CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: BATTLE DAMAGE

This is it, he thought. This must be what death is like.

The shot rang through the air, and he twitched. He fell backwards, startled. Startled, and perplexed that he was still alive and breathing. His hands went up to his chest and torso searching for bullet holes or blood and realized that he hadn't been shot. Torpedo was still alive. He was in serious pain from a previously broken collarbone, but he was still alive.

Instead, Overkill dropped to his knees and fell forward to the ground; a round had blasted through his backside and out his chest, blood cascaded out of his body like a trickling waterfall.

Several hundred yards down the tunnel, Blowtorch stood tall and confident with his finger still on the trigger. As steady as his finger was, the rest of his body had just the slightest of shake to it caused by the adrenaline coursing throughout his body – but Blowtorch couldn't help but smile as he grabbed a piece of revenge for his buddies. For Recondo. For Barbecue. For whoever else you killed, you bastard.

Within a split second later (although for Torpedo it felt as if time stood still for a moment) Snake-Eyes immediately opened up his M-16 on the rest of the guards. Carefully and with the utmost precision but with deadly precision… picking off the remaining prison guards one by one, Snake-Eyes made sure he didn't hit any of the others on his team.

Blowtorch began firing at the other guards along with Snake-Eyes after Overkill went down. Blowtorch yelled at Snake-Eyes above the loud firing of the machine guns, "Aim high if you can; looks like our guys are down low and on their knees."

The enemy guards had been caught by complete surprise. Over half of the guards had been annihilated immediately. The few surviving guardsmen turned around in a desperate effort to counterattack. Their disorganization and confusion… especially after having witnessed their team leader, Overkill, go down, disheartened them and they could see the tide of battle change almost instantaneously. They were losing the mental edge of combat.

Torpedo, Deep Six, and Shipwreck took the opportunity of confusion and went on the offensive. Grabbing their knives and staying low…trying to avoid getting hit by friendly fire, the three men each jumped towards the guard closest to them. Torpedo grabbed the back of the uniform of a guard firing down the tunnel at Snake-Eyes and Blowtorch; with his leg he took out the back of the knees of the guard, dropping him to his knees. With one swift motion Torpedo cut the throat of the enemy combatant. Deep Six wrapped his arm around the neck of another guard and stabbed him in the back, sliding his knife between his ribs piercing his heart. Shipwreck pounced on a guard that had already been shot in the leg and dropped to a knee – took both hands and shoved the knife in the temple of the guard as hard as he could.

It was less than a minute and there wasn't a single prison guard left standing. The three wounded sailors had never been so happy to see Blowtorch and Snake-Eyes.

"Snake-Eyes! Blowtorch! Your ugly mugs have never looked so good," Shipwreck shouted… smiling for the first time in who knows how long. Even Deep Six cracked a smile… something rare for the emotionless man.

Snake-Eyes couldn't help but think, If they are this happy to see me and Blowtorch, I wonder how they would have reacted if they saw Scarlett instead?

"Let's go, guys… rescue tank is waiting outside." Blowtorch stepped up to help Torpedo, trying to ignore the pain of his own wounds. Torpedo stood up, a bit shaky on his legs. "Help me with Gung-Ho," Torpedo said, helping Blowtorch hoist him up with his good arm. "Don't worry, Cajun, we'll get you help."

"Hey, Ship… Leatherneck… Wet Suit? Where are they? Are they…" He honestly held out a shred of hope that they were being held in a separate corner of the prison and that they could break them out… hoping against hope that they were still alive.

But the moment Shipwreck hung his head with refusal to make eye contact, Blowtorch immediately knew what had happened. Shipwreck simply shook his head "no" and nodded over to the lifeless body of Wet Suit.

"Man, I'm sorry…" Blowtorch felt sick to his stomach.

This mission was costly. Blowtorch looked at Snake. "The other team better find that doctor, rookies or not. Otherwise all of this is pointless and their deaths would be in vain."

The man of silence didn't respond, but he was thinking exactly the same thing.

XXXXX

The entire Wolken Prison compound had sustained an incredible amount of damage. Walls had collapsed, prison guards had scattered, and by the time that the few guards who remained loyal to the cause had regrouped, Tango and Echo Teams were long gone.

Far from the prison, Tango and Echo Teams headed to the rendezvous point where they would meet up with the C-130. They moved out as fast as they could… at least as fast as they could for a beat-up and heavily damaged unit. The Flagg was packed full. Inside, Grand Slam, Flash, and Wet Suit lay covered up and tucked towards the back in order to make room for Barbecue and Gung-Ho to lie down. It was far from a comfortable fit, but the best they could do for the time being. Torpedo and Deep Six, both splinted and bandaged up, were still weakened from their grueling interrogations and damage in battle. Because the Flagg was already full with the deceased, the wounded (at least more wounded than Torpedo and Deep Six), and the crew needed to operate the tank, the best they could do was ride on top of the tank as Cover Girl drove.

