?"
Blackburn didn't reply straight away. Clay figured he was either looking at the feed, or trying to process what Jason has just told him. "Uh, say again, Bravo 1?" Blackburn said a moment later.
"Brock just led the remaining two technicals on a merry chase then jumped the fucking cliff with them, Blackburn! How much clearer do you want me to be?!"
There was a long pause, and Clay just knew they were in for a lengthy debrief when Bravo got back to the plane. "I can see one vehicle parked on the cliff, another is making its way across the bridge now; should be clear in thirty seconds."
"Brock?"
"I believe so."
Sure enough, they could now hear a vehicle, and together they watched a very familiar truck dismount from the bridge and trundle over to them. Brock came to a stop five meters away, slowly climbing out.
Everyone looked at Brock. Brock looked at them.
"Okay in my defense, I was already committed when you told me to abort, and if I had, I'd be dead."
"You are fucking unbelievable," Trent snarled, storming over and smacking Brock upside the head as soon as he was near. "Now you're going to shut up, stand there, and suck it up as I make sure you didn't do any damage to yourself!"
"And when we get home, you're grounded," Jason added, storming over and also clipping Brock upside the head before watching like a hawk as Trent started his examinations. "I should handcuff you to your goddamn cage!"
Trent's examinations revealed no injuries, and he eventually turned Brock loose. As the others started heading for the other truck, squabbling over something that Clay hadn't paid attention to, Brock sidled up to him, phone in hand and smirking.
"Guess what?"
"What?"
Brock handed Clay his phone. "Bingo."
What the – Clay snatched the device off him, flicked through all the tabs, and sure enough… "Sunova bitch!"
That drew Sonny and Jason's attention, but they were soon ignored again when neither brother saw anything out of place. Clay groaned and handed the phone back.
He'd been so close, so close, to winning, and Brock had gotten in there first. What an asshole. Still, he couldn't deny that his brother deserved the win, given how badass he had been to get it.
Was he pouting about it, though? Of course he was.
He flipped Brock the bird when his brother started laughing.
They rolled to a stop in front of the C17, and the first thing Clay noticed was that both Lisa and Eric were waiting for them. The second thing he noticed was that the pair looked hopping mad.
As soon as Brock was out of his truck – he'd taken over driving duties a few hours back after he'd woken from his adrenaline-crash induced sleep – their two ops people came storming up to him. Lisa poked Brock in the chest three times with an incoherent growl of irritation before storming off, and Blackburn just gave Brock a once over, wagged a finger in his face with a glower before storming off himself.
Clay was about to laugh at their reactions, then froze. He whipped his phone out of his pocket, pulled up the ops tab on his bingo card and sure enough, Davis screeching incoherently at someone on Bravo was the final square he'd needed to win. "Fucking dammit!"
He kinda wanted to cry.
The song that inspired this was Skillet - Monster. I'm sure you'll be able to spot the part that matches with the jump :)
HAHO - High Altitude, High Opening
ISR - Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance Agency