Ten minutes later, they lost comms entirely.

"Guess we found the edge of those jammers," Richie sighed when his third call went unanswered. "Based on where our last GPS ping was, we're twenty minutes out."

Scott nodded, his foot already flat to the floor as they shot along the road, the car eating up the remaining distance with ease. Thank god for boring, straight roads.

When the compound eventually came into view, and the floodlights were on the verge of becoming too much, he pushed his NODs up, night vision no longer required. He flicked his low beams on and allowed Richie to be his eyes as it took a few seconds for his own to adjust.

"Looks like that firefight is still going strong," Alex commented, leaning between the front seats to get a better look. "I can see movement."

"Course it is," he grunted. There was no way Bravo would let a bunch of amateurs get the better of them. "Get ready."

He yanked the wheel to the right, sending them onto the field that lined the road, the tires ripping up the dry earth as they raced towards the fence line. There was no point in parking near the gates, not when it would give their presence away immediately and cause more problems for themselves; at least this way, they stood a chance of staying hidden for as long as possible.

He just hoped none of the Heze's were smart enough to keep an eye on the perimeter. That would be a problem.

The second they were within a hundred meters of the fence, in the shade of some trees, Scott slammed on the brakes, the other rover also screeching to a stop. With the cars no longer moving, they could hear the gunfire and yelling very, very clearly. While he couldn't hear anyone from Bravo, the fact the Heze's were audible meant that at least some of their brothers were still alive.

Now they just had to find them.

"You ladies all know the plan. The moment we're in there, we split and find the Bramsels," Lochy ordered as he, Jacob, and Tom joined them. "Watch your fire as well; the Bramsels don't know we're here so be prepared to move outta the way if needed."

Scott rolled his eyes. Fucking Bramsels In Distress alright. Jason was never going to live this down. "Let's go!"

Armed to the teeth and hungry for blood, Alpha advanced on the perimeter fence, thankfully undetected. Tom took point, Richie and Ruby ready to enter the second Alpha 6 had the barrier open. Slipping through, they stacked on the first building - and just about tripped over Ray who was sheltering behind a half-toppled wall a few feet ahead of them.

"Eagle Eagle!" Tom yelped as the muzzle of Ray's gun swung towards them.

Bravo 2's face was streaked with blood, the whites of his eyes standing out in stark contrast to the crimson and camo paint smeared across his skin. The disbelief was clear to see, Ray's finger twitching towards his trigger; evidently he was having a hard time accepting who was in front of him. "It's us, Perry!" Scott shouted, ducking when a chunk of concrete was shot out of the wall far too close to his head for comfort. He glared at the direction the bullets had come from and double tapped his trigger, smirking when someone screamed. "Hang on!"

He motioned at his team to lay down covering fire, and dove across the short gap to his friend's side. Alex and Tom joined him almost immediately, while the other three stayed near the safety of the building and continued shooting anything that moved.

"The fuck..." Ray breathed, blinking owlishly. "How..."

"Eh, we thought we'd drop in," he said, shrugging casually.

"Say G'day," Alex added.

"Haul your ass outta the fire. Again," Tom snorted.

They all dropped lower when the wall they were sheltering behind was peppered with bullets from someone, somewhere, that had eyes on them. All but Alex popped up and started firing back at the shadows that were moving, eyes peeled as they did so for any sign of their missing teammates.

For his part, Alex crowded Ray and pulled Bravo 2 to the ground when he tried to help the others. "Leave it, Perry!" the medic ordered, grabbing Ray's head so he could keep him still and look for the source of the blood. "The boys have got it covered. Concussion?"

"No," Ray replied, hissing a breath when the medic found the gash just below his helmet. "Someone had an RPG, brought down one of the buildings we were near. Helmet took the brunt of it, but a chunk of concrete managed to clip me. Just bad luck."

Satisfied, Alex released him. "Anything else?"

"Nothing that can't wait," Ray grunted. "I'm mobile."

He nodded. It'd have to do. "Okay." He looked over at Tom. "We need some cover!"

"On it!"

The moment Tom and Full Metal started firing on the hostiles behind them, Alex was leaping to his feet and yanking Ray along with him. "C'mon!" Ray was slow to stand, but he stuck close until they rounded the building the others were sheltering behind. Full Metal and Tom joined them seconds later, bullets nipping at their heels as they dove for cover.

"Where the hell did you guys come from?" Ray demanded to know the moment they were all safe. "Last I heard, you were half way back to VaBeach."

"We were," Jacob replied as he swapped out a mag and started firing again. "But then we were told you boys were in trouble, and got sent here instead."

"Perry, where are the others?" Full Metal asked, pulling Ray's attention back to him. "The situation's changed and we don't have a lot of time." He gave Bravo 2 the latest sitrep, and Ray swore when he heard what was heading their way. "Yeah. Shit's about to get ugly."

"We were separated," Ray told them, taking up position by the edge of the building and firing off a couple of rounds when someone moved up ahead. They toppled to the ground with a scream, thankfully not in a tone anyone recognised. "Sonny got clipped right at the start, I think Trent stayed with him. Clay was on overwatch so I've no idea where he ended up. Same with Jase and Brock."

