Ch.7: Becket meets F.E.A.R.

A.N:

Long chapter right? Sorry about that. I have college again soon so I am trying to make as much progress as I can before then. The fight between Becket and Point Man was just something that I have wanted to do for a long time. The point was that it was a draw. I am not claiming that one is better than the other. I think that they are both badass.

To those who want to poke holes in the flying parts, I am well aware of how complicated Black Hawks are and how difficult they are to operate. They are space shuttles compared to civilian helicopters and even most military choppers. For the sake of simplicity, I made it so Becket could pilot one by himself. Also, I may have exaggerated their maneuvering capabilities just a little bit. I hope my story is worth the chapter lengths.

The man was dead before he hit the floor. I smiled at the sight of his deceased body propped on top of the hologram emitter that he had been examining. I ordered Ghost 4, "Seal that hatch." The puppet soldier closed the hatch. I said to Alpha 1, "Send all the data that you can to the commanders in charge of the main Replica forces. That should give them the upper hand."

He nodded and replied, "Yes sir."

As he was relaying Armacham troop locations and movements to his brethren, I noticed a console against the far wall and walked over to it. After setting my rifle aside, I started typing on the console's keyboard.

Beside me, Alma asked, "What are you looking for?"

I replied, "Don't you think it is a bit odd that things always seem to work in Armacham's favor?"

She cocked her head to the right before she replied, "No…what do you have in mind?"

I continued searching through the computer's files as I explained, "In an email I found, an anonymous individual said that he had diverted the Harbinger candidates to her penthouse. Basically, my squad. To do that, an individual needs to be very influential. Just because I am an expendable asset does not mean that I am a moron. I know the little games that are always happening behind closed doors. Aha! Found you! You slimy little bastard. David Hoyle. U.S. Senator. Oh, Alma, you are going to enjoy this one. Looks like he was a huge financial backer for Project Origin. He is also the one who had your first son transferred to the F.E.A.R. team. Not to mention the fact that he is the one who got my squad, and the squad sent into Armacham headquarters killed."

Her eyes flared in fury at the information. I assured her, "Don't worry, we will get him."

Her anger seemed to subside for the moment and she remarked, "Well…at least we put a dent in their operations."

I sighed and said, "It won't stop them. Hell, it might not even slow them down. Now, another name just got added to the list." I grunted angrily as I slammed my left fist onto the keyboard. Alma placed her left hand on my right shoulder and started to rub it. The anger I was feeling felt different from anything I had ever felt before. Even my anger for my father could not compare to the stockpiled anger that I was struggling to keep under control. Even the word "anger" could not accurately label the rolling black mass of negative energy that was swirling inside my mind.

Whatever it was, it was feeding a feral, primal side of my psyche. Alma said in a soothing voice, "Michael, come back to me. Focus on my voice." I listened to her and the black mass started to dissipate.

I said aloud, "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless." Retrieving my assault rifle, I repeated myself, "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless." My tactic worked and the negative energy subsided.

Looking down at Alma, I said apologetically, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head and smiled before she replied, "Don't be. I know how hard it is to control. Just please don't let it control you or you will end up like those things in the cages." I shivered involuntarily. I would rather be dead than to live as a hollow shell.

I groaned before I said, "I am fine now. I just…I can't believe how far this whole thing goes up the ladder. A senator? A war is coming...nothing short of a war." I looked back at the body and smiled darkly. I chuckled, which caused Alma to smile up at me when I looked down at her. I remarked, "Still, that was some trick we just pulled. No matter what happens after this, we killed that prick in the middle of his little clubhouse. That is going to give the rest of them something to think about. Come on, time to vanish into thin air."

That was easier said than done. For the full impact of our actions to be felt, we had to avoid being seen on our exit. It was too risky to go out the way we came in, even with the cover of the raging storm of fire. As I was thinking of a way to exit the harbor covertly, I noticed Alpha 1 place his first two fingers of his left hand up against his helmet as if he was listening to the built in radio. He nodded his head and said, "Understood." Turning to me, he said, "Sir, one of our commandos has located a woman named Jin Sun-Kwon. He has her detained but she is demanding to speak to his commander."

I nodded and activated my own com link as I told him, "Patch me in."

He replied, "Yes sir."

I spoke into my com link, "Hello Miss Sun-Kwon, Sergeant Becket of Delta Force here. You wanted to speak to me?"

