Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns (again).
Unbeta'd, unedited.
Jan 6
MCB Camp Lejeune
Jacksonville, North Carolina
"Let's go, Captain! You gotta fuckin' move!"
Sweating from every pore in her body, Senior Staff Scientist and now-Marine Isabella Swan shouldered her M4A1 carbine and scowled over at the beast of a man through the haze of pungent smoke. "Will you stop calling me that?"
Positioned against the pitted concrete block wall on the opposite side of the open gate and sporting an arsenal of weapons she still couldn't name, Staff Sergeant Emmett McCarty – call sign Bear, of course – returned her scowl and spat on the dirt floor. "Then what do you want me to call you, Captain?"
Bella's scowl morphed into a pissed-off glare. "How about my name, asshole?"
In her earpiece, she picked up Alice's high, tinkling laugh. A quieter, deeper chuff followed, then a muttered, "Well, that didn't take long."
"Fine, Doc," Emmett said, ignoring the others as he sneaked a peek around the wall. When he whipped back around, his brows climbed in question, lifting a pair of slick, wraparound, anti-glare lenses to his freshly-shorn hairline. He hefted his usual heavy round M240B and bellowed out a loud, drill instructor-worthy, "So, now, how about we fuckin' move!"
Unfazed by the volume, Bella sucked in a shaky breath that stretched her ribcage against the stiff weight of her vest and SAPI plates. Flicking on her laser sight, she nodded to herself and gave her chinstrap a firm tug to adjust her Kevlar.
"Yeah, okay, let's do it." She nodded again, this time more certain, and shot him a tentative grin. "Let's go."
"That's more like it," Emmett said, cheeks creasing at the trailing lines of dust and sweat running down the scientist's temples. "Intel says we got four, maybe five, heavily armed tangoes holed up with three confirmed non-combatant hostages." His eyes dropped to his wrist. "We got no more than two minutes to get this shit done before they hit the tunnel underneath the building, trigger that device, and smoke our asses."
Bella pulled her weapon tight against the pocket of her shoulder. "Okay. Two minutes. Got it."
"Those motherfuckers will not hesitate to blow your brains out, so you gotta take 'em out ASAP. But do not – I repeat, do not – fire indiscriminately, or you will hit those civilians." Emmett spat again and knocked the heel of his boot against the concrete wall. "No one's got time for bullshit paperwork. We good?"
Before Bella could argue that last bit of logic, the big man threw up his fist and sent a wordless command to the pair of skinny, baby-faced privates behind them. Almost immediately, the soft click of a pin echoed in her ears, and a small, olive-drab aluminum canister sailed through the open gate into the shadowy courtyard. "Frag out!"
There was a single heartbeat of silence, where even the swirling motes of dust seemed to still.
An ear-splitting boom! rocked the building, and the dark exploded into a blinding kaleidoscope of spinning strobes of light. Sand and debris tinkled against the concrete as smoke poured out of the courtyard, churning in time to the pulses of sound and light. When Bella inhaled again, she tasted the tang of sulfur on her tongue.
"Wait for it!" Emmett yelled, shooting another command to the privates before looking over to Bella. "On three. You take right!"
Bella's heart slammed against her sternum. Yet as she watched for the staff sergeant's call in her periphery, listening to the rasp of smoky air in her lungs, everything seemed to slow down. Sound – the boom of the explosives, men yelling – it all receded into a dull background roar, and their surroundings came into sharp, unrelieved focus.
"One… two… Go!"
Right on cue and far quicker than his size would suggest, Emmett shouldered his weapon and vanished around the gate, immediately targeting the left side of the courtyard. Without hesitating, Bella darted in behind him, hot on his heels, to cover the right. The two privates took the rear, following after in a loose diamond formation.
Training kicked in the moment her boots hit the old, busted-up tiles. Just like Rosalie taught her, Bella cleared the empty courtyard with a quick, methodical sweep, seeking out all the nooks and crannies where a person could hide. In the darkened space, her laser line cut through the haze and clouds of dust like a bright, neon blade.
"Clear!" Emmett barked from the opposite side. "We got a door!"
