1 Search and Rescue

Squad Leader Algren pushed deep into enemy territory to rescue an American captive. With the sun setting, the crew spread out a map across the table as they discussed their plans for the operation.

"We're five klicks out boys, let's clean up this mission and head home." Algren looked into the eyes of his squadron.

Hard gazes looked back at him in affirmative; grizzled veterans deployed in Iraq for 5 long years. Every one of them had had close shaves with life or death situations. And he trusted his boys with his life.

"Alright, move out!" Algren barked as he slung his type 50 smg across his shoulder and marched out into the night.

After a steady jog, the crew finally reached the target mansion in the outskirts of Kirkuk.

"Night vision," Algren commanded as they switched on their goggles to better scout the surroundings.

Three hostiles were patrolling the balcony on the first floor with a guard operating the mansion's gates. The men calmly attached silencers on their weapons as they assigned targets.

"I've got the guard. I want Biggie on the left balcony, Nokia on the middle and James on the right."

Algren took a deep breath in. The smell of dung in the air flooded his nostrils. As he looked into the scope, he sighed outward and held his breath.

"Fire." One command was all it took for four shots to ring out into the night. 3 dropped to the ground, their brains blown out with blood spraying across the wall behind them.

"Fuck, I missed my shot." Algren seethed. He couldn't believe that he'd missed his shot at such a crucial moment.

The guard that heard the silenced shots looked up to the balcony and screamed out in alarm. As he ran back towards the door, Algren took a second shot, this time, hitting him in the back, taking him down.

"Fuck it, boys, charge the front door."

The crew ran towards the door when they saw the lights inside the building switch on with shouts. The door suddenly burst open with the crackle of gunfire towards them.

"Return fire! Cover me, I'm pushing in" Algren sprinted up to the edge of the compound and bunkered up behind it.

Algren's body surged with adrenaline. The man had a cold smile on his face. These types of missions were what he loved doing. In the dead of night, no one knew what is going on. If you fuck up, no one except mission control gives a shit. Your name dies behind enemy lines, and you can't even be given a good burial.

He smirked with these thoughts of despair as he pushed towards the gated entrance where gunfire was being exchanged. He lobbed one grenade over the wall and peeked the corner right after it exploded. What he saw scarred him for the rest of his life. A small child, mangled beyond belief in all but his face, stared right back at him.

Algren grimaced; events of his traumatic past flashed before his eyes and merged with the images of the mangled body before him.

Searing pain broke out in Algren's head as he threw up. Algren proceeded to switch off the part of him that was emotional. He looked up with a deadpan stare as he pushed past the child and walked up to the front door that was now littered with dead bodies.

The wood creaked under his boots as he went up the stairs slowly with his crew, clearing every angle he could. As soon as he reached the top of the staircase, his eyes widened for a second time tonight.

"Fuck, someone call Nokia over. And tell him to get his suit. We've got hostage confirmed." As they walked further into the room, the darkness pulled back to reveal a grime-covered white man bound to a wooden chair with a complex contraption attached to his chest.

They moved closer to notice the time on the clock that displayed a blinking 1 minute sign.

"Whoever the bastard was must have sped the timer up once he heard the ambush! Nokia, we don't have time. Get your ass over quickly!"

Biggie ran up to him and said that Nokia had just run down to put on the suit and wouldn't be here in time.

"FUCK! Okay, everyone out, I'll deal with this. I want this house cleared, NOW!"

Biggie looked into Algren's eyes; a knowing glint caused him to waiver. Still, he sobered up and lumbered towards the stairs as he bellowed the commands for everyone to get out of the house.

Algren ran up to the man, who at this point was sweating bullets, sitting in a puddle of his own piss. He stepped up to him as the wash of rotten garbage hit his nose. He ignored the smell and looked at the contraption now displaying 45 seconds.

He gulped; this wouldn't be enough time to get anything done.

The man begged for help, looking back at him with wide eyes, in shock at what was about to happen.

Algren ripped the gag off as the man took a deep mouth full of fresh air.

"Sir, there isn't enough time. 40 seconds isn't much to work with here, and I don't even know what type of detonator we're looking at."

"I don't give a fuck what you think! Do you know who I am? I'm Colonel Bagley, and I command you to fix this right now!"

The hard instilled training kicked in as Algren shut his mouth to continue working on the bomb. He looked at it and saw roughly 11 modules to work on. The worst amount in such a case. He also saw no strike indicator. Meaning that he had no mistakes to work with on this contraption.

Not that it mattered, they were both going to die in this sick house. He started at the first wire module. Based on his teachings, this was the three-wire scenario. More than one blue wire meant that he cut the last blue wire. Okay, the first module was finished. 25 seconds left, and he moved onto the second module. The infamous memory module. A series of 4 buttons that he had to move through in stages.

He didn't have time to memorize the sequence. He also needed about 10 seconds to get out of this house if he wanted to live. Algren looked up at Colonel Bagley, who had a knowing expression on his face.

"Oh no, you fucking don't! I order you to sit here and finish this. Either that or you will be reported for desertion!"

"I don't care about desertion, Colonel Bagley. You were a shite officer anyway. I'm glad you're dead." Algren turned around and started sprinting down the steps with 10 seconds on the clock.

Colonel Bagley started screeching in hysteria. He couldn't believe what was happening. "Algren, you get your ass back here! Algren!"

Algren ran down the stairs two at a time to ensure he got out of there in time. He needed to be 40 meters from the bomb site, preferably more, as he pumped his legs faster and faster, breaking the door off its hinges and shifting into a full sprint onto the front porch. He almost got to the front gate before the bomb went off. Searing heat rippled into the air as the explosion lifted Algren off his feet.

Shards of glass and shrapnel flew everywhere, pushing Algren to the ground as he slammed onto his back and came to a halt.

"Hah! Hahaha….urk" Algren suddenly felt like he was drowning; he reached up towards his neck as he felt a large cut scored across, blood pumping out of the gash rapidly. Algren tried to apply pressure to the cut, but he was bleeding out too quickly. A smile broke out across his features, lost in combat and in rescue and now bleeding out on a front porch in the Taliban outbacks.

What a disgraceful way to die, was the only thought on his mind as he heard shouts in the background, his crew running up towards him.

He let out a last guttural scream.

------

Quick note:

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