Scott sighed, but didn't say anything. Time to play 'Find the Morons in the Haystack' – or maybe 'Find the Morons in the pack of rabid Hezes' was a better description. Eh. "Ray, go with Alex and Lochy. The rest of you, split into your pairs. Let's go."

"Operation Bramsel Hunting commences!" Tom snickered as he joined Scott. "God speed gents."

Everyone ignored Alpha 6, splitting off as instructed and moving deeper into the camp.

They were ten tangos and two buildings down when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Lochy turned towards it, watching intently, and raised his gun when something shifted amongst the rubble of a blown out wall to his right.

He raised a fist, bringing Alex and Ray to a halt. They surrounded the area, weapons trained on the spot in case it wasn't a friendly. As Ray was in his black stealth gear, it meant the rest of Bravo were, too; and given the lack of notable colours amongst the debris there was a high chance it was one of their missing brothers. With his finger resting next to the trigger, he took a deep breath, and aimed at where he'd seen the movement. While he hoped it was one of their boys, he wasn't so stupid as to be caught unawares, either. "Eagle Eagle!"

There was no reply, save for the faint sound of clattering debris as it hit the ground. Fingers tightening against the grips, Lochy growled lowly in his throat. "Holla back at me," he said, louder than he meant to. "C'mon."

"Ooooh, I'm a Hollaback girl!" Clay retorted woozily, poking his head out the hole. "Wazzup, Hollier."

Lochy, Alex, and Ray shared a look. "Concussion," they said in unison, more relieved to see the blond alive than worried about the state of him. Breathing and mouthy was pretty promising, all things considered.

"Possibly concussed," Alex amended, taking point and shuffling over to the hole Bravo 6 was sheltered in. "Let's be honest, Clay comes out with weird shit all the time, so his head might be fine." He made it to the entrance, and peered in. "Hey man, are you mobile?"

"Ngh," Clay grimaced, and shook his head, clapping a hand to it when he did. Alex sighed, okay, maybe he did have a concussion, after all. "Nope."

"Why not?"

The blond leaned back and screwed his eyes shut, waving a shaky hand at his leg. "M'leg is pinned."

"Fuck."

"We've got your back, Lang," Lochy said, he and Ray taking up defensive positions. "Get him free."

Alex nodded and joined Clay inside his little shelter, only to realise said shelter had previously been a building. There wasn't much left of it, and most of what had been inside was crushed by the concrete, but he could just make out the remains of some shelves and what looked like half a crate. Ergo, building. "How'd you end up in here?" He asked the sniper, switching on his helmet torch to get a better look. Thankfully, the situation wasn't as bad as he'd feared, the rubble more awkwardly placed than too big for the blond to free himself, so he got to work.

"Was on overwatch," Clay replied, grimacing as Alex tugged on a particularly large piece of rubble. He made no effort to help beyond weakly shoving at a few of the smaller rocks, but Alex knew it was likely on account of the pain, rather than being difficult. "Dunno how we got made. Son got shot, some – fuck – someone turned the lights turned on, had my NODs on -"

"Ouch," he muttered sympathetically. Fried retinas were never fun.

"Mmhm. Others disappeared. Shot who I could. Dunno how I got here. Gren...grenade, maybe?" The blond whimpered when the last chunk of concrete was removed from his leg, drawing the injured limb to him automatically.

"Woah! Hey, Spense. Just relax. I need to make sure there's nothing seriously wrong with it."

"How're we doing, Lang?"

"Two mikes!" he called back, palpitating Clay's leg for any noticeable injuries. Clay yelped when he reached his shin, so Alex grabbed his scissors and sliced the sniper's pant leg to take a closer look. There was a nasty, massive gash along the front of it, running most of the way from the right side of his knee to the left side of his foot. While the bone wasn't poking through, Alex could see it where the gash passed the shin bone, the rest of the wound running deep either side. Basically, walking was going to hurt. A lot. "Fuck."

Ideally, he'd stitch the gash closed to keep contaminants from getting in, but that would take time he just didn't have. Unfortunately for the blond, it meant he had only one option. "Clay, I'm gunna have to staple this closed and sort it properly later, okay? We don't have a lot of time, and we've still got to find the others."

"Lang! We need to move!"

Alex cursed at that. "Stay," he ordered, looking at Bravo 6 sternly to make sure he got the message before switching off his torch and hauling himself out of the shelter again.

There were two dead tangos just meters from their position, and he knew immediately that the need to shift locations wasn't Locky being pernickety as per usual, but that they were about to be overrun. "Fuck!"

"Where's Clay?!" Ray asked, biting the pin of a grenade and yanking, yelling; "frag out!" in warning before tossing it. Several someone's screamed as it exploded. "We can't hold this position for much longer!"

"His leg's wounded!" he reported, raising his gun and shooting the fucker that thought he was being sneaky, but really wasn't. Dumb ass. "He ain't mobile until I staple it!"

"Shit!" Lochy spat, changing his mag while Ray covered him. "Grab him! We need somewhere more defensible than this!" Alex nodded and ran back to the hole.

Despite being told to stay put, Clay had moved – not far, but he had his gun again. With the sniper now armed, it meant Clay could help defend them while being evac'd somewhere safer. "C'mon, hop along," he said, shifting his own 416 to the side and slinging the blond's arm around his shoulder. "We need to go."

