Ch. 19 Part 1: Return of Mr. Death

A.N.:

Hey everyone. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving or weekend. I meant for this part to be uploaded earlier but I had relatives visiting so I got distracted.

Part 2 is the big action part. This part is where we learn the fate of Becket's mentor and his old squad, the origin of some of Becket's one-liners, and unfortunately, we see how months of exposure to Alma has negatively affected not only Becket but also his team with the exception of Point Man because of his ability to withstand his mother's influence. I am already working on part 2 but I have finals coming up so please be patient.

Oh, if anyone wants to ask me any questions or something, PM me or ask in a review and I will either reply or submit a review to answer your questions. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys reading this.

With the beating of my heart pounding in my ears, I sprinted down the foggy street while breathing heavily. I occasionally had to duck or jump over pieces of building or abandoned vehicles. The beating of my heart as it pumped was the only thing I heard other than the thumping and occasional squeal of my boots as I pushed myself onwards. A solitary Replica sniper watched me out of curiosity as I passed his position. Through his com link, he remarked encouragingly, "Push it out sir!" I smiled between breaths as I powered through the ache in my legs and chest.

As I reached my halfway point, I heard multiple pairs of boots running up behind me and was relieved to see that Alpha 1 and Morales had managed to convince Point Man to join me on my morning run. I noticed that Point Man was acting as if he was holding back so he could run at the same pace as me. Morales and I had already had PT together before so I already knew that he and I were within each other's fitness level. I was surprised to see Alpha 1 running at the same pace as me because his heavy armor should have made it difficult for him to maintain a run for long durations. If he was able to run like that with his armor, he must be extremely fit underneath his gear.

As the fall chill stung at my lungs, I continued as the chorus of the thundering of our boots filled my mind. As I ran, I reflected that it had been months since our last encounter with death. Sure, we had deployed against ATC aggression weekly, sometimes multiple times a week, but there had not been much drama other than the occasional Replica squad being wiped out by a random abomination or creature that ATC threw at us in a futile effort to destroy us. Then again, I could have also been numbed by the nuke that the U.N. used against us. What would have been devastating to me before seemed insignificant compared to a nuclear weapon strike.

That possibility disturbed me because lately I was growing more and more concerned about my mental health. Scenes from movies that I had seen in my youth such as Apocalypse Now and Full Metal Jacket suddenly did not seem out of the realm of possibility. I had caught myself and other members of my squad doing questionable things during firefights that most people would consider crazy or signs of us being twisted.

Like the time that Alma and I had first tried anal in full view of ATC mercenaries. I was more surprised by the fact that I was still able to accurately aim and fire my rifle than by the fact that I agreed to do it. Then again, the pleasure, dirty pleasure but still pleasure, that both my goddess and I felt as well as the looks on the mercenaries' faces was more than enough to make the whole incident worth the flak that I got from Stokes and Jin who happened to witness the whole thing. Later, in private, Stokes admitted that the sight strangely aroused her. Meanwhile, Morales and the other male Delta Force operatives thought the whole thing was funny as hell. Alpha 1 commented that he had won the bet between the Replicas over how many kills I would get before Alma and I finished. According to him, the final tally was twenty-five confirmed kills, ten probable kills, and five unconfirmed but still likely kills. Apparently, he got a custom ACOG scope for The Hammer for winning the bet.

There was another incident when we were surrounded at the top of a hill somewhere in Vietnam, or somewhere around there. As bullets were whizzing through the air around us, I noticed Point Man taking a piss on one of the few remaining trees that had not been knocked down. To this day, I still do not understand how he was not hit because he was standing still and upright while the rest of us were crouched behind cover. When he finished and got behind cover, I shook my head and gave him a questioning gesture. He gave me a defensive gesture and shrugged. I guess when you have to go, you just have to go.

