For all disclaimers: See Chapter One.
Faith
Chapter Two/January 4th 2001, northern Afghanistan/
When she woke up in the morning Xenia had to shake her head a few times before the fuzzy feeling which let her know just how much she'd had to drink the previous night went away. She was housed in the officer's quarters as an independent operator, granted Command rank to allow her to operate as part of the Military presence in Afghanistan, even though it was mainly American and she was Russian.
Some senior officers and ranks had asked what her purpose was, but "Why?" was actually very simple. There was a noticeable lack of people who had field experience in Afghanistan amongst the US Military, whereas she'd done time in the country in 89' with the Spetsnaz hunting down Mujahideen Guerrillas before the Red Army had finally pulled out. The CIA had people who knew this place, but they weren't going to discuss it with the Military any more than she was going to have a conversation with the President about the training exercises of the US Pacific fleet.
More to the point, with the continuing Terrorist threat from Al'Quaeda against American particularly and allied threats across the world, the CIA had a different agenda to the Military and she knew what it was. "Find OBL, cut his head off, pack it in a box of dry ice, bring it home and put it on the Presidents desk" was a standing order with the CIA these days. The world of espionage was really too small and incestuous to keep anything secret that wasn't really secret these days, unless extreme measures were taken. Not helped by a bad habit of most Agencies, that of keeping a vast amount of information on computers which could be Hacked...
The room she had was small, a bed barely enough for her height, a table, a sink, a lamp, a window covered by a thin grey curtain and a strongbox at the base of the bed to keep personal items in. Items she wanted truly secure could be held in the camps HQ building safe, which was permanently watched by armed guards with orders to shoot to kill, but she never carried anything /that/ personal around with her. All that went in the strongbox was clothes, gear, a spare set of Dog Tags and her Diary. She wrote the Diary entirely in Cyrillic, which made it pretty certain that no one would understand anything in it without time to study to her mind. Languages just weren't a strong point of most Military set-ups.
She breathed in deeply, sniffed the air-the smell of smoke, oil, burnt metal, exhaust fumes, the rotten stench of unwashed bodies, a suggestion of latrine stink-sighed, rolled back the covers and rose to bare feet on the wooden plank floor. A glance at the dim light told her everything she needed to know, added to a glance at her watch-0500, roughly an hour before daybreak proper. She'd just have time to get in her regular morning workout, as usual, before getting properly dressed and ready to move. The American's called it "Time to rock and roll!" with exclamations of glee when they got going, an expression she didn't understand but got the gist of. All mad, she sometimes thought. They didn't live in the Wild West any more but no one seemed to have mentioned that to them...
She slipped a pair of brown shorts and a worn black T-shirt over her jet-black bra and pants, pulled on a pair of well-worn grey trainers, slipped a towel over her shoulder while grabbing her wash bag and slipped outside, silent as a ghost. She passed no one on her way out, but got outside, in the dull, cold early-morning mist touched by the dull hints of dawn, to find the one person who always beat her there already present.
Anna Neagley, Delta Force madwoman and resident hardest bitch in camp, or so the men claimed. That the woman was as tough, resilient, skilled and professional as they came Xenia didn't doubt for a second. That the woman was also likely actually crazy was something else she had little doubt about.
She'd been doing the dirty work of a hundred different employers on three continents since she went independent when the KGB folded in 91'. She'd slaughtered, burnt, ruined and broken her way through everything and everyone in her path for nigh-on a decade. She'd do anything for enough money, even work for the idiot scumbags-most at least-she used to hate from the USA. She'd have thrown an innocent man off a cliff and watched him fall with a smile just to get information from a reluctant prisoner, then never have any trouble sleeping afterwards...
She wasn't sure Anna Neagley slept at all, doubted she dreamt of anything good, ever, genuinely believed that the woman would commit mass murder just to remove a possible threat and never, ever wanted to get on her bad side. She'd seen Anna gut a man then light his insides with lighter fuel and a match just to make a point while he was still alive. She could still hear his screams, hideous howls of awful pain and agony... Nobody completely sane was capable of acts like that. Xenia knew that for a fact, because she'd do just about anything to get the job done and there was /nothing/ that would make her go that far. She was, herself, quite possibly a sociopath, yes...but that just made Anna probably insane.
