notjustaface | Rescue Mission

Rescue Mission - It's a TRAP

Leaving Canada was about the hardest thing he'd done yet - harder still knowing that they were all flying into heavy enemy territory where not only would there be insurgents breathing down their necks there would almost certainly be a US Military ambush to capture them.

The mission itself was straightforward, two non-combatant civilians (reporters, Hannibal thinks) were captured three months before and being held in a camp a few miles outside of Baghdad. Three teams had already been sent in to extract them; two came back wounded and empty-handed, the third didn't come back at all. By Hannibal's reckoning the problem was that they were sending in too many people and taking the small compound through a single strategy - the first by air, the second full frontal, the third undercover. The real trick - and the trick to getting out of the trap - was to divide forces.

Hannibal goes in undercover, giving BA just enough time to create a nice explosive distraction for Face to set up with a sniper rifle and start taking out anyone that stands between the prisoners and the gates - no matter whose uniform they're wearing. Murdock had the most important job of all; air support. He'd have to wait undetected as close as possible before coming in and laying down enough cover to get everyone safely in the chopper before getting them the hell out of there... while being shot at.

"Think we can pull this off?" Face whispers quietly as they load magazines together in the relative privacy of their tent - less than two hours before going in.

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He nods. Radio silence is better than no communication channels at all. (Another circumstance he's all too used to.)

He glances over his shoulder at BA. "You okay, big guy?"

He just growls an affirmative.

None of them really looking forward to this, but at least BA has the dignity to take it quiet. Face... well, dignity has never been his strong suit.

"This is suicide." He mutters under his breath, not for the first time when going over one of Hannibal's plans. "We have no idea what we're walking into. For all we know this damn blueprint is bogus. Do you really trust the information the people trying to throw us back in jail are giving you?"

Hannibal puffs deeply off his cigar before responding bluntly; "Captain Sosa handed them to me herself, so you tell me if they're trustworthy."

Oh, he just had to bring her into it.

"Face." He touches his hand again. "Please don't."

In the event that the op does go bad, he doesn't want his last memory of his boyfriend to be him picking a fight with their CO.

With a resigned sigh, he looks to Murdock and then back to the Colonel - wisely keeping his mouth shut on the matter.

"Unless anyone else has something they'd like to say, it's high time we get our asses out there." Hannibal stubs out the cigar with a purposeful look between the pair. "We'll drive blacked out to the chopper and then hike the mile up to the compound. It's dark enough out there, they shouldn't see us coming."

He hangs back as Hannibal leads the way to the waiting vehicle, more than ready to get this show on the road. He can feel the old familiar excitement starting up, something that's not quite mania but feels quite a bit like it.

"Remember what I said," he whispers to Face. "No regrets."

It's just light enough that he knows Murdock sees the grim expression on his face at that thought. No regrets. Yeah. Right.

"We're not gonna have to worry about that." He whispers, sliding into the back of the jeep.

The drive out is silent, and they don't have much time once they get to the chopper.

"Remember keep her low and quiet - it's gonna go fast." He whispers, watching him climb into the cockpit. "Don't look for me, just focus on getting the civilians out of there and if I'm not right behind them you take off as fast as you can."

"You'd better be," he retorts quietly.

He pulls his headset on, feeling somewhat in control for the first time since they left Montreal. He gives BA a fistbump and the Colonel a salute... he can't give Face what he really wants to give him, so he settles for a nod and a wink.

"I'll be waitin' on the signal. Have fun stormin' the castle."

Edited 2013-07-05 07:34 (UTC)

Rolling his eyes, partially at the wink but mostly at the Princess Bride quote, Face shakes his head and presses a small kiss his direction before following behind Hannibal's jog toward the encampment.

He's not sure what to expect, none of them really, so even though it's pretty typical on approach, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when Hannibal runs ahead to get captured.

As far as risk goes, admittedly the boss is getting the worst of it - posing as a lost missionary he's bound to be captured if they're really up against insurgents. They'll put him in a holding cell - presumably not far from the other civilians - and leave him till morning for questioning. If it's their own dug in there, it'll be a whole lot harder for him to hold up his end of the deal... and they'll know he's not alone.

