#ewan wright

Bravo Company is still on that airfield they invaded couple of minutes ago in quite a “pretty fucking ninja” way as Brad Colbert put it, when the men of Team 1 of Victor 1 hear the news of Trombley being reassigned to Team 3 into the Victor 5 and they’ll be getting a newbie. Lt. Fick mentions it to the five of the men standing around their Humvee in a quick manner, as other orders are more pressing to the young officer than just the change-up of two soldiers. Plus, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to be anywhere near Brad when the reassignment happens because the man already has a reporter in his vehicle and dealing with another person, even though a soldier, but a new one, someone with whom Brad Colbert is not familiar and does not know their strengths and weaknesses, can be potentially catastrophic (as Ray put it).

Trombley just shakes his head at the news and goes to pack his things; it doesn’t really matter to him from which vehicle he’ll get to kill the Iraqis. War is war and hell is hell and a soldier has to deal with whatever the army throws at him.

They are about to move out, wanting to stay in the open area as little as possible, and Trombley’s seat is still empty.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Brad mutters, while looking out his window. It’s not like the whole Company is waiting for one person, Brad knows other officer stuff must be taken care of still, there are some soldiers running around from Humvee to Humvee, but he’s already pissed off enough and the need to pin the blame on someone is eventually stronger than him.

“Maybe the bad guys killed him on the way here,” Ray says, turning his head to his team leader, his lips formed into a cheeky grin.

Brad shakes his head and glances at his driver. “Glad you’re having fun.”

Ray winks at him. “I can always sing you a country song, honey-boo."

“I swear, Ray, I will–“

“–Shut the fuck up, Colbert.” Ray interrupts him, as he stares at something, or rather someone, outside, to the right of their Humvee.

Brad is ready to pull up rank, but he will never get the chance to do so. He’s cut off by enthusiastic hollering that’s getting louder with each second. He turns his head and then he sees why. The shouting lasts for about ten seconds, although it feels like a lot more, then Godfather puts a stop to it by just a wave of his hand and urges the soldier by his side to hurry up. The soldier meant for Brad’s Humvee.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” Ray is the first to talk and practically drooling, “this might just be the best day of my fucking life. The Marines can do something right after all.”

And then, with surprise, certain admiration, and most definitely attraction (although he doesn’t know that yet), Brad says without even realizing he’s saying something: “You bet your ass, Person, God bless the US Army.”

Ray looks at his team leader, eyes squinting, and then he bursts out laughing. “Watch out, Iceman, you might melt.”

Now Reporter is laughing in the back, as he scribbles down something quickly in his small black notepad, Brad’s face is suddenly cold and unreadable again. Cold and unreadable to a stranger, yes, but Ray Person knows his better than they both know, and the facial expression makes only Ray laugh more.

“Don’t even try that Iceman shit on me, fucker,” the Humvee driver grins, “I can see how much you’re blushing now. Hell, I bet Fick can see your big red face from that distance.”

At this point, the Reporter is leaning from back to front to see, his eyes watering from all the laughter, but it only infuriates Brad more.

“I’ll fucking cut off both of your motherfucking heads and throw-“

“Sargeant Colbert.”

Brad coughs and has to take a millisecond to compose himself before he turns to Godfather himself and the new addition to his Humvee. “Yes, sir?”

“I believe Lt. Fick has already given you the orders from above. I trust you that you, as a team leader, will take care of your new soldier. This is Corporal Y/L/N.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Godfather nods in approval, clearly satisfied with Brad’s answer with no signs of protest or sarcasm.

Ray giggles behind the steering wheel and as Corporal is getting into the vehicle, he leans to Brad and whispers into his ear quickly before he can smack him away, “You’re gonna take care of her alright.”

***

“You got everything back there?” Brad asks for about the fourth time in ten minutes, his head turned slightly to his left in an attempt to steal a glance at her, his lips formed into a soft smile.

She laughs, but doesn’t tear her gaze away from her sector, the need to prove herself to these men stronger than anything, “Nothing has changed from that one minute ago when you asked me the last time, sir.”

She calls him sir and Brad just knows that if some Iraqi won’t kill him, this will. He envies Reporter the spot in the back next to her, he is fully aware that Reporter is also writing it all down in his little notebook and that Ray is closely watching his every move, but for the first time he doesn’t really care. And that terrifies him.

“I told you to just call me Brad,” he tries to convince her.

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Sargeant,” she replies, and he needs to take deep breath to live it down.

It takes everything in Ray’s power not to burst out laughing because this kind of behaviour in his team leader he has never seen during the entire time they have known each other. The blush hasn’t really left Brad’s cheeks and from what he sees, the attentiveness is only flattering to their beautiful new addition.