I heard a young, Korean-American woman reply, "Delta Force? How…is this some kind of trick?"

I assured her, "No ma'am. I promise that this is not some trick. I really am from Delta Force. My squad was codenamed Dark Signal. I apologize for you having to be detained. I ordered the Replicas not to harm any civilians but to take precautions when one was located. Your turn: who are you and why did you request to speak to me?"

She held her ground when she replied, "You ordered the Replicas…but only psychic commanders can control them. Who are you Sergeant Becket?"

I sighed before I replied, "Long story. One involving Armacham, Project Origin, and Project Harbinger. Look, I hate to be rude but I am kind of in the middle of something so if you have something to say, you need to say it."

She seemed to get the message because she asked, "Where do your allegiances lie Sergeant?"

I glanced down at Alma before I replied, "With the victims of Armacham and with my brothers and sisters in the armed forces."

She said, "In that case, I am a member of F.E.A.R. and I need your help."

In shock, I asked, "Wait, you are part of F.E.A.R.? No one has heard from you guys since the explosion. Why are you alone? What happened to the rest of your team?"

I noticed Alma suddenly perk up at the mention of F.E.A.R. and she moved closer to me as she anxiously waited for news about the wellbeing and whereabouts of the members. Jin replied, "Yes, I am part of F.E.A.R. My team has been scattered since the explosion. Jankowski has been missing since before the explosion and at this point, I have to assume that he is dead."

I interrupted her by saying, "Jankowski? Shit, you must be talking about Spencer."

She replied confused, "Yes, how did you…"

I explained, "His brother was in my squad. He died right in front of me from one of Armacham's surgical devices."

"Son?" I heard Alma whisper frantically. She seemed desperate to learn any information about his whereabouts.

I asked the F.E.A.R. operative, "What about your point man?"

She replied in a noticeably worried tone, "I lost contact with our point man when our Black Hawk crashed. I have been trying to contact him but his com link must be broken. I do not know where he is but I am sure that he is alive." She then said, as if to herself, "I wish he was here right now. I always knew I was safe if he was around." Alma was immensely disappointed by the news. As her head dropped and her hair covered her face in a shroud, a slight shaking of her slim form announced that she was about to cry. I placed my left hand on her tiny, fragile looking right shoulder to comfort her.

I decided at that moment that even as much as I still resented her for what she had done to me, that I needed to do more than just help her get even with her torturers. Besides, from what I had heard about him, the man was an unstoppable, nearly invincible walking tank. He would be a valuable ally. I asked, "Do you have any idea how to locate him?" Alma's head lifted and she looked at me with a confused expression.

Before she could say anything, Jin replied, "That is the reason I need your help. I think I know someone who might have an idea where he is. Armacham has captured a Delta Force Operative by the name of Sergeant Douglas Holiday and are in the process of transporting him out of the city."

I asked, "Holiday? That bomb nut? What does he have to do with your point man?"

She explained, "He was attached to my team during the course of our mission. When our helicopter crashed, he was onboard. When I regained consciousness, both our point man and Holiday were missing. I am guessing that they presumed I died in the crash and left together. Again though, that is just a guess."

I replied, "That is good enough for me. Do you know where they are taking him to transport him out of the city?"

She responded, "No, sorry."

I said, "Don't worry, I will track him down. In the meantime, I will have the commando escort you to where the rest of my squad is."

She asked with a confused tone, "How will you find him?"

I glanced at the console I had been using before I replied, "Don't worry about that. Commando, escort the VIP to the safe house. Guard her with your life."

I heard the Replica soldier reply, "Order confirmed. Escorting VIP. Please, follow me ma'am."

As I started to head for the console, I suddenly heard Jin contact me again, "Wait, Becket. Umm…this is going to sound strange, but have you, by any chance, seen a Caucasian girl around eight years old with dark hair, pale skin, glowing orange eyes, and wearing a red dress?"

I smiled mischievously and replied with a short laugh at the beginning, "No ma'am. Sorry, can't say that I have. Why, who is she?"

Jin replied quickly with noticeable embarrassment, "No one, forget I asked. Just, if you do see her, try not to get her attention. Good luck Becket."

