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"Okay." Falcon caught up with me. "The building's right ahead. Lemme go in first, okay? I got my SAT phone. I'll communicate stats."
I nodded briefly. Again, a flutter of unease rose in my chest.
"Be careful, Falcon. Don't compromise your position."
Falcon smiled briefly before he disappeared in the storm.
We moved quickly and silently, our eyes scanning every alley and rooftop for signs of danger. All I could see was dust and more dust.
"Falcon, do you copy?"
The SAT phone blared into static. My unease was a knot in the core of my stomach.
My palms began to sweat, and my heart raced as I realized just how precarious our situation was.
Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to call him back, but I couldn't. I couldn't.
The only sounds coming through were the wind and our breathing and the occasional crackle of the radio as our command center continued guiding us.
"Copy, Grizzly!"
"Copy!" I replied, relieved.
"Brick building ahead."
We trudged through the dust, and soon, we could see a rundown old red building in front of us—the kind that could have been a newspaper factory in another age.
"Hurry—AH!"
I knew danger when I heard it. Call it years of experience. Call it a reflex.
Call it the need to save my best friend.
"Now."
We kicked the door of the derelict red building open.
The room was dark, but we could make out the outline of a figure holding a hostage at gunpoint.
Half his face was hidden under a black turban and the other half by a long beard. He came down on us like whiplash, but Paladin fired a clean shot.
"Tango down."
The room erupted in a hail of bullets as we exchanged fire with the terrorists.
Move and shoot. Shoot and move.
The sound of gunfire was deafening, but it was also routine. You put a man in a room with a monster, he will eventually learn to make his bed with it.
We covered room to room with the fluidity of a panther stalking his prey, every movement purposeful and exact.
"Engage targets."
Our eyes were laser-focused, bodies taught with anticipation as we fired our way to the objective.
Every step I took was deliberate. My men followed suit, each turn of their head and move of their hand as precise as could be.
Our weapons were no more than an extension of our bodies, held with a familiarity born of countless hours on the field and in practice.
