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There's a twig digging in just under his ribs, a leaf tickling the back of his neck and he was fairly sure he was being built into an ants nest but still James didn't move. He was motionless, hidden in the scenery by carefully placed and decorated netting and camouflage clothing. He was invisible and that was exactly the way he liked it. Not a soul in the world knew he was here, well, except for the guy lying right next to him with a pair of binoculars glued to his face. He was the one person, the only person, that James trusted. Likewise for Clint. They came as a pair in every sense of the word, from joining the army to signing up for the sniper division. The fact that they got paired and were the best sniper and spotter team to ever grace the United States Army was a plus. It made the quick fucks and desperate gaps of love all the more easier when they weren't being torn apart.
"I got movement.... two men, approximately 40 goats." Clint's whisper broke the silence that had stretched between then for the last hour, James alert and ready for any instruction. When he located the mentioned spots through his scope, his lips twitched into a faint smile.
"They're not on anybody's side, we don't have to shoot them," he pointed out. Not that Clint wanted them dead of course but civilians now in their square of sight added pressure to not miss.
"But I'm starving. And they have like 40 goats they won't miss one," Clint pouted, the humour clear in his tone despite the fact they were barely raising their voices louder than a few decibels.
"I'll buy you a steak when we get back," James grinned before sighing. "Just don't make me laugh man I'm dying for a piss." Those words earned a snort from Clint who then hissed out between his teeth before falling silent once more. It was how they were, hours of silence, some banter to make sure the other was okay then back to the quiet.
"Egress?" Clint asked, adjusting the zoom on his binoculars to draw away from the goats.
"Primary over the top, secondary down the road, tertiary to the river," James murmured back, checking each point of interest through his scope.
"No one can track you through the water except a fish," came Clint's reply, earning a snort from James and a slight shift, trying to dislodge the leaf still tickling his neck or ease the pressure on his bladder. None worked and nothing changed, not until Clint seemed to just know and reached across with a slow movement and tugged the leaf free.
"Thanks doll," James smiled into the rifle, blinking a few times and wiping sweat from his brow before he settled again. "You sure this is a peacekeeping mission?"
"Normally there isn't any peace to start with," came Clint's dry reply before he pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. "This shit's awfully calm though."
They fell into silence again for the next hour or so, the only noise coming from James and his desire to take a leak and the odd rumble of hunger from Clint but still neither of them moved. The best of the best didn't give away their position just for a full bladder or empty stomach. Their silence was broken by a click and their radio humming into life as a conversation between their base and the soldiers they were protecting crackled through.
"Command Post, Command Post this is TS-129, over. Mission accomplished and en route to extraction sight, distance eight klicks, Over," came the first voice followed by a second voice "Sir I have confirmation of TS-129's current position." It was then that Clint pressed a finger to his ear to activate his own comms and report the two civilians and 40 plus goats.
"Command Post, this is Viper. I have friendly forces moving towards the extraction point; two civilians and 40 plus goats, caution advised." Once Clint received acknowledgement, his hand dropped down back to the binoculars and he lifted them back to his eyes. "Heads up, our boys are coming through." Even though it was miles away, James could see through his scope as the two jeeps turned onto the road that he and Clint had been watching for the past six hours. With how quiet everything had been, James was a little thrown when Command got in touch again.
"Viper this is Command Post. Be advised, possible hostile forces approaching TS-129 at their twelve o'clock."
"Call them out," whispered James, already adjusting his own scope in preparation for taking a possible shot.
This is where the pressure fell to Clint but you could never tell in the way he scanned the facing hillside, managing to catch what the drone had picked up on a scan. "Target. Sector Bravo, deep. Vehicle, belt fed weapon," recited Clint, tracking the offending vehicle now with his binoculars.
"Range it," came James' next words.
"870 yards and closing. Wind..." Clint paused and glanced to some near by trees. "Three quarter value, push 2 left. 900 yards, wide spot on the road." Clint read it all off, every instruction and detail helping James judge where to aim, how to aim and how long it would take for the bullet to reach his target and how much the curve would be affected by the wind.
"On target," he murmured when he located the wide spot on the road.
