«Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing».
Alessandro was talking to no one. Murmuring to himself was a habit he had developed to fight boredom and to keep focus during missions, although he saw Cooper turn his head and cock an eyebrow at him. He probably overheard him, and it was not strange for Steve to throw him a sceptical look every now and then; heck, it would have been stranger if he had not. It was not the first time he displayed his perplexity at Rossi’s random quotations.
Furthermore, the Australian was the only other person around at the moment: the two of them were laying down on a rock formation, probably granite, roughly ten metres off the ground. A vantage point from where to see their target and provide overwatch to the rest of the team.
Being higher up would be better, and I’d like a more defensible location... and satellite feed, and an armed drone, maybe two. Yeah, wishful thinking. Have to make do with what we have, Alessandro thought. At least we can see most of the enemy camp.
Most importantly, they had their rescue targets in sight. In fact, after the second day of observation, they had convened that those people could only be hostages or abduction victims, definitely discarding the whole “shooting a movie” hypothesis. Unless, of course, they were looking at the lowest scum of the movie industry…
As he and Cooper waited for their teammates to get in position, Alessandro could not help but ponder once again on his own stance on the whole plan. He knew his reasoning had been sound: to keep their distance and observe the situation was the safest and most beneficial course of action for the team, given the situation. His logical mind and cool-headedness had always served him well, as demonstrated in many a stressful situation where his judgment had been needed, earning him respect and recognition from commanding officers and teammates alike; he had acted with the same mindset this time too, prioritizing the safety of the team and wary of not adding further danger to their already tenuous situation.
Despite everything, though, despite reassuring himself that he had acted in the best way for the team, he was still feeling uneasy and off-put. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he understood why: he had disregarded the simple tenet his parents had taught him as a kid, one that had guided him for as long as he could remember.
He did not recall exactly the occasion; he only knew he had been very selfish and someone got hurt, but his parents had not shouted in anger or slapped him. He had been scolded, of course, but they had made sure he understood why what he had done was wrong.
«Alessandro, come here for a moment. We’re not angry, not anymore, we just want you to understand something», his mother had said, kneeling down and beckoning him to come. Using his full name usually meant they were serious and wanted him to pay attention. «Today you made a mistake. We all make mistakes sometimes. When you realise that, what should you do?»
Ashamed, but glad his parents were not angry any longer, he had looked his mother in the eyes and had replied: «I should apologise...»
«Good. Now, there is another thing you should always try to do, something you should have done today but you didn’t, and that’s what you should endeavour to do from now on. If you see someone in need, help them, if you can».
«Why?» he had asked with the curiosity and innocence typical of children.
«Because you would want someone to give you a hand when you need help, no?»
He had nodded.
«And, most of all, because it’s the right thing to do», had been his father’s words, a smile shining on his face, mirrored by his mother.
Coincidentally, it was by following that same principle that he had met his dear Sofia.
The thought of his wife made him smile, a smile that widened as his thoughts naturally moved towards their children. However, Alessandro’s expression quickly turned serious as his musings brought him back to the argument with Jaspinder. She had been uncharacteristically aggressive and obstinate, in a way that he had never seen before. It was clear as day she had been distressed and not quite herself, though he could only speculate regarding the reason; however, he had not acted like his usual self either, at least given the reaction of his teammates. They knew it was normal for him to be very composed and rational; in fact, it was one of his distinctive traits. But after the confrontation with Jaspinder and Brad’s decision, he had seen the disapproval in Elisa’s eyes and the hurt in Steve’s own. With a bit of self-reflection he had discovered that nagging sensation, that sweet, soft voice whispering merciless words and indifference into his mind.
Let them die, the voice had said. So cold and lifeless. As if ice shards where piercing his brain, enveloped by frozen mist.
Why care about strangers? a lifeless snicker, full of glee at the suffering of those people. Put them out of their misery and be done with it.
How dare she talk to you this way?! Shoot this arrogant bitch! The angry shout almost blasting through his eardrums while the cold fire of hate flared in his eyes.
