A Tale of Six Scars - Scar Number Six

[indigo_angels]

..6..

Hannibal, Murdock and BA crouched in the shrubbery watching as Face shinned up the drainpipe and onto the balcony of the huge colonial house they were preparing to attack. The African sun beat down on the back of Hannibal’s head and he swallowed past the sense of unease he felt at doing this in the middle of the day. It was unavoidable though. Their brief was to retrieve the contents of the safe and the intel said that that it would be emptied later that same day and couried who knows where, so a risky day time raid was all that was available to them. And they had to be careful, a quick in, a quick out, no markings, no insignia. If it got out that the US army were running missions in Sierra Leone, there would be hell on.

 

“He’s in,” BA’s voice hissed through his comm. set and Hannibal gave the signal for them to move in.

 

It was a simple enough plan. Looking at the layout of the house there would be no way to get to the safe without alerting one of the many guards stationed around the upper level, so Hannibal’s plan was to draw them off, bring them down to the ground floor and give Face chance to break the safe in peace. Then they would all run like shit and the chopper would come pick them up. Simple.

 

_____________________________

 

He glanced at his watch; eight minutes it had taken them to dispatch twelve hostiles. He allowed himself a hint of a smile. His team were shit hot.

 

“Face?” he hissed into his comm., knowing his XO would understand the question.

 

“On my way boss!” the reply came and Hannibal could tell he was running.

 

“Okay. Main staircase, it’s clear for you.”

 

“Too late!” came the reply and Hannibal looked up at the sound of breaking glass above him. He saw Face sailing over his head and land on his hands and knees on the pitched roof of the garage block next to the house.

 

“Get down here!” Hannibal yelled into the comm., “We need to move out!”

 

“Here!” Face yelled, throwing his back pack down into BA’s waiting arms before looking back over his shoulder and muttering “Shit!” as he scrambled to his feet and took off running across tiles.

 

Hannibal looked back at the window Face had recently demolished and saw one of the guards with his gun, squinting through the sites to take a shot at Face. The guard readied his gun, so did both Murdock and BA, while Hannibal turned to follow Face’s progress and yell through the comm., “Get down, Face! He’s gonna shoot!”

 

Four shots sounded in the air, one after the other in sharp succession and Hannibal saw Face spun around and then knocked right off his feet onto the pitched roof; in horrific slow motion he slid down the tiles and disappeared out of Hannibal’s sight. Almost instantaneously Hannibal heard the gunman land somewhere behind him, taken out by his other two team members.

 

“Retreat you two!” Hannibal barked at them, “We’ll meet you at the RV! Go!”

 

He saw BA swing the backpack over his shoulder then the two disappeared into the shrubbery while Hannibal leapt over a low hedge, then sprinted round the corner of the garage, gun at the ready, needing to get to Face’s side, but unfortunately, he wasn’t the first one there.

 

____________________________

 

Five minutes later found Hannibal and Face on their knees with their hands on their heads. Their capturers had tried to interrogate them in Krio, but even though Face understood what they were asking and knew enough to answer, he’d kept quiet, knowing that they needed to give away as little information as possible. Now, the guards had retreated six or seven metres away and were arguing heatedly amongst themselves allowing the two intruders to have a muttered conversation. “What are they saying?” Hannibal hissed.

 

“They are waiting for the boss,” Face murmured back, “he speaks English.”

 

“Why are they arguing?”

 

Face paused for a moment, “They are trying to decide whose fault it was that we got in. No one wants the boss to blame them.”  He paused and frowned, “And I’m not sure but I think they keep mentioning, bushido...”  

 

Hannibal felt his own frown pull at his forehead, “Bushido? As in Japanese? The way of the warrior?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

 Face’s answer was tight and accompanied with a quick intake of breath which instantly had Hannibal’s eyes on him, “Kid? You okay?”

 

“Fine,” but Hannibal had seen the blood in his hair and the way his arms were trembling with the effort of being up on his head, “Think I might’ve busted a couple of ribs, nothing much.”

 

Hannibal sighed, the way he had fallen from the roof that was probably true. And even though the Kevlar had stopped the sniper’s bullets from reaching his skin, Hannibal knew from bitter experience that the impact still hurt like hell. “Don’t let them see...” he whispered, even though he knew Face didn’t need the warning.