Then there was that time that Stokes and I ballroom danced in a bombed out mansion in England between fighting forces of Replica Elite Powered Armor units and ATC Enhanced Powered Armor units. We would have kept going for a while but then Holiday told us to move. When we moved, he dropped his assault rifle and moved to where we had been. Then, he started break dancing and we all, even the Replicas, started cheering. He even did a move to dodge a missile. In all honesty, it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. When he was done, he went back over to his assault rifle as he muttered, "white people". I told him to try it again while he was swimming and he told me to try dunking when we played basketball during PT/R&R. As we laughed about each other's comments, Alma asked us what we were talking about and we told her not to worry about it.

There was also the time that Alpha 1 forced a Phase Commander to play Russian roulette. We all made our bets about which trigger pull would be the one upon which The Hammer fired. It was the fourth trigger pull so Foxtrot 813 won. We had to let him get twenty ATC kills before we could join the killing. I was slightly upset that I had lost the bet because I was concerned with keeping my kill record up because Alpha 1, Point Man, and I were always neck and neck for the first place standing for ATC kills.

Fun, as horrible as it sounds and is, is sadly what we considered such events. There were more incidents like those but I do not remember them specifically. When it suddenly becomes your profession to slaughter inept ATC grunts effortlessly, trust me when I say that it gets old very quickly. As such, we continuously tried to mix things up by creating challenges for each other. Alma, which should not be a surprise if one knows how truly sick and disturbed her mind is, still has a seemingly endless list of perverted sexual games for her and I to play during combat missions.

If you think that anal thing was bad, then you definitely do not want to know about the other things that we have done. Hell, there are some things that we have done that I blocked out of my memory because of how twisted and dirty they were. Everyone has accepted what Alma and I do because it is better than the alternative of me becoming dark spirited, hot tempered, and disturbingly cruel during combat because of the dark presence inside my mind.

Juggernaut, Stokes, Foxtrot 813, Jin, Bravo 2, and Holiday joined us on our run and soon enough, we had completed the twenty-mile run between Check Point X-Ray and the finish line at the observation deck at the top of the Harbormaster's Tower. As usual, Point Man beat me by tenths of a second but then I beat him in completing the hundred push-ups. Then, Jin surprised everyone, except me, by beating all of us in completing the hundred sit-ups, which meant that she had won the PT session.

When we all looked at her with a surprised expression, she replied, "What? You think just because I am a technical officer that I can't kick ass?"

Morales remarked, "I think I am in love." To which, Point Man punched him in the chest.

As everyone started making their way towards the showers, I stopped Point Man and said, "You should seriously ask her out man. Not like anyone else is going to." He looked at me for a moment before looking at Jin, who looked at him with a hopeful expression. The plan that she and I had secretly made the night before worked and Point Man approached her.

I turned and saw Alma glaring at me from where she had materialized by the ornate fence. She was in what I had dubbed her "normal" form. It was her newest form and was basically the middle ground between her hag form and her seductive form. Her normal form was adult, healthy, clothed in an appropriately sized red dress, and could be attractive in its own way without being obnoxiously seductive.

I walked up to her and pulled her into a hug as I tried to keep myself from laughing at her attempts to look around me and at her baby as he used hand gestures to ask Jin out. I physically held her to keep her from trying to interrupt them. I said, "Alma, all mother birds need to let their babies leave the nest when they are ready."

She whined, "But…"

I shushed her before I asked, "Doesn't he deserve the chance to have an obsessed goddess turn his life upside down?"

Her expression turned into a smile before she taunted, "Aw…you like it."

I smirked before my expression lightened and I gently rubbed her noticeably swollen belly. As weird as it sounds, by that point, my life was so chaotic at times that having a child growing in my partner's womb, or what would count as a womb for a being like her, was the only normalcy in my life. That acceptance of being a father, as I reflect now, was perhaps the first sign of my unconscious submission to her. After we stood there for a moment, Jin tapped me on my back and I released Alma from my grasp as I turned. Jin was smiling like a little schoolgirl that had been asked out to the prom.

I noticed that Point Man had retreated into the tower. Worried, I asked her, "Did he do it?"

She nodded and then said, "Yes! It worked! We are going on a date after our operation for this week so we have something to look forward to."