Such had been the thoughts coursing through Alessandro’s mind two nights prior. They had been especially strong during the confrontation with Jaspinder, but after calming down he saw how unnatural they were. He recognized them as bearing the same feeling of wrongness that had been plaguing him for days, ever since the encounter with that strange green leopard.
Only, this time it had been stronger, much stronger.
That his thoughts could be so subtly and deeply influenced worried him, even more since the culprit was unknown, and he resolved to talk about it with the others. It was an issue for another day, though: he had a more pressing matter to worry about at the present moment. He could see Elisa, Bradley, Tetsuo, and Jaspinder approaching their targets, as well as the sentries moving around and going about their business. Thanks to his NVS, everyone’s movements were clear as day despite the darkness of the night; the technology helping even further by highlighting known allies with a monochrome contour and every other humanoid with an icon on top of their head. It had felt strange at the beginning, when the feature had just been introduced, but Alessandro was now used to it, and he recognized the merits and advantages of the idea. Still, at times it still made him feel as if he were playing a VR-game.
He slowly inhaled, then exhaled. One, two, three times, clearing his mind. They were about to take lives in cold blood, and he had to mentally prepare. He did not enjoy killing – only a sociopath would – but it was his job, he had agreed to do it, and he was going to do it well.
«After we take down the guards, remember to switch to thermal from time to time. We need to keep an eye inside the tents as well», he quietly told Cooper.
«Roger, sir. Steady aim».
«Steady aim, Steve».
I wonder... Who made the mistake this time, mom? Alessandro thought, as the two marksmen resumed their silent wait.
***
He was slowly approaching the enemy camp, Elisa on his tail, although to call it a “camp” was an overstatement. It was nothing more than a jumble of tents raised with no apparent order, with the biggest one in the middle, big enough to be considered a small pavilion. The hostages had been grouped up close to two tents near the riverbank, chained together and with their arms restrained.
It was a moonless night. The sky was painted with a mesmerising sea of stars, enough to make anyone gaze at it in wonder and get lost in its beauty; plus, the moving stream would have been the perfect ASMR sound to relax to.
Proceeding into the shallow waters, Bradley and Elisa moved fairly unimpeded. The stream had long since become large enough to be considered a river, and its strong current was perfect to cover the noise of their advance and the sound of gunfire, although that same current threatened their footing more than expected.
A few minutes later, Bradley was crouching down, observing the two men standing guard on their side of the camp. The absence of moonlight and their armour’s Active Camouflage System – a.k.a. Cuttlefish – made him and Elisa practically invisible and allowed them to proceed unnoticed, just two more shadows blending into the night. Two small braziers burned nearby, shedding a dim light in a small area of five to six metres; they were close enough to the guards to provide a scant illumination, but not too close as to blind them to their surroundings. Both guards were carrying their weapons and armour with seasoned familiarity, and appeared wary of their surroundings in a way more reminiscent of trained soldiers than actors; another sign confirming that this was not a troupe filming a movie, although none of Charlie Team had yet another plausible answer to why these people were armed and dressed in such ways. The situation kept getting stranger, and Bradley cursed once again their inability to access SATLINK and receive more information.
Suddenly, a third icon appeared on his visor. It highlighted the sentinel they already knew was hidden in the shadow of a nearby tent, his presence readily revealed by the green monochrome of their NVS and the IFF software.
It was a smart idea, but we can still see you, Bradley thought, before gesturing at Elisa to target the guard further away from them and to be on standby. They were close enough now.
He checked the time on his watch. It was Zero Two Hundred Hours, and all that came from the tents were silence and the occasional heavy snoring. The bastards had already had their fun that night, and while it had been a real test of patience to wait and listen to those screams and cries again, they had agreed this was the best time to hit them.
«This is Charlie One. Everyone, sitrep, over», Bradley quietly asked on the team comms.
«This is Two. Target in sight, over», Rossi calmly replied. It was always reassuring knowing his buddy was watching over them.
«This is Three. I’m in position, over», Elisa confirmed, and he could see her taking aim out of the corner of his eye.
