Even from their vantage point, some 30 miles out from the camp, NESTEGG could hear the blasts from GOD. Psyche Out closed his eyes briefly, all of his thoughts concentrating on the people he had out in the field. With a final rub of his eyes, he turned to his radio operators, noticing for the first time the looks of anticipation across their faces. He couldn't concern himself with that now.
Sparks, status reports from all teams, now. I want HUNTER and KILLER converging on Charlie. Wounded to evac. Able bodies to conduct a clean sweep of the area He barked. Immediately Sparks began to relay his orders, as the lieutenant still spoke, both calling into the headset and listening to the lieutenant at the same time. Still talking above him, Psyche-Out continued, turning his back to Carlton, and focusing once again on the maps. It was time for this to end. Carlton, get the choppers on the horn, tell them to get set to hit it, I want wounded out first. Co-ordinate THUNDER and JACKAL for vehicle transport. Dammit, Sparks, where's the status?


What the fuck was Fastdraw started to say, realizing for the first time how sore both his teeth and jaw had become since the crash. Almost felt like he'd been decked in the mouth. He shook his head to clear the ringing that the constant gunfire had caused and saw Leatherneck making a quick pass to check the team's status. He nodded, he'd be fine. All that was left was to sweep the area. He slapped in a new magazine before slowly exiting the crater, covering the other soldiers who were also starting to emerge from various holes.
Holy Shit! He whistled through his teeth. Fuckin' look at that! The camp was decimated. Anything left standing after that kind of firepower would be standing on one leg, taking care of the rest would be a piece of cake. The El-Tee made a final check of the men himself, determining who was classified as wounded, and who was fit enough to stay making the sweep.
C'mon, C'mon, C'mon Fastdraw said impatiently to himself as they finally started to move out. If it moves, we shoot it, we get it, let's go, let's go! He could see a few figures emerging from the south, and raised his weapon. Almost instantaneously, the large hand of Repeater was on the muzzle, directing the weapon downward.
Repeater said, in his usual stoic manner.
Big man! Fastdraw said with his trademark half smile, meeting up with Repeater for the first time after all the shit started going down. Repeater didn't seem to acknowledge his presence, but Fastdraw didn't care. He was starting to get hyped up for the sweep. Sitting in a predug grave was bullshit. If he had to be in the thick of it, he wanted to be in the thick of it. Not waiting in some hole in the ground to die. The figures that were emerging from the distance turned out to be Zap and Ripcord, plus a couple of others Fast Draw didn't fully recognize.
Hey, Amigo, Skyboy. He'd said in a subdued voice, uncharacteristic of the playful banter he was used to giving. The 'don't-fuck-with-me' look written plain as day on Ripcord's face told him obviously KILLER saw it's fair share of shit too.

Leatherneck split up the teams to thoroughly search the area, Fastdraw being teamed with Zap, Ripcord, and Flash, Repeater still stuck on Bravo. He and Zap each tossed a few clips to Ripcord, who was near dry. Bitchin' aircraft took care of damn near everything. Anyone they encountered still breathing soon afterwards wasn't. They walked single file, mostly covering each other, while checking out the dead motherfuckers lying on the ground. Once in a while they came across a breather. Armed, unarmed it didn't matter, all clean kills, one or two shots tops. Despite the fact that they encountered no resistance, Fastdraw's adrenaline level remained high, waiting for something, anything to happen. Even Skyboy looked on edge.


All Tango to these co-ordinates, say again, to my mark for evac. Grand Slam called through the headset. Fuck, HUNTER and KILLER weren't given the call to pull out yet, just the wounded. Why would Grand Slam pull them out so soon? What if they needed they had JACKAL for back up if needed. Dammit. Pulling back meant trusting the air support was successful. JACKAL was still there. Hotseat and Heavy Metal. Yeah, he was usually concerned with saving his own ass first, but he never really let the team down, he'd be there if they needed him. Still 5 miles off from camp. Shit. If it wasn't for the damn idler, she would've taken a closer look.
Tango Eight-Two, say again, coordinates, over. She stared for a minute longer at the smoke in front of her before finally keying the radio for reply.
Tango Eight-Two, heading home. Request assist, idler left badly damaged.
Roger Eight-Two, Eight-Seven on its way. The extract site reminded her of A10, only to a much lesser scale. Wounded were everywhere, most sitting or lying on the ground, waiting for triage before being helped onto the choppers. She briefly scanned the soldiers, hoping to not see any all-too familiar faces as she pulled up to her designated Chinook and began attaching the heavy cables to the lift rings.
We got this. Eight-Seven, White, told her. They could use some help with the wounded. She balked for a second, she'd had basic SABC, nothing to the extent of what Zap had picked up, but preferred to stick with the vehicles. Still, she knew it was a matter of physics, strength did count when you were preparing for transports.