I smiled before I said, "Glad it worked. Hope you two have fun." She smiled as she turned around and ran after Point Man. As much as I hated to lose, I also felt good for purposely allowing Jin to beat me in sit-ups so she could impress Point Man.

Later, in the shower room, I remarked to Foxtrot 813, "You're so full of crap Foxtrot. There is no way you dropped a Phase Caster with one hit. Bravo 2 uses armor piercing rounds in his .50 cal. Barrett against those tin men and even he has yet to drop one with one shot."

Alpha 1 quickly commented, "Sir, shouldn't the inertia alone from a .50 BMG round from one of those Barretts be enough to knock any person unconscious?"

I replied, "Bro, Phase Commanders can phase through walls and Phase Casters can summon reinforcements. Does that make sense?"

Alpha 1 shrugged before he replied, "Good point."

Foxtrot 813 said defensively, "Its true sir. I did drop a Phase Caster with one hit."

I shook my head and sighed before I replied, "If you say so."

After taking a shower, I went to the makeshift gym we had set up. After I practiced my hand-to-hand techniques on a substitute punching bag for half an hour, I started to head back to my office. However, as I started walking, I suddenly became light headed. Vertigo hit me and I staggered before using the wall for support.

Thoughts, both hers and mine assaulted my mind in an overwhelming wave. I tried to force my thoughts back under my control. Lately, it had gotten so bad that I could not tell whose thoughts they were, Alma's or mine. Wait? Who was I again? It started with a rank and then a "t". No, it is a rank and then a "b". A severe headache throbbed in my head as I remembered that the rank was sergeant. Sergeant what? I thought to myself, "Come on you worthless old man. Fucking remember your own name!"

Sergeant…Bet…no…Sergeant…Beck…Becket! That's my name. Geez, it was getting harder and harder to remember who I am. I collapsed onto my hands and knees as more pain joined my already splitting headache. My surroundings started changing as I collapsed onto my left side. I screamed in agony as my hands reached up and grasped the side of my head. Darkness overtook my senses as I blacked out.

"Damn it boy, I have put too much work into you for you to die on me now. Wake up boy!" I opened my eyes to see the scarred and weathered face of my mentor. His hardened blue eyes bore into me as he examined me. Before I could make a sound, his left hand clamped down over my mouth and his right hand motioned for me to be quiet.

When he removed his left hand, he pointed in the direction of approaching voices. Around us, I saw the burning wreckage of the Delta APC and the burnt bodies of my squad. A quick count informed me that only my mentor and I were still alive. My mentor had dragged me into a nearby ditch that also seemed to serve as the local latrine because we were both caked with human waste.

Out of the smoke, I saw five men walk towards the bodies of my squad. They were armed with black-market Ak-47s, RPK light machine guns, and one had a RPG strapped to his back. My linguistic skills were rusty at best but I could still make out that they were talking about how to dispose of the bodies. The whole city was in an uproar and thanks to command's haste to rescue the hostages, my squad had been thrown into the situation ill prepared.

The situation was dire. We were cut off with little or no ammunition, equipment, weapons, or even any way to contact command. Not only that, but now we had our backs against the wall. The latrine was short and the other side was a sheer cliff because the city was built on the side of a mountain. We had to eliminate the five men before they found us.

My mentor motioned for me to stay where I was before he silently released me and pulled his black ski mask with a white skull painted on the front over his head. That mask was a legend in Delta Force. It was rumored that my mentor's mentor had been the original wearer. My mentor had mentioned that his mentor was, in his own words, "death incarnate". That description would certainly fit the legend.

The legend itself was that a Delta Force operative was a member of a top-secret task force that answered to no one except its handler. Their last mission was a suicidal but ultimately successful attempt to stop a nuclear attack on Washington D.C. It cost the task force all of its members. That is, all but one: the Delta Force Operative.

The man had been so disturbed by what he saw on that mission that he honestly believed that he was the incarnation of death itself. He claimed not to be able to stand his own face so he created a new one. He said that the skull was supposed to be a joke. It must have been lonely for him because he was the only one that got the joke. So the legend says anyway.