Clay cried out in pain as he was pulled upright, his expression twisting as his leg protested the sudden pressure put on it; but the moment they were clear of the hole, his had his gun up – hands steady despite the fact the rest of him was trembling.

"Back to Ray's hut!" Lochy yelled, snapping his hand in the direction they'd come from. "Go!"

Alex nodded, dragging Spenser along beside him as they ran as fast as they could. They got there with only a few bullets getting a bit too close for comfort, and he set the sniper on the ground the moment they rounded the wall. Clay cursed as he was lowered, and Alex winced. "Sorry, man."

"It's fine." It clearly wasn't, given Clay was about three shades whiter than he had been a second ago. "Just patch me up so I can help."

Grabbing a bottle of saline from his pack, Alex quickly flushed the wound, which garnered another hiss. He was digging out his stapler when Lochy and Ray joined them, Ray taking up a defensive position by his brother's shoulder, pausing briefly to bump fists with him. "Hey, kid. You good?"

"Will be, once – YEOW!" The first staple had just been put in place. Alex patted Clay's knee in apology, and inserted the second one. "Guuuuuuhahahaowwww," Clay groaned, scrunching his eyes shut and smacking his head lightly against the wall as Alex slowly worked his way up his leg. "Fuuuuuck."

"Sorry, sorry."

"Clay, you hurt anywhere else?" Ray asked, taking over firing duties as Lochy changed mags. "And did you see where the others went?"

The blond shook his head. "I got… made not… fuck… not long after… you." Alex tucked his stapler back into his pocket, grabbed the roll of silicon patch, and measured it against the gash. He held the roll out to Clay, who took it when he realised Alex was prodding him to get his attention, and grabbed his scissors so he could cut what he needed. "Jesus, Lang. How much longer?"

Alex handed Clay the strip, pocketing the roll and grabbing a roll of bandages next. "Nearly done," he promised. "Hold that over the gash so I can secure it." The silicone patch was one of Danny's inventions that all the DEVGRU medics were now carrying, the patch offering extra, and waterproof, protection to serious wounds. It also meant that the bandages couldn't crust into place or leave fibers where they shouldn't.

"Ray?" Clay panted, grimacing as Alex started wrapping the bandage tightly around his leg. "Did… did you find… kids?"

Alex wanted to smack himself in the head. How the hell was it that quite probably mildly concussed, in pain Clay had remembered to ask if they'd found the kids they'd been searching for in the first place? All Alpha had focused on was finding their missing brothers. A quick glance at his teammate made it clear Lochy felt much the same.

"Yeah, we found 'em!"

"Well we can't do anything for them now!" Lochy told them, palming a grenade and yelling a warning as he threw it. "There's still too many of these assholes!"

"And we're running out of time!" Alex added, stowing his medical supplies and giving Clay the all clear. He grabbed his gun, and took up a defensive position.

Unsurprisingly, the blond looked alarmed at his statement. "What's that mean?"

They told him, and he scrambled as upright as his leg would let him get. "Oh, fuck!"

Scott and Tom would have been filled with bullets if it weren't for Trent, wherever he was, roaring at them to get down.

They hit the deck, and the eight tangos that had popped up in the window opposite them were quickly mowed down. Scott and Tom blinked at each other, before peering over their shoulder to find Trent leaning heavily in a nearby doorway. "Sup," Tom greeted, as though this were a normal occurrence.

Scott rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet, scanning their surroundings for more hostiles, but found none. "Is it just you?" he asked Bravo 4 as he made his way over. The medic had blood smeared across his face, and appeared to be favouring his right arm. It was worrying, but he was mobile, which was all that mattered.

Trent shook his head. "Sonny's in here, too." He said, shifting to the side to let them through. "He's got a couple of holes in him, but he's good."

"Any of 'em bigger than his mouth?" Tom asked, grinning when the Texan squawked in protest, limping into view. "Oh, hey man," he greeted casually, as though he hadn't just insulted the man a second prior. "How's it going?"

"Fuck you, O'Neill," Sonny growled. "What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?"

"We're here on holiday," Scott grunted irritably. "The fuck do you think?"

"You find anyone else?" Trent asked. Was he confused by Alpha's presence? Of course he was. Was he going to question it? Of course not. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, simply because they were in desperate need of said gift horse in the first place. "Please tell me you've got the others."

"We found Ray near where we made entry," Scott replied, taking point so the others could get out of the building. Two tangos appeared at the corner of a nearby hut, but they were looking somewhere else. Suckers. He dropped them and nodded to himself, pleased with his handiwork. "We split up to find the rest of you." Squinting, he frowned at the guys he just shot. Now that he thought about it, they hadn't looked like they were running to a new position – rather, they'd been walking backwards, guns trained on something behind the building. "Trent, Sonny; you two okay to move by yourselves?"

"Yuhuh," Sonny replied. "Where we goin'?"

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Scott waved them all to the building he'd been looking at. "We might have another of your boys over there."

"I thought I'd heard HK fire earlier," Trent muttered. "Couldn't check, though." The four of them hoofed it – or hobbled, in Sonny's case, courtesy of the bullet that had clipped his calf – over to the building, and thankfully seemed to be out of sight of any hostiles. Gun fire was still ripping through the air, as was the odd explosion, but it was further away and therefore not an immediate concern.

