A/N: Much to my embarrassment after I started writing this, when I re-watched the Tunisia Airlines hijacking episode to find out what airline was hijacked (research + creative brain = whyyyyyy) the episode actually states it's Delta Force who normally deal with this. Delta Force are also known as CAG's; Combat Applications Group - which Jason also calls them in the cage room. They're a special military unit which is part of the United States Army. For the sake of this story, it's SEAL team Delta who are dealing with this, because I'm a goob and didn't do my research. Although if I had, Brock's inclusion would've made zero sense and this story wouldn't exist! So, creative license to change things up and all that...
Brock chewed his lip absentmindedly, fiddling with the piece of paper in his hands as he mulled over what he'd read.
In 1977 Tenerife airport was home to an accident that resulted in the loss of 583 lives, thus cementing it as the site of the worst aviation disaster in history. He remembered a History Channel documentary on it a few years back – remembered the lengthy discussion he had with Trent when he dragged his brother over for dinner one night so they could watch it together and discuss the investigation.
Suffice to say, it had been sobering to watch how a series of unfortunate events led to such a tragedy. As a self-professed aviation enthusiast, it was hard to reconcile something he loved with something that had – as the evidence proved – been so flawed at the time. He was grateful however that despite the awful way the lessons had been learned, the industry had improved significantly as a result.
The irony that the accident was the result of a terrorist attack on a neighbouring island wasn't lost on him in the slightest.
According to the intel they'd received, a terrorist cell had decided to make a name for itself by attacking the Tenerife airport on the anniversary of the crash. If the chatter was correct, the group was aiming for maximum casualties. Their end goal wasn't entirely clear just yet due to conflicting information from a number of sources, but the estimated amount of explosives and tracking down international terrorists was more than the local Guardia knew how to handle.
Which is where Delta and the British SAS came in.
The SAS had received the initial packet from their analyst's, and after reviewing the files had called on Delta to assist; the potential complexity of the mission better suited to two teams to ensure success with minimal casualties. As Tenerife was popular year round, and the largest of the Canary Islands, initial indications showed that their jobs would be made harder as the airport would likely be at or near peak capacity.
The manifests they'd managed to get so far backed up that statement, hence the need for them to move quickly if they were to stop the attack before it happened.
From what Brock could tell, it appeared the mission would be a chessboard with constantly shifting pieces, meaning it would be in no way easy. He also realised with a start that this would be the second Unicorn of his career.
.
.
Bravo had thought they'd lucked out bagging the Tunisia Airlines hijacking a couple of years back, which gave them the opportunity to add another notch to their belt of unique missions. Now, despite all odds he was getting another crack at bagging a Unicorn. And not just any Unicorn; if the chatter was to believed then it'd be the King of all Unicorns.
He could hardly believe it, because not only would he get to see how these situations were handled by the experts, but he'd be more actively involved than he had been the first time around. With that in mind, he took the situation as it was presented to him – a chance to learn from the best.
Despite the gravity of the situation, he was oddly excited about the prospect.
"Two mikes out!" The driver announced, snapping Brock out of his reverie. Sure enough, when he looked out the window he could see the rear of the C-17 and several men milling about at the base of the ramp.
He ducked his head, wincing slightly when he realised they were there to help offload his gear so they could get moving.
"Hey, I told Troy that you never got the message to meet us," Kit said, and Brock looked at his friend. Apparently his embarrassment had been more obvious than he realised. "Shit happens Brock, no one's holding it against you."
He shrugged, but gave the man a grateful smile nonetheless. "Still, my delay could cost us the mission. Kinda hard to be positive when you know people could die because of you."
Kit rolled his eyes. "You really are a martyr," he sighed. "This was the scheduled time for takeoff. We're not late, which means that if anything happens earlier than the intel suggests it's on all of us. Besides, we're scheduled to get there a few hours early so we can stop them before they kick off – the chatter suggests the terrorists are planning on running their attack to the same time the original crash occurred."
This was why briefing packets were given to operators – not a single slip of paper with three paragraphs. While Kit had assured him he'd be properly briefed once on board, it would've been nice to know that he wasn't as late as he'd believed. "That was really good of you to tell me now, thanks for that."
Kit grinned at him while leaning over to the back seat to give Cerberus a scratch behind the ears. "You're welcome dude." The car rolled to a stop, and he climbed out after clapping the driver on the shoulder. "Thanks for the lift. C'mon Broccoli, no time to dawdle!"
Rolling his eyes at his friend's antics, he turned to look at his dog. "He's as useless on the info as usual, hey buddy?" Cerberus yipped, his tail thumping against the seat which in turn made him grin. While still slightly sluggish in his movements, the sight of his boy looking happy squashed the unease that had been simmering in his gut since Kit told him about the mission. The vet had never been wrong when it came to caring for Cerberus, but with the way his day started part of him had expected his dog to still be completely out of it.