«This is Four. In position, over», whispered Tetsuo. He knew the kind and polite man would be efficient and deadly that night.
«This is Five. I’m ready, over», Jaspinder said, her poorly hidden eagerness transpiring even through the radio.
«This is Six. On target, over», came Cooper’s confirmation. When serious, the chatty Australian became a man of few words, and Bradley could tell he was very serious now.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Bradley took aim, slowly inhaled and exhaled, his breath even, his awareness high, and his mind sharp. He briefly took stock of his target, noticing once more the attentive eyes scanning the surroundings, the soldierly posture, and the huge scar on his left cheek, which gave him an aggressive countenance. Then, the moment passed, and at his command the war machine that was Charlie Team acted with clockwork precision.
«Execute», Bradley said, before firing at his target. A single tap to the head, and the man crumpled onto the ground, eyes unseeing, followed immediately by his nearby companion and the one hiding in the shadows. Bradley moved closer to where the downed man was laying, brain matter strewn to his right side and blood pooling under the body, greedily absorbed by the cold earth. He stood outside the reach of the brazier’s light and scanned his surroundings to see if anyone had been alerted, careful to remain hidden.
Ten, tense, seconds later, his voice broke the silence: «This is One, riverbank secured, over».
As he received confirmation from the rest of the team that all targets were down, he and Elisa hid the two corpses and proceeded towards the hostages, mirrored by Tetsuo and Jaspinder on the other side of the camp.
«One, this is Two. Two hostiles twenty metres at your twelve, over», Rossi relayed.
«Roger that. Stand by, Charlie Two», Bradley whispered back. Then he peeked behind the tent he was walking close to. «I see them. Charlie Four, do you copy? Over».
«Copy. Peaceful subdual? Over».
«Roger. Let’s do this quietly. One, out».
As they approached, they spotted two men in mail armour keeping watch on the hostages, one was seated on a log next to a campfire, spear resting against his shoulder, helmet on the ground, staring into the flames, while the other was slowly walking along the line of sleeping people in chains, shield and spear in hand, his back to the other guard. Bradley could see the outline of Tetsuo and Jaspinder hidden in wait: the first was securing his machine gun while the second kept her rifle aimed at the guard. He motioned at Elisa before securing his weapon as well and adjusting his gloves as he approached the seated soldier.
With swift and practiced motions, Bradley put his right arm around the man’s neck, left hand pressing the head down, tightening the choke, whilst Elisa grabbed the falling spear before it clattered to the ground. He could almost smell his panic at the sudden attack, and he definitely felt the man’s desperate struggle to find purchase on the arm cutting off the blood flow to his brain, to grab and open the hands choking him; a futile attempt. In desperation, the man took out the knife attached to his belt and tried first to stab, then to slash at Bradley’s arm, but to no avail; the sharp blade was unable to even damage the reinforced body armour, sliding on it only to wound the guard himself in the process. As he was being dragged away, helpless and prevented from regaining his footing, the tearful soldier made one last conscious effort to get free, aiming directly at the body of his aggressor. One of his wild stabs managed to hit Bradley’s leg, but the weak attempt simply glanced off the armour, doing absolutely nothing to change the situation. Unable to utter a sound, the man’s movements progressively slowed down until, a few seconds later, consciousness left him.
Bradley did not wait for the guard to fall unconscious before dragging him further into the shadows, as far away from the campfire as necessary, as Elisa took the man’s weapons so as not to leave any trace. They rapidly bound, blindfolded, and gagged him as he regained consciousness, just in time to see the other guard turn around and start to head back. After a few steps, he was grabbed from behind by what appeared to be the environment itself in the blurry shape of a human, and was dragged away in the darkness, eyes filled with terror.
Damn, Tetsuo, that was straight out of a horror movie. You really were wasted in the diplomatic corps, Bradley thought, impressed yet again by his friend’s uncanny stealth despite having just done the same. A skill made even more effective by their state-of-the-art technology.
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Disengaging the active camouflage before reaching the time limit, Bradley took a good look at the hostages and heard Elisa curse in her native language. He did not hear the exact words – her voice was too low – but they were not difficult to imagine; it was probably akin to what was passing through his own mind.
