Chapter Text
“Our war is not for our faith— We fight to remove all foreign power from our soil.”
“We are Al-Qatala. We are The Killers.”
—
The scenery is beautiful, no matter how you look at it. The dark looks beautiful on the Verdansk mountains, even as helicopters disrupt the peace. The river underneath looks untouched by human hands, pure. Would the rest of the world be this way too, if it wasn’t for us?
“Echo 3-1 to Charlie 2-Actual.” Alex’s lips moved on muscle memory at this point. If he really tried to squint and think of the code names they used, he’d get a flaming headache. Brain power should be reserved for strategies, not… whatever this was. “Hitman teams are locked and loaded for assault. You are green to go.”
The volume of the headphones made Alex grimace, his fingers briefly moving to reduce the sound blasting into his eardrums. Perhaps it was just Norris’s voice. “Watcher to 3-1, how copy?” Yeah, it definitely was. The voice of a witch was always much more soothing, like a balm to his ears. They were damn good ASMR artists, too. “Send traffic.” Alex asked, preparing the little brain power he had for the probably brain-wracking information she was going to send him.
Damn, sometimes he wonders what he’s doing sitting at such a high pedestal when his brain barely co-operated with him.
“General Barkov has sent a new shipment of chlorine gas to his depot, but his mercs are prepping to move the chems into Urzkistan via convoy, tonight.” Okay, maybe he underestimates his comprehension skills just a bit. Alex’s eyes stared at the flickering tabs, sourcing information from them for clearer understanding. Urzikstan was a no-go, everyone knew that. The tension brewing there was something no American soldier wanted to touch.
At least not yet.
Alex turned his eyes back to the mountains. This would’ve been a wonderful retirement spot, really. His restrained wing twitched, oh, how freeing it would be to fly again. “You’re still clear to engage, but live fire on Russian military is prohibited. We cannot have an international incident.” Her voice was stern over the speakers in his ears, he almost wanted to believe her words. This is already an international incident, if it wasn’t, Americans wouldn’t be engaging in Russian soil, for fucks sake.
“Got it, Watcher. We’ll handle it.”
‘Handling it’ didn’t go so far, no. Because the first step they took was setting the entire place on fire, then picking them out like cockroaches (or mosquitoes, for the ones who flew). In the dark, there was no guarantee who they shot. Merc or Russian. Alex almost felt bad for them, did they even know what they were getting themselves into by this point in their jobs? Maybe not, by the way they cried for help as they burnt.
A shot from a sniper knocked him back to reality, grunting loudly before taking cover behind a wall. This is fine. He’ll just have to get back on his feet and continue walking. Shooting, whatever.
Alex completely zoned back in when the lights turned on in the dark room. The fuckers up in the catwalks had done a number on him. There better not be any on the other side of this damn wall. The gas should be on the other side, and if not… then they’ll just have to hope it didn’t get snatched away by some organization or something.
And to his luck, the barrels of chemical stood in the van, all labeled toxic. Mission fuckin’ successful.
Their vehicles were already ready, and Alex hopped on. It wasn’t all that bad really, a simple in and out. Blood on his hands, for sure. But it wasn’t anything a dragon couldn’t bare. It would be embarrassing to complain when the scales scattered over his body are mostly bulletproof. “Rally at the hook point for egress.” Laswell commanded over the radio, and he sunk into his seat. Can’t wait to get onto a mattress and sip on some fuckin’ hot cocoa.
…
Okay, maybe he spoke too soon. A flaming car came crashing into the car in front of them, and he winced harshly. “Shit! Back up! Back up!” He yelled, as if this damn vehicle could do anything against guns and explosions. The fire was beautiful, yes, he just preferred it when it was a good ten feet away from him.
An RPG hit, and the vehicle doubled over. His heartbeat seemed to be all over his body, in his ears and fingertips, thumping to the beat of his inevitable death. Wolves won’t be able to survive this. But he knew he would.
Everything went quiet for a while, and his previous panic seemed to wash out. Everything was okay for a little, and the warmth from the fire crackling felt like home to him. His wing could almost flutter and take him away.
Almost.
Alex was awakened by a paranoid witch and a ringing sound in his ears. “Watcher to 3-1 - How copy? Alex, do you read? Over!” How generous of her to use identifiable words in such a dire time. His lips moved, but no voice came out, like a mime. The sight of another soldier still alive made him feel a little less alone. “I got you, I got you, 3-1.”
His legs scraped the floor as he was dragged away, why couldn’t he just have a peaceful end of his day for once in this life time?
Of course, they fuckin’ shot 7-4. He was dropped back on the ground, and his headache seemed to get worse at the back of his head. It only just registered with him that whoever these were weren’t Russian, oh, no. Because only after they brutally shot every single marine that was on board with him did they realize that they weren’t Russian either.
His ears somehow managed to pick up on the language they spoke— Arabic? Alex’s mind immediately went to Al-Qatala, and then he remembered on how this wasn’t supposed to be an international conflict. You got three different nations, is that not enough for you, Laswell?
Honestly, Alex was a little grateful for the pain. Because it didn’t give him time to think of how blood of his fellow soldiers seeped into his own clothing. How he was the last one alive in a mission for maybe the third time this year. A hollow feeling in his chest grew as he realized this, and he wanted to stop thinking again.
Back on task, 3-1.
“Echo 3-1 to Watcher.” He wondered if she thought he’d finally died this time. “Alex, what happened?”
“Terrorist attack- Marines KIA- Gas stolen- I need EVAC, now.”
Alex’s wing flexed beneath the straps, and he swore beneath his breath. If it wasn’t for the damn law, he’d have flown himself out here on his own.
Not like a singular damaged wing would help.