Seeing him acting nearer to his usual self was a huge relief, because it meant that by the time they reached Tenerife Cerberus would be well and truly ready for their new mission.
"Excuse you, I heard that!" Kit's offended voice came from somewhere outside the vehicle.
"You can't be offended if it's true!"
"Rude much!"
Chuckling, he shook his head as he got out of the car and lowered the seat so Cerberus could follow him out. "C'mon buddy, time to go to work." Sure enough, Cerberus scrambled out after him and pranced around in circles, barking excitedly. It was as though the Malagator was trying to prove to everyone that he was feeling better.
"Guess you were right," Kit exclaimed, grinning as he appeared with Brock's go-bag in his hand. "Some of the good stuff and he's right as rain!"
Looking past him Brock saw the crewmen already carrying the rest of his gear, so he clipped Cerb to his leash and led him to the plane. "You doubted me Kitster?" he teased, extending a hand in invitation to pass his bag over, but Kit waved him off, and he shrugged in acquiescence. "You can't keep Malagator's down for long, I thought I'd taught you that."
"Yeah yeah," Kit laughed, elbowing him lightly. "But that was Peak you'd been talking about at the time. Bus coulda been different."
"My dog is not called bus," he huffed, feigning irritability but in truth finding it as amusing as he had when a drug-addled Kit first uttered it. "It's Cerberus, or Cerb – none of this bus nonsense. Isn't that right bud?"
Cerberus barked in agreement.
"I dunno," Kit countered, smiling slyly. "He hits with the force of a bus, so I think it suits him. What do you think Bus?" he asked the dog, putting on a voice that riled Cerberus up as intended. "That a good name for you?"
Cerberus yipped, nearly prancing on the spot with his tail going full tilt. Brock rolled his eyes at Kit's triumphant fist pump. "Quit corrupting my dog with your stoned-ass nicknames, you heathen!"
"His name's a mouthful when you're drugged to the gills on morphine," Kit defended haughtily, nose in the air as though Brock had personally offended him. The amusement in his eyes said he was anything but. "S'not my fault his name has too many syllables."
Brock rolled his eyes again and elbowed his friend in retaliation, which in turn started a jostling match as they walked up the ramp; the pair sniggering the whole way into the hold.
.
.
Despite loving his Bravo brothers dearly, Brock often missed hanging out with the man beside him. He and Kit had joined the Navy during the same intake; both fresh out of high school, wide eyed and full of enthusiasm for their chosen careers. They were made bunk mates during basic training, and quickly became good friends; their friendship growing and solidifying into a solid bond after they were allocated to the same ship.
When he first considered moving into the K-9 unit after eighteen months at sea, Kit had backed his decision enthusiastically – even going with him to the kennels to see the dogs while Brock talked with the head of the unit. He also joined Brock both times when he was assigned working dogs; starting with Sila the German Shepherd, then Peak a Belgian Malinois. Both dogs had had a few years of service under their belts when he took them on after their handlers were medically retired from active service.
He had each pup with him for a year or so before the Navy, and their previous handlers who taught him the ropes of being part of the K-9 unit, decided it was time to retire them. As sad as he'd been to say goodbye, the fact the dogs went to their original handlers was more than worth the heartache.
Besides, training Peak and Sila when he did was what led him to Cerberus. He knew that without them he and his boy might've never been paired together, so he was grateful to have them in his life for the time he did.
Kit had been one of the first people Brock introduced a wriggling fourteen week-old bundle to when the man turned up with takeout so he could not only meet the puppy, but also tell his friend that he'd been accepted for Green Team selection. Thinking back on it, the news had been bitter sweet. He and Kit had always planned to try for Green Team at the same time, but at the same time Brock had found his calling with the K-9 unit and had no intentions of backing out so soon after starting.
His chosen path delayed his own application to Green Team by two years, but get in he did and it was during selection, much like Clay had with Bravo, that Brock and Cerberus were deployed with Delta and Alpha on a major mission; getting to showcase their skills to their potential future team.
The mission was to handle a terrorist attack on a hotel in Singapore; the same hotel that happened to be housing hundreds of ambassadors and renowned activists from around the world for a climate summit. Because of the large number of hostages and the publicity surrounding the attack, DEVGRU chose to bring in as many K-9 units as they could to ensure nothing and nobody was missed.
When they were divided up into smaller teams to help cover more ground, Kit had volunteered to watch over them; but in the end it had been he and Cerberus watching over Kit after they saved his life. A tango had snuck up on them when they were busy clearing a room that had been packed with explosives, and Kit would've been killed if Brock hadn't yelled a warning when he saw the terrorist move from the corner of his eye.