 

Abruptly, the guards fell silent and turned their heads to the path through the shrubbery. Hannibal turned his head slightly to see two men walking sedately towards them through the gardens. The men were polar opposites of each other, one tall, massive, at least six foot ten, with shoulders as wide as a bull’s, the other was tiny, thin and diminutive, short black hair and an unmistakable far eastern appearance.

 

“Japanese...” Face whispered to his right.

 

And it was blatantly obvious which of the two men the guards were the most frightened of.

 

The two newcomers walked straight past Hannibal and Face without giving them a second glance and stopped in front of the huddle of terrified guards. There was an ominous pause before the small man spoke in Krio, his voice an icy whisper in the afternoon heat.

 

“Who has dishonoured themselves?” Face translated at a whisper for Hannibal.

 

There was no need for a translator for the men’s replies as they all began to jabber at once, pointing to one another and looking absolutely petrified.

 

The man barked a command and the commotion stopped.

 

“Enough,” Face whispered, “You, Tebo, weren’t you supposed to be guarding the perimeter today?”

 

Again, no translation was needed for the reply as the man identified as Tebo instantly fell to his knees, holding his hands out to the Japanese man and obviously begging for mercy.

 

It had been the wrong move. The Japanese man’s lip curled in disdain and he stepped back away from Tebo’s imploring hands hissing his reply as he did so.

 

“Do not touch me with your filthy hands,” Face translated, “You are not fit to be a soldier, you know bushido and what is expected of you now.”

 

Tebo’s pleas went into overdrive as the other men all took a step back, their own eyes still wide with terror.

 

It was at this point that the huge man took a step forward, reaching under his robes to bring out a short, gleaming sword, which he held out to the miserable Tebo. An awful silence fell as Tebo’s shaking hand slowly reached out to take the sword and turn it, point first into his stomach.

 

“Seppuku,“ Hannibal whispered.

 

For many minutes no one breathed as he knelt, shaking on the floor, but then the sword was suddenly sent skidding across the ground as Tebo hurled it away, lifting his face to the smaller man and letting out a string of curses. He never had the chance to finish his diatribe, however. A faint swish was all the warning he got about the sword that curved down through the air in the Man Mountain’s grip and severed his head in one clean stroke.

 

Blood showered the guards standing behind Tebo’s decapitated corpse and the unfortunate man’s head rolled across the paving coming to a standstill resting against Face’s thigh. Hannibal’s blood ran cold as he saw his lieutenant twitch, but other than that Face remained still.

 

Now, however, the Japanese man turned his attention to his two captives and he strolled slowly over to stand in front of them, ignoring the severed head leaking blood all over Face’s combat pants. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he smiled pleasantly, “I hear from my men that you have been refusing to answer any questions about your activities in my home today.” Neither man replied. “I think of that as the ultimate in impoliteness, especially as it seems at least one of you commands a sound grasp of the Krio language.” At this point the Japanese man’s eyes settled straight on Face and Hannibal prayed that the kid had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

 

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, me!”

 

Hannibal suppressed a groan, no such luck there then.

 

“American,” the man nodded, fortunately deciding not to strike Face for his comment, “I thought as much.”

 

“So, now you know who we are,” Hannibal decided to enter the fray now, since Face had tipped their hand, “How about you tell us who you are.”

 

The Japanese man raised an eyebrow at him, “Hmm. You don’t know? You are obviously just the hired help then. Typical of Mr. Hunter to send in mercenaries instead of coming to rob my safe himself.”

 

Hannibal bit back his surprise, he’d thought for sure that this man would assume they were Army Intelligence. Maybe the mission wasn’t a complete disaster just yet.

 

“You can call me Mr. Ho,” the Japanese man eventually answered, “And in return for that piece of information I would like to know where the contents of my safe are since my men tell me that you two have nothing of value on you.”

 

Except for all our weapons... Hannibal thought resentfully, which were now piled up the afternoon sun.

 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Hannibal answered easily, relieved that Face, for now, had shut up.

 

Mr. Ho narrowed his eyes. “I have had too much experience with American mercenaries to waste my time on such questions. My guards are tracking two more of your number who were seen running away. No doubt they have the contents of my safe and once we shoot them in the back as they run, they will be in no position to keep it from me.” He smiled at the paling of Hannibal’s skin. “And if that fails, then you,” Mr. Ho pointed a long, thin finger right in Hannibal’s face, “Will tell me anything I need to know. You American’s have such noble ideas about how they can hold out to torture, but I know from vast experience in the matter that, everyone, everyone will crack in the end. It’s only a matter of time.” Hannibal forced his face to remain blank, and hold Mr. Ho’s stare without flinching.