"Hold scope. Fire when ready."
James drew in a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment before he opened them, let out his breath slowly, took aim and fired. There was the few split seconds of nothing as the bullet flew before both Clint and James saw the windshield smash, the driver jerk and slump forward and the vehicle jerk sharply off the road. Over the terrain the jeep went, flipping over and around until it was engulfed in a ball of flame. "Hit," smirked Clint before he let out a breath of his own.
"Command Post, this is Viper. Hostile thread down, over. Mission accomplished, packing up."
"Viper this is Command Post. We copy your traffic, over."
Clint made a face at the response before reaching up to wipe his brow and glance across at James. "Good job." Yet their short victory was interrupted by the radio crackling into life once more.
"Viper, be advised larger hostile forces approaching near sector Bravo." Seconds later there was an explosion a couple of feet to the left where James and Clint were hiding in the undergrowth and realisation dawned on both soldiers. They had mortars.
"Fucking bullshit! There weren't supposed to be hostiles that close!" James snarled, already looking through his scope for the culprit. He could see TS-129 come to a stop on the road as they came under fire from another jeep, seeing one of their own go down felt like a punch in the gut for James. He was supposed to be protecting them.
"Crooked tree, 675 feet, 30 miles an hour, three-mil lead," Came Clint's ever calming voice and James had to take a few deep breaths before he was back on his scope, following Clint's rapid fire description and locating the next jeep. As soon as they reached the tree, James fired and the vehicle spun off the road and into a ditch.
"Position to machine gun, 900 feet, three quarter value." Another instruction from Clint, another bullet from James' rifle. However the explosions continued around him and Clint had yet to locate the mortar, doing what he could to locate the threats between the soldier's and their extraction point. An explosion to the right left ringing in their ears and Clint had to yell when he finally located the mortar.
"Jefe! 920 yards! Three-quarter value!"
"I see it Clint, I see it."
"Fire when ready."
"They don't know where we are," said James in an attempt to get Clint to calm down, he could hear the panic in his voice and if Clint slipped then James would fall right alongside him.
"They might get lucky!"
That was true and the next explosion was behind them, close enough that James felt heat scorch over his legs. He aimed, shortened his scope and took the shot, never more relieved to see someone die than the man firing the mortar. The explosions stopped and James let out a small breath of relief as Clint called it in.
"Command Post, Command Post this is Viper. Enemy forces have been stopped. Break. Friendlies are continuing to extraction point. Break. We're receiving small arms and indirect fire from hostile troops. Break. Command Post, do you read me!?"
All the while Clint was trying to get in touch with Command, James was running over their instruction in his mind, the plans they had been given and how everything that shouldn't have happened, had happened. How did the hostiles get so close before Command spotted them? How did they know which hillside to fire on? James reached out for Clint's arm and tugged his hand away from the radio. "Shut it down Clint."
"What?!"
"They're highly trained men eight kilometers inside a country we're not supposed to be in and now Command isn't responding to us?!. I'm sure they'll get out just fine, the extractions right over there. Shut it down, now." Clint stared back for a moment, James could see the debate in his eyes but the sudden sound of chopper blades was enough for Clint to slam down the radio and gather their equipment. "Command said they didn't have air support!"
James grabbed what he could, kicked the netting aside and grabbed the rifle, as Clint scrubbed their camp from existence. The chopper was getting closer, the thump of the blades matching the thump of panic in James' heart. "Command said a lot of things," he muttered before grabbing Clint's arm and tugging him. With everything they needed, they began the sprint down hill back the way they had came. There were some trips, and both dived for the ground as the helicopter swept over the hill but they were on their feet again fast, running for their lives as the chopper made a curve in the air and started to come back.
"The trees, head for the trees!" James yelled, watching as Clint turned and sprinted for the tree's. He didn't look back which was fine for James as he came to a stop, dropped to one knee and took aim through his rifle. The helicopter was coming back, James could see the chain gun loaded on the bottom of the hull but he would buy Clint enough time to get to the trees, to get under cover and safe. He took a breath, closed his eyes and listened.
Then opened them, let out the breath and took a shot for the pilot as Clint's scream of his name drifted over in the wind.