As it was, the tango managed to drive a knife in just below Kit's body armour, and while Cerberus took the tango out – Brock helping finish the man off with a bullet to the head – Brock stemmed the flow of blood long enough to get his friend to help. It was at the hospital, drugged to the gills when they went to visit that Kit tried to thank them but struggled to get his lips to form the word 'Cerb' – moaning something about the name having too many vowels - and had instead happily slurred his was through 'Bus' several times in gratitude.
Brock had nearly lost his friend that day, but having him alive and well meant that he'd happily overlook the stupid nickname the man had given his boy. Although he continued to use it whenever he wanted to irritate Brock; which now that he thought about it seemed to be every time they saw each other.
Taking a particularly good elbow to the ribs with as many over dramatics as he could when Kit nailed him a good one, Brock's attention was diverted when he saw a very familiar EOD strolling towards him.
"Brock!"
He grinned, elbowing Kit one final time before hurrying forwards and bumping fists with Kairos when he reached him. "Hey man, how you been?"
It'd been about five months since Bravo had last seen the EOD specialist as he'd been on loan to the British SAS for a cross-agency co-operation effort the Brass had been running. The man's laid back demeanor and penchant for riling Sonny up had been sorely missed of late, so it was good to see him again.
"Good!" Kairos replied, leaning over to say hello to Cerb who barked in greeting. "Glad you made it; when I heard no one could reach you I thought I'd have to track you down myself."
Brock rolled his eyes. "Goddamn phone has been playing up so I never got the heads up," he explained. He had a feeling he'd be doing that a fair bit today. Maybe he should write a sign and stick it to his chest so people would stop asking him where he'd been. "But I'm here now, so no need to send out a search party."
"That's a bummer," the EOD commiserated. "And I'll have you know I wouldn't send out a search party. I would've consulted my crystal ball to find you; something I'm sure Sonny would've loved to see in action."
The thought of how the Texan would react to the mere mention of crystal balls made them both snort with laughter. "Yeah, Sonny would be thrilled I'm sure." Looking around for Kit and seeing him talking to his Master Chief, Brock spotted his bag nearby and headed over to it, Kairos following along behind. "When did you get back from the UK? Last I heard, you were still over there."
"Finished up last week. I was supposed to be on leave for a month once I got back but Lindell called me and told me to get here ASAP. Thankfully my ma came to visit me this time, otherwise I would've been on the other side of the country a week ago."
Brock whistled lowly. Given what they were about to walk into it was lucky indeed. He gave Cerb the command to sit on one of the seats before securing him to a rail to ensure he was out of the way. Once they were in the air he'd let him loose, but for now it was best to stop him from getting underfoot.
Giving Cerberus a scratch behind the ears and a chew to keep him occupied, he turned around and was about to ask Kairos about his trip when his eyes fell on two others with EOD patches on their arms. He frowned, curiosity bubbling in his chest. They were taking three EOD specialists?
Kairos grinned and clapped him on the shoulder when he saw where his attention was at. "I'll introduce you, come on."
He followed the man to where the EOD's were going through their bags, and the pair looked up when they approached, clearly curious. "Guys, this is Brock Reynolds; Bravo 5 and the best damn K-9 handler the Navy has." Pointing over his shoulder to where Cerberus was chewing his treat with gleeful abandon, he added, "and that over there is his trusty sidekick, Cerberus."
Hearing his name, Cerberus looked their way and barked once in greeting, making the EOD's grin. "Brock, I'd like to introduce you to Autumn Jackson and Harry Winters."
Brock clapped a hand over his mouth to cover his sudden snort of laughter, his reaction making Kairos laugh. "Sorry, sorry," he apologised to the other two, but they were grinning at him. Evidently it wasn't the first time someone had reacted the same way.
"Just wait until you meet the other EOD," Autumn told him, and Brock blinked. There were four EOD's on this mission?
"Yeah," Kairos agreed, before waving to get someone's attention. A man wandered over, and Kairos clapped him on the shoulder. "Mike, this is Brock Reynolds," he introduced again. "Our K-9 specialist. Brock, this is Mike Springfield."
He couldn't stifle his snort of laughter fast enough.
"Yep," Kairos agreed, laughing with the others. "You know shit's gone bad if you've got four seasons with you in one day."
"Oh my god," he gasped, gleeful at the thought of introducing the four EOD's to a certain brother; a meeting Brock was determined to make happen the moment they touched down on US soil. "I can't wait to see Sonny's face when he meets the four of you." Just the thought of the horror that would cross his brother's face… Oh, his reaction would be priceless.