"Jase!" Sonny called, apparently too impatient to wait for a sign anyone ahead of them was friendly. "Claymation! Brockasaurus Rex! That you?!"

"The fuck did you just call Reynolds?" Tom sputtered, sounding far too amused for his own good. "Oh my god, I'm so using that!"

"Bravo 3?!"

All four of them perked up at the shout. "Jase?!" Scott yelled, taking point and making his way towards where the yell had originated from. "Where are you?"

A torch flashed once from inside one of the huts, but Bravo 1 didn't reveal himself. He and Trent shared a look. That couldn't be good. "Quinn, you and O'Neill set security; we'll go see what's happening."

"Copy," Tom chirped. "Let's go, your Holiness."

"I'm gunna stab you," Sonny growled, following Alpha 6 to a defensible position. "Just you wait."

"What the fuck is up with everyone wanting to stab me today?!" Tom squawked, outraged. Scott snorted at that; as though his idiot rookie didn't know.

They made quick entry on the house, and found Jason propped up against a window frame. His reaction time was slower than it should be, something that had Bravo 4 hurrying to his boss' side.

"Jay?" Trent asked, touching Jason's shoulder lightly. "Talk to me."

"Hey, Trent," Bravo 1 replied weakly. "I d…. I don't feel, s'good."

Scott stepped up to his friend's other side, and together he and Trent helped Bravo 1 to a couch. The moment they set him on it, Trent had his torch in hand and was scanning his boss for injuries. The man was a mess of blood and concrete dust, the two mixing to create a dark paste that seemed to be smeared every which way. In the light, his uniform looked singed in places, too - which undoubtedly meant the man had had a run in with a grenade at some point.

"Concussion at least," the medic mused, frowning when he spotted the cracks in Jason's helmet, further proof the cause of the man's injuries were explosion related. There was blood coating the left side of his face, but Trent ignored it, instead trailing the light down in search of other injuries.

Scott saw the holes in shoulder area the same time Trent did.

"Fuck." Scott took the torch off him, and with a nod of thanks, Trent cut the holes wider so he could see what the problem was. "GSW to the shoulder, and another that looks like it was a graze."

"Slow reaction time due to the blood loss?" he asked. Trent gave him a brief nod over his shoulder, and he rolled his eyes. Damn. "You've only got time for a quick patch job," he told the medic. "We can take care of it once we're outta here."

"If I don't treat it properly now, it could mess up his arm permanently."

"Patch job only, Bravo 4. That's an order."

Trent looked at him, startled, but did as he was told, and he was grateful. His Bravo brothers knew how much he hated pulling rank, considering them all as equals, rather than levels in a hierarchy - which meant they knew something was up when he did so. With time running out, he'd been left with no choice.

Despite the fact the blood loss had weakened Jason, the man was as observant as ever, frowning at him over Trent's shoulder. "What is it?"

"Paraguayan military will be bombing this hell hole in forty mikes, with or without us in it." Trent whirled around, startled, but only for only a split second – quickly slipping back into medic mode. While his movements remained steady, he moved just that little bit faster than before. "Please tell me you found those kids."

Trent nodded. "Located all of them before these guys learned we were here. I still don't know how that happened, actually. One minute we were fine, the next all hell broke loose."

"Sonny okay?"

Trent patted his boss on the knee. "You know Quinn. Hide'a iron. He -"

"Jammers are down!" Brock suddenly yelled through the radio, making the three of them flinch violently. There hadn't even been a crackle in warning. "I repeat, jammers are – ARGH!"

"Brock!" Trent snapped into his radio, groaning lowly when there was no response. "Bravo 5, come in!"

"Fuck sake," Scott muttered, activating his radio. "Has anyone got eyes on Reynolds or the others? I've got Bravo's One, Three, and Four."

"Got Two and Six," Hollier shouted back, gunfire cracking across the channel. "Both are mobile!"

"Copy that, good work. Cane, Reed; how're you going?" The radio squealed in response, and Scott snarled. Now that comms were back online, everyone was now doing their level best to talk to each other, likely including those in command – which meant all anyone had succeeded in doing was cancel each other out. "Damn it! Get -"

There was another squeal, and he gave it up as a lost cause. "We need to link up with the others," he told his Bravo brothers. "Get the fuck outta this hell hole."

"Sounds good t'me," Jason groaned, grimacing as he got to his feet. "Lezz'go."

He nodded once and took point at the door.

Hopefully he'd be leaving with all twelve SEALS on their feet and not in a body bag.

Richie was about to call their search off when Ruby stiffened in alert.

He and Jake had moved quickly through the shacks, gunfire echoing around them but none close enough to cause any alarm. They'd managed to flush a few pockets of fighters out of their hidey holes and eliminate them, but there'd been no sign of the kids, or any of Bravo. Ruby had been relaxed during their search, given she wasn't being actively used, now she was straining at her lead and whining lowly.

"What is it?" Jacob asked, their shoulders practically touching, guarding their rear. He popped off two rounds, his target letting out a gurgle as he hit the ground. "Rich?"

"Dunno." He scanned the area, but found nothing. "I can't see anything."