He could not see them as well as he would in daylight, but the green monochrome of his NVS still showed the very poor condition of the men and women they were about to free. Some were bloodied and battered, mostly the men: ten, he counted, all bare-chested and pretty well built it appeared, even the three older ones, which were surely well past their fifties. The women seemed to be in better condition, physically at least, but it was still abundantly evident they had suffered much abuse, with clothes reduced to torn rags and a vacant stare which made Bradley’s heart ache. Only a few raised their head at their approach, trying to look as defiant and unafraid as possible.
It was disheartening.
Strangely, not one of the hostages uttered a word when they saw them, despite the four SIGs appearing out of thin air for all intent and purposes. It was as if they were waiting, though he had no idea what for; perhaps for a sign that Bradley and the others were not there to kill them, or maybe for them to do exactly that and end their torment.
Shaking his head, he gestured at Tetsuo and Jaspinder to approach. Time was of essence, so they acted swiftly, moving as planned. With few, clear gestures, he told Tetsuo to stand guard outside of the closest tent, hidden, whereas Jaspinder moved without any prompt and started to cut the chains with her bolt cutters, and damn if it was noisy. None of the two captured guards seemed to have the keys to the locks, and even if they had, there was no time to find the matching pairs; in another situation he might have chosen to dedicate some time to the search, especially because each time a chain or a lock was cut, Bradley expected to hear movement and see armed people swarm out of the tents. While Jaspinder continued with her work, Elisa and Bradley quietly tried to lead the reluctant hostages towards the riverbank. However, despite their height and imposing physiques, the frightened men and women huddled together the moment they were freed, all keeping a hunched posture but for a few of them; some were wide-eyed and trembling, others assuming a defensive stance and baring their teeth, but again, no words were spoken, no sound was made.
Bradley felt their stares bore into him, the look on their faces a mix of fear and awe, as if Charlie Team was a group of aliens or demons from Hell. As the seconds ticked, seeing that none of the hostages appeared willing to cooperate, frustration began seeping in, and Bradley started to huff and growl in displeasure. Their mistrust was more than understandable, but unhelpful at the moment. They had to move, and fast, but those people were not keen to follow, and the unexpected language barrier did not help: apparently, not one of them understood English or any other language the three operators knew. That, or they were just ignoring their words.
The situation was at an impasse, with the clock ticking and Bradley uncertain of how to make them move. Minutes passed by as he, Elisa, and Jaspinder tried to communicate that they needed to head towards the river, even using clear and simple hand gestures, but to no avail. Frustration mounting, Bradley was even considering to resort to his weapon as a threat to make them move – though unsure of how effective it would have been in such situation – until one of the older men spoke. It was barely more than a whisper, but in the nocturnal air his serene and imposing voice was surprisingly clear, its tone one that spoke of a man familiar with giving orders and seeing them obeyed. What he told his fellow hostages, Bradley could not say, since he uttered only a few words and the language was unknown to him. It vaguely reminded him of the way members of the Swedish SOG spoke that one time they had had a joint training when he was still a SEAL, but he had no idea if it was the same language nor did he really care; he would leave it to Tetsuo to investigate when they had the time. The important thing was that the man’s words had made the rest of the hostages finally get off their asses and start moving.
And still in silence to boot.
Thus, from one moment to the next, the group began following their directions without question. An unexpected development, so much that Jaspinder and Elisa exchanged a surprised glance before looking at Bradley, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he gave the order to start leading them away, while he and Tetsuo would bring up the rear. However, it was slow going, and every second they were out in the open, Bradley feared they would be discovered.
With time appearing to move at a snail’s pace, inside his helmet Bradley felt a solitary drop of sweat start its long trip down his forehead, past the left eyebrow, slowing down to caress the stubble on his cheek, before ending its impromptu voyage on his chin, a lifetime later. All the while, his eyes kept scanning their vicinity as his ears waited for the noise of a flap opening and the inevitable shout that would wake up the whole camp.
A minute later, his fear almost became reality.
