So how did Nightcrawler get out of the compound?
It began to rain, giant, stinging drops, falling like some sort of biblical vengeance.
I was pulling myself around the back corner of the villa as a Qatari armored car smashed through the front gate. Debris flew as the APC’s machine guns raked across the compound. Soldiers in DCUs scurried through the now open gate, firing wildly at anything that moved.
Really. Not. Cool.
Taking cover behind the wall, I watched the battle between Dead Six and the army unfold. The American’s were putting up a fight, but there seemed to be an unending stream of Qatari fighters. Bullets were flying in every direction, some leaving visible trails, the rain was so thick. I ducked deeper into the shadows as the kid, Nightcrawler was his name, ran past me, still strapping into his armor. He left a long trail of blood droplets behind him, but didn’t seem to notice. I waited until he was gone.
I shoved my ear piece back in. “—are you? Lorenzo? Can you read?” Carl’s voice was desperate.
“Got you. I’m alive,” I answered. I was in terrible pain, so I was sure of that fact. That .44 had broken at least one of my ribs, and one lung felt like it was full of burning hydrogen instead of air.
“There’s hundreds of troops converging on the compound. You’ve got to get out. Can you move?”
“Exits blocked.” Just as I said that the armored car exploded, throwing fragments fifty feet into the air. “Damn! Really blocked. I’ll think of something.”
“Lorenzo, be careful.” It was Jill. She sounded terrified.
“Get off the line. Ain’t got time for sentiment.” Off to my right, more grenades exploded around the office building, shredding some of the Dead Six personnel. Some of the injured men raised their hands to surrender and the Qataris shot them dead. “Reaper, can you keep LB in the air in this weather?”
“Yeah, chief. It’s all weather capable.”
“I need you to be my eyes. I’m at the north west corner of Building Three.”
“Lots of heat blooms from the explosions... Wait... Got you.”
“I’m going to take cover back inside the villa. Let me know when I’ve got company.” Both sides of this battle would kill me, so it was time to do what I do best in situations like this. Hide. Off to one side, Nightcrawler nailed a running soldier, at least thirty yards out, with his .44. Good shot.
I ducked back into the villa, dodged into a doorway as some Dead Six men ran past, guns held high, faces grim. Once they were gone, I sprinted down the hall and ducked back into the kid’s room. At least it was familiar, and I didn’t really want to participate in the war unfolding outside.
“Reaper, status?”
“Chaos. Dead Six is holed up on the north, Qataris are doing something by the gate. Breach. They’re gonna breach.” A horrendous explosion rocked the compound. “You better think of something fast, boss, because they’re coming in force now.”
Plan. I needed a plan. The rain drumming the roof was louder than the gunfire. My eye landed on the bug out bag filled with money. I had an idea.
“Squad of soldiers is heading for your building. Six of them.”
Carl’s voice now, he had a laptop in the van. He could watch the video too. “Building Three is a good position for them to take. Gives them good cover against Dead Six. They will use the windows on the north facing rooms.”
I grabbed the bag of money. Spotted my knife, folded it and shoved in my pocket, and then I was back in the hallway. The soldiers would hit the rooms in the obvious order, and then they would take up positions... there. No time to screw around with lock picks, I kicked the door in, raised my .45 and swept through.
The room was empty. Same layout as Nightcrawler’s room, bed in the middle, basic furniture, bathroom off to the side. I dumped the bag of money on the bed and spread it around. Nice and obvious. Thunder like Thor’s hammer rocked across the compound.
“Soldiers are in the building.”
“Roger that.” The money looked as tempting as possible. “I’m going to try a Leon.”
“Chief, you're nuts,” Reaper said admiringly.
There was a crash as another villa door was kicked in, followed by automatic weapons fire and a scream. I entered the small bathroom, holstered my STI, and stood on the toilet. I placed my hands on the opposite wall, and slowly levered myself into position, ‘walking’ with my hands until I was above the door frame. Hands pushing out and boots pushing back against the opposite wall, holding myself there by muscle tension alone, I was now out of view, and hopefully wouldn’t be noticed.
I knew how third world armies cleared rooms, and you did not want to be at ground level.
Drops of blood fell from my lacerated face and hit the floor. My arms began to vibrate from the strain of holding myself there. More gunfire ripped through the villa. They were spraying down each room as they kicked in the doors.
There were shouts in the hall, someone shouting orders, and then they were here. The soldiers fired, bullets shredding through furniture and walls. Dust flew below me as projectiles shot through the bathroom walls. I held my breath as a rifle barrel appeared through the doorway, and blasted the bathtub into porcelain bits. The muzzle blast pounded me, and I slipped, biting my lip, and praying for gravity to fail. I held on. The rifle disappeared.
Arabic. “Look at all this money!”
“Praise be! It is a fortune, Mohammed.”
“What’s all this? You two, keep moving.”