Ray leans to Brad once more with a cheeky remark, “Keep it in your pants and hold your sector, sir, or you’re gonna get us killed.”

“All Victors, this is Hitman Two Actual, from now on we’re supposed to treat this territory as hostile. I repeat, as hostile.”

As if there was a switch, the giggling stops and the soldiers straighten up, adjusting their rifles to a better position. The atmosphere in the Humvee has changed in a matter of seconds, from light to combat-hardened. It takes Reporter several more moments and turns of head from Y/N to Brad to wrap his head around the situation. But it is really the first fired shots that wake him up from the confused limbo, his whole body instinctively jerking down a bit.

“I got muzzle flashes,” she says, and Reporter is surprised how different her voice now sounds, “my ten o’clock. Permission to engage.”

“We have orders,” Brad responds immediately, “light ‘em the fuck up.”

Reporter watches her closely, as she takes a deep breath, aims at her target, then there are more enemy shots fired at them and he jerks back again but she doesn’t even flinch and right after the enemy fires, she presses the trigger. Then again, and again, and again.

They keep moving and from the spot Y/N discovered there is no more incoming enemy fire and Reporter realizes that she took them down with frightening precision in one take. He wants to say some words of praise immediately, but he’s cut off again, not by bullets this time but by words.

“Hitman Two Actual, this is Hitman Two One, we have two big trucks heading directly our way, approximately 500 meters on our 12 o’clock. Permission to stop the convoy,” Brad strictly says.

“Hitman Two one, interrogative."

Reporter jerks his head to see what Brad Colbert is talking about and there they were, moving too fast to Reporter’s liking. He feels like his heartbeat must be heart through the entire vehicle and even on the comms.

They keep on going, the white trucks keep on going, directly against each other, Reporter watches it all, but keeps quiet but he’s pretty sure he couldn’t form a sensible sentence even if he tried. Those few second it takes Lt. Fick to answer are the longest seconds Reporter has yet experienced.

“Hitman Two One, permission granted. First warning shots, then light ‘em up if need be.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ray stops the Humvee perpendicularly to the convoy and Y/N and Brad hop out in synchronisation, positioning themselves behind the vehicle next to each other. The trucks are getting closer with each second and despite the growing fear in Reporter’s veins, he gets out of the Humvee too and crouches behind the duo.

Brad fires a warning shot. Nothing happens. Lt. Fick is already behind them but doesn’t say anything to disturb their work.

“Left,” she says and leans against the hood of the vehicle to strengthen her grip on her rifle. Brad nods, although due to the angle she’s not able to see it, and answers, “Right then.”

She fires first, one shot, then Brad Cobert also one shot, but both of the trucks don’t go immediately off the road; Reporter is so fixated on the cars still getting so close to them he’s so surprised when he hears two more shots. This time the trucks overturn and end up on their sides.

For a few seconds there’s absolute silence. Then Iraqis start to get out of the trucks and accurate fire from the Marines lights up the air.

***

When they stop for the night, many men come to her to express their admiration for her shooting skills, and she can’t help it but feel genuinely flattered. Even Lt. Fick comes by to say, “Good work,” and even offers her a small smile. But eventually she decides to go hide in their Humvee from all the attention; they killed people today after all, and the vehicle hugs her in its dark embrace without questions.

“Don’t know if anybody told you this, but what you did today? Pretty fucking ninja. And I reserve this term for special occasions only,” Brad’s voice fills the space around her, and she just has to sincerely laugh at his joke.

“Thanks,” she smiles and gestures for him to get in, and he, without a hint of hesitation or thought, climbs into the Humvee. A stupid grin appears on his face, as if he was a teenage boy climbing into a girl’s room in the middle of the night while her parents were downstairs.

Brad goes on telling her some random funny story about what happened that one time with Ray, and she keeps laughing, and he gets drunk on the sound, wanting more and more, to be drunk forever.

Neither of them knows this, but Reporter goes by the Humvee and hears the quiet talking and occasional laughing and simply has to stop to find out what it is. And then he sees them, and he is both surprised and not. He is not the least surprised because they look so beautiful together, like they have always been destined to be together and share their lifetimes; but he is surprised at the fact that only a few hours ago, during combat, they were two different people, cold, distant, lethal, efficient, and now around one other warm, close, loving.

Reporter stands there for a few more seconds, jotting down some notes about the duo, when Ray appears next to him out of nowhere and says, “You’re not the only one perplexed, but it’s kinda the only possible way how to fucking live in a place and time like this.”