I said, "Thanks." Hoping that she did not have anything else to add, I walked over to the console. As I searched the database, I said aloud, "Okay, let's see here. Reinforcement schedules…oh here we go, Evacuation schedules. All right, need to find…Doctor Green...no, ha it says she tried to interview Alma Wade and ended up losing most of her sanity. Moving on…aha, found him. Douglas Holiday…captured, blah blah blah, was nonresponsive to initial questioning…don't care…don't care…oh son of a bitch. Location: Port Authority Airport; awaiting final transportation out of the quarantine zone. Fuck, the scheduled time is 23:10 hours. Shit, that is less than an hour from now. The airport is on the other side of the bridge. We are going to need to haul ass to get to him in time."

"Michael?" Alma's voice interrupted my train of thought.

I looked down at her and asked, "Yes?"

She still looked confused and it was in her voice when she asked, "It is not that I am ungrateful, but why are you helping me find my son? I mean, you don't have to because that was not part of our deal. So why are you?"

Trying to keep up my uncaring front, I said plainly, "Don't get a big head or get any ideas, I have my reasons." I did not need to be psychic to know that she saw through my front with little difficulty.

She smiled brightly before she said, "You care about my feelings." When I turned away to try to ignore that unpleasant conversation and where it was going, she continued her advance by asking with a purposely childish voice, "Do you wike me Michael? Huh? Do you have a cwush on the girl who did a no-no to you?"

Though it was futile to deny it, I retorted back, "Oh shut up Alma."

Her eyes burned with amusement but she replied simply, "Okay, okay. Another time. So, how are we going to get to the airport in time?" I was admittedly stumped until I noticed the Black Hawk helicopter that was parked on its helipad on the aft section of the ship. I pointed to it to alert my group to its existence.

I smiled as I said, "That will work. Let's just hope that it is prep'ed enough to make it to the airport." We exited the bridge as silently as we could. The vessel's corridors were nearly deserted save for a few sailors that were making their usual rounds. We were able to bypass them with relative ease and we wasted very little time getting to the Black Hawk.

The helicopter was glossy black and had Armacham's logo on the door panels. It was armed with two miniguns and I noticed that the frame was reinforced. As we waited for the sweeping search light to cycle through its pattern so we could get to the helicopter without being seen, Alma asked me through our bond, "You know how to fly that right?"

I replied, "Yeah…sure." In reality, my flight experience came from having to take control of an older model after the pilot was gunned down while hovering low to the ground at a landing zone. When militias with AK-47's are shooting you at, and several civilians are depending upon you to get them out of the situation, you tend to learn very quickly.

Finally, the searchlight cycled and we rushed to the Black Hawk. The doors were open and we climbed into the bird. I sat down in the pilot seat and the two Replicas operated the miniguns. Alma sat down in the copilot seat and looked over at me. I studied the instrument panel and though there were differences from the one I had operated before, it was not long before I located the parts that I needed to fly the bird. Alma asked with a playful tone, "Hesitating?" I smirked before I reached over and strapped her in.

After strapping myself in, I told her, "This might get rough." As the Black Hawk roared to life, I was relieved to see that the fuel gauge indicated a full tank. The takeoff was nowhere near textbook but I managed to quickly adapt to the upgraded systems. Our exit was not covert, but given the circumstances, I did not care. Alarms sounded, but by that time, the helicopter had transported us well beyond the effective range of any ground-based retribution.

I said into my com link, "Manny, I have commandeered an ATC helicopter and am currently headed for the airport in an attempt to rescue a fellow Delta Force operative. A woman by the name of Jin Sun-Kwon is currently being escorted to your location. She is a surviving member of the F.E.A.R. team. I will update you as things progress."

He replied, "What the fuck? How…why are you...you know what, fuck it. Just try not to get killed man."

I looked down at the city as we flew above it. The raining fire cast the city below us in an eerie red glow and for the first time, I could see the full extent of the devastation. My heart sank as a feeling of human loss filled my mind. What was once a metropolis had been transformed into a wasteland of rubble and firefights. Sections of the city that were far enough away from the blast seemed intact but I saw little in terms of life. Essentially, Fairport had really become a, "Dead city." Alma said as she finished my thought.

Our moment of sightseeing was cut short when Alpha 1 yelled, "Sir, enemy choppers incoming." I glanced over my shoulders and saw four heavily armed attack helicopters approaching us from behind: two on the left and two on the right. I knew that the Black Hawk was no match for the predators in a straight up dogfight. I had to lose them before we reached the bridge or we would be shot down before we even reached the halfway point. Armed with only two side-mounted miniguns, I was at a severe disadvantage to their missiles and dual chainguns.