Someone nearby screamed in sudden, startled pain and they both flinched, fingers resting right next to their triggers, ready to act the moment they had a target. The screamer stopped as soon as he started, though, which only made them antsier. "The hell is going on?!" Jacob growled. "I -"

Ruby yipped, high pitched and excited as she tugged at her lead; Richie only just managing to bring her to heel before she snapped the breakaway clip that attached her to his belt. "Woah girl! What's -"

"STEHLEN!"

If he'd been a split second slower grabbing Ruby's harness, she would have disappeared on him, following the shouted command.

Said command was issued by a voice he knew all too well; the Malanois Missile that went flying past fifty yards ahead even more so. He shared a look with Jacob, and they started running after Cerberus, Ruby barking excitedly at seeing her friend.

"Guess we found Reynolds!" Jake yelled, pointing out the obvious.

"We found the Hair Missile and heard him," he retorted as they rounded a corner. "There's a difference!"

Another man screamed as Cerberus tackled him, teeth latching onto his forearm and dragging him to the ground. A quick check of the area failed to reveal Brock's whereabouts, so he let out a sharp whistle. "Cerberus! Aus!"

The Malagator released his target, Richie running up to secure his friend's K9 while Jacob disposed of the hostile. Hair Missile contained, he looked around properly, but there was still no sight of the curly haired operative. The area was relatively well lit, all things considered; the concrete huts seemingly undamaged despite the firefight going on nearby. There were several areas where the shadows seemed deeper than the rest, so if Brock was hiding amongst them, he couldn't see him. "Bravo 5!" He yelled, hoping to get a response, but also to let his friend know they were there in case he hadn't seen them. "Report!"

There was the crack of an HK to their north-east, and he and Jacob went running towards it, Cerberus and Ruby keeping pace between them.

"Jammers are down!" Brock yelled through the radio. Not quite how he'd thought he'd get his response, but he'd take it. "I repeat, jammers are – ARGH!"

They were thrown to the ground when one of the buildings ahead of them exploded. Richie swore when a chunk of debris slammed into his shoulder. He was happy to take the blow though, otherwise his girl would have been hurt.

Two men came stumbling out of the ruins before he had time to check either canine or his human teammate over, and thanks to the floodlights, he had confirmation that neither were Brock. Using their harnesses to guide them, Richie aimed the dogs at their next target. "Cerberus! Ruby! Stehlen!" Both dogs took off at a sprint, he and Jacob right behind them. Both men screamed as they were taken down, blood spraying from their arms as canine teeth found purchase in the soft skin. "Aus!" He yelled, quickly followed by; "Hacke!" to call them to heel. The moment the dogs were clear, the tangos were gifted with a bullet to the head.

Not even having the chance to breathe, Cerberus was dancing out of reach and yipping frantically before slipping past him entirely, disappearing around the corner of the smoldering ruin. It was then that Richie heard the sounds of a struggle, and with Cerberus acting the way he was, it could only be one person. "Brock!"

They rounded the corner, and Richie swore as the Hair Missile flew at the man pinning his handler to the ground. The man that was busy trying to strangle Brock was sent sprawling when the canine collided with him, snarling furiously. Furred and human limbs flailed as they struggled, Cerberus' snarls loud and viscous and just a little bit terrifying - and all the distraction Brock needed; gasping for air even as he drew his sidearm and shot the man dead the moment he had a clear shot.

Then the gun was turned on them.

"Woah! Hey! Brock it's us!" Richie yelped, holding his hands up to show the handler he wasn't a threat. "It's me."

Brock dropped his glock, coughing and wheezing frantically as he massaged his throat. Cerberus trotted over, whining softly as he nudged his handler's shoulder. There was a weak ear ruffle in greeting, but no words spoken.

"I'll cover you," Jacob muttered, nodding at Bravo 5 who was struggling to sit up. "Get him mobile."

Richie nodded and hurried over, dropping to his knees beside the handler. "Hey man."

"W…what… do-" Bravo 5 tried to ask, but couldn't get his voice above a faint, broken whisper. His breathing was still ragged and wheezy, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, evidence of the pressure the hostile had applied. Richie kinda wanted to resuscitate the asshole just to shoot him again for hurting his friend as much as he had.

"Brock, are you hurt anywhere else? We need to move."

His brother pawed at his torso with his right hand. Richie grabbed the torch from his pocket so he could inspect the area, swearing softly when he saw the injury. There was a two inch stab wound in Brock's right side, his skin and uniform slick with blood that was still sluggishly seeping out. "Oh, fuck." He looked at the handler helplessly. "I don't… how bad does it hurt?" Brock simply groaned. "Take it easy," he warned. "This could be really serious."

"Ki…ds…"

"He's right, Cane," Jacob muttered. He'd edged closer to them, sparing them a brief glance before turning his attention back to their surroundings. The grim set of Alpha 3's jaw didn't escape Richie's notice. "We'll have to strap him and get moving."

The radio was squealing something horrid, and with a muttered curse Richie turned his down. He noticed Jacob doing the same, and a quick check revealed Brock's radio was hanging awkwardly on his vest, the mic wires that usually kept it upright ripped from the unit. Davis was going to have a fit when she saw it. "A'ight." He held a hand out, taking Brock's right arm in his own and helping his brother to his feet. It was slow going, slower than it should have been, and it was only once Brock was mostly upright that he realised there was yet another problem.