"Morning, Xenia" said Anna, dressed much the same way Xenia was in the early dawn. Of course, the woman was practising her Tai'Chi with the same almost mystical skill she seemed to display in any combat situation Xenia had ever witnessed. The more desperate, the more dangerous, the more calmly she fought, the more focused she got. If it wasn't for an almost Psychotic short temper that Anna kept tightly leashed, for over ninety percent of the time at least, she'd have been cited as the model soldier. As it was, she was regarded as the go-to Agent for anyone who wanted very particular jobs done where possible fallout wasn't an issue. She'd never failed at any of these jobs, not once.
"Morning, Anna" replied Xenia, dropping her gear to one side before limbering up, stretching her limbs, flexing her joints and muscles. She was definitely starting to creak a bit, she silently noticed, the years were starting to catch up with her... Forcing unwelcome thoughts from her mind, she mimicked Anna's posture before following through using her own Crane style to work out the kinks and residual cramps from the hard beds. It took her half an hour, then she and Anna moved together to the gym, when they went for a more traditional workout using a variety of exercise gear such as Rings, Beams and Frames. Half an hour later, done and covered in sweat, they shared a drink from Anna's big water flask, although Xenia made certain not to touch the dangerous woman even in passing. There were...consequences for anything involving physical contact and Anna. Crazy...
She was a connoisseur of the male body, she'd had more than enough to take a single look at any man and see just what he or they had to offer without even a smile. Nine times out of ten she'd be disappointed, very rarely she'd be satisfied. Even more rarely, she'd be left truly sated. Come to think of it, despite everything her two current lovers had tried, despite the fact both men had the bodies of Gods, she hadn't been happy about much in that respect for a long time. The two of them thought they were Adonis, but she'd seen the best and they just weren't it. Ha, if Anna Neagley had been a man she knew without question what would have happened by now. Sometimes, it was almost a shame she didn't date women...
Anna led the way into the showers, pulling off her t-shirt and shorts and casually dumping them on the ground on the way. She wasn't wearing anything under the t-shirt, but her pants slipped to the ground as the doors shut behind her, the showers starting up seconds later. Xenia followed suit in a more orderly style and the small shower room was quickly filled with steam, both women luxuriating in their brief time under hot, clean water... All too brief, as it happened, since they had to prep for the day's mission, briefing for which started at 0700.
Also, as Xenia was well aware, because Anna was getting increasingly annoyed at the SOC Commanding Officer Thomas Walker, who was refusing to take seriously warnings to stay away from the stunning woman. He'd decided that she was his Camp Whore, it seemed, despite his Wife and child back in the USA, despite the fact he knew Anna knew about them, and wasn't going to take "No" for an answer. Xenia-although she couldn't help but appreciate his taste with stolen glances herself, taking in lush lines and firm, defined curves-personally hoped Walker was up to date on his Health Insurance in the USA. If she knew Anna, and she did, once they both got back there Anna was going to hunt him down and put him in a Wheelchair if he didn't stop his stupidity here...
Of course, Anna now clearly had her own eye on someone else entirely-someone she appeared to have met before. Who he was she didn't know, but she'd find out. She hadn't forgotten the spark between them when she'd kissed him so unexpectedly, it was rare that she hit it off with /anyone/ just "like that". Maybe she should get to know the man better herself...
As they dressed again on their way out, Anna raised an eyebrow at Xenia as she got a good look at the front of Xenia's t-shirt. "Nice shirt" she said, a laugh barely hidden behind her self-control, before she swept her loose hair behind her back and strode out into the gym, Xenia shaking her head. Xenia's t-shirt read:
You're only jealous because the voices are talking to meIt would be typical of Anna to find that funny, especially since the t-shirt was one Xenia had picked up in America about a year ago. She'd thought it oddly appropriate for a Mercenary, somehow. In the gym, the few early risers who rose early enough to see them leave were up-Xenia nodded with a smile at Sally Jenkins, who was already halfway through her gymnastics workout routine, to an almost shy smile in return-but Anna only had eyes for one person. Xenia followed her gaze and almost smirked.
Him. Who else would it be?