With his mask in place, my mentor slowly began to approach the men in a prone stance. Whenever one of them glanced in his direction, he would pretend to be dead. Finally, as the closest man turned his back, my mentor pounced. His combat knife was in his right hand in a flash and he plunged it into the unsuspecting man's neck.

As the man slumped up against my mentor's chest, my mentor left his knife in the man's neck and grabbed the AK-47. As the closest man turned with a RPK, my mentor shot him in his right knee. The man cried out in pain and as his right knee buckled, he turned towards his allies as he continued to fire his machine gun. Before he realized what was happening, the man's RPK had mowed down two of his allies.

Out of desperation, the last remaining man killed the wounded machine gun operator. The man then tried to shoot my mentor but the old Special Forces veteran used the body slumped against him as a shield before dropping the militant with a burst from the AK-47. He threw the body off him and was about to signal the all clear but then the sound of an approaching helicopter caught his attention.

A bright searchlight, originating from the hostile Huey helicopter, illuminated my mentor as the helicopter hovered near the flaming APC. In their native language, the crew demanded that the masked Special Forces operative lay down the AK-47 and surrender. He tossed the AK-47 aside before raising his hands into the air.

The helicopter crew bought my mentor's trickery and failed to notice him glance towards the nearby RPG that was still strapped to the slain militant. Before they could stop him, my mentor dove at the RPG and unstrapped it from the man's back. As he positioned the shoulder fired grenade launcher and aimed it at the Huey, the hostile helicopter attempted to turn so its gunners could fire at the threat. However, the grey haired veteran was too fast for the poorly trained militia and he fired the RPG. The warhead entered the cockpit and exploded. The bird shuttered as flames engulfed the cargo bay and cockpit before it slammed into the ground hard.

However, just as it seemed that there was a ray of hope for the mission, one of the rotor blades snapped off and flew through the air. Before my mentor could react, the blade struck him before glancing off and flying a few more feet through the air. At first, I thought he was okay. After all, I had seen him shrug off more lethal looking blows. Plus, he was my mentor; I honestly believed that nothing could hurt him. All my naïve misconceptions about the realities of war were shattered when I saw him drop the RPG and begin to collapse to the ground.

I cried out in alarm as he collapsed onto the ground and ran to his side. Now that I had a closer view, I realized that the blade had all but cut him in half. His intestines were in his lap and his blood now soaked his uniform. My mind was in deadlock as I tried to process what I was seeing. He coughed up blood before he said, "Fuck…bitch got me. Damn, I always thought my death would be more badass like the ones in video games. Kind of a letdown…huh boy?" He laughed slightly but then choked on his own blood.

I finally managed to stamper, "Si-sir?"

After a moment, he managed to say, "Never mind. Listen son, it is all up to you now. Complete the mission. Just follow what I have taught you and it should be a walk in the park."

Still in denial, I replied, "Not without you sir. Come on, you can still make it…"

I bent down and started to help him get to his feet but he gently pushed me away. He sighed before he said, "My number is up kid. Today was the day for this old man to die. Here…" He pulled off his ski mask and roughly shoved it into my chest. Stunned, I took it from his grasp and stared at it for a moment before I looked back at the veteran. He instructed me, "You will know when you have earned that."

Before I could say anything, we both heard approaching search parties. He said, "Better get moving son. Don't worry, I got something for them." He presented a bundle of C4 and placed it on his chest. I placed the mask into one of my vest's pockets and looked at my mentor one last time before I started to sneak away from the area.

Just as I was about to leave, my mentor called out, "Hey Becket." I paused and he finished, "Remember: react, adapt, and overcome. The difference between a professional and an amateur is their proficiency with those three things. The mission always comes first. Your personal feelings are not part of that mission. I have faith in you, my son, don't let me down."

Keeping my voice steady, I replied, "Yes, sir."