As Bella opened her mouth to reply the same, movement flashed at the edge of her vision.
Adrenaline punched through her veins. She pivoted right as a tall, beefy figure in black popped up from behind the stack of crates. Faint, dim light glinted off the barrel of a high-end, modified Steyr. As she pinned him with her laser sight, instinct forced her finger to flex, but the moment Bella registered the crack! of that first round, she aimed and sent a triplet of tightly-placed shots directly into his torso.
Just to make sure.
As soon as the first rubberized round found its mark – dead center in the target's chest – the small LED on the top pulsed green. A digitized bell rang, confirming the kill, and Emmett let out a whoop in celebration.
"Fuck, yeah, baby Captain!" Emmett sent her an enthusiastic thumb's up. Panting, Bella scrambled over to the heavy metal door where he stood waiting, and the staff sergeant's face split into a wide, beaming grin, like he'd just passed his favorite recruit. "That's one!"
"Jesus," she said, muttering under her breath as she blinked against the ringing in her ears. "That thing scared the shit out of me."
The big man belted out a loud, out-of-place laugh, startling the pair of Marines behind him, and threw her a mischievous wink. "Thought I smelled something."
"Ugh." Bella's nose scrunched. Swiping a line of sweat off the back of her neck, she rolled her eyes, but he just laughed even harder. "You are disgusting, you know that, right?"
"Pfft! You love me," Emmett said, wagging his shaggy brows before finally turning as serious as death itself. When the Marine motioned toward the door and its thick, old-fashioned lock, the curving lines of ink on his tree-trunk arms writhed and twisted like a pair of angry serpents. "Now, grab your C-4 and blow that fuckin' door. We got more bad guys to kill."
Standing on top of the nearby multi-story riser, Major Edward Cullen – call sign Ghost – stared down at the shuddering, flickering building below and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what do you think?"
On his left, mirroring her commander's straight-backed, no-nonsense bearing and comportment, the gunnery sergeant frowned and glanced over. "About?"
"Dr. Swan." Edward angled his chin at the scene below. "How's she doing?"
Instead of immediately answering, Rosalie watched another flashbang light off and rock the building's foundation with cool, professional detachment. When the second indicator turned green, she merely shrugged. "Fine."
Edward's mouth flattened into a hard, uncompromising line, and his fingertips drummed against the tanned, sinewy tendons of the opposite forearm. "Would you care to elaborate, Gunnery Sergeant Hale?"
Unsurprisingly, a loud, irreverent snort answered him, and he looked over just in time to catch the blonde's ice-blue eyes glitter with poorly-concealed amusement. Casually propping her elbows on the rusted railing in front of them, Rosalie leaned forward to study the well-worn training ground. A second passed, and then her lips twitched at the repeating rat-tat-tat coming from inside the building.
"Her strength is improving. Endurance is excellent," she said, spitting on the grating. "She's not that far from keeping up with Al, which, frankly, is fucking impressive."
His gunnery sergeant wasn't lying there.
There weren't many people, including her fellow Marines, who could keep up with that sprite.
Alice's call sign wasn't Tinkerbell for nothing.
Nonetheless, Edward heard what Rosalie didn't say, and his fists dropped to his hips in an all-too-familiar pose. "But?"
"But…" Rosalie drawled. "She thinks too much. Overanalyzes shit and you see it especially in her combat training." Her features pinched into an almost comically sour expression. "Keeps hesitating and pulling her punches because she wants to reason her way out of it."
Before Edward could ask, Rosalie's shoulders rolled in another nonchalant shrug. "It'll come in time, though." When another indicator pulsed green, those blue eyes danced again, and one corner of her mouth pulled up into a wry smile. "Once she finally gets tired of me kicking her ass."
Some of the tension crawling through his muscles uncoiled, and a quiet laugh spilled out before Edward could stop it. "How's she doing on weapons?"
"She's fucking gold with a .45." When Rosalie paused, her fingers clenched around the rail, and he knew exactly what was coming next. The glare that woman shot him could have lit the world on fire. "Of course, you know that better than anyone, Major."