Y
Matt saw the distinctive tall woman from last night-he doubted he'd ever forget her after an introduction like /that/-about a second after he saw Anna. A moment after he saw them, he realised that both of them were damp, not with perspiration, hair slicked against clothes and skin, clothes tight and pressing against firm, full bodies... He almost fell off the exercise beam he was using when he realised that they were both staring at him, he nearly had a heart attack when they both started walking towards him. He quickly shifted stance and landed firmly on his feet, almost at attention, trying to ignore the fact that, with increasing speed, every eye and ear in the room was being turned towards him.
He smiled slightly at the taller woman's t-shirt, appreciating the saying, before it registered that, obviously, Anna wasn't wearing anything underneath her own damp t-shirt. It took /no/ effort to remember that one, incredible night when that incredible body, that remarkable woman and he had gyrated together, sweat-slick bodies pressed against one another in almost feral heat /hard/ as the rough sheets of his student dorm bed barely covered them. He still had the scars, tiny white marks now, a bite in his shoulder, scratches down his back, sides and chest. Mind-blowing wasn't enough of an explanation, mind-numbing and body-breaking were closer. Nobody was /that/ good, but he had the proof...
"Good morning, lover" said Anna, reaching out a hand and running her fingertips along his cheek. His heart rate doubled as he almost literally turned bright red. He abruptly wished that he was anywhere else on Earth. She'd been in the forces long before him, was a War Veteran who had seen action in the Gulf, Europe and other, less well known places, she'd seen sights, been places, done things he couldn't even imagine. She was a fantasy whose image and memory had followed him around for literally years-and it looked like she hadn't forgotten him, either. If he hadn't had to give her, rather urgently, the bad news that he had a Fiancée he loved very much back in the USA, who knew what could have happened...
"...Hi, Anna. Look, before anything else I really need to tell you something-" he began, only to be cut off by Anna placing a single fingertip over his lips. She tasted just like he remembered, Beech tree and ocean breeze with a slight hint of salt, just like her under the surface. Except when you got under her skin, figuratively speaking of course, there was a lot more than a "trace" of salt to be had...
"Shush, Matt. Drop by my quarters later and tell me so we can catch up properly. Oh, by the way" said Anna, glancing over her shoulder and gesturing her companion forwards, "I think you've met our resident Russki killing machine, but lets do it formally this time. Matthew Ryan, meet Xenia Omerova. Xenia Omerova, meet Matthew Ryan. His friends call him Matt, I call him things you don't repeat in polite company unless you're drunk. Shake hands, compare notes then take him somewhere relatively private and ride him like a horse, Xenia, he's worth it. See you around, Matt" said Anna, before walking away with a wink.
Matt felt as though he was trapped in the fires of Hell he was so embarrassed by Anna's comments, every part of his body flaming red in embarrassment he was sure, even while wolf-whistles sounded from several of the women and men all around. Xenia smirked like the cat which had got the cream, then shook his hand with a broad smile.
"Pleased to meet you...Matt. Don't worry, I won't rip your trousers off and take you right here, it would be bad form to do that on only the second Date. Will you stop trying to disappear into the floor, da? Believe me, Anna's just given you a serious compliment, she likes about ten people in this camp and I am one of them. When you're a Delta, let alone when its Anna, having a "friend" like you means something to the people here. Anyone would volunteer to work with that woman, believe me, you won't see better" said Xenia, a twinkle in her eye as she took in the silly American.
"Yeah, I know" muttered Matt, slowly, before he looked at Xenia inquisitively. "She mentioned your Russian, I caught the accent. There's a Russian contingent here?" he asked.
Xenia rolled her eyes. "Fucking CIA still hasn't learnt how to tell the truth, has it? Military Intelligence still too busy spying on the Europeans I suppose... Rooskaya, there is no Russian contingent, da? I have...experience in this country, am a Mercenary now and was hired to lead you to places the Spetsnaz found during the War. Weren't you briefed? Your military knows almost nothing of this place beyond aerial and satellite photos, what the Alliance against the Taleban to the north has told you and what ground they stand on. Ten thousand killers could hide in these mountains and slit all our throats at night before we know a thing. I am here to prevent that. You understand?" asked Xenia.
"Oh...yeah, sure, sorry. No ring, though?" asked Matt, noticing the lack of Russian Special Forces steel-grey signature ring on her hand.