Working under the impression the enemy knows they're coming, both he and BA follow the orders to the letter - waiting exactly thirty minutes before BA is sent to start setting charges.

He's the picture of stealth, and as soon as he hears the ground rattling series of explosions he takes off running as close to the ground as he can toward the tower.

Being separated from the team while shit goes down is the worst feeling, but it's one he's gotten used to over the years. He's keeping his ears open, despite the radio silence, but the jolt of the far-off explosions would seem to indicate that at least something is going as planned.

"Come on guys," he mutters to himself. "Give me a sign here..."

Edited 2013-07-05 08:46 (UTC)

Climbing the tower proves to be harder than he'd anticipated with the extra gear weight - not to mention the fact that he hasn't had to climb up a fucking rope in a really long time - but he manages it well enough. Listening to the familiar cries of BA doing his thing and laying the smack down, he tries to figure out just how many they're dealing with and maybe what side they might be on.

When he hits the top and knocks out the guard with the butt of his heavy rifle he gets the answer he was expecting.

A lot. Not quite a hell of a lot, but enough that BA's in some trouble and Hannibal is nowhere to be seen. Quickly disabling the guards in the second tower with well placed shots, he settles into the side with the best view of the gates and starts laying down cover fire - one scope shot after another, following BA from the gates toward the building where Charissa had said the reporters were being held.

"Come on... come on..." he whispers, taking a second to look past the compound with his scope until he sees the telltale signs of vehicles coming their way.

Lots of them.

"Guys, we got company..." he says quickly over the secure channel; "at least four jeeps and an APC."

Edited 2013-07-05 08:58 (UTC)

"You need air support?"

He'll be waiting for the signal unless he's told otherwise, but not knowing what's going on is killing him a little.

Hannibal's voice snarls over the line; "Hold your positions until you see my signal. Radios off. NOW."

Without hesitation, Face turns his off and once more takes aim for the few men still standing - taking them out at the legs. Three mags down, he finally sees Hannibal and BA emerge from the building each with someone slung over their shoulder. Setting off the flare is risky - as close as Murdock is in the chopper the Army's even closer - their first of the jeeps already driving through the rubble of their breach.

Turning his rifle on them - aiming to disable the vehicles before they can get any closer - he opens fire.

And then a bright flash of orange sulfur is launched.

"Come on, Murdock... get your ass in here, baby..."

That's his cue. He brings the chopper in low, trying to be as stealthy as it's possible to be while piloting a near-wreck of an aircraft and singing something that sounds like Ride of the Valkyries as interpreted by the Swedish Chef.

Spotting Hannibal and BA with the civilians, he knows his responsibility is to get them on board first. Like hell is he leaving anyone behind, though.

Bullets glance off the jeeps as he takes out tires and glass and fuel lines wherever he can. Thankfully, every returned shot that whizzes past him or buries itself in the tower is one less aimed at the Apache as Murdock flies over them toward a courtyard where he can land long enough to take on passengers.

He doesn't have time to get back to them - not while he's drawing fire and shooting US Army trained soldiers anywhere non-fatal.

"Go..." He whispers, glancing back at them as Hannibal and BA board with the civilians. "Get out of here."

He lands as softly as possible, helping get everyone onboard before they attract too much enemy attention. He can't help noticing the conspicuous lack of Lieutenant among his passengers.

"Colonel...?"

He can guess the answer without even asking the question. His duty is clear: civilians first.

"Get us out of here, Captain." Hannibal growls, tending to a blonde woman who seems to be unconscious as BA takes a capsule to knock himself out. "C'mon, move. They're getting out the big guns."

In the tower, Face locates the APC where they're unloading an anti-aircraft gun that makes his heart sink. "I really didn't want to have to do this..." he mutters under his breath, shifting his aim from their shoulder to the gunner's throat. "Sorry, man."

He's got to make sure the helicopter doesn't go down.

Inhaling sharply, he forces himself to keep his eyes on the sky as he goes through the motions of getting the Apache airborne almost by rote.

"Everyone okay back there?"

It's the closest he can come to acknowledging what's happening.