After I had made it about a mile from the site, I heard him say through his com link, though he clearly did not mean for me to hear it, "You want a piece of me? Come on motherfuckers!" After a few seconds, he said over the sound of the firing of his sidearm, "That's right you bitches! Come on! I survived Somalia, you think your asses can scare me?!" After a few torturous moments filled with a mixture of false hope, horror, and sorrow, I heard the final words of the old veteran, "(cough) think…you…(cough) got…me…huh? Ha-ha! Suck…on…this…(cough) you…(cough) stupid…(cough) fucking…(cough) bitches!"

My com link squealed with harsh feedback before the line went dead as I heard the C4 bundle explode. For a minute, the entire city seemed to grow silent and not even the wind dared to make its presence known. Then, my HUD updated my mission objectives. It read, "Proceed, alone, to the embassy. Rescue the hostages and then proceed to evacuation point Jack of Clubs." It hit me at that moment: I was alone. Not only that, but he was gone. My mentor, my father figure, was gone. I was going to make them pay. This whole goddamn city was going to pay.

"Sir?"

"Michael? Come back to me. Please, Michael."

I open my eyes to see Alpha 1's cracked helmet and my goddess's worried face. I was on my back and she was kneeling over me in her child form while my Replica friend was standing over me. I said, "I'm alright. Just memories." I tried to get up but she gently placed her tiny right hand on my chest. Confused, I looked up into her glowing orange eyes that were filled with love and concern.

She said, "Tell me."

I asked, "About what?"

She explained, "About him. You were muttering his name. He thought of you as his son and he was the only person you ever saw as a father. It must have been awful to see him like that. He was the best soldier that you have ever known. It must have been so scary to see that even he was mortal."

I said, "They said that he was Point Man before there was a Point Man. At his memorial service, every Special Forces operative that could attend was there. Not just U.S. Special Forces either. British SAS, French Foreign Legion, Russian and ex-Soviet Spetsnaz, Pakistan Special Service Group, Austria Eko Cobra, Polish GROM, Israeli Shayetet 13…even some groups that I had never even heard of were there. It was all done in secret, of course, because he technically did not exist. All the public saw was that the American hostages were rescued by an American Special Forces group despite 'heavy casualties'. Heavy casualties…yeah, that was one way to put it. Almost an entire squad was lost. Not only that, but one of the most highly regarded and feared Special Forces Operatives in the world died trying to save them."

Alma said, "I'm sorry. He sounds like he was a great man."

I replied, "He had his faults but he was a good man. He was assigned to be my squad's mentor but he took a personal interest in me out of all the members of my old squad after he saw how dedicated I was to being a soldier. Plus, I did not have a very high opinion of myself so he did not have to knock me down a few pegs like the other members of my squad. So, he adopted me, so to speak. Treated me like I was his own kid. Taught me everything that he knew. He was...planning to...retire after that last mission. He said he only had one more mission left in him."

After a moment of being silent, Alma said, "I think he would be proud of you."

I looked at her for a moment before I replied, "Doesn't matter. Well, your opinion matters of course…you know what I mean. He's gone. He has only been dead for a few months and already the world has gone to Hell."

She placed her right hand on my left cheek and said encouragingly, "We are fixing it. Michael, you cannot compare yourself to him. He was truly one of a kind. You cannot be him. He did not want you to be like him. He wanted you to be better than him. That is every mentor's dream: for their protégée to succeed them; to make their own legacy." I thought for a moment and remembered something. I reached into the pocket on my vest and withdrew the ski mask.

I gently moved Alma away and stood. I walked into a nearby restroom as Alpha 1 and Alma slowly followed. I removed my HUD glasses and placed them on the corner of the sink. Then, I looked at my reflection in the dirty, grimy mirror above the sink. The face that looked back at me disturbed me greatly. It was my face, but it was not my face at the same time.

The horrifying sight of the scars and haunting glowing orange eyes nearly made me vomit. It was not just my face either. My entire body was covered with scars. There were also patches of discoloration in some places that looked like my flesh had been scorched, yet I did not feel any pain. Disgusted, I screamed as I punched the mirror with my right fist so hard that the mirror cracked.