“But, Sir!”
“Move, dog. That is an order. And close the door.”
The stomping of boots. Wait for it. Gunfire in the next room. Give him a second. Suppressed STI in my blood soaked hand, one handed on the wall now, slipping.
Go.
I dropped, landed feet first in a crouch, stupid vest billowing out from me like I was Batman. One soldier, an officer in desert camo. He looked up, both hands filled with rubber-banded stacks of currency, surprise registering on his face before my front sight covered it. The cracks of rifles in the next room. THUD.
He was down, an eyeball bulging from the caved in side of his skull. I holstered the gun as I moved. The gunfire continued, and more explosions ripped through the compound. The soldier had a captain’s insignia on his DCUs. I pulled the codebook out of my vest, stuffed it inside my body armor, and tossed the vest aside. I took his jacket, and put it on. He was much shorter than me, and my wrists dangled naked from the sleeves. More stomping, outside the door now. This building was clear, and I didn’t have much time. I tossed my Molon Labe hat, and replaced it with his blue beret.
One problem. He didn’t look anything like me at all. ****. It was dark, but I couldn’t bank on that. I needed a distraction.
“Sir?” Someone shouted through the door. “The colonel says we need to fire from these windows at the Americans. Sir?”
I saw the dangling eyeball and had an idea.
########
Falling into the hallway, I pressed the blood soaked pillowcase against my face.
“Aaaiiiii!” I screamed, my voice unnaturally high pitched, as I had no idea what this officer talked like. “Booby trap!”
“Sir!” One of the soldiers shouted. “Are you all right?”
“My eye! My eye!” I held out my hand with the eyeball in it. “Aaaaiiii!”
“Merciful Allah!” the soldier screamed. “Get him out of here! Medic!”
Strong hands grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along, I kept my head down, and weaved, crying and sobbing. Then we were outside, the rain pelting us mercilessly. The black night was lit by hellish oil fires, and smoke obscured everything. Good for me, as I was only partially in the enemy’s uniform. We were heading for the breach in the wall.
I looked back over my shoulder as I was pushed past the burning APC and into the rift. Some Dead Six were leapfrogging their way towards the gate, firing at this position, their only hope for escape. Desperate and stupid, they were cut down one by one.
There was the girl from the Johnny Rockets, with her movie star good looks. I cringed as the bullets ripped her. She fell, obviously dead.
The soldiers passed me off to other waiting hands outside the wall. There was the kid. Kneeling by his girlfriend, shell shocked, looking for something that wasn’t there, oblivious to the inevitability of his death and the carnage around him. The look on his face sliced a gouge through my hardened heart. A grenade exploded between us, temporarily hiding him from my view.
The dust cloud drifted aside. He was on his back.
“Captain, where is your injury?” a medic shouted, he was steering me towards a waiting truck.
Nightcrawler raised one blood soaked hand plaintively into the rain. It was the arm that I had slashed.
Mercy.
Criminals aren’t supposed to have any.
**** it. I had always struggled with the concept.
I pushed the medic away and started toward the fallen man. I sprinted through the rain, bullets screaming past in both directions, water geysering up as the newly formed puddles were struck. I slid beside him, grabbed the drag handle on the back of his webgear and jerked. Agony tore through my injured torso as ribs grated together. I pulled him through the mud, back towards the gate.
“Captain!” the medic shouted. “What are you doing?”
“We need this one alive. Get him in the truck.” I ordered.
######
The American kid was unconscious on the seat beside me. The medic had done a competent job stopping the bleeding from his head and arm before we had departed for the hospital. I had waited until we were out of sight of the compound before I had clubbed the driver and tossed him onto the road. I was kind of making this up as I went along.
Reaper’s voice was intense in my ear. “Some Dead Six blew the north wall of the compound and carjacked a Toyota.”
They had to be going to a safe house. “Reaper, track that Toyota,” I said.
“They’re heading south on Al-Balad,” he continued to give me directions as I drove like a madman, keeping the hammer down and blowing through roundabouts like they weren’t there. Headlights flashed behind me. Carl and Jill had caught up.
Nightcrawler groaned. He didn’t look good, pale and shaking from blood loss, and I wondered if my act of kindness/stupidity would have been for nothing. Reaper informed me as the Dead Six stolen car pulled into the back of a slaughterhouse.
I arrived a moment later, the garage door was still closing, light leaking out from beneath. I laid on the horn, and after a moment the door stopped, and then reversed its motion. “Sorry about the arm, buddy. Good luck.” Leaving the kid behind, I bailed out of the cab, and hobbled towards the headlights of Carl’s van. Armed Americans came out of the slaughterhouse and approached the still-running army truck.
I slid into the passenger seat of the van and it was moving before the door closed.
The rain wouldn’t wash Doha clean tonight.
###############
To be continued...