«Charlie Four, this is Six, I see movement in the tent next to your position, over».
Kusanagi swiftly crouched to the side of the tent’s entrance.
«One hostile coming towards the entrance», Cooper continued, «He’s about to exit… now».
As the unsuspecting man let the tent flap close behind him, Tetsuo sprang into action, a panther pouncing on its prey. A few moments later, he was dragging and concealing the limp body out of sight, binding and gagging the man so he could not alert others once awake.
As he looked at the unlucky bastard being cleanly taken care of, Bradley was glad they had not have to resort to their knives until then. He did not know how the others felt about it, but the thought of killing with a knife always sent cold shivers down his spine. He still remembered the brief struggle of every person whose life he had taken with his KA-BAR. If he concentrated, he could still feel them frantically scratching at the gloved hand covering their mouth, while blood seeped from their mortal wound; the tears in their eyes as they fought to stay alive, unable to utter a sound as they died helpless and in silence. There was something visceral, primal, in killing with a blade, something that firearms fortunately, or unfortunately, lacked; where shooting someone could almost be desensitizing, to Bradley stabbing felt too personal, morbid in the way it made a person aware of the life they were ending.
«Good copy, Charlie Six, thank you. Charlie Four, out». Tetsuo’s whisper broke Bradley’s short but untimely introspection, as the stocky Japanese resumed his watch.
Not a moment later, another tent flapped open, revealing two men, one yawning as the other quietly spoke to him, who were heading in their direction. They were a bit further inside the camp but still close enough to easily see the hostages and their guards, or the lack thereof. Having briefly lost his situational awareness, Bradley turned too slowly at the noise, and despite training kicking in as he reflexively aimed his M4 at the duo, he realized he would not be fast enough to silence both men before they raised the alarm. For a moment, time slowed to a crawl, and in that split second where their gazes met, he saw realization dawning on their faces.
Then, their heads abruptly jerked to the side as a shower of gore erupted from their skulls, painting their immediate surroundings in grey matter, bone fragments, skin, and blood. The two men collapsed to the ground, their end so quick and unexpected they had not even realized it had happened.
«You’re welcome», Cooper’s smug voice resounded over the team’s channel a moment later.
After a couple seconds, Rossi confirmed the kill with his usual calm and poise. «This is Two, two tangos down, over».
«Copy. Nice shot. One, out».
The immediate danger had passed, but Bradley knew they had been lucky and chided himself for his distraction. It was only a matter of time before someone else would wake up to obey the call of nature or for any other reason, and they would be discovered. They needed to hurry up, but all the hostages were injured to a degree, and some had to be carried or helped walk. What captured his attention, though, was one woman’s behaviour. Tall and raven-haired, she was looking back at the tents unlike everyone else who was focused on the way ahead. She wore a downright terrified expression, and her hands kept moving around, gripping first each other, then her ruined tunic and back. Bradley felt yet again a knot at his stomach: he quickly counted the men and women, then contacted Rossi.
«Two, this is One, how many hostages did you count during your reconnaissance? Over».
«Copy, One. I counted ten males and six females, over», Rossi replied.
«Fuck!» Bradley said, forgetting proper radio protocol, «One woman is missing. See if you can spot her and keep me updated. We’ll search as well. Charlie Four, take the rear. One, out».
After closing the communication, he moved with purpose up the line towards the woman who was still staring back at the tents. When he reached her, she tensed up and stepped back, despite being as tall as Bradley and quite muscular herself, while the other hostages around her stopped in their tracks and moved closer in a protective circle, eyeing him warily. Since words had proven useless until then, Bradley tried using hand signs to ask where the missing female was, but be it reluctance, fear, mistrust, or a simple lack of understanding, he was given no useful reply. Frantic, he asked again and again, even in words, despite knowing the futility of it. They had no time to waste, and he could not risk everyone’s safety for one person, but he was furious that something stupid like the inability to understand each other would doom a life. Frustrated, he backed off and had Jaspinder make the line of people move again.