The instrument panel reported that it was 22:30 hours. I had precious little time to waste on my pursuers. Below us, the remains of multistory buildings defiantly stood firm despite being surrounded by the innards of less fortunate structures. Before the ATC choppers could get a lock on us, I maneuvered the bird down to street top level.

The four choppers followed my movements and closed to within two hundred yards. The lead pursuer opened fire with its chainguns. Nearly clipping the side of a building, I turned right at an intersection to get out of the line of fire. A few rounds impacted the Black Hawk's hull but the rugged chopper was unaffected. An explosion behind us signaled that one of the predators had failed to turn sharp enough and impacted the building that I had nearly hit myself.

A warning tone alerted me that a missile was locked onto our bird. I jerked the stick hard to the left and turned at another intersection. Our main rotor blades missed the surface of the asphalt by inches and the Black Hawk shook as it struggled to make the turn but it managed. The missile passed underneath us and impacted the ground just a few yards ahead of us. The explosion's shockwave rocked the helicopter and the debris thrown up rattled against the hull and cracked the glass window on the copilot side of cockpit.

The instrument panel flashed and warnings sounded as the Black Hawk protested the abuse. I grunted under my breath, "Son of a bitch. Too close." I leveled our chopper and scanned our surroundings. Seeing an aboveground parking lot, I maneuvered over to it. It was three stories tall and the spacing between the floors was just barely enough to allow the Black Hawk passage. I eased back on the forward thrust to allow our pursers time to close the gap.

As we approached the structure, I said to my little copilot, "Alma, grab the rest of my C4 charges. As we pass through, attach a charge to any part of the structure that looks like it is holding the deck above it. As soon as we exit the space, detonate the charges." With no time to argue, she quickly unstrapped herself, gathered my C4 charges, and relocated to the open cargo bay.

I was so focused on threading the proverbial needle that as we entered the tight concrete passage, a burst from one of their chainguns scored a solid hit on our hull. Our bird shuttered but continued on a steady path. I could not afford to glance back to see if Alma had managed to do what I asked so I kept going on blind faith. Sure enough, we had no sooner exited the space before a massive explosion erupted behind us. The sound of crumbling concrete, strained metal and the sudden lack of additional helicopter rotors slicing through the air confirmed that the three predators had been caught in our trap.

Before I could sigh in relief or even remotely celebrate our victory, the instrument panel lit up and I saw that our chopper was losing hydraulic pressure. It was a slow leak but I worried that by the time we arrived at the airport, I was going to be flying a brick instead of a helicopter. With nowhere to go but forward, I forced the injured bird onward. The instrument panel reported that it was 22:40 hours. I estimated that it would take approximately ten additional minutes to reach the airport. That was not exactly on the razor's edge of time, but it was still enough to be quite uncomfortable. We approached the bridge and I could see ATC mercenary activity both on the bridge and surrounding the airport. My heart started racing as I saw the C-130 Hercules parked on the runway as if it was ready for takeoff.

I muttered to myself, "No. That is not happening. Not while I am here." I switched off the helicopter's lights and lowered our flight path to be just above the surface of the water. I said to Ghost 4 and Alpha 1, "Standby on the guns. When I tell you, fire at will until you run out of ammunition."

In unison, they replied, "Yes sir." I glanced over at the mercenaries on the bridge as we passed them. I realized that something was off. They were not headed away from the airport or even guarding the bridge. Instead, they were all rushing towards the airport. I did not have time to grasp the significance of the observation before we finally arrived at the airport.

I yelled at the Replicas, "Spin them up."

The whirring of the miniguns as their iconic barrels spun was loud enough to be heard even over the roar of the rotor blades. We arrived at the runway with the C-130 to our left. All around us, I saw ATC soldiers but strangely, they ignored us at first as if they were focusing on a more serious threat. I decided that it was time to change that. With difficulty because of the loss of pressure, I managed to bring the chopper to a hover about thirty feet above the surface of the runway.