"We've got a wounded civilian." Hannibal reports back, "We need to get back to base so she can get medical attention."

Having to leave Face behind was always a possibility - and the way they're being swarmed by troops makes it a much higher possibility.

Waiting until the gunner drops from his post, Face sees the opportunity and takes it - slinging his grappling hook for the opposite tower with barely enough rope to make the gap. "Here goes nothing..." he mutters under his breath and closes his eyes before climbing up on the wall - doing his best Tarzan-like swing across the field of wounded before dropping on the opposite side of the APC and rolling on the hard ground, pain shooting through his arms and legs.

"Jesus Christ..." he groans, only closing his eyes a second before trying to scramble to his feet. If he's gonna make the chopper before they're too high to grab him he better move it.

Even focused on the take-off, he doesn't miss the swing. Leave it to Face...

"Come on, baby, move..." He murmurs, not even realizing that he's speaking out loud. He's trying to give him as much time as possible, but they're gonna have to move fast.

Edited 2013-07-05 20:41 (UTC)

Desperate times mean desperate measures, Murdock - man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Even if it means probably a broken ankle and bruised ribs.

"Captain... get her in the air." Hannibal says sternly; "That's an order!"

Pushing himself himself as hard as he can, Face's vision is a little blurry and he feels the sting of a bullet catching his body armor and then another cutting through the outside of his thigh.

"God damn it..." he growls loudly, launching himself for the open door to catch a strong and steady hand reaching out to him.

"I got him!" BA calls back in a somewhat drugged, but no less confident voice. "Come on man, get your ass in here before I drop you."

He lets himself sigh in relief as BA hauls Face onboard, pushing the battered old chopper hard to get out of the danger zone as quickly as possible.

His usual exuberance is all but gone as they haul ass back to the base. He'll celebrate when they're on the ground and everyone's patched up

Panting, Face doesn't bother with strapping himself into a seat - he merely lays out on the floor beside a man jabbering excitedly in French and a pretty blonde that was just as unconscious as he'd like to be.

"I'm hit." He groans, closing his eyes with the knowledge that Hannibal is going to be on it as soon as he's got the girl stable.

Familiar hands check him over, stripping off his vest and feeling down his legs to where a patch of blood sticks the black pants to his leg. "Just a graze;" Hannibal's voice says calmly; "don't be a baby. You've had worse."

"I think my ankle's broken..." he adds, opening one eye; "and my ribs fucking hurt. Got pegged in the back."

Edited 2013-07-05 22:35 (UTC)

He doesn't say anything, but listens as he recounts his injuries. Comparatively minor, thankfully, and he knows they could have been a lot worse. They got lucky.

It's not until he hears the quiet whispers in French that it dawns on him why the unconscious woman had looked familiar.

Holy shit, what are the odds...

"Wake up, Face..." Hannibal's voice snapped his eyes back open right before the hard slap of his thick palm against Face's cheek.

"Fuck! I'm up, I'm up... what??" He groans loudly, pushing up on shaky arms to lean against the back of BA's seat.

"I need you to talk this guy down - I don't know what he's trying to say, but he's gonna give himself a heart attack."

Forcing himself to focus, Face shook his head - watching the inside of the chopper spin just a little bit before looking at the man still muttering a whole lot faster than he's used to. He looks the man in the eyes and mutters; "Vous pourriez parler moins vite s’il vous plaît? Tu parles anglais?"

"Non," the man shakes his head, but thankfully slows down - explaining that they were doing a report when their convoy was attacked only he and the woman had survived, and she was the only one who spoke even a little Arabic.

"Je comprends," Face mutters, and then explains that he should relax - they're in good hands and they will be met by people they can trust at the US embassy very soon. Then he turns to the girl, feeling a sinking in his guts that's got nothing to do with the choppy sway of the damaged helicopter. "Damn it. I know her."

"You know her?" Hannibal's eyebrows knit together; "Or you've slept with her?"

"No... no. From the last Baghdad job, she was part of the press pool - I swiped her badge."

Among other things. But he stays quiet once more, trying to coax the Apache to hold together just a little longer.

"Hang on, this might be a bit of a rough landing."

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