Apr. 8th, 2010

Lebanon (1)

Apr. 8th, 2010 02:43 am
one_man_army: (if that's how you want to play)
It's been twenty-one days since he left the bar, over two weeks since he told Jack that they were still waiting on a 'green light' to begin their operations; in Carl's opinion, they've spent eighteen days longer than they should have in the country when they finally get the call.

He's looking at the intel with a critical eye -- how many times he's reread the same sheet of facts, God only knows -- when he feels a slight vibration in his pocket. A glance at his phone confirms what he suspects: a text message.




Daddy's home. )

Lebanon (2)

Apr. 8th, 2010 02:44 am
one_man_army: (fatigues)
[following : part one]

At first, Carl allows Harris to stand in the room. He's not a distraction; he's nothing but background noise. The other members of Delta linger for a few minutes, but eventually leave.

(They've got more work to do; they know that Carl can handle this. Interrogate and obtain the information they need. It's textbook.)


 

Let me make this simple. )

Lebanon (3)

Apr. 8th, 2010 03:06 am
one_man_army: (fatigues)
[following : part two]

Watching from across the room, four cigarettes and three amputated fingers into the latest round of questioning, Harris ignores the taste of bile at the back of his throat.



Carl's knife slices through the joint on the man's thumb.

"All I need is a name."

"I already told you, I don't know--"

"And you're lying--"

"No I'm not, I swear, swear I'm not, no, please--"




 
Just give it up. )

Lebanon (4)

Apr. 8th, 2010 03:09 am
one_man_army: (acu with weapon)
[following: part three]


"Damn it!"

He's fought in places all over the world -- deep in the jungles of South America to the arid sands of Afghanistan and everywhere in between -- but street battles are always the hardest.

A burst of gunfire from a semi-automatic pulverizes the brick above Carl's head, creating a sandstorm of grit that mixes with the smoke already in the air. There's a car on fire halfway down the block, the scent of fuel and blood stinging his nose and eyes as he runs from doorway to doorway looking for cover.

They're falling back from their positions, toppling like dominos nudged by an unseen hand.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. )

Profile

one_man_army: (Default)
one_man_army

August 2013

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 16th, 2025 05:02 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios