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"DD, get out!“
His master’s command is followed by a burst of gunshots that echo in the close quarters. He dives out of the way, seeking cover behind a low concrete wall before returning the fire in equal measure.
D-Dog never doubts his master. Without hesitation, he turns on his heels, jumps through the window and crouches under a truck parked outside, his sharp eye trained on the door of the building.
A few humans march inside, only to be met by more bullets. D-Dog has to lock his muscles in place, trembling from the need to help his master, to protect him from harm at all costs. It takes an eternity for the sounds of battle to stop. Silence rings in the house ruins, even the constant wailing of the wind abating under its deadening pressure.
Finally, his master calls for him, although it’s barely a whisper. D-Dog shoots forward in a flash of silver, rushing through the unhinged door and stepping over downed soldiers carelessly, all senses concentrated on finding his human in the cramped space reeking of smoke and bodily fluids.
It’s the noise of shallow breathing that leads him there, his pointed ears picking it up from the adjacent room. D-Dog’s heart skips a beat the moment he spots his master: He’s kneeling in a puddle of blood, the only survivor in a room full of fresh corpses. D-Dog is by his side instantly, pushing his snout into his master’s flesh hand as he was trained to do. The man barely reacts, though; even after D-Dog whines and licks his skin to get his attention, he stays unresponsive, his half-lidded eye staring into empty space. If D-Dog couldn’t hear the weak heartbeat and feel the pained rise and fall of his chest, he would have thought him dead.
Only then, with his master found, does D-Dog become aware of the voice coming from the small machine in his breast pocket–
a flash of blonde hair and white eyes hidden behind sheets of tinted glass, a gentle hand scratching him behind his ear; a broken man joining his silent watch for his master at the landing zone
–and although D-Dog can’t understand the human language, he recognizes the desperation coloring the familiar voice.
Mindful of the danger they’re in, he presses his muzzle close against the device and whines to signal his presence. The words pause for a heartbeat, then:
“DD?” This is followed by words D-Dog doesn’t comprehend. He makes another distressed noise, painfully aware of the rapidly worsening condition of the man with him. “DD, listen!” He stands at attention at the command, a memory of a different person bubbling up–
the man whose touches are soft and leathery while his words are harsh, giving him purpose when his master is away without him; the one who always smiles, but smells of gun powder and blood–
“Wake Snake up!”
He knows the order from home, it generally means to find his master and bark until he is awake and annoyed, but ready to follow. They are not at home, though – and D-Dog also knows that staying undetected is his second priority after his master’s survival. So he licks his bloodied face instead, wincing at the coppery taste; a muffled grunt is his reward, the hazy gaze of his master’s eye finally focusing on him.
“DD“, the voice from the machine says, “Pequod is en route. Bring Snake to the landing zone!”
Having received his orders, D-Dog stands swiftly, supporting his master who follows his movement with a pained gasp. He presses a hand against his own abdomen, red dripping between his fingers while his metal limb grips the fortified belts of D-Dog’s harness with inhuman force.
Their way out of the compound is excruciatingly slow. D-Dog’s ears move from side to side, listening for approaching enemies as well as the tell-tale whirring of the helicopter. His master is leaning heavily against him, his strength wavering but single-minded determination keeping him low to the ground and on his feet long enough to evacuate the immediate hot zone.
The moment they are out of earshot of the building, he murmurs for D-Dog to stop. Again, he tries to support his human, sniffing worriedly at the various wounds marring him. Here, too, he remembers his training: the emergency supplies are in the left pocket of his harness, of which he now needs the rolled-up white cloth to stop the bleeding and the foul smelling powder to revive his human's strength.
Carefully, D-Dog takes the packaged supplies in his mouth and pushes them into his master’s trembling hands, taking the time needed to apply it to scan their surroundings. If he focuses, he can hear the shouts of the backup troops closing in on the compound, although none of them has followed the bloody trail leading to their current location – yet.
Suddenly, the long-awaited beating of helicopter rotors can be heard in the distance, the machine itself still merely a speck on the horizon. D-Dog is instantly relieved, knowing that help is not far off anymore – he only has to bring his master to the landing zone, then they can finally go home!
He alerts his master to this, who pushes himself into a crouch before reaching out for D-Dog’s harness again. He happily complies, licking his master’s hand anew to comfort him before they resume their escape. His human is noticeably more alert now, his eye wide open and his breaths deeper, although his struggling heartbeat stays irregular at best.
They come to a abrupt halt at the outer perimeter of the compound. A wide open landscape lays before them, with no significant plant growth or rock formations to hide their position - the landing zone is located on a patch of desert a few hundred yards away. D-Dog can feel his master swallow thickly before he kneels beside him, hooking his flesh arm around his furry neck in a loose embrace.
“Great job, DD” he praises with a crooked smile and D-Dog wags his tail, pride and love arising in his heart. Then, his master frowns; D-Dog holds his panting breath, recognizing the serious expression from endless difficult missions and knowing it means nothing good.
“We have to run.” He speaks some more, but D-Dog only catches “leave behind” and “get Pequod” – but somehow, he still understands the grim tone in his voice. His master is telling him to reach the chopper, even if he falls on their way. Despite his unwavering loyalty to him, D-Dog protests lowly, trying to convey that they can make it together, that he will protect his master and bring him to the landing zone as it was ordered!
Despite his grave condition, his human chuckles as he always does when D-Dog does something he’s fond of, ruffling the fur behind his ears. “Okay, okay, stubborn dog.” He laboriously rights himself, pushing off D-Dog with a huff.
“Be brave, DD.” A deep breath, then:
“Go!”
D-Dog springs into action, gaining speed minutely before making a wide arc at a breakneck pace. The wind whips past his ears when he turns his head, checking on his master who runs in an unwavering line, eye focused on their goal; it only takes one, two seconds, then the warning shout from the soldiers echoes in the ruins, their escape spotted. D-Dog’s heart gallops away in his chest, air rushing in and out of his lungs in forceful pants. Both of them flinch when a hail of bullets strikes the ground around them.
D-Dog feels hope bubbling up at the howling of the wind above them, announcing the chopper’s arrival. The stirred dust stings their eyes, but blinds their enemies for merely a moment – one D-Dog uses to return to his master’s side, barking in encouragement. Halfway there!
“Pequod at LZ!” the device in his human’s pocket announces, closely followed by the commanding voice: “Boss, watch out! Four hostiles approaching, two from your 3 and two from your 9!”
D-Dog’s head snaps up mid-run, spotting the enemies instantly. With a feral growl, he sets after them, hating to leave his human’s side but knowing that the targets have to be eliminated as quickly as possible if they want to survive.
The first man’s throat is ripped open before he can comprehend what happened, the second trying to fend off the wild animal before falling prey to his sharp teeth too. When he turns around, his master is stumbling, barely managing to keep his momentum under the heavy fire whizzing past him.
D-Dog doubles back, passing his human before bursting towards the two men remaining in their immediate range. One of them takes aim and shoots, while the other shouts into his own small machine. Those are his last words – D-Dog smashes into him, breaking the device between his jaws before he does the same to the soldier’s head. He doesn’t dwell on it; the last enemy between them and the safety of the helicopter falls soon after.
Only then does the gunshot wound register in his brain, white hot pain flaring from his flank when he takes a step. D-Dog can’t help but yelp, desperate to catch up to his master while the bullet lodged in his body limits him to a limping gait. The waiting chopper is almost in reach now, the man controlling it jumping out and running towards them to help.
“DD!!” His human is calling him between heavy pants, having slowed down considerably but jogging on despite it all. The pursuing men don’t allow him to stop, as they are almost in shooting range again–
Clenching his bloodied jaw, D-Dog pushes through the pain, finally reaching the landing zone only moments after his human is heaved inside the helicopter by their ally. It’s starting to hover when he tries to jump into it, clinging to the metal bars with his claws. Strong hands grab him by the fur at his neck and back, hauling him into the machine–
Then they’re airborne, the bullets ricocheting off reinforced walls. D-Dog whines and trembles in his human’s solid grip, licking the sweat and blood off his face in utter relief. Between wet coughs his master is muttering calming words, metal and flesh fingers combing through his blood-soaked fur over and over again.
They stay that way for a long time. The man at his side grows eerily quiet again, blood pooling on the cold ground beneath them. Afraid to lose him now after everything they went through, D-Dog barks and nudges his human's body with his head to keep him awake, ignoring his own waning strength.
The chopper door opens an indefinable amount of time later. A familiar-smelling man – gun powder and blood – steps into the machine, gently prying D-Dog off his master and carrying him away in strong arms. He protests the separation, flailing weakly despite the fact that he knows that those soft leather hands mean no harm to him–
D-Dog blacks out the moment he loses sight of his master.
