THE BATTLE
A HUSTLE DELETED SCENE
ONE YEAR EARLIER
GABE
There’s smoke and shit everywhere, the acrid smell of gunpowder and shrapnel in the air, but I’ve studied this area long enough to know exactly where I am, even if we are blind.
For some fucking reason comms are down
I crouch behind the skeleton of a van, watching for signs of life down the end of the road. It’s quiet save for the muted pop-pops of distant gunfire.
Yes, sir, Baghdad is on fire tonight.
The source intel on this was sketchy, but I have no doubt a high-value target is up there in the shit-storm somewhere, cowering away behind his bum buddies. He’s ours tonight whether he knows it or not.
All I know is that we have to get down there before the word gets out and this whole thing goes FUBAR when the QRF shows up.
I check my M-4 assault rifle over. Good to go, but I’ll take this cocksucker down with my K-bar if I have to.
My ears are still pinging from the HALO in.
For a moment, the distant minarets silhouetted against the sky look almost beautiful, but they belie the horrors happening below, happening in the very name of everything they stand for.
I look back to the others. They remain in position waiting for my signal, ghosts filling shadows.
The Rangers that have been roped into this mission flank my position.
I take stock. We’re blind, but this opportunity is too good not to pounce on.
Extraction’s not until 0700.
There’s time alright.
Fucking go time, bitches.
The smoke in the alleyway is getting thicker.
I know he’s down there.
So fucking close.
I’m concerned we’re going to be boxed in here soon, no shoreline to guide us home with all this bullshit floating around.
“Keep it tight,” I tell the team. “Eyes sharp.”
Triss is back by my side. She nods to down the alleyway. “We should go. The longer we sit here, the more time he has to fuck off. Do you know who this guy is?”
I’ve seen his handiwork, enough to know a bullet to the head won’t be justice enough.
“Possible aggressor vehicles approaching from the south,” my receiver chirps.
This is my op. We’re dark. I have the final say, but it’s risky.
I grind my teeth together.
“I can get down there,” says Triss, “scope it out.”
“No you’re fucking not.”
She’s itching for action. I know the look.
Rod is at my back. He places his hand on my shoulder. “Senior Chief, what’s happening? The boys want to know if we should set up the BBQ.”
A simple exfil would have been easier.
“Come on,” presses Triss.
“How good’s the intel?” I ask Rodd, constantly scanning.
“Rock solid.”
“Let me go,” repeats Triss.
“No,” I reply, firmer, wondering why the fuck she just can’t take orders like everyone else.
The smoke begins to clear.
I see right to the end of the alleyway. It looks okay, but as anyone who’s skulked around here long enough knows, looks can be deceiving.
Triss stands and starts to run. “I’m going.”
Fucking hell.
My arm twitches. I could easily reach out and pull her back, but for some reason it doesn’t lift. I’m letting her go because I know she’ll be okay, and we need this HVT. We need him bad.
I signal two of the other Rangers to follow her in. They go running past, weapons raised.
Then I see her.
A girl—young, a child—steps out into the open down the end of the alley. She can’t be more than twenty feet from Triss’s position, maybe closer.
I see the wiring, the explosives strapped around her chest. There is no emotion on her face. She doesn’t know what’s going on.
There’s nothing in her hand. The trigger’s remote.
Triss and I lift our weapons at the same time.
We’re too late.
The force of the explosion drives me hard into the wall.
I go rolling off in a wash of debris, shit raining from the sky, my nostrils full of dust and concrete.
Triss.
I hear fire, a dim “Contact, rear!” in my ear.
I roll and lift my weapon, staggering to my feet and finding cover.
Shitheads moving onto the roofs above. “Go!” I shout.
I look back down the alley for Triss, but it’s a giant heap of rubble. There is no way she made it through that.
I see one of the other Rangers clawing his way forward away from the blast, his leg torn to pieces. “Fuck,” I yell, my ears ringing.
I run back and take him under the arm, dragging him to cover as the firefight intensifies.
It’s bad. It’s all bad.
A round zips past, pinging off the wall.
I look back one last time.
She’s gone, I think. She’s gone.