"No, I worked with the Spetsnaz, trained with them, not for them. This is what you are looking for" said Xenia, raising her right hand to display a thick golden on her ring finger, a band with three thick vertical lines across the top half cutting right down to the skin. Matt frowned.
"I've never seen anything like that before. What does it represent?" he asked, curiously.
"Its Soviet Black Ops jewellery left over from the old days, Matt. Only Assassins out of the Red Room got to wear it. It isn't really supposed to come off... Does that tell you anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
His expression hardened. "Yes, your ex-KGB, meaning you were here in 89' on killing missions with the Spetsnaz given my best guess and your age. I hope that means you know your way around?" Matt asked, his voice cooler than a moment ago.
"I got pulled out in 89' when the Raven disappeared off the face of the planet-don't ask-and never went back, yes. Very good, Matt, I'm impressed. Which makes you intelligence-linked Special Forces, no one else in your position could have heard of something like that. Special Operations Command? Military Intelligence? Never mind, I'll find out, its what I do. Shall we, though? I think people are staring" said Xenia, with a gesture that took in a large number of people who suddenly had a ferocious need to get fit that had them working madly on anything to hand, even two at a time.
Matt stared around him and sighed, while Xenia just chuckled, turned and walked away…
Y
Thomas Walker, one of the most senior SOC officers in Afghanistan, was Matt's superior officer. Five-eight tall, just under twelve and a half stone heavy, most of it muscle, with blue hair and brown eyes set about a smoothly handsome face that some people said suggested things about his sexuality he didn't appreciate, he was thick-muscled and physically solid in form.
Thirty-seven years old and rapidly chasing down his thirty-eighth, he was getting too old to be in the field in front-line combat-just like Xenia knew she was herself-but was a highly-trained soldier with extensive Special Forces experience and an encyclopaedic knowledge of warfare and combat. Highly intelligent, he was also one of the smartest Special Forces senior rankers, which was a large part of what kept him in the field. Feral cunning, ferocity in combat, deft planning and the ruthlessness to do what it took were all things Special Forces troops tended to have as a matter of course. The brains to put it all together and make it work for several groups at once against a variety of targets and the precision of mind to know who to send to do what was unusual, a fact which had put him in command.
He liked the job, mainly because it gave him the opportunity to boss people around people suspected. The fact that he was so good at it in reality just meant that he could get away with irritating everyone in any case. Besides which, he'd made friends among everyone but the Delta Force teams so people didn't piss him off unless they wanted a late-night beating for disrespecting a "Friend of the pros" in a manner which would leave no evidence and no clues while teeth and blood were found everywhere.
Anna Neagley was the reason no one on Delta Force would give him the time of day. Hellcat and Harpy combined to make something much worse, a woman who was genuinely feared as much as admired for a raw talent for violence and combat that defied description and even imagination for most people, a uniquely efficient Special Forces soldier no one crossed who her men would follow beyond the grave on into Hell. To the Delta's Anna was their dark Goddess, the pinnacle of achievement that they all aimed for but never reached. To insult, let alone disrespect her or her talent, was a worse act than threatening to put two in the head of a loved one to every Delta who'd served with her.
Her squad was regarded as a terrifying pack of Psychotic savages literally willing and able to eat the enemy alive if necessary, while Anna strode through everything as though it simply didn't matter to her because she knew exactly what she was doing and did it the way it was supposed to be every time. Thomas Walker had heard of her reputation on his first day in Afghanistan, then met her, then made an unofficial promise to everyone who mattered that he was going to have that luscious black body writhing under him long before his Tour of Duty in Afghanistan was over. No one had been able to convince him yet that she really would actually kill him if he kept it up. Anna was actually crazy, it wasn't a secret, but that didn't seem to matter to Walker either. Bets were unofficially being taken on how long it would be before she crippled him at this rate...
"Alright, people, settle down...thank you. Now, as I'm sure you've noticed, we have some new arrivals today. I can't tell you exactly who they are or why they're here, so don't ask. Clear? Good" began Walker, glancing around the broad barracks room. Only senior officers or Special Forces officers had been invited to this briefing, which was off-limits to the ranks in no uncertain terms. That had put Matt and Anna, a ranking Delta Force officer, in the room not that far from each other. He could feel more than see the smile playing around her lips as she made a point of not looking at him.