Ignoring the heat in both her expression and her voice, Edward tracked a pair of Marines as they meandered across the training yard. He had to school his expression when Alice hip-checked the lean, gray-eyed sniper beside her, knocking him off the beaten path. "Rifle?"
Rosalie chuckled as Jasper recovered and lunged, attempting to take a swipe at their pilot. Like always, Alice dodged him in a whip-quick duck and dance, and Rosalie just shook her head. "Jazz says she's getting there. Says she'll beat Em's scores in no time."
Shoulders silently shaking, Edward leaned against the rough concrete wall behind them. On contact, the twin slashes of fresh scar tissue beneath his shoulder blades erupted in tiny, needle-like pinpricks, reminding him all over again of his latest round of badges.
"Yeah," he said, grimacing as the old phantom ache blossomed in his side and echoed the new. "But that's not exactly saying much."
An unexpectedly tense, uneasy silence answered him.
For a moment, Edward studied his gunny, clocking the subtle shift in her posture. As the seconds ticked by, her skin pulled tight across her cheekbones, and when yet another green indicator lit off down in the yard, this one punctuated by Emmett's yelled out, "Ooh-fucking-rah!" her jawline rolled.
"Is there something I need to know?" he asked, quieter.
Rosalie's jaw flexed again. "Nope."
Edward hesitated. "You want to talk about it?"
Rosalie jerked toward him, whipping her ponytail against the railing. Incredulous, insulted, or likely some blend of the two, the look she gave him was priceless. "There is absolutely nothing to talk about… sir."
"All right." Edward's shoulders shook again. Scrubbing his face, rasping over three-day stubble, he let out a slow, tired sigh. "But you will inform me if there is anything I need to be aware of. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir."
Jan 7
MCB Camp Lejeune
Jacksonville, North Carolina
By the time Edward made it back to the small, temporary bungalow their team had been assigned on base, the sun had already fallen below the tree line. A few lingering rays filtered through the scraggly limbs and glinted off the river out front while high overhead, pale, dusty pink bled into the dark, velvety night sky.
Silent as always, he slipped through the front door, chucked his boots, and headed down the short, all-beige hallway toward the equally all-beige living room in the center. Right as he rounded the corner, he froze, however, and for a long, quiet moment, Edward leaned against the wall and simply stared at the woman sitting on the floor, where she was huddled up in an oversized, tan-colored fleece with her head tipped back against the couch cushion behind her.
A quick scan of the room told him she'd been working – again. A half dozen journals and notebooks lay scattered on the banged-up coffee table and the floor beside her. An open, sleeping laptop sat off to the side. On top of the couch were stacks of crinkled papers covered in some kind of scientific scrawl, along with her sad, chewed-up pen that never seemed to run out of ink.
Still damp and dark from an earlier shower, Bella's hair fanned out on the cushion like a halo. A light dusting of pink still stained her cheeks, offset by the faint gray bruising in the hollows of her eyes. He frowned at that, but as he took in the smoothness of those too-pretty, too-fine features and the way she wrapped herself in that ancient jacket of his, something warm and heavy settled inside his chest.
Without warning, Bella scowled in her sleep, and Edward almost laughed at the snippy noise that followed.
Shaking his head, he finally tore himself away. Tossing his cover onto the nearby table, he stripped off his blouse to the plain tan tee he always wore and quietly padded across the carpet toward the kitchen.
A softly mumbled, "Hey," stopped him in his tracks.
"Shit." Scratching the back of his head, Edward pivoted toward the couch, only to find one pretty brown eye cracked open and squinting against the light. "Sorry, I was trying to let you sleep."
"I noticed that." Bella's reply was as dry as the desert, but then her lips curved into a mischievous grin. She motioned him over and patted the floor beside her. "But I, too, am learning the art of sneakiness."
Edward's cheeks stretched as he prowled over. "Is that so?"
"Yup."
"Then I better behave myself," he said as he pitched the papers off to the side. Edward slid in behind her, settling on the edge of the cushion. When Bella started to spin around, he stopped her with his knees. "Wait, just stay where you are."