It began to rain, giant, stinging drops, falling like some sort of biblical vengeance.
I was pulling myself around the back corner of the villa as a Qatari armored car smashed through the front gate. Debris flew as the APC’s machine guns raked across the compound. Soldiers in DCUs scurried through the now open gate, firing wildly at anything that moved.
Really. Not. Cool.
Taking cover behind the wall, I watched the battle between Dead Six and the army unfold. The American’s were putting up a fight, but there seemed to be an unending stream of Qatari fighters. Bullets were flying in every direction, some leaving visible trails, the rain was so thick. I ducked deeper into the shadows as the kid, Nightcrawler was his name, ran past me, still strapping into his armor. He left a long trail of blood droplets behind him, but didn’t seem to notice. I waited until he was gone.
I shoved my ear piece back in. “—are you? Lorenzo? Can you read?” Carl’s voice was desperate.
“Got you. I’m alive,” I answered. I was in terrible pain, so I was sure of that fact. That .44 had broken at least one of my ribs, and one lung felt like it was full of burning hydrogen instead of air.
“There’s hundreds of troops converging on the compound. You’ve got to get out. Can you move?”
“Exits blocked.” Just as I said that the armored car exploded, throwing fragments fifty feet into the air. “Damn! Really blocked. I’ll think of something.”
“Lorenzo, be careful.” It was Jill. She sounded terrified.
“Get off the line. Ain’t got time for sentiment.” Off to my right, more grenades exploded around the office building, shredding some of the Dead Six personnel. Some of the injured men raised their hands to surrender and the Qataris shot them dead. “Reaper, can you keep LB in the air in this weather?”
“Yeah, chief. It’s all weather capable.”
“I need you to be my eyes. I’m at the north west corner of Building Three.”
“Lots of heat blooms from the explosions... Wait... Got you.”
“I’m going to take cover back inside the villa. Let me know when I’ve got company.” Both sides of this battle would kill me, so it was time to do what I do best in situations like this. Hide. Off to one side, Nightcrawler nailed a running soldier, at least thirty yards out, with his .44. Good shot.
I ducked back into the villa, dodged into a doorway as some Dead Six men ran past, guns held high, faces grim. Once they were gone, I sprinted down the hall and ducked back into the kid’s room. At least it was familiar, and I didn’t really want to participate in the war unfolding outside.
“Reaper, status?”
“Chaos. Dead Six is holed up on the north, Qataris are doing something by the gate. Breach. They’re gonna breach.” A horrendous explosion rocked the compound. “You better think of something fast, boss, because they’re coming in force now.”
Plan. I needed a plan. The rain drumming the roof was louder than the gunfire. My eye landed on the bug out bag filled with money. I had an idea.
“Squad of soldiers is heading for your building. Six of them.”
Carl’s voice now, he had a laptop in the van. He could watch the video too. “Building Three is a good position for them to take. Gives them good cover against Dead Six. They will use the windows on the north facing rooms.”
I grabbed the bag of money. Spotted my knife, folded it and shoved in my pocket, and then I was back in the hallway. The soldiers would hit the rooms in the obvious order, and then they would take up positions... there. No time to screw around with lock picks, I kicked the door in, raised my .45 and swept through.
The room was empty. Same layout as Nightcrawler’s room, bed in the middle, basic furniture, bathroom off to the side. I dumped the bag of money on the bed and spread it around. Nice and obvious. Thunder like Thor’s hammer rocked across the compound.
“Soldiers are in the building.”
“Roger that.” The money looked as tempting as possible. “I’m going to try a Leon.”
“Chief, you're nuts,” Reaper said admiringly.
There was a crash as another villa door was kicked in, followed by automatic weapons fire and a scream. I entered the small bathroom, holstered my STI, and stood on the toilet. I placed my hands on the opposite wall, and slowly levered myself into position, ‘walking’ with my hands until I was above the door frame. Hands pushing out and boots pushing back against the opposite wall, holding myself there by muscle tension alone, I was now out of view, and hopefully wouldn’t be noticed.
I knew how third world armies cleared rooms, and you did not want to be at ground level.
Drops of blood fell from my lacerated face and hit the floor. My arms began to vibrate from the strain of holding myself there. More gunfire ripped through the villa. They were spraying down each room as they kicked in the doors.
There were shouts in the hall, someone shouting orders, and then they were here. The soldiers fired, bullets shredding through furniture and walls. Dust flew below me as projectiles shot through the bathroom walls. I held my breath as a rifle barrel appeared through the doorway, and blasted the bathtub into porcelain bits. The muzzle blast pounded me, and I slipped, biting my lip, and praying for gravity to fail. I held on. The rifle disappeared.
Arabic. “Look at all this money!”
“Praise be! It is a fortune, Mohammed.”
“What’s all this? You two, keep moving.”
“But, Sir!”