Brock's left arm was dangling uselessly by his side, and the handler's face was scrunched in pain. "What the hell?"

"Dis'cated," Brock grunted, his voice just as wrecked and gravelly as it had been a moment ago. He cleared his throat, but it didn't do much. "M'ybe."

Richie shook his head and grabbed a roll of bandages from his first aid pocket. There was no way in hell he was touching that shoulder. Stab wounds? Piece of cake. Bullet wounds? Just another day at the office. Concussion? Burns? Splinters? He could treat them with his eyes closed. Dislocations or broken bones? Fuck right off – the victim was on their own. He knew better than to mess with that shit. Where the hell was Trent or Alex when he needed them?

"Brock, hold this here," he instructed, motioning to the stab wound. Bravo 5 did, and using a second bandage Richie secured the roll in place as tightly as he could. "How does that feel?"

Instead of answering, Brock grunted and bent down to collect his discarded gun, whimpering when he jostled his injuries, but it didn't slow him down.

No sooner was he upright again, than he was stumbling off in another direction. Jacob and Richie looked at each other, baffled, before following along behind.

"Reynolds. Reynolds!" Jacob snapped, he and Richie sticking close to their brother. "Where the hell are you going?!" Brock didn't reply, but he didn't need to. No sooner had they rounded the corner of the blown-out building, than they spotted the bus the kids had been transported in across the yard. "Way to go!" Jacob crowed. Even in what had to be agonising pain, Brock had kept the mission as his priority, and because of him they now had a way to evacuate everyone.

They got to the bus, and the doors opened on the first press of the button. Evidentially, the hostiles had been under the impression no one would make it this far, and left the vehicle untouched. Morons. After a quick pass by with both dogs confirmed there were no bombs aboard, Cerberus bounded up the stairs, followed by Brock, Richie, Ruby, then Jacob. Jacob dropped into the driver's seat and searched for a way to hotwire the bloody vehicle so they could get the hell out of dodge. "Okay Reynolds, show me where we're going."

He was tired, it was past his bedtime, and Jason was ready to blow this popsicle stand.

Wait.

He rubbed his forehead, and very carefully rolled his eyes. Damn concussion. Blasted thing was making him doodle alley.

Heh. Blasted. Cause a blast gave him a concussion, and -

Ugh. Focus!

"I hate concussions," he grumbled, flipping Full Metal off when the man smirked at him. "It's not funny."

"Given you're not grimacing, I'm gunna say lunacy, then." Scott snorted when he glared at him. Prick. "Thought you were far too calm."

"Shuddup, Metal."

Full Metal gave him a lazy salute, and turned back to Trent. "We good to move?"

"To where?!"

"Well aren't you a barrel of laughs," Full Metal replied to the snapped question, unbothered. Jason, on the other hand, was hard pressed not to stare at his medic. Trent rarely got angry; like Brock, he was the silent but deadly type. But when he lost his temper? Hoo boy.

Trent gave Alpha 1 a scathing look, which was actually kind of impressive. Wow. Some tadpole was gunna shit their pants one day, if that was ever turned on them. Jason made a mental note to be there for that, popcorn and all. "We can't get the kids out, we have no idea where the others are, we're about to be blown to smithereens, at least three of my teammates are injured, and it sounds like another could be," he listed, ticking off his fingers as he went. "A barrel of laughs, sunshine, and fucking rainbows, I am not. Bite me."

Before Scott could respond, there was a horn blast followed by a whoop of elation that sounded suspiciously like Sonny. Sharing a look, the three of them hurried to the doorway of the shack, just in time to see the school bus they'd been searching for go hurtling past.

"Who the hell is driving that?!" Trent yelled as they joined up with the other two before giving chase, Trent half a step behind Jason and Sonny to make sure neither of them suddenly hit the deck. "Please tell me it was one of ours!"

"It was one of ours!" Tom confirmed, looking relieved. "Dunno who it was, but I saw a dog in one of the windows, so its gotta be!"

Dust flew into the air as the bus screeched to a halt. Two people stumbled out of the doors and into the shack they'd earlier identified as housing a group of hostages, a dog right on their heels. Even though they were still a ways off, there was no way in hell that Jason could have mistaken the curly hair atop one of the men's head as anyone other than Brock.

"Oh thank Christ!" Trent cheered. "That's everyone accounted for!"

He acknowledged the medic with a thumbs up, and they arrived at the bus a few minutes later, just as Richie started leading a group out of the building and into the waiting vehicle.

"Hayes!" Alpha 4 yelled, waving when he spotted him. "Just in time! Get your asses on board!"

Jason nodded, grumbling under his breath when Trent shoved him none too gently at the door. "But -"

"In!" Trent ordered. "Sonny, go with him!"

"You got it! Let's go, boss man!" Sonny shooed him up the stairs and down towards the kids that were cowering in the back, their two teachers hovering over them anxiously. Jason felt bad for them, and would have offered some reassurance except for the fact he was covered in blood, dust, and who knew what else – so it probably would have had the opposite effect.

The bus started moving again, and Jason looked around, hands gripping the back of the seats tightly. "Where are the others?"