*
He wakes up to a ceiling he knows well, feeling oddly distant and disconnected. A continuous beeping noise triggers a faint sense of déjà vu, although he can’t think of why. It takes a few blinks to clear his vision, dim morning light and the sound of the ocean filtering through an open window. A look to his right confirms his location to be his private quarters at Mother Base, additional hospital machinery keeping track of his vital signs.
Why am I here? Venom has trouble piercing the fog in his mind. His last recollection is being surrounded by hostiles in a run-down building in the middle of Afghanistan, ordering DD away to protect him from the inevitable ricochet – he must’ve gone down then and there. He frowns. That doesn’t explain how I made it out alive, though...
The familiar clicking of a crutch on the metal floor alerts him to Kaz’s presence, his XO stepping into the room a moment after. He doesn’t notice Venom is awake, closing the door silently before sitting down heavily in the provided chair at his desk. He rubs his eyes under the aviators, looking tense and exhausted.
Milky white meets pale blue when Kaz opens his eyes again, his second-in-command merely tensing up for a moment in surprise before a tired smile breaks the serious expression on his face. “Welcome back, Boss. I’m glad you finally decided to join the land of the living again.”
“How long was I out?” Venom says in a hoarse whisper, his vocal cords stiff from disuse. His heart clenches, remembering the last time he woke up from a life-threatening injury–
“Around four days, four and a half maybe. You were unconscious pretty much constantly since arriving at Mother Base.”
Kaz kindly ignores his shaky sigh of relief, pretending to clean his sunglasses to give him time to adjust. “Kaz, what happened?” Venom grates out, throat as dry as sand paper. “I remember an ambush but...”
The other man doesn’t answer at first, taking a bottle of water from his desk and sitting down on the edge of the bed to help him drink with a sure hand. He then places the bottle on the nightstand, readily forgotten. “Yeah. Your intel was ... insufficient, to put it nicely. It blew up in your face the moment you stepped into the compound.” Kaz pauses with a grim frown. “The ones responsible have been dealt with, Boss.”
Then, Kaz’s gaze wanders to something beside him, out of Venom’s limited vision. “You have him to thank that you’re alive.”
Slowly, Venom turns his head to see who Kaz is addressing, his eye registering soft grey fur – then he gasps as memories come flooding back: DD’s worried face filling his field of view; feeling the warmth of him beside him, steadying him when he’s about to crumble to the ground; their last desperate run, adrenaline pumping through his veins while the dog eliminated one hostile after another with deadly force–
“Is he–?“ Venom doesn’t finish the question, heaving himself to the side to get a better look at the animal laying still in the battered box beside his bed.
Kaz stops him with a firm hand against his shoulder. “DD’s fine, Boss. Injured, yes – but he’ll live. He’s just sleeping.”
It’s the second time now that Venom feels relief flooding his system, the hazy feeling from just a few minutes ago all but gone. His wounds twinge uncomfortably at the strain, barely kept at bay by strong pain killers.
Kaz snorts, taking away his hand after a moment and resting it instead on his own thigh. “You two really deserve each other. That dog raised all hell till we let him see you, insisting that he’s to recover in that damned old box.” He’s shaking his head, yet can’t hide the fond look he throws at DD rolled up in Venom’s tattered old scarf.
“Best damn war dog I’ve ever seen.” He fixes his boss with a stern frown. “Do not tell Ocelot I said that – he’s been insufferably proud as it is... Although he was pretty concerned as well. DD is turning him into a mother hen, mark my words.”
A soft smile is Venom’s response to that, entertaining that mental image for a moment before closing his eye tiredly. “And Mother Base?”
“Still standing. Quit worrying already.” With a huff, Kaz picks up his crutch and makes to stand, pushing DD’s box closer to the bed with his foot when he passes it. Venom reaches for the dog to gently scratch his favorite spot behind the fluffy ears, taking in his loyal companion.
A true Diamond Dog. Sensing his master’s presence, DD opens his yellow eye sleepily and yawns before he presses his head into the offered touch. The dog returns to slumber with a contented sigh.
Kaz is still standing in the door, observing the tender moment before holding Venom’s gaze.
“That was close, Snake.... Too damn close. Don’t ever do that again.”
A few seconds pass, before Venom leans back into his pillow, turning his back to Kaz. It’s a rare show of vulnerability for the soldier, only reserved for his friend. His reply is muffled:
“I won't.”