 

“But you,” Mr. Ho now turned his attention to Face who, it seemed to Hannibal, could not take his eyes of the severed head at his knee, “I have no need for. You are obviously not in charge here, and I will dispose of you immediately.”

 

That got Face’s attention and his eyes whipped up to Mr. Ho’s as Hannibal’s gut clenched in terror.

 

“Cold blooded murder, huh?” Hannibal was impressed at the steady tone in the kid’s voice, “I’m surprised Mr. Ho. I would have had you down as a more honourable man. More respecting of bushido than that.”

 

Hannibal held his breath, it was a risk, a damn risk, but if Mr. Ho really was going to kill him, what did they have to lose?        

 

For a minute it looked as though Mr. Ho was going to decapitate him himself, the fury in his eyes was so wild, but then, just as quickly it disappeared and he even smiled a thin, flat smile at Face. “Of course. You obviously read James Clavell in your spare time,” the smile was now mocking, “but you would like the opportunity to die with honour? In battle perhaps?”

 

“Anything beats having your head scythed off with a sword,” Face cracked as he smiled up at Mr. Ho.

 

Mr. Ho seemed to consider him for a moment before the thin smile widened into something much scarier. “Okay, American, you will have your chance. One to one combat, to the death. And if you survive, you go free, you have my word.”

 

“Both of us?” Face pushed, his eyes like blue ice, boring into Mr. Ho.

 

The wide dangerous smile was still there, “Of course.”

 

Face turned to shoot a triumphant smile at Hannibal, but his boss couldn’t return it. Somehow he felt that Mr. Ho was a man who always got his own way.

 

_________________________________________

 

Within ten minutes, everything was ready. Face had been stripped to the waist and Mr. Ho had been unable to suppress a smile at the obvious damage already done to his chest and his ribs by the sniper and the fall from the garage, and Hannibal knew that those ribs would now be prime target number one.

 

Face himself had seemed pretty upbeat and focussed, his smile had only wavered for a second when it became obvious that he would be fighting the Man Mountain, but Hannibal’s requests to talk to him for just one minute before the fight had been turned down. He’d been dragged right out of the way and his hands bound behind his back as preparations for the fight were being made.

 

Now they were ready to start. The Mountain was striding up and down, pounding his chest with his huge thick fists and roaring while Face stayed back out of his way, his head cocked to one side as he watched the show, the hint of a smile on his lips. Hannibal knew he was sizing the big guy up, looking for weaknesses, plotting a strategy and even though this guy was twice the size of BA, Hannibal hoped that the limited time his lieutenant and corporal had spent sparring together would at least stand Face in some credit.

 

Mr Ho gave the signal to begin and Hannibal could stand it no more, his heart was thumping horrendously in his chest and he felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath and yelled, “Rusz głową, dziecko, że twój odwrotnie to!” <Use your head, kid, think your way round this!>, figuring no one here looked like they could speak Polish and gaining a kick to the kidneys for his trouble.

 

Hannibal hoped that his words had got through. The worst that would happen here is that Face would charge out, like a lion out of a trap and throw everything he had at the guy. Hannibal knew the kid was good, he was fast, he was quick and he was strong, but compared to the sheer muscle, size and reach of this guy, that would never, ever, be enough. No, what was needed here was strategy and forethought. Skills that Face certainly possessed, but not ones he was renowned for using...

 

He was surprised though. Face certainly kept his head. He circled just out of Mountain’s reach, light on his feet, quick eyes taking everything in. Hannibal noticed how slow the big guy was at moving his feet, how he seemed to almost trip himself as he tried to keep pace with Face’s circling. He knew that Face had noticed as well. The guards were starting to get restless, although Mr. Ho was calm and no emotion at all showed on his face as he watched. And then Face made his first move.

 

He was in and out like lightening, a skip to the left, Mountain just that touch slower in following, a solid kick to the kidneys and then out again, even as the massive hands snatched at him, he was already out of range, circling again, eyes as focussed as Hannibal had ever seen them.