With Alpha 1 on the left turret and Ghost 4 on the right turret, I ordered, "Fire at will!" Very few things, in my mind, were more beautiful than the sound of a minigun firing. If death had a soundtrack, a minigun firing was the lead guitar section. The Replicas unleashed the Black Hawk's turrets with deadly precision. The ATC soldiers fell in clusters all around our chopper. I telepathically communicated to Alpha 1, "That C-130 does not leave the ground, understand me?" He ceased fired to conserve ammunition as he raised his turret to aim at the stationary plane. "Clip her wings soldier." I ordered in a sinister state of mind.

He audibly replied, "Yes sir." He opened fire on the defenseless aircraft. The minigun made short work of the cargo plane as its overwhelming output of rounds chewed through the metal skin. Though not what I had in mind, he literally cut the wings off the plane.

I shrugged and said, "Works for me. Switch fire to the ATC mercenaries." Since I was preoccupied with the plane, I failed to notice the sudden absence of my coveter and the sound of gunfire inside the airport itself. Without warning, the tone for a missile lock sounded and before I could pinpoint where the threat was coming from, a missile, fired from inside the airport, struck the Black Hawk.

The bird lurched and immediately started an irreversible fiery downward spiral. As the chopper descended, a voice warned, "Altitude, Altitude." Spinning images of the instrument panel and the piercing sound of alarm tones were all I knew before the crippled helicopter crashed into the ground and rolled over to rest on its roof. The force of the crash caused me to black out.

When I regained consciousness, I was being dragged away from the wreckage. I heard noises but it took my disorientated mind a few seconds to recognize them as words being spoken to me. It was Alpha 1 and he was saying, "Hang in there sir, we are almost to cover. You are going to be okay, just stay with me." Fighting to stay conscious, my vision darkened sporadically and the next thing that I knew, I was propped up against the metallic body of a large transportation crate. Alpha 1 arranged surrounding crates to form a makeshift wall before returning to my side.

I numbly looked up into his cracked white ceramic mask in a daze. He grasped my shoulders tightly and shook me as he said, "Sir! You need to focus. We have enemy contacts converging on our location. Wake up sir!" Despite the splitting headache it caused me, I reoriented my senses and thoughts. Freed from my shell shock, I forced my beaten body onwards.

Rising to a crouched position, I looked over the makeshift wall to see the wreckage. At first, I did not realize that something was missing but it finally dawned on me that both Alma and Ghost 4 were not with us. Studying the wreckage more intently, I saw the prostrate body of the Replica sniper. His body was pinned underneath a broken section of the fuselage and he did not appear to be moving.

I panicked as I realized that the content of a nearby ruptured tank that was being used to store aviation fuel was approaching the sparking instrument panel of the Black Hawk. I only had time to scream, "Ghost!" before the fuel ignited and the helicopter was consumed by flames.

Rage filled my mind as I stared at the flaming chopper. I was going to find the bastard responsible and liquefy the flesh right off his body. I said, "Alpha 1, form up on me. We have a mission to complete."

He replied, "Yes sir. Here…" He handed me my assault rifle. I took it from him, but stopped before I started to advance when I saw the suppressor. No, I wanted everyone to hear me so that they would know who it was that had killed them just before their life slipped away.

After forcefully removing the attachment, I threw it into the fire as I stood. I said, "Fuck covert. Go loud."

He replied with a disturbing calm murderous voice, "Let's get them, sir." I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being pumped and realized that he must have secretly brought along his automatic shotgun. Going around the flaming wreck, we made our way to the airport's terminal building to confront the individual responsible for killing our squad member and to locate the Delta Force Operative.

As we neared the door that allowed access to the main lobby of the airport, three ATC mercenaries burst through the door and ran towards us with their heads and torsos turned so they could look behind them. Not even bothering with my reflexes, I gunned down the first man with a burst. Alpha 1 blasted the second man's head into pieces with a round from his shotgun. The third one had time to turn around and when he saw us approaching him, he fell to his knees before us. He was unarmed having apparently dropped his weapon in his attempt to flee.

He raised his hands up in surrender as he begged, "Please, don't kill me. I surrender okay? Just please let me go. Please, I have a family." I looked at him with disgust. He was pathetic for using his family as a bargaining chip. Transferring my rifle to my left hand, I drew my pistol from its holster with my right hand. I placed the end of the muzzle against the man's forehead and fired a single round.