"What are you up to?" Bella's eyes narrowed, but the second long, sure fingers slipped inside the collar of her fleece, unerringly targeting the stiff, aching muscles of her neck and shoulders, she flat-out melted. Slumping against the couch, her head tilted back to rest on Edward's thigh, and that mischievous grin morphed into a softer smile. "Okay, just so we're clear, you can do this forever. Seriously, any time you want, no need to ask."
"Sore?" he asked, even though he already knew.
"You have no idea." When his thumb dug into a tighter, more stubborn knot, some blend of misery and relief spilled out before she could stop it. "Your gunnery sergeant is killing me."
"So I hear." Edward's voice went quiet. "You all right?"
"It's fine, nothing a little naproxen won't cure." Bella's fingertips left her lap and found the back of his leg, mindlessly tracing the long, lean muscle of his calf beneath the stiff fabric of his cammies. She paused for a second, then her chest rose and fell with a slow, defeated sigh. "Edward, this is hard."
"What do you mean?"
"All of it." Nose crinkling, Bella waved a random, aggravated hand. "Every time you guys start training me on some new thing, it just reminds me how far I have to go to pull my own weight. I don't kno–"
"Stop." It came out sharper than he intended. "No one – no one – expects you to know everything immediately. That's no–"
"Well, I do," she said, cutting him off as that same aggravated hand sliced the air. "And so do you, remember? 'Eat my Wheaties' and all that bullshit."
If she weren't so serious, he'd have laughed.
Instead, Edward just continued his slow massage. "Let me ask, do you expect Emmett to know anything about rocket trajectories or how to synthesize chemicals? You think I know how to fly a helo?"
"Of course not." Bella rolled her eyes. "Even if you did, Alice wouldn't let you."
One brow climbed, but his thumbs stroked down her neck to her shoulders, earning him another whispered sigh. "Look, we all have parts to play. That's by design. It's why we're effective."
"This is different, and you know it," she said, huffing like he was an idiot. "I'm talking about the basic stuff you can do in your sleep, like climbing a goddamned wall."
Edward's whole body shook, which just netted him another pissy huff. Slowly, he leaned down, ignoring the tightness in his back and abdomen, and touched his lips to her forehead. "You're doing fine. Trust me."
Reaching up, Bella slid her fingers through the short, neatly clipped hairs on the back of his head to pull him closer, and when she whispered against his scruffy cheek, he felt it everywhere. "You're just saying that because I'm sleeping with you, and you'd like that to continue."
"First of all," he said, this time kissing her lips. "I don't seem to hear you complaining. At all. In fact, you seem to be a very willing and eager participant in that particular activity." She pinched his leg, and he just shot her a quick grin. "But to your point, if anything, that just makes me want to lie."
Bella's brows furrowed.
"Like I told you before, I'd give my right arm for someone with your expertise, but don't think for one minute that I'm ever going to get over that shit last summer." Before she could argue, Edward kissed her lips once more and straightened, barely suppressing the involuntary groan. "My gut says to lock you up somewhere safe in Virginia. But I'm not that stupid, and I'm trying very hard not to be an asshole about all this."
"So…"
"So, when I tell you you're doing fine, I mean it. You are… you're doing much better than fine."
For a second, Bella just stared at him, cataloging the slight wince he didn't want her to see, along with a handful of other, more subtle tells. Like the stress lines that never quite faded. While the deeper lines of pressure and fatigue were long gone, faint creases still bracketed the corners of those bright gemstone eyes.
Eyes that were currently on her, roaming her face with a quiet, unapologetic focus that made her heart squeeze.
"Okay, fine," she finally replied, nudging him back to his kneading. "I'm doing amazing..." She made an ugly face. "Well, except when I hit that civilian dummy in the Smoke House yesterday. I swear, he looked like such a creep."
Edward let out a surprised punch of a laugh and grinned with his entire face. "Bella, everyone hits Buster."
Bella jolted in a beat of mute surprise and spun around. "Wait, he has a name?"
"Yeah," Edward said, and his eyes gleamed with bright, genuine affection and amusement. "They do it on purpose. It's supposed to show you that looks are often deceiving, but honestly, I think they just like fucking with us."