As he walked back towards the rear, Cooper’s voice cracked in the comms, bringing unexpected good news. «Charlie One, this is Six. Second tent to your left. I count six heat signatures, and one seems to be smaller and stronger than the others, possibly female, over».
Bradley touched Elisa’s shoulder and gestured her to follow. «Good copy Charlie Six, moving in to check and rescue. Provide overwatch. One, out».
While Tetsuo and Jaspinder kept escorting the hostages away from the camp, he and Elisa quietly moved towards the tent mentioned by Cooper. After a quick check with thermal that those inside were not moving around, Elisa slowly opened the flap and he entered first, carbine aimed at the sleeping figures while he scanned the interior of the tent.
It was old, made of what seemed to be wool, though the fabric was worn-out; overall, quite basic and utilitarian. Bradley could not make out the colours, given that all he was seeing was in shades of green, but he surely felt the pungent smell of musk and sweat assaulting his nostrils without warning upon entering, so much that he almost gagged. He refrained from activating the air filtering though: it was bad but not toxic. The only objects present, apart from the naked men lying on straw mats and blankets, were clothes, weapons, armour, and backpacks, strewn around the edges of the tent with only a resemblance of order.
Then, a couple of seconds later, Bradley saw her.
A teenage girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, naked, bruised and clearly abused, lying on a mat. She was curled up, trembling, silently crying, a sight that made Bradley’s blood boil in anger; he felt it rush to his head as he observed the five men sleeping soundly and without a care despite the horrors they had inflicted on the young girl.
Behind the visor, his eyes were hard and unforgiving.
As he moved towards the girl, he secured his weapon and held out his left hand in a reassuring gesture, the universal sign for “I mean you no harm”, while pressing his right index to his mouth. She noticed him and, contrary to his expectations, he saw resignation and fear on her face; slowly, she turned on her back, flinching slightly at the movement and holding her right side. Before he could move, reassure her they had come to help, she stared at him with dead eyes for a seemingly endless moment.
Then, she diverted her gaze and spread her legs.
That was the last straw. His calming left hand became a trembling fist, his jaw clenched shut. With bloodshot eyes, Bradley unsheathed his knife, turning away from the girl... but not before seeing new emotions in her eyes: relief and liberation.
It was not because she thought he was going to kill her rapists, however. No, he had seen that same expression in the past... on people who hoped he would kill them.
Unable to control himself any longer, in wordless rage he started murdering the monsters in the tent. Yes, monsters. In his mind they were only monsters in human flesh, because he could not picture them as human beings anymore, nor would he call them beasts, as that would have been an insult to beasts. With ice in his veins and fire behind his eyes, he methodically slit the throats of every one of the five, holding them still, a hand on their mouths, as they awoke and struggled in vain to retain their lives, their tears mixing with their blood.
He took pleasure in their suffering and felt joy at their fear. The coppery smell of blood was invigorating.
After all were dead, however, he did not stop, he could not stop; it was not enough to have killed them, to have made them suffer, not nearly enough. He had to make an example out of them.
As he acted, bloodstains accumulated on his armour, while his mind kept superimposing his daughters’ features upon the face of the girl. He could not help but see Lorraine and Kate crying, battered and abused, hoping for the sweet release of death just like her; and every time he did, despite a part of him shouting to himself that his daughters were fine, the blaze in his brain burned even hotter, washing him in pain and fury. The fire was so fierce he could not think of anything, only of murder, destruction, pain: his rage was unquenchable. He vaguely felt something cracking inside of him, but he did not care. All that was important was to maim, to kill, to bring his wrath upon the world.
Until a strong impact on his back pushed him forward and made him fall to the ground.
Snarling, knife at the ready, he turned to see who had attacked him, who was the fool that wanted to die screaming… only to find Elisa, her helmet open to show a familiar stern look, this time full of worry as well. Her pistol was now in her right hand, safety off and muzzle pointed at the ground, while she hugged the girl with the other arm, holding her close in a futile attempt to shield her from the show of carnage. However, the girl had seen him, what he had done, and could not peel her eyes away. When he met her stare, he saw pure terror, a fear so primal it made his heart ache, knowing he was the cause of it.