As I was holstering my sidearm, I remarked to the dead man, "I have one now too." Returning to holding my rifle with both hands, I continued towards the door. As we reached it, I observed the aftermath of an intense firefight. ATC mercenary bodies were littering the floor, weapons laid uselessly nearby their deceased former masters, signs of shrapnel grenades peppered the walls, and blood splatters coated various surfaces. I did not see the perpetrator or perpetrators that had caused the bloodbath from my vantage point, however. Cautiously, I proceeded through the doorway with my assault rifle at the ready. Alpha 1 followed close behind in the same manner. In the center of the lobby, I saw a strange looking tall glass box that vaguely resembled an old fashion telephone booth.

I grimaced at the sight of the unusual item and said aloud, "This must have been what they were transporting Holiday in. Damn, I do not envy the poor bastards that are put in one of those things. I already have enough problems with claustrophobia. I would probably lose my mind and turn into an asshole if I were held in there. If I was held in that and for some reason someone found me…shit, they would have my permission to put me out of my misery. Not that I would make it easy on them though, of course. I don't plan on dying without a fight."

I shook my head to clear away my darkening thoughts before I said in irritation, "Well, that's just great. Now we have to play hide and go seek in a shot up airport in the middle of a shithole. Wonderful! What else could possibly happen to make my day more exciting?"

Just as I finished my sentence, alarm bells went off in my head. I was too late to prevent a large, built, masked man from knocking my assault rifle out of my grasp with the butt of his G2A2 assault rifle. Instinctively, my reflexes activated. I punched the man in his face with my right fist and followed up with a shoulder charge. My charge succeeded, resulting in me sending the man forcefully up against the unusual glass prison.

While I had him pinned, I attacked his right hand. I managed to disarm him and sent his assault rifle sliding across the floor. Alpha 1 started to make his way over to assist me but he too was ambushed by an assailant. I was caught off guard by a swift knee strike into my lower torso. I momentarily lost my footing and he was able to force me backwards. I went to begin a counter attack but to my amazement, his movements managed to match my own in speed. Whoever he was, he had enhanced reflexes too.

He dodged my right punch and sent a roundhouse kick into my chest. The blow staggered me but I recovered in time to deflect his left punch. After I deflected his attack, I punched him in rapid succession in his chest. While he was briefly stunned from being winded, I went behind him and tried to perform a neck breaker. However, as I started to twist, he lunged backwards. I grunted in pain as my back collided with the glass chamber hard enough to crack the panel. He tried to repeat the move but I was able to move out of the way. I tried to shoulder charge him again but this time, he absorbed the attack.

He pushed me backwards about a foot. Now that we were sufficiently separated, I drew my sidearm and aimed it at his head. I was startled to see that we had both done the exact same thing literally simultaneously except I was wielding my ACM46 pistol and he was wielding an AT-14 pistol. As my finger started to squeeze the trigger, Alma suddenly materialized between us as she screamed, "No! Stop both of you!"

I immediately lowered my sidearm and asked in confusion, "Alma? What is going on here? Who the hell is this?" I looked back at the man. Now that we were not locked in a death match, I could see the body armor he was wearing and that combined with his enhanced reflexes made the answer obvious. I holstered my pistol as I answered my own question, "Oh, I see, your son. The one they call Point Man. Wait that means…" I turned my attention to the other pair. Alpha 1 had his left boot on top of Holiday's throat and held his shotgun dead steady just inches from the Delta Force operative's face. Quickly, I ordered him, "Stand down Alpha 1. They are both friendlies."

The trooper replied, "Yes sir." He removed his left foot and stepped back from the man. He helped Holiday to his feet before walking over to where my rifle laid on the floor. After picking up my assault rifle, he walked over to me. He said, "Your weapon sir." I retrieved my assault rifle and we both turned our attention back to the mother and son.

Alma glanced at Point Man then at me back and forth for a few tense moments. Our bond allowed her to know the source of my hostility. She stepped over to me and pleaded, "Please Michael, he is my son."

I retorted back in anger, "He shot the Black Hawk down. He killed Ghost 4 and nearly killed Alpha and me. Not to mention the fact that he is the reason that I am in this fucked up situation. Aristide turned my team into monsters just because of him!"

Alma nodded but said, "Yes, but it is not his fault. He is just as much of a victim as you are. Just, please…for me?"

I sighed before I replied, "Fine, for you." The sound of approaching ATC forces interrupted us and I said, "Take a rain check on the family reunion. Let's get the Hell out of here."