Her eyes boggled. "That is… messed up… like really messed up."
"Is what it is." Edward shrugged and gestured to the notebooks and razor-thin laptop sitting by her feet. "So, you going to tell me about all this?"
Grabbing his forearm for leverage, Bella hauled herself off the floor and plopped down beside him. "I'm just trying to tie up a few things at DARPA before I move to part-time."
"I thought you'd already done all that, that you were just doing periodic advising until they were up to speed."
It was a careful, purposefully bland statement, but Bella didn't miss the sharper note of an irritated commander lurking just below the surface.
Of course, she just flashed him a row of teeth, but then she let out her own grumble of irritation. "A couple of the people I've been transitioning with are out of the office for some reason, and there's an important… presentation due to the director. It will eventually go to the Secretary."
"And you can't let it fall off the plate."
Again, it was a statement, not a question.
"Unfortunately, not this one," she said, and the sudden somberness in her voice and expression told him everything he needed to know about its subject. When Edward lifted his arm in invitation, she ducked beneath and leaned into the furnace-like warmth of his side. "I thought I'd just try to knock it out while it's quiet."
"How's it going?" he asked, tipping his head against the backrest.
"I'm halfway done." Bella yawned, and before he knew it, her fingertips sneaked beneath his shirt and lazily traveled the sculpted lines and valleys of his abdomen. She stopped just long enough to peek up at him. "Just in case you weren't aware, getting any kind of work done while Alice and Emmett are in the same room is next to impossible."
"I'm well aware." He glanced around the empty room. "Where is everyone anyway?"
Bella yawned again. "Alice wanted food – again – so she and Jasper went to grab something. Emmett's playing PS5 with those privates from yesterday's run-through."
Recalling that little conversation on the riser, Edward dry-washed his face. "Rose?"
Bella's slow perusal of his person halted, and her lips turned down. "I'm pretty sure she's still destroying punching bags at the gym."
"Damn it. What'd he do this time?"
Before she could answer, Edward's phone buzzed inside his pocket. Hers went off a split second later, rattling against the stand on the opposite side of the room. Bella jumped up to grab it, but Edward had his out before she even took a step.
Edward quickly scanned the series of messages, along with the curt command from the general. The second he opened the attachment, ice flooded his veins.
"What is it?"
With an audible snap of his teeth, Edward muttered a low, angry curse, and when he looked up from his screen, he wore a grim, cut-from-granite expression that made Bella's stomach plummet in a sharp, nauseating nosedive.
"What?" Bella's heart rate ticked up in time, and in the background, she vaguely heard her phone ding with a missed message. "What's going on?"
Edward swore again. "Terrorist attack, a major one. There was an... explosion."
An explosion was one thing, but there was only one reason he'd get called right here, right now. Already knowing what he was going to say, Bella asked anyway, barely above a whisper. "What kind? And where was it?"
"Paris," he said, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Happened less than an hour ago. There was some kind of concert or event. The US ambassador was in attendance, along with Eli's and their families… and about a thousand other people." He licked his lips. "It went off right near the end."
"Edward, what kind?" Bella repeated as bile climbed her esophagus, threatening to choke her.
"They're assuming some kind of chemical weapon, likely a nerve agent, went off first. Subsequent blasts took out the main points of egress, making it impossible to escape." Edward hesitated before finally flipping his phone around and handing it over. "It's affecting the entire area. They're saying it's like nothing they've ever seen. They don't know what it is."
Almost numb, Bella scrolled through the grisly images. The buildings and adjacent plaza were unrecognizable, now nothing but smoke, rubble, and bodies.
Line after line after line, as they were found – men, women, children – they'd all been neatly laid out on the sidewalks, waiting.
Bella stopped somewhere in the middle, and as she stared into the screen, a pretty young twenty-something with chestnut curls seemed to stare back. Telltale lesions – deep, pitted, and seeping – covered her head to toe. What little skin was left was red and blistered, like she'd been roasting out in the sun for days. Blood coated the front of her dress and stained the ground beneath her.