That look extinguished the blaze in his mind with the power of a tsunami.
Feeling as if he had just been thrown into an icy lake, his tunnel vision receded, his fury was all but forgotten, and his clenched muscled relaxed. Thus, Bradley took again stock of his surroundings.
The tent now looked like a butcher shop, an amateur butcher who did not care about the mess he made. All five men were dead, fresh blood staining their bodies and the straw mats, but two had not simply been killed: they had been slaughtered like pigs. Their eyes had been carved out, their noses sliced, multiple stab wounds marred their faces, and their genitals had been cut off and put into their mouths. One of them was disfigured almost beyond recognition.
Bradley looked at his hands and could see they were covered in blood. His knife was coated in it, dripping red to the ground.
Horrified and shocked, he spoke in a trembling voice, a voice devoid of his usual authority, with bile rising in his throat. In that moment he was not Charlie One, the leader of a SIG team, he was only Bradley Anderson, a simple human being feeling dazed and confused.
«How… Elisa, what happened? Why was I… How long…?»
«They’re dead, Brad. They have been dead for minutes. I thought you were giving them a swift end, something I’d have done myself. I didn’t notice what you were really doing, though, otherwise I’d have kicked you sooner. I was just a tad focused on the abused and scared girl we came to rescue», she hissed with barely restrained anger, sarcasm dripping like venom from her mouth. «What the fuck were you doing? Verdammt noch mal, you’re a professional, not a psycho, get a grip. What the fuck is happening to everyone?»
Still confused and almost shell-shocked, Bradley tentatively replied, the pain in his voice as clear as day. «I… don’t know, Elisa. I only remember rage and pain. She was… she was there, she looked at me, and then I was just... angry. I kept thinking about Kate and Lorraine, and I-I don’t know. I just feel so exhausted right now».
«Get out, Brad», Elisa whispered. «Get out of the tent, take a breath of fresh air, and stay far away from the girl. She’s terrified of you. Hell, I was afraid of you. She’s already scarred, mentally and physically, and the last thing we need is stressing her further. We need to avoid stressing all of them more than they already are. Come on, let’s hurry up and get away from here».
«Y-yeah… you’re right. We need to move», Bradley replied, shaking his head as if to clear it, «We have… we have to get back to the others and leave. We’re behind schedule».
At that, he left the tent, his thoughts whirring in his head, while Elisa led the girl outside, holding her close. If he hadn’t been so stunned, Bradley might have noticed that her grip on the weapon was tight, too tight for comfort, and that her hand was trembling.
They quickly made their way back to the rest of the group with no further interruptions. All the while, Bradley kept thinking about the extreme rage he had felt, the angry shouts in his mind telling him to kill and maim, that primal sea of fury overwhelming him, fuelled by something outside of his control.
He did not understand, and he hated it. For all he knew he had inhaled some hallucinogen, a spore of some kind or maybe an odourless gas. Hell, they could all have been infected, thinking back to his team’s behaviour in the previous days. Whatever the cause, he could be a danger to his comrades, even indirectly, since his combat readiness and situational awareness were clearly suffering because of his state of mind.
It’s unacceptable! When we reach a safe place, I’ll have the whole team sit down and we’ll discuss the issue until we find a solution.
While he was lost in thought, they regrouped with the others. Khalid had kept the line on the move, and the rescued hostages were diligently walking in single file at a good pace.
Elisa gave the frightened girl to the woman who had been looking for her. It was undeniable they were family, given their resemblance, though she could have been either her mother or older sister with how young she looked. The way she cried and caressed the girl’s head while hugging her made Bradley inclined to opt for the first option.
The moment passed and they silently went back to walking, following after Jaspinder as she led them towards Rossi and Cooper.
A few, tense minutes later, as Bradley recovered his backpack and passed the rocky formation the two marksmen had been hiding upon, Cooper got up, secured his gear, and tapped Rossi’s shoulder, the signal he was the last man behind. The Italian waited a couple seconds before following. One last look towards the camp, then he quietly slunk into the forest, merging with the shadows.