She avoided making eye contact with most of the soldiers she helped with, mostly just applying dressings to wounds or helping them to settle into the web seating aboard the choppers. Mechanics were so much easier. The Wolverine had taken a hit, lost an idler, it didn't cry out. It didn't look at her with almost pleading eyes hoping she could do something to ease its pain. It didn't ask her any questions she didn't have the answers to, questions like 'will I be okay?' Mechanics were so much easier.

Wounded from JACKAL started to filter in, her heart near stopped when the VAMPs pulled up carrying more than its share of bloodied passengers. Walking behind the first one was Hotseat, a small smile crossing her face when she saw the old tanker intact. Making eye contact with her, he didn't offer one back. Instead he crossed to the back of the VAMP where he and another member of his tank crew helped to unload a mishappen man wrapped in a poncho, gingerly lying the malformed corpse down on the field with the other soldiers not fortunate enough to make it out. She downcast her eyes, not wanting to watch, to see the string of bodies which were growing in number, focusing once again on helping to get a wounded soldier aboard the CH-47.
She gave him a quick Hey old man when he was in earshot, helping his loader aboard one of the choppers. The comment brought a sobered smile from the older tanker, and a Hey kid in response before he too became a temporary for some of the wounded.

More of JACKAL and their vehicles began pouring in, Heavy Metal being amongst the first in-tact crew to reach the extract site, Long Range being among the last. Heavy Metal, that was two. Still four left to go. She wouldn't make eye contact with the soldier who'd been her temporary leader, the first shirt of THUNDER, as he drove his Wolverine up to the extract site, he wasn't worth it. Let him extract out with Grand Slam and Thunder, better yet, let him try and say something, anything to her. She'd leave with her team, her entire team, no matter how long it took them to get there.

The next face she recognized to filter in belonged to the M.P., Law, looking worse for wear himself, like he'd seen more than his share of action as well. Even though not part of their team, she was happy to see him unharmed and offered him a smile and quick two finger salute before he was assigned assisting with the breakdown of NESTEGG. Still four left to go.

The choppers carrying the wounded began taking off, vehicle crews being the next to go as stragglers from HUNTER finally started filing in. Lt. Falcon gave the 'volunteers' the go ahead to board one of the evacs, as he and the other medics were able to once again getting everything under control with the injured. He was still too busy for her to be able to ask about her team's status, besides, she wasn't sure he'd even be able to tell who she was talking about. Sure, he'd introduced himself on the C-5, and yeah, from the way he was watching over his men, he probably was an okay enough guy for an officer, but still, he wasn't one of them.

She could see Heavy Metal sitting off to the distance and smiled. He could have been on the chopper with the rest of JACKAL. He'd stayed behind, waiting for his team. It was a small, simple act, but in her eyes it redeemed him from a lot of the other shit he'd pulled, especially back in Brazil. He was one of them, a Rogue. Hotseat soon joined him, the two exchanging a few words she couldn't make out before sitting back to back on the ground slightly distanced from the activity surrounding them.

Falcon finally relieved her of the last soldier she'd been assisting. Duggleby, as his name tape read, had been hurt pretty bad from what she gathered, his leg looking torn up but surprisingly free of any blood that didn't look long dried. She couldn't do much more than hold his hand and try to keep him conscious and out of shock as he waited for his turn aboard the chopper, avoiding his questions about his leg. It almost reminded of her of when Fastdraw had been hit by the sniper, how she'd fought to keep him conscious, too as he lay hurt and bleeding. The Hotshot came out of that okay, he better damn well come out of this okay too.