Clutch still held his position, but with the lack of healthy crewmembers he became more of an alternate gunner than a loader, though they still kept the turret loaded. He had spent his down time during the last firefight trying to fix up the tank as best as he could. It was Clutch who had moved his buddies Flash and Grand Slam to the corner where they kept normally kept the extra rounds of ammunition, though these rounds had long since been expended. He wanted to throw up… sick to his stomach, having to treat them in such a way as normal "cargo". But his living teammates needed the space.

Steeler still commanded the tank… a tank that looked more like a medivac vehicle than a machine of war. If necessary, he would man the main turret despite the cramped quarters. Hopefully they would be able to avoid combat the rest of the way; in their damaged condition, another fight could easily end up being their last fight.

Walking towards the side of the tank were Shipwreck and Blowtorch. Snake-Eyes and Low-Light took the front, just like always, hoping against hope that they would avoid any further enemy encounters. Or, if they encountered anyone that they couldn't avoid, they'd be in position to take them out before they knew what hit them.

"How you holding out, Shipwreck? You should be up top with Torpedo and Deep Six," Blowtorch asked.

"I'm ok; I wasn't beat as bad as the others." He looked solemn. "Just the luck of the draw, I guess," he tried to convince himself, but didn't feel much better. Sure, he was banged up still… but so was everyone. Except for maybe Cover Girl and Low-Light.

Silence had past for a few moments and the infantry men kept moving.

"…they should have never seen us coming…" Shipwreck muttered. Under his breath, and to himself. Blowtorch looked at him, but didn't say a word. He figured under Ship's mental state and with everything he endured he'd tell the story if and when he was ready. But he'd be there to listen.

"We took all the precautions but still tripped some kind of alarm. We're talking a fifth generation defensive system, something extremely advanced. The kind only the U.S. has. Someone's up to something in Borovia… someone with money, and with advanced technology.

While ahead of the group, Snake-Eyes couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Something is clearly not right. No way these are Borovians. They must have outside help.

XXXXX

Inside the Flagg, Clutch tried to unlock the newfound data Snake-Eyes had recovered from The Wraith during their earlier battle. "Most of our equipment's damaged, except for the radio and a few navigational systems. Our computer expert…" Clutch couldn't even say Flash's name, but choked out his intent, "…well, we have no computer experts here… and you guys are asking me, the grease monkey, to open up the data on this thing? Oh, and did I mention this tank smells like ass from all this man-sweat?"

Cover Girl piped up, "No, it just smells that way because of you. And it's more like boy-sweat."

Clutch snickered, for the first time since combat had started. "Touché. Keep driving, tank girl. Know your role." Without turning around or even batting an eyelash, Cover Girl flipped him the bird.

Looking for other options…truly not happy about figuring out a way to download the data to an intermittently working computer, Clutch asked, "Since we're not authorized to reach Sierra Team directly, can't we just break radio silence and send this to that hottie Firewall…" and turning to Cover Girl, whispered, "who, by the way, is about half your age…"

Steeler replied before Cover Girl could get a shot in… she had turned around from the driver's seat, ready to rip Clutch's head off, mouth already open and ready to retaliate. "Not a good idea. With all the surprises the bad guys have had, no way I want to send out a signal that they could possibly intercept and locate our position. Not to mention we could compromise their position as well. We'll notify Firewall once our plane launches and have her relay to Sierra Team, on time and as scheduled."

"Clutch is a bit slow, even compared to our other team members…isn't there anyone else that can figure that stuff out?" Cover Girl asked Steeler calmly, becoming less restless after Clutch had riled her up.

Steeler laughed. "Maybe he is, but with his maintenance skills… even if he's not an electrical engineer, he's the best thing we got. Let me know when you get something, Clutch. Just take it easy, though; I'm no doctor, but fairly certain you have a slight concussion. And that's best case scenario; it could be much worse than that so don't overdo it."

Cover Girl knew she shouldn't say it, but couldn't help herself. "Maybe the concussion actually did him some good; you can't hurt what you don't have..."

The banter between the two went back and forth. Steeler smiled. Not because he was enjoying comedy hour, but because it was a much needed distraction for the team. Good. They're focusing on each other, which means they're also focusing on the mission. I've seen too many people lock up from having lost friends in combat. They…well, we, have been through a lot. Just don't pass out on me Clutch… or worse.

Clutch wasn't stupid; he knew how bad head wounds were. He had planned on replying to Steeler while still working on repairing the damaged computer, but his left hand suddenly started shaking. It didn't hurt, but it threw him off. He was a bit puzzled and unsure why it was doing that. After a few moments, he grabbed it with his right hand, trying to get it to settle down. Taking a few breaths, it stopped shaking. Turning to look at Cover Girl, and then at Steeler, neither of them noticed. Barbecue and Gung-Ho were resting up and heavily sedated, so they didn't notice either. Clutch took a deep breath. He was perplexed but shrugged it off and went back to fixing the onboard systems and search for a way to download the data.