 

For five minutes this was how it went, another kick to the kidneys, a blow to the gut, a jab in the back of the knee, a kick to the ribs, and all the time Hannibal could see Mountain becoming more and more annoyed, his swings at Face just a bit wilder, and Hannibal began to let himself hope. But he could also see that Face was tiring, he was breathing heavily and Hannibal knew that had everything to do with his bust ribs and nothing to do with his level of fitness; Face could run all three of them into the ground.

 

Then, more from bad luck than skill, one of Mountain’s wild swings connected with Face’s ribs, making the kid stagger as he retreated, a hand reaching for the ground to stop himself from falling. He was back on his feet in moments, but the guards, and Mountain, smelled blood and for the first time the big guy went on the attack. Now Face’s quick feet were needed to keep him out of trouble, but Hannibal could see he wasn’t as light as he had been and his heart thumped in his chest in terror.

 

He would have been frightened if it was any of his men here, fighting for his life in such a one sided battle, but because it was Face... Hell, it was almost unbearable. Hannibal continued writhing against the ropes holding his hands behind his back as he wondered again how and why the kid had managed to take such a major hold on his life. He’d noticed it creeping up on him over the past year, how Face’s continued womanising seemed to grate on Hannibal more and more, how he found himself watching the kid from afar as he played soccer or volleyball, or hell, even if he was just walking across the mess. How he enjoyed his company more than anyone else’s, how those nightmares that plagued the kid’s sleep cut right down into Hannibal’s heart.

 

He’d thought that their little two man unit was maybe the cause, maybe things were a little intense just the two of them all the time and that had been a big consideration in bringing Murdock and BA on board. But that hadn’t helped at all. If anything it had made things worse, as Face now seemed to be almost glued to Hannibal’s side and Hannibal kept catching these little searching looks the kid was throwing him. It was almost like he was saying, ’Why boss? Why’d you need these two? Aren’t I enough for you anymore?’

 

As if that would ever be the case. Face was everything to him.

 

He looked up at the clock tower above the garage and realised that it was past RV time. BA and Murdock would now know they were in trouble. So, what would they do? Accompany the package out or come back for Face and Hannibal? Somehow he hoped they’d do both.

 

Meanwhile, Face continued to hold his own. Mountain had got another couple of hits in, one splitting the kid’s lip, but Face was managing to keep out of the way most of the time, launch his own counter attacks occasionally and just do his best to antagonise the crap out of Mountain. However, Hannibal watched Mr. Ho and could see that thin face frowning in frustration, he’d obviously not thought Face would last this long, and he worried if he would do something to quicken the outcome...

 

Hannibal was right. Just as Face was retreating from a very well timed jab to the back of the knee that had had Mountain staggering, Mr. Ho nodded at one of the guards who instantly pulled a gun from his belt, Hannibal froze in horror, but the guard only pointed it in the sky and pulled the trigger, the single blast scaring birds from the trees and bringing Face and Mountain out of the fight.

 

“Weapons,” Mr. Ho said quietly, “We need weapons...” he spoke to one of the guards who hurried off to the garage while Face and Mountain stood quietly, Face fighting for breath as he wiped the blood from his chin and the sweat from his chest. Hannibal wanted to go to him, give him some moral support, tell him how proud he was of him, but he as he tried to rise, one of the guards shoved him roughly back to the ground. The movement caught Face’s eye and he started towards his boss, stopping almost instantly when four guns pointed at his chest. He flicked his eyes to Hannibal who shook his head and Face stood down, taking a step back as Hannibal smiled and winked at him, trying to tell him how well he was doing.

 

The guard’s return with a huge wooden chest got everyone’s attention back on the fight as Mountain stepped forward and rooted around, coming up with a short handled dagger which he threw to Face before striding into the garage himself and coming back with a bo, a sturdy six foot long wooden staff.

 

Hannibal caught the look of disbelief that Face threw at him before he turned to the Japanese man to voice his compliant, “Mr. Ho,” Hannibal found it hard to keep the anger out of his voice, “that hardly constitutes a fair fight...”

 

Mr Ho rounded on him in a second, “Fair?” he spat at Hannibal, “and how fair was it when you dogs attacked my home, stole my possessions and murdered my men?”

 

“It’s fine, boss,” Face was tossing the dagger from hand to hand, doing everything he could to exude an air of confidence and Hannibal felt his heart swell at the kid’s bravery.