I glanced at the mask in my grasp before, without hesitation, I pulled it down over my face. I looked back at my reflection and smirked at the sight of a glowing orange-eyed skull looking back at me. I laughed slightly as I suddenly realized the joke that the original Delta Operative had meant for everyone to get. I had to admit, it was a good joke.

Too bad no one would get it unless they were in my shoes so to speak because it was hysterically funny. The mask was not too tight so I was able to put my HUD back in its place. My orange eyes still burned through the tint of the glasses but this face I could bare to show the world.

I turned away from the mirror to see Alma admiring me. After being silent for a moment, she smirked ominously before remarking, "I love it. It's so beautifully morbid."

From where she was in her mother's created world, my daughter remarked, "I love it too Daddy. When is Uncle Alpha 1 going to visit again? He promised me another story."

I replied, "Soon sweetie. I promise."

She said, "Okay Daddy. I love you."

I smiled slightly before I said, "I love you too." I said to Alpha 1, "Time?"

He replied, "1300 hours sir." I was shocked because that meant I was out for six hours. I only had two hours before the next scheduled operation.

I said aloud, "Fuck, I guess I will do that paperwork some other time." I motioned for Alpha 1 to follow me. He nodded and we made our way to the command center.

As I passed Sgt. Passalaqua and his men, they all dropped what they were doing and saluted me. They all knew the legend, but I guess reality is sometimes more shocking than legends. I saluted back and continued into the command center. Jin, Stokes, Morales and Holiday all gasped when they saw the mask that I was wearing.

Finally, after a moment of silence, Morales remarked, "Becket, man if it had been anyone other than you wearing his mask, I would have beaten the ever-loving shit out of you. I know that he would have approved of you wearing it though. So, let me be the first to say the following: welcome back Mr. Death."

I laughed briefly before I said, "I am not Mr. Death. Just call me Sergent Becket."

Stokes thought for a moment before she said, "You know Becket, officially Mr. Death never died."

Confused, I asked her, "So…?"

She smiled darkly before she explained, "That means that the ATC mercenaries still think that he is alive. Not only that, but they will also see that he now serves Alma Wade." I smirked as I understood where she was going.

Several hours later, I observed the burning, war torn streets of Paris as we passed over it in the Osprey. The city was the final stronghold for ATC in France. By far, France was ATC weakest region because its products were not as widely purchased. However, even here, the conflict had transformed the once iconic city into a shadow of its former glory.

I saw that our target, the Eiffel Tower, was heavily damaged and on the verge of collapse from unintentional crossfire between the domestic French Army and ATC forces. I sighed at the sight. I had always wanted to see the tower in real life, but not this way. Presently however, ATC was using it as an evacuation point for its forces. What I could only describe as escape pods were launching into the air and traveling to an undisclosed location where ATC presence was still strong.

The city's population had vacated the area when the fighting began so the French Army had been indiscriminately targeting structures as they advanced through the occupied city. Beside me, Alma said, "I cannot believe that it would take actual armies to defeat ATC mercenaries. It seems ridiculous that a small force of hired guns could cause so much trouble. Look at this place…I don't even think that there are more than two hundred Armacham guys in the city and there are tanks tearing up the city trying to kill them." I looked at her and she looked at me as she continued, "I-I don't understand. Why is so much force needed?"

I shrugged before I explained, "War is strange like that. By its own definition, it rarely ever makes sense."

The Osprey pilot informed me, "Forty seconds out, sir."

I replied, "Copy that." I looked at the familiar faces and said, "It's a hot LZ that we are going to. We will not touch down. You know the drill, secure the area for the Replica reinforcements and then proceed with kicking ass." They nodded in confirmation. I smirked at Point Man before I said, "The first one to get ten kills gets first dibs on souvenirs." He nodded as he accepted the challenge.

The pilot called out, "Ten seconds." The sound of mechanical clicking filled the cargo bay as we prepared our weapons. The cargo hatch opened as the sound of rounds ricocheting of the Osprey's armored hull assaulted my sense of hearing. As the VTOL vehicle slowed to a hover, I stood and jumped out of the cargo bay.