"Metal's got it covered, Jase." Sonny clapped him on the shoulder and limped back to the front. Jason went to follow, but his spinning head forced him to sit down. He realised that if he tried to move, he wasn't sure what would make it there first – his feet or his stomach.

Ignoring the pain that shot through his wounds every time he breathed, Sonny peered through the windscreen, eyes tracking Brock and Trent as they made their way to the next hut for the evac.

The run had hurt like an utter bitch, and it had taken everything in his power not to swear up a storm and cuss everyone out for making him move so damn fast. There'd been no choice, not if he wanted to make it out alive, but fucking hell, bullet wounds and running did not mix. As far as he was concerned, he reserved the right to fall down and not move when this was over.

A bullet pinged off the frame, splintering the glass, and he cursed at the near miss, swinging his HK back into his hands. "Alpha 1, Bravo 3. We got shooters taking a crack at the bus!"

Metal, Tom, and Richie moved away from the hut and took aim at the small group of fighters that had appeared three shacks over. "Could use another gun to get these kids out, 3!"

He smacked in a fresh mag, and hopped out the moment the bus stopped moving; wincing when he slammed his foot on the packed earth a little harder than intended. "Hop along my ass," he grunted as he joined his brothers. They made quick work of the hostiles, fanning out once the last one had fallen so they could cover the kids when they appeared.

The door to the hut crashed open the moment the gunfire ceased, and Trent stuck his head out. "We clear?!"

"You're clear, Bravo 4!" Richie confirmed. "Go! Go!"

"Get 'em on the bus, Quinn," Metal added, swapping mags with a casual air, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding them. Sonny wished he could be as nonchalant as his friend when it came to hostage situations. "We've got this."

Sonny nodded, and herded the first kid to the open door. "Get in and move straight down the back!" He ordered, dismissing the thought of reassuring their young charges as soon as it appeared. Once they were away from this hellhole, he'd do it – but right now doing so would be nothing more than an empty promise when the chance they'd be killed was still too high.

The kids scurried past him with the teachers once again bringing up the rear, and despite their panic they managed to get on board without anyone being shoved out of the way. In all honesty, he was surprised by how quickly everyone was following orders – clearly, being threatened with death only to be given a way out, alive and unharmed, had overridden everything else. He was just about to follow the last kid on when an argument erupted behind him, making him pause.

"Get your ass on the bus!" A quick look over his shoulder revealed Trent was trying to herd their handler towards the doors, but Brock wasn't having a bar of it, neatly sidestepping the medic and heading for the next shack, Cerberus sticking close to his side. Trent stomped his foot, growled in frustration, and followed after him. "Damn it, Brock! You're in no state to be running around!"

The lighting that surrounded them wasn't the best, but despite that, he could see that there was definitely something off with the way Brock moved; the handlers left arm tucked close against his body, his right hand pressed against his side. He took a second to glare at the sky above him when he realised what that meant. Whoever Brock had watching over him needed a goddamn hiding.

"ALL ALPHA AND BRAVO ELEMENTS BE ADVISED; F-18'S WILL NOW BE ON TARGET IN FIFTEEN MIKES!" Blackburn yelled, sounding panicked. Given the nature of the message, he couldn't blame the man. "I SAY AGAIN; F-18'S WILL BE ON TARGET IN FIFTEEN MIKES! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THERE NOW!"

Fuck! Sonny stuck his head back through the bus door. "JASE!"

"All elements, look for markings on hut doors; kids are in tunnels underneath the carpet in the main room!" Jason barked into the radio. "There's three more to evac! Get 'em out, we're coming to you!"

"Bravo 3! Stay with the bus, cover our six!" Metal yelled; he, Tom, Richie and Ruby taking off at a dead sprint in the direction Trent indicated.

Sonny nodded, and clambered back on board, moving to the top stair. "If there are any gaps in those seats, fill 'em!" He ordered, switching his focus between the movement down the back, and the windscreen so he could keep an eye on what was happening. "The rest of your group are comin' in hot!"

Jacob slammed on the brakes in the midst of the bigger collection of huts, and his brother joined him outside the bus the moment it was in park.

To his surprise, it wasn't Trent or Brock, or the three Alpha guys that had split off that they saw first. Instead it was Ray, Hollier, Lang, and – "Claymation!" the relief he felt was short lived, quickly replaced by concern when he realised Clay and Alex weren't running side by side, but rather Clay's arm was slung over the medic's shoulder, Alex more or less dragging him along.

Sonny shook his fist at the sky. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" he snapped, incensed. Goddamn, but his two youngest brothers needed some new guardian angels. The ones they had sucked. He shifted to the side so his brothers could board, and Sonny made sure to glare at the blond to show him how unimpressed he was by his current state.

"Fuck off, Quinn," Clay snapped, cursing up a storm as he used the railing to pull himself up the stairs. Clearly, whatever was wrong with him had something to do with his leg. "Just cause I'll get a bigger scar than you."

Sonny only had time to flip the blond off before he lost sight of him; Lang, Hollier and Ray piling on the bus and blocking him from view. "Hey, you good?" He asked Ray, bumping fists with him when the man reached out.

"I'm good brother," Ray replied, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. "Let's get the hell outta here."

"Sounds good!" He took point with Jacob again, waving frantically when O'Neill appeared, leading the third group towards them. "C'MON LET'S GO! GO!"