Still keeping her eyes trained on the horizon she joined her two tanker teammates as three more aircraft lifted off.
Sit, kid. Hotseat told her, patting the ground near he and Heavy Metal. Your pacing is making me nervous. Funny, being nervous was making her pace. Still four left to go Another smile played on her face. Three left to go. The large figure off in the distance could only be one person, Repeater. Six Foot Seven and built like a brick shit house, unmistakable. The rest of his team, BRAVO, climbed aboard one of the choppers, Repeater instead joining her, Hotseat and Heavy Metal.
Last I saw they were okay. He said, pre-empting her question. She smirked, not only because his words helped to ease her mind, but also because she thought that was the longest non-task related sentence he'd said to her since A10.
Glad you are too, Big Guy. She told him, not expecting and not getting a response.
After what seemed like an eternity, the final four soldiers emerged from around one of the large dunes, the gaits of the men on her team unmistakable. Her eyes focused on each one at a time, Fastdraw on the far left, walking with a slight limp but still confidently, Zap to his immediate right. The smaller Hispanic soldier raised his weapon with one hand above his head in greeting, seeing his team by the choppers. Next to him was a soldier she immediately scanned over, not recognizing him as she let her blue eyes soften seeing the soldier to the far right.
She said quietly, her heart now racing, a large smile crossing her face.
Her smile faded just as fast as she noticed his confidant gait somewhat changed, moredetermined maybe, with the slightest limp of his own. Fuck. It had to be bad. Even Fast Draw was remarkably quiet, offering a simple Hey babe while patting her shoulder in greeting. That was it? No other Fast Draw comments? She again cursed, wishing she could have done something, been there for them. She turned towards Ripcord.
Are you She started to say, but stopped herself. The look on his face told her he wasn't okay. It was almost as if the whole team'd taken on Repeater's personality.
Let's move em out, people. Hotseat told them after a brief pause, the somber mood still weighing heavily above the seven soldiers. Fast Draw hesitated slightly before climbing above the craft, clenching his fists into tight balls as he stopped his neck mid- crack. Ripcord didn't say a word, didn't even make eye contact with her as they boarded the helicopter and sat in the webbing. She couldn't help but stare, his features still hardened, his eyes, dark and focused on nothing in particular as he stared straight ahead. She wanted to make it go away, whatever it was, to bring back the light in his green eyes. Only one thing crossed her mind as she remembered the small act that always seemed to comfort her. Reaching over, she grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, and giving a gentle squeeze. It seemed to snap him temporarily out of his trance, as he tightly squeezed back, and turned a pair of sullen eyes her way. She wanted to assure him everything would be all right, hoping it would be.
As he returned to staring straight ahead, she noticed for the first time how worse for wear he actually looked. He had dried blood splatters over his chest and arm, causing her to grab the front of his vest for a better inspection. He immediately tried to shrug it off with an 'I'm fine' gesture, as she breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the blood wasn't his. She let her free hand travel up over his back towards where she'd seen what looked like scortch marks, the charred fabric leaving a thin black stain on her hand which she wiped off on her knee. The action caused her to glance down towards his knee, noticing for the first time the small stain of blood below the rip by the knee of his BDU pants. She shot him a questioning look as she dropped his hand. She grabbed the fabric surrounding the tear with both hands, ripping the cloth to see the damage, despite the small protest he'd put up. The tear revealed a gash which spread near across the side of his knee cap. The wound didn't look too deep, but then again, she was no medic. Shit! He was hurt.
I'll get Zap She told him, starting to stand up, causing him to grab hold of her arm and pull her back into the webbing.
It'll hold. He said in a low tone, motioning over to Zap. Just let him sleep. Glancing towards where he'd gestured, she could see Zap's head hanging against his chest, the rocking of the chopper as well as sheer exhaustion lulling him to sleep.
Then just let me wrap it. She asked with near pleading eyes. The same exhaustion made him comply, nodding slowly, too tired obviously to put up a fight as she took a knee in front of him. She went about it as she pulled a dressing from his ALICE gear and applied it to the wound, checking to make sure there were no other wounds. Like the blood on his chest, most of what sprayed his leg wasn't his own. Satisfied that his knee was at least cleaned and bandaged, she returned to the seat on the opposite side of him so as not to accidentally knock into his wound. Going to once again grab his hand, she spotted the bandage hanging loosely out of the front of his left sleeve. Carefully grabbing his wrist, she first tugged off his black glove before carefully opening the cuff button of his BDU shirt. Cautiously she lifted the fabric up before pulling it backwards, not wanting to risk hurting his already exposed wound. Peeling away the rest of the plastic and bandage which covered it, she saw for the first time the scope of what'd taken place in England. His mangled flesh was still pink and raw in places, other places already healed or healing into thick scar tissue. The sight of it caused her to sharply draw her breath in through her teeth, an action Wally couln't hear, but unfortunately, he could see. He tried with no avail to shrug that off too, Covergirl holding fast to his upper arm while removing another dressing. Working as quickly as she could, she covered the wound with the before letting him once again button his sleeve to keep it covered. She hadn't let him pull his glove back on, instead grabbing his hand to hold in hers once more.
She shifted her gaze towards Zap, as he still was nodding off, still clutching in his hand the picture he carried of his family. As it slipped from his unalert fingers to the floor of the aircraft, the soldier next to him bent down to scoop it up. Her eyes hardened on him as he took a moment to stare at her teammates photo before quietly slipping it into Zap's ALICE gear. Beside the soldier she didn't know was Fast Draw, his head hanging all the way backwards against the chopper's hull, staring straight up at ceiling, shifting uncomfortably from time to time. As obnoxious as it usually was, she found herself actually missing his post-mission rants. Towards the other side of her was Hotseat, the older tanker resting his head in his hands. She took a second to put a hand on his arm as well, knowing his driver had been lost. He patted her hand in response, but still didn't look up or towards her, causing her to drop her grip on his arm and swing her eyes towards Heavy Metal. Like Fast Draw, he'd sat staring skyward, once in a while taking a moment to glance at a picture he held tightly. Finally, towards the back sat Repeater, his eyes glazed over as he stared forward.