Matt had known Tom Walker for months now and was, himself, still not sure what to make of the older man. Very competent, skilled and experienced, sure. A soldier who knew what he was doing and was very good at it, no question of that. But, as a man? Walker had done just about anything and everything he could do to stay out of the field in combat situations, despite a record that evidently stated he had no trouble at all leaping into the line of fire. People Matt had met who'd known Walker for years tended to tell you to watch your back around the man, while what little Matt had been able to ferret out from other SOC troops who'd served under him was that none of them really liked him.
The kind of man who was good around a gun and a desk but terrible with people and personnel issues? Well, he wouldn't be the first one. As long as he got the job done, the rest could be worked on.
"Those of you who've been here for a while know what were here to do and why, but let me state the facts again so that were clear for all here. Would anyone like to start me off?" continued Walker, glancing around the room. His eyes settled for too long on Anna, Matt couldn't help but notice. She utterly failed to react, at all. From the expression on Walkers face, that irked him no small amount.
The real problem was, was there anything else to the fact that Walker didn't make any real attempt to build bridges with other SOC soldiers and fellow servicemen in the branches of the armed forces he'd worked with? He made all of the professional links necessary, did what he had to do, then just never pressed on any further. Some pretty ugly rumours had surfaced when he'd started really trying to dig into Walkers past, before someone had gotten word to Walker, which had made him get up in Matt's face and warn him off. Why had he carried out the investigation at all, though? Honestly, he wasn't sure, but suspected that a distinct sense of unease whenever he had to decide if he could trust the man had played a large part. He quite often came to the conclusion that he couldn't, which, since the man was running Command and Control for this operation, did nothing for his nerves...
"Were here to do the grunts dirty work!" called out a man wearing a uniform which carried markings identifying him as a US Ranger-Matt's old unit. Walker smiled at the comment.
"That's right, Harry, were here to take care of business which the regulars can't or won't because their just not able to, not willing to or simply not capable of doing what needs to be done. However, we are also here to dig Al'Quaeda and the Taleban right out of the ground and shoot them in the head with the regulars if necessary. As directly as I can put it, we are here to go where no one else can and leave nothing standing when were done. If they can't, we can. If we can't, were dead, clear? That puts us where no one else can go, doing what no one else will do. Were the hand that snaps the neck, were the foot which kicks ass, were the one's no one ever sees for the best reason, because we've been there first. Am I clear?" called out Walker.
His version of a pep talk, Matt knew, he'd heard it before. Why, then, did he suspect that if either Anna or Xenia had been on the podium telling everyone what was what and who was who, people would have been leaping out of their seats and saluting? Total lack of charisma and no gift for public speaking at all where Walker was concerned? Most likely.
"SIR! YES SIR!" called out all of the Special Forces men and officers in the room, although Anna's salute was almost lethargic and practically shambolic. She really didn't like Walker. He had to wonder why...
"Good to hear you say it! Now, no change in assignments for now, except for Delta. Neagley and squad, your on Scout today-and your taking the newbies to track down that Taleban base you've been looking for so they can get their feet wet here the hard way. Have fun, guys. Now..." said Walker, but Matt had really stopped listening. He saw the furious expression on Anna's face for a moment-then he saw the smoky look in her eyes when she turned to look at him... He really needed to have that talk with her, sooner rather than later...
Y
He pulled his mind back to the present, getting back on the job. It was stupid for him to have been anywhere else in any case, this place was so dangerous that ignoring anything for seconds could see Al'Quaeda guerrillas leap out of a hole in the ground and garrotte him with piano wire. He was a professional, there were no excuses. Focus, he told himself firmly and coldly, ignoring the crystal-clear ice blue sky letting the searing hot sun throw its burning rays straight down, directly onto his head.
"Matt, did you know that the USA actually bought Alaska from the Russian Empire in the nineteenth century?" asked Xenia, who was striding along next to him, in a conversational tone. Matt blinked, almost stopped and turned to look at her.
"No, that's one I hadn't heard. But, since were trying to track down terrorists and religious fanatics who would literally blow themselves up just to kill one of us can I ask why your asking me now?" he replied, more than a little confused.