"Sonny is Bravo 3," Kairos explained to his friends while exchanging a smirk with Brock. "Big, burly Texan who has more phobias than should be allowed for a SEAL, and absolutely hates anything superstitious."
Winters smirked as well. "He does, does he?"
"Oh I've had some fun with him, that's for damn sure," Kairos told them. "He likes to think he's tough, but oh boy is it easy to wind him up."
"Odour eating crystals in his shoes," Brock said. "The odd bit of mumbo jumbo said near him before a spin-up, that kinda thing."
"Oh god," Autumn snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Summer, you evil prick."
Kairos shrugged, grinning unrepentantly. "Gotta play the hippie hoodoo on someone," he explained. "Besides, Hayes – that's Bravo 1 – gave me permission to do so, and Sonny is too good a target to pass up."
"We're definitely going to do something to freak him out when we get back," Brock agreed. "I want a video of his reaction to torment him with for the rest of his career."
"Gee, what a pity we just happen to enjoy messing with people," Springfield drawled, and Brock grinned when all four EOD's put their fists together in a rehearsed four-way fist bump. "I'm sure we can arrange something for you."
"First round is on me then."
"Atta boy," Autumn said, clapping him on the shoulder. Turning to Springfield she said, "We're keeping this one when we're done."
"I can't be kept by more people," he said, his tone joking but he was in fact deadly serious. "Jase will kill me if I get poached by someone else. Again." He could just imagine what Jason's reaction would be if he was permanently assigned to another team; the man would raze the entire Navy to the ground in an apocalyptic fit if any more changes were made to Bravo without his say so.
Yeah, no. He didn't want to be the thing that tipped Jason over the proverbial edge.
"Eh, you let us worry about that," Winters replied, and Brock genuinely couldn't tell if they were serious or not. He figured he was probably better off not knowing.
"Gentleman, ma'am," they turned and greeted Troy Banks, Delta's Master Chief and their leader for the mission. "Thanks for coming in at short notice, Flynn said you were on leave when you were called in so I appreciate you hauling ass to get here as quickly as you did." Flynn being Delta's Lieutenant Commander who Brock could see talking to a crewman in the upper deck.
"Happy to come in, sir," Autumn replied, her three companions nodding in agreement. "It's not every day we all get called in for one job, so she's got to be pretty serious."
"That's putting it lightly," Banks snorted before turning to Brock and extending his hand. "Reynolds, it's good to see you. Thanks for hauling ass when Kit told you you were needed."
It appeared Kit had been telling the truth about filling his MC in. "Don't mention it; I'm only sorry I almost held everyone up."
Banks waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it; you didn't and quite frankly, shit happens. You're here, that's the main thing – Roy was beyond pissed that he couldn't come along, but as he's still on crutches he wasn't going to be of much use this mission."
"He and Ryder are doing alright then?" he asked, concerned for his Delta counterparts. He didn't know much about what had side-lined the pair, only that they'd both been injured – Roy more so as he used himself as a shield to ensure Ryder wasn't killed. Back when Roy first entered the K-9 programme Brock had been the one to help him with the final stages of his training, and as a result had become friends with the Californian and his German Shepherd. To hear the pair had been laid up had been worrying, but with near back to back missions since the man had been injured, he'd only been able to check in with Roy over the phone.
"Yeah they're all good. Doc said another week or so and Roy'll be out of his cast, then it's physio and hopefully the all clear."
"Glad to hear it." And he was. Roy was a good man and a dedicated handler, and Brock knew that he'd go far with his position if injuries didn't stop him from operating.
"Excuse me," a crewman said, grabbing everyone's attention and it was then Brock realised the ramp was latching into place; a sign they were about to start taxiing. "If you could all take your seats, we're ready to depart."
"Copy that," Banks replied, giving them a nod and wandering off towards another member of Delta.
"Kairos, come sit with me and Cerb and tell us about your trip," Brock told the EOD, making his way to his seat where he found Kit giving Cerberus a rather vigorous belly rub; something the Malagator was enjoying thoroughly if his tail thumping incessantly against the side of the plane was anything to go by.
Kairos dropped into a seat opposite the two SEAL's and the dog and strapped himself in.
"Okay, so first day in the UK and I get this weird ass vibe, right?"
Other chapter notes:
Notes about guardia from the Tenerife Information Website: The "Civil Guard" is the most formidable of the four forces and is a semi-military unit. Its officers deal with such things as drug smuggling, weapon control, anti-terrorism and bomb disposal. They are also charged with the protection of Spain's royal family.
For anyone who doesn't know what a 'Unicorn' is - Sonny refers to it in the airplane hijacking episode (2x11) "Airplane take down - that is the Unicorn of Special Ops. The GOPLAT was a white whale - two completely different animals; this one is much rarer. Like foreign history."