The mood between all the soldiers was just as solemn as they reached the airport in Riyadh and began to board the C-141. Many of the wounded had to remain behind at the nearby airbase, too unstable to transport further. She could see in Falcon's face that it bothered him to have to leave his men behind, but he had no choice. Even Law who'd seemed so happy-go-lucky at the start of the mission looked down.

She held fast to Ripcord's hand as he slept, or rather, attempted to sleep, almost afraid to let him go. She'd feel his hand relax as he drifted off, his thumb no longer methodically rubbing up against hers, his head sometimes resting briefly against her shoulder, but it never lasted long. Whatever was haunting him forced his heavy eyelids to shoot open shortly after they'd close. She stayed awake to keep him company for the duration of the flight, even if they weren't doing any talking. She wanted to make sure he was all right. He had to be all right. She promised.

They'd arrived at Pope Air Force base near 02:30, landing at the Pit about an hour and a half after that. The wounded able to make the trip were met by medical personnel and ushered to the infirmary, those uninjured forced to endure a quick debriefing. She'd looked around the hull of the C-141, remembering how crowded it'd seemed before Saudi, not wanting to notice how it'd thinned out considerably.

I know it's late Psyche-Out told them, standing at the front of the front of the aircraft, before the troops could de-board. But you all know the drill, debriefing upon arrival. It won't be anything you haven't heard before, S.O.P, we were never there. His call was right on the money. She barely noticed as Colonel Courage spoke to the group, making eye contact with no one as he droned on about the UCMJ, the JCS and an onslaught of other acronyms that she wasn't paying attention to, instead letting her eyes scan the large room. She couldn't help but notice the respective still sitting together, NESTEGG, HUNTER, THUNDER, KILLER, and off to the side, her team, the seven of them. Wait Eight. Her eyes drifted to the end of the row of seats, some newcomer sitting next to Zap. Covergirl smirked and shook her head slightly. Zap was always picking up strays.

Once outside the debriefing room, the men and women dispersed, even her team opting to head out to their respective dorms to grab some much needed rest. As soon as she was away from the others, she relaxed against the wall, next to where Ripcord was leaning his shoulder against the wall, placing his head against the plaster, still looking forlorn. She stared at him in silence for a brief moment or two before bringing her hand gingerly up to the side of his face, him cupping her hand with his, again gripping it tightly.
Are you all right? She finally asked, in a whispered tone, afraid of the answer. His normally bright green eyes searched hers before dropping. She thought maybe he hadn't heard her, he didn't respond. She was about to ask again when he answered just as quietly.
She closed her eyes before casting them downward, letting her hand drop from his cheek, but still holding fast to his hand.
"Do you want to tell me?" She asked, as he once again stared silently for a few seconds before answering, choosing his words carefully.
"I had to do some things out there." She slowly nodded her head, not wanting to push, and chose her words just as carefully.
"It doesn't change who you are."
"Doesn't it?"
"No. It doesn't. What happens on the battlefield, you can't control that, Wally. You can't think black or white, right or wrong. You do what you have to."
"That's not the problem, he corrected with a shake of his head. That's the easy part. Killing only gets easier. You don't allow yourself to think on the on battlefield. You just react. It's easy to forget the meaning of sin out there. It's afterwards. When you realize the horror of what you've done. That when the demons come alive."
"It's not sin. It's necessity, it's life, it's death, it's us or them. My grandfather used to say that everyone has to walk on the dark side of the street sometimes. As long as you don't lose sight of the light, you'll be fine. You haven't lost sight of it, Wally. It's still there."
"I didn't this time. He shot back. But what about next time?" She had to think before answering, unsure of how to convince him how determined she was.
"We worry about the next time when we have to, when it happens. I made a promise to you, I said I won't let you slip. You won't. I don't make promises I can't keep." He slowly let out a sigh, once again staring off into the distance.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I still don't worry about it." He didn't get it. Her blue eyes softened as she turned, facing him and staring into his apprehensive eyes.
"I can't tell you not to worry. All I can tell you is no matter how dark it gets, I'll always be there for you. Demons or no demons, you won't slip, Wally. You won't. I promise."