"Matt, this is me checking to see if your paying attention, da? I am not to be shot in the back because you were thinking about what to do next. Not all of us have that kind of fancy suit, you know" Xenia replied, glancing down at Matt's grey-black SOC full-form body armour. He and his team weren't wearing their helmets due to high daytime temperatures and the fact that, despite everything military technology was capable of today, the helmets still cut down on hearing and line of sight. Superb for protection, certainly, but in territory where even the steep ground shifted underfoot in the form of rough scree and the smallest ledge could conceal an enemy Sniper or Suicide Bomber they needed every advantage they could get.
Xenia's uniform was more simple, but Matt's professional eye still allowed him to appreciate its easy economy and efficiency. A jet-black Nomex bodysuit covered everything but her hands and head, an anti-flash hood being tucked away behind her neck, the suit being fire and waterproofed he was assured. A state-of-the-art darkened bullet proof shirt covered her entire torso while leaving her arms and legs completely free, the collar riding halfway up her neck as some protection there. She wore skin-tight black leather gauntlets with knuckle spikes as a form of inbuilt knuckledusters that were easily sharp and long enough to tear flesh on her hands, while anti-flash goggle were settled around her neck on the top of her uniform.
Combat webbing indistinguishable from the uniform criss-crossed her chest, clearly containing spare ammo, explosives and a variety of technical gear. She looked ready and willing to handle anything, but her darkened clothes and gear, added to her natural dark, almost feral Gypsy looks made her seem almost a predator in nature somehow. As though she was hunting someone or something out here...
"Matt, while I realise that I am ravishingly beautiful and a darkly seductive creature of the night, would you please stop trying to bare my breasts with your eyes? It is getting quite distracting" said Xenia, with an expression that said she didn't really mind at all. Mark and Paul snickered behind them as Matt almost swallowed his tongue-if Xenia wasn't flirting with him he was High on a variety of very illegal substances-but forced down the flush of embarrassment. So what if she was? He'd give her the same answer he'd give Anna when they talked again-he was spoken for.
"Sorry, I have a few things on my mind and your far more attractive than rocks when I'm preoccupied and want to stare at something to distract me. Where are Anna and her squad now, anyway? Shouldn't you be out scouting the way with them?" Matt replied.
"No, around here Anna and her Delta squad rule Hell, I would be baggage. You, though, need a guide" replied Xenia, with a smirk. Stupid American's she couldn't help but think again, another fine example of them believing that they could find a way in a country where even the elements were constantly trying to kill them. Stubborn and full of pride Russians certainly were-she should know-but they never had the arrogance of these Yankees-
Heavy gunfire suddenly erupted from ahead of them-half a mile ahead, where the Delta's were. The crack of gunfire Xenia immediately identified as coming from AK-47's, weapons she had intimate and extensive experience with. M-18's roared in response as the Delta's returned fire, but all that they heard over comms was static. Then, for a moment, Anna's voice penetrated.
"...Skrk...Am...chk...fall...ktk...AMBU-!" spat Anna's voice, a second before Xenia dived flat on the ground. With a whip-crack recoil a high-velocity rifle fired, the shot slamming into Paul's back so hard he fell face-first to the ground with an audible, heavy grunt of pain, only a sharp twist of the head and luck preventing him from suffering a broken nose and lost teeth as his body armour stopped the slug from ripping open his back.
Mark and Matt rotated smoothly, aimed coolly back at the nest of the Sniper as suggested by the direction of his attack and opened fire. Normally, it would have just been a scare move against an opponent in cover with a range advantage to force him to keep his head down. With SOC weapons he'd be lucky to get out alive, Matt knew, the elite Counter Terrorism CIA unit didn't make that kind of mistake with its weapons or its men-a sudden scream wrenched Xenia's head around even as she drew her own Dragunov Snipers rifle. More joined it, until it sounded like the screams of the Damned fighting their way out of Hell come to slaughter the living. Then she saw what was coming and swore as her eyes widened...
Men erupted out of the ground all around even as a horde charged over the summit of the ridge ahead of them, frothing, screaming and even howling in insane fury. Fifteen attackers charged her and the SOC squad wielding machetes, pistols and even with just their bare hands, bloodshot eyes bulging, hands bleeding as they tore their way through and past scree and rubble lying all about. Dressed in rags and tattered boots, wielding old, rusty weapons with no sign of any commanding officer, Xenia recognised a pack of ferals when she saw them. What she didn't understand was how she'd missed them, she never missed people even in hiding unless they were actually dead since they couldn't be trying to kill her.