“Move, dog. That is an order. And close the door.”
The stomping of boots. Wait for it. Gunfire in the next room. Give him a second. Suppressed STI in my blood soaked hand, one handed on the wall now, slipping.
Go.
I dropped, landed feet first in a crouch, stupid vest billowing out from me like I was Batman. One soldier, an officer in desert camo. He looked up, both hands filled with rubber-banded stacks of currency, surprise registering on his face before my front sight covered it. The cracks of rifles in the next room. THUD.
He was down, an eyeball bulging from the caved in side of his skull. I holstered the gun as I moved. The gunfire continued, and more explosions ripped through the compound. The soldier had a captain’s insignia on his DCUs. I pulled the codebook out of my vest, stuffed it inside my body armor, and tossed the vest aside. I took his jacket, and put it on. He was much shorter than me, and my wrists dangled naked from the sleeves. More stomping, outside the door now. This building was clear, and I didn’t have much time. I tossed my Molon Labe hat, and replaced it with his blue beret.
One problem. He didn’t look anything like me at all. ****. It was dark, but I couldn’t bank on that. I needed a distraction.
“Sir?” Someone shouted through the door. “The colonel says we need to fire from these windows at the Americans. Sir?”
I saw the dangling eyeball and had an idea.
########
Falling into the hallway, I pressed the blood soaked pillowcase against my face.
“Aaaiiiii!” I screamed, my voice unnaturally high pitched, as I had no idea what this officer talked like. “Booby trap!”
“Sir!” One of the soldiers shouted. “Are you all right?”
“My eye! My eye!” I held out my hand with the eyeball in it. “Aaaaiiii!”
“Merciful Allah!” the soldier screamed. “Get him out of here! Medic!”
Strong hands grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along, I kept my head down, and weaved, crying and sobbing. Then we were outside, the rain pelting us mercilessly. The black night was lit by hellish oil fires, and smoke obscured everything. Good for me, as I was only partially in the enemy’s uniform. We were heading for the breach in the wall.
I looked back over my shoulder as I was pushed past the burning APC and into the rift. Some Dead Six were leapfrogging their way towards the gate, firing at this position, their only hope for escape. Desperate and stupid, they were cut down one by one.
There was the girl from the Johnny Rockets, with her movie star good looks. I cringed as the bullets ripped her. She fell, obviously dead.
The soldiers passed me off to other waiting hands outside the wall. There was the kid. Kneeling by his girlfriend, shell shocked, looking for something that wasn’t there, oblivious to the inevitability of his death and the carnage around him. The look on his face sliced a gouge through my hardened heart. A grenade exploded between us, temporarily hiding him from my view.
The dust cloud drifted aside. He was on his back.
“Captain, where is your injury?” a medic shouted, he was steering me towards a waiting truck.
Nightcrawler raised one blood soaked hand plaintively into the rain. It was the arm that I had slashed.
Mercy.
Criminals aren’t supposed to have any.
**** it. I had always struggled with the concept.
I pushed the medic away and started toward the fallen man. I sprinted through the rain, bullets screaming past in both directions, water geysering up as the newly formed puddles were struck. I slid beside him, grabbed the drag handle on the back of his webgear and jerked. Agony tore through my injured torso as ribs grated together. I pulled him through the mud, back towards the gate.
“Captain!” the medic shouted. “What are you doing?”
“We need this one alive. Get him in the truck.” I ordered.
######
The American kid was unconscious on the seat beside me. The medic had done a competent job stopping the bleeding from his head and arm before we had departed for the hospital. I had waited until we were out of sight of the compound before I had clubbed the driver and tossed him onto the road. I was kind of making this up as I went along.
Reaper’s voice was intense in my ear. “Some Dead Six blew the north wall of the compound and carjacked a Toyota.”
They had to be going to a safe house. “Reaper, track that Toyota,” I said.
“They’re heading south on Al-Balad,” he continued to give me directions as I drove like a madman, keeping the hammer down and blowing through roundabouts like they weren’t there. Headlights flashed behind me. Carl and Jill had caught up.
Nightcrawler groaned. He didn’t look good, pale and shaking from blood loss, and I wondered if my act of kindness/stupidity would have been for nothing. Reaper informed me as the Dead Six stolen car pulled into the back of a slaughterhouse.
I arrived a moment later, the garage door was still closing, light leaking out from beneath. I laid on the horn, and after a moment the door stopped, and then reversed its motion. “Sorry about the arm, buddy. Good luck.” Leaving the kid behind, I bailed out of the cab, and hobbled towards the headlights of Carl’s van. Armed Americans came out of the slaughterhouse and approached the still-running army truck.
I slid into the passenger seat of the van and it was moving before the door closed.
The rain wouldn’t wash Doha clean tonight.
###############
To be continued...
Have Mercy ! 
well im still waiting to know it the Korth made it out or not!