"Five mikes!" Lisa warned them. Despite the fact the message was delivered over the radio, there was no mistaking the panic in her voice. "You need to get moving!"

"MOVE IT!" he and Jacob roared, before Jacob turned on his heel and sprinted back up the stairs, throwing himself into the driver's seat.

Just as the first of the group started boarding the bus, Sonny saw Metal, Richie, and Ruby appear with one group, quickly followed by Trent, Brock, and Cerberus leading the last. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when gunfire erupted, three of the kids closest to him dropping to the ground with pained screams.

Sonny swore viciously, and found the assailants running towards the rear of the bus.

"LANG! O'NEILL!" Metal roared, he and Richie joining him in trying to take out their new targets. "GET THOSE KIDS ON BOARD!"

He heard several thumps from inside the bus, and next thing he knew, some of the windows opened – Jason, and Clay hanging out of them and adding their guns to the mix. He had no doubt Ray and Lochy were doing the same on the other side.

"TRENT!" Jason yelled, waving frantically at the medic who was sheltering with his group behind the closest hut. "WE GOTTA MOVE!"

Sonny ducked behind Metal as he changed mags, taking the chance to assess the situation while he could. There were blood stains on the ground where the kids had dropped, and they led up the stairs, which meant either Alex and Tom had grabbed the kids, or they managed to get themselves on board and to safety. Trent and Brock were sprinting across the clearing – or rather, Trent was, and Brock and Cerberus were shepherding the kids and their teachers from the rear.

He rejoined his brothers, but noted they were slowly falling back to the doors, creating a wall so as to protect the last few stragglers that needed to board.

"Ruby!" Richie yelled, waving his hand at the bus. "Gaan!"

The German Shepherd sprinted to the door and up the stairs, Richie following right behind her as soon as the last kid was on the bus.

"BROCK! GET ON BOARD!" Trent yelled, nudging his brother forward, who, surprisingly, went without protest, Cerberus darting in behind him.

Metal smacked him on the shoulder. "Sonny! You next!"

"But -"

"You're injured! We got this! Reed! Get this bus rolling as soon as Quinn's in!"

Realising what Metal wanted to do, Sonny turned and climbed in, limping his way up the stairs, the pain in his leg worse than it had been before. The bus started moving, and he stumbled over to the closest free window, nudging the three kids huddled in the seats and blocking his access into the isle so they weren't sprayed by the hot shell casings he was about to unleash. They whimpered in fear, but moved without protest into the seat directly opposite them, huddling close to the other occupants.

He tried sliding the window open, but it wouldn't budge. Two bullets resolved that problem, and he used the butt of his gun to knock out what was left of the glass so he didn't accidentally impale himself. He didn't need Trent, Alex, or Danny on his case and bitching him out for blatant stupidity on top of everything else.

Ensuring he was braced enough that he wouldn't lose his balance, Sonny joined his brothers in hanging out the window, covering the rest of their team until the bus was shifting up into the second gear. Metal, Tom, and Trent all ran after them, climbing aboard one at a time.

He heaved a sigh of relief as the bus hurtled towards the gates of the compound. It was then he realised they were still closed, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes even as he grabbed onto the nearest railing.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" Jacob roared, flooring it just as Sonny had expected him to.

Terrified screams erupted amongst the children, those screams turning to gasps of disbelief when the bus smashed through the piss poor excuse of a gate. It slowed them a little, and apparently that was enough for Full Metal and Tom who both jumped out the moment they were clear, and took off running.

"- hell are they going?!" Sonny just caught Trent's question over the all the noise, but he missed Jacob's reply, drowned out as it was by the radio.

"NINETY SECONDS!" Blackburn roared over the comms. "BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!"

"EVERYONE DOWN!" Jason roared, eliciting more screams – but it wasn't enough to drown out the roar of nearby engines, the nearby shadows suddenly moving. Sonny peered through his scope, and confirmed that the vehicles were theirs, O'Neill just visible through the windscreen of one of them. A hand clamped down on his wrist, and he looked over his shoulder.

"They're ours!" Richie told him – as though worried Sonny would fire on his teammates. Before he had a chance to reply, Richie's attention was snagged by something out the window, his eyes going as wide as saucers. "Holy - INCOMING!"

Sonny ducked and spun – peering out into the early morning, and saw two blobs on the horizon, framed by the early morning light and growing bigger. "JESUS - FLOOR IT, REED!"

Jacob did, shifting gears as quickly as the bus would allow him to and sent them barreling down the road, the two Rovers hot on their tail.

The night sky lit up with multiple explosions, the sound of shells booming in the still morning air, the shrapnel tearing the earth and buildings apart without prejudice.

Sonny held onto his seat for dear life, prayed that the pilots were shit shots, and weren't about to blow them sky high in the process of taking out Hezbollah's camp – given Bravo and Alpha had done all the work for them.

The bus rocked violently in the shockwaves, and he closed his eyes. "Save me, sweet baby Jeebus," he muttered under his breath, crossing himself, and waiting for the inevitable.

Notes:

Gaan – Go (dutch)

Aus (german, adverb) – Off

Stehlen (german - pronounced Sh-te-len) – steal/get him

The last two words are commands JM actually uses in the show for their exact actions as in the story.