 

“Dziesięć minut po spotkania...” <Ten minutes after rendezvous.> He knew Face would get the message: hang on kid, Murdock and BA will be back for us.

 

The fight restarted, but this time, Mountain had the advantage from the first second. He swung the bo around, clearly comfortable in its use as Face watched warily, then lashed out with a lightning fast jab. Face sidestepped, trying to twist his body out of the way but it caught his shoulder, the impact audible to the assembled guards who all cheered at the sound. Quick as a flash, while Mountain was still basking in the adoration of his fans, Face retaliated. Dropping down to the ground he took all of his weight on the hands, and swung his legs out and behind Mountain, catching him on the inside of the ankles with enough force to knock him to the ground.

 

Hannibal’s breath caught in his throat, he knew the move that Face was going for, knew that if he could get the giant on his back on the floor then the kid would be on his neck with that dagger in a split second and it almost worked. Mountain stumbled and went to fall backwards, but the damn bo caught his weight and he used it to keep him upright, push back onto his feet while Face crouched in wait just out of his reach. Hannibal couldn’t stop the hissed expletive from leaving his mouth.

 

Mountain sensed the change in the atmosphere following Face’s counter strike, and could see the hushed whispers of the guards as they discussed how close Face had come to a victory, and his blood started to boil. He lashed out again with the end of the bo, catching Face in the stomach, but avoiding winding him as Face had stepped back enough and just in time. Now he went for a copy of Face’s own trick, swinging the bo around at ankle height, but Face was ahead of him, jumping early to land on the staff and try to jerk it out of the giant’s hands, and again it almost worked, Mountain’s thick fingers just managing to keep their grip.

 

Now he ripped the bo up into the air, Face managing to get his feet back on solid ground just in time and started to advance, the bo held diagonally across him, murder showing in his eyes. Face stood his ground and Hannibal could see the kid narrow his eyes, his tongue flicking out to moisten dry lips and then they both moved at once. Mountain let go with a flurry of blows with the bo, left, right, left again, solid thumps raining down on Face’s torso, while Face did his best to ignore the onslaught and let loose with the dagger, a good, hard, straight throw from close range, right at the giant’s throat.

 

His aim was true, but luck wasn’t on his side. At the last moment, mountain jagged to one side and the knife sliced across the outside of his neck, cutting skin and flesh, but not embedding, not slicing arteries or tendons. Not opening up his wind pipe. Realising his gamble hadn’t paid off, Face retreated, but Mountain could smell a victory. A solid hit to the ribs brought a cry of pain from Face’s mouth and Hannibal strained even harder at his ropes, desperate to get free and help his lieutenant, the rib shot was closely followed by a wide swing to the stomach which actually lifted the kid off his feet for a second.

 

Face fought to get back into the game, dropping to his hands and swinging his legs once more but this time mountain was ready for his move and brought the bo down onto his back with a thud, knocking all the wind out of him and pushing him down onto his stomach. Face was instantly scrambling back up to his feet, but his eyes caught Hannibal’s on the way up and Hannibal heart broke at the look that was there. The kid knew he was beaten, knew it was only a matter of time. He was saying sorry with his eyes. Sorry, and goodbye.

 

Hannibal opened his mouth to yell at the kid to keep fighting, not to give up but a sound to his left caught his attention, a bird call from the bushes, almost indistinguishable from all the other bird calls in the garden but Hannibal knew this one, it was the team’s signal. Three calls in quick succession; get ready we are getting you out in three minutes. His heart soared but he looked back at Face, currently dodging a swing aimed straight at his head and wondered if the kid could last even one more minute.

 

 

“Trzy minuty...!” <Three minutes...!> he yelled, knowing he had to keep Face fighting until the rescue arrived and his call did seem to galvanise the kid. Mountain swung with the bo again, striking down towards Face’s head but the kid leant back, right leg coming up and kicking up into the air, heel of his boot catching the bo right in the middle and breaking the entire thing in two. Mountain roared his displeasure and swung the broken end round again, catching Face across the ribs and forcing him to stagger back, then a jab to the stomach with the jagged edges and Face clutched his stomach in agony, before a swift swing upwards caught the kid on the chin, knocking him up, off his feet and Hannibal knew he was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Next: http://indigo-angels.livejournal.com/16098.html