Sheer, unbridled agony was etched into her every feature.
"I know exactly what this is, and so do you," Bella said, flat and lifeless, as she blinked back hot, stinging tears. "It's mine."
.
.
.
Notes:
Regarding Bella's rank: in the US military, officers directly entering service from their respective academies or universities are usually commissioned as 2nd Lieutenant. Depending on the area and circumstances, those with a Ph.D. may skip 2nd and 1st Lieutenant and be commissioned as Captain instead. Considering her Ph.D., her prior work at DARPA, and her participation in the last operation, Bella came into the Marine Corps directly as a Captain.
Speaking of ranks and such: in general, you wouldn't usually see special ops or even general teams this small, and especially not one with this many commissioned officers (Edward, Alice, and now Bella). You definitely wouldn't have a Major leading one, nor would the team have its own embedded pilot. Like other working military teams, special ops teams primarily consist of enlisted soldiers/marines. Granted, in the case of special ops, there are usually more senior non-commissioned officers (NCOs), e.g., staff sergeants, than you'd find on your average fire team. Regardless, a team might be led by a single commissioned officer or a higher-ranked NCO. This is one of those things I'm ignoring because my way is more fun.
Glossary:
C-4: or Composition C-4 is a handy-dandy type of plastic explosive. It's composed of explosives, plastic binder, and plasticizer to make it malleable, giving it a texture similar to modeling clay. It's relatively insensitive (aka stable) and can be detonated only by the shock wave from a detonator or blasting cap
Cover: Marine-speak for hat. A couple of additional notes on clothing: Cammies is the nickname for the Marine Corps Combat Utility Uniform, which is the standard uniform Marines wear in garrison, during training, and while deployed overseas. This is the "working uniform" of the Marines, typically in Woodland or Desert MARPAT (Marine Pattern) camo. The button-up shirts that are worn with these are called blouses
DARPA: or Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency is a research and development agency of the United States Department of Defense responsible for the development of emerging technologies for use by the military
Flashbang: aka stun grenade, is a less-lethal device used to disorient an enemy's senses. Upon detonation, they produce a blinding flash of light and a deafening bang. They're often used in close-quarters combat, riot control, etc
Kevlar: Marine-speak for helmet. There are various models currently in use within the US military. Special Forces tend to favor the Ops-Core Future Assault Shell Technology (FAST) Helmet, which offers ballistics protection, as well as suspension and retention systems, and ARC rails that enable users to mount items like helmet lights and cameras
M45: or the M45A1 CQBP, is a magazine-fed, recoil-operated, single-action, semiautomatic pistol chambered for the .45 ACP cartridge
M4A1: the M4 carbine is a 5.56×45mm NATO, gas-operated, magazine-fed carbine [a carbine is essentially a compact version of a longer rifle, often used in urban or tighter-quarters combat situations]. The M4A1 is a fully automatic variant of the basic M4 carbine intended for special operations use
M240B: the M240 is the U.S. military designation for the FN MAG, a family of belt-fed, gas-operated medium machine guns that chamber the 7.62×51mm NATO cartridge. The M240B is the variant used by the U.S. Marine Corps
MCB Camp Lejeune: a large USMC base located on the coast of North Carolina. It covers approximately 250 square miles, along with 14 miles of coastline, and includes portions of the New River. It's a major training center for the USMC and houses numerous commands, including multiple Expeditionary units and the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion
Naproxen: commonly sold as Aleve, is a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID) sold over the counter and used to treat pain
SAPI plate: or Small Arms Protective Insert, is a ceramic ballistic plate used by the United States Armed Forces. They're inserted into pouches built into tactical vests/plate carriers. ESAPI plates are more advanced in design, able to provide protection against a .30-06 Springfield M2 armor-piercing round with a steel penetrator, as well as standard 5.56 and 7.62 NATO rounds
Steyr: an Austrian firearms manufacturer that produces sniper rifles, as well as assault rifles and carbines similar in function to the M4A1. While solid weapons, I find them to be very ugly
Tango: from the NATO phonetic alphabet for T, military-speak for target or enemy