Think about it later, Xenia she told herself grimly as they charged in. Assuming there was a later...
Blind-sided by the attack, Matt, Mark and Paul were out of position and had no time at all. Xenia took the advice of an old friend and stopped thinking as she charged straight back at them, firing her rifle at point-blank on the run and blowing the spine right out of the nearest even as the bullet ripped apart his heart. She ducked a seconds attack and countered with a fast kick that snapped a knee backwards at the joint on a third as she dropped two with a brutal slash of her rifle butt wielded like a club, bones snapping and flesh tearing as blood flew.
She hit the floor, rolled on her shoulder while dropping her rifle, pulled her pistol and a Bayonet blade, blew the top of a mans head off and tore out the throat of another. A man nicked her right upper arm with the tip of a machete blade, a second before she opened his guts with a back slash and drove his nose up into his brain with a Leopard Punch that smashed him over backwards. She drove in like a tank head-first, getting in too close for their greater numbers to really mean anything against a skilful opponent, head butted another, smashed the skull of a second with her pistol grip and nearly lost her Bayonet in the ribs of another as she pierced his heart.
A man tried to bite her throat, she impaled his head from jaw to brain so sharply the Bayonet stuck out the top of his head and she had to drop it as he fell. She shot another in the stomach before a kick numbed her fingers and forced her pistol out of her hand, but she simply tore his throat out with the blade of her hand before dropping another with a sharp elbow to the face that pushed his face back into his brain.
Diving clear as a bullet grazed her ribs on the left, she picked up two machetes and crashed straight back in, blood and gore erupting in all directions as she cut, slashed and hacked with a butchers precision, severing limbs, ripping out eyes, tearing apart bodies as bones snapped and organs were lacerated, then destroyed in a welter of steel and blood. Worn steel whipped and whirled around and about in her hands as she moved with a dancers elegance and a killers grace, slaughter drenching her and the land in blood, gore and pain.
She suddenly burst clear of the mayhem, finding no one left standing to fight as sharp gunshots sounded about her. She recognised the reports of the weapons, American design, more precisely the SOC standard issue. Sweeping around and about sharply, hawks eyes missing nothing, she took in the battlefield, seeing all three of the SOC squad members standing together with weapons levelled-not at her.
Everyone else was dead, the last twitches of life in a single man being instantly extinguished as she slashed down and sharply decapitated him, kicking the head away. Rising smoothly to her feet, she sheathed the machetes in a body and retrieved her weapons, pausing to spit on the body of the first one she'd killed.
"Dosvidanya, vermin. You flea-bitten earth scum never did understand the true nature of the kill. Elegance and style always were beyond you, just like efficiency-what?" she snapped abruptly, noticing that Matt had stepped forwards to get a better look at her.
He looked at her steadily for seconds which seemed to last forever, taking in her blood-speckled hair and face, the blood and gore scattered across her clothes and body armour. Her eyes were wild, her expression feral, her entire body almost "twitching" as though she was just getting warmed up and needed to get her teeth into something else, hard.
Just on the eyes she was easily a fantasy when dressed and stone cold sober, but now? Almost high on slaughter and pain, she looked like an Angel come from Hell with bright eyes burning in a way which simply consumed the living. Matt had never seen anything both so disturbingly dangerous in nature and sensual in action. Watching Xenia fight like a Demon or worse, killing, cutting and slaughtering her way through everyone and everything in her path with an awful, efficiently effective grace that was as hypnotic as it was deadly... She butchered with incredible, appallingly efficient ease...
It was possibly the most disturbing and arousing thing he'd ever seen at the same time. If not for Melissa, Matt would have gone with Xenia behind a suitable boulder right that second and done what they had to do. Judging by the look in her eyes, she was thinking the same thing...
"Ah, American boys who think they've seen it all. You boys have never fought in a real war, have you?" said Xenia, with a slight chuckle. Given what he'd just seen, Matt wasn't at all sure how to respond to that...
/End of Chapter Two. All Reviews welcomed./