indigo_angels

Hannibal shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp concrete floor and felt the chains on his wrists bite into his flesh once more. They had been set up. It was as clear as day to him now, that someone, someone in the Army or Intelligence or even the fucking Rangers, had worked with these bastards to pull this off, to go to all this effort just to get hold of him.

He still wasn’t exactly sure what this whole thing was about, although he did have a rather uncomfortable possibility, and if he was right, then he was really in the shit. For about the thousandth time that day, he wondered where the boys were and if they were alright. The only time he’d seen a living soul since he’d been dragged down into this cellar right after they grabbed him, was when they brought some bread and water down midmorning and told him that his team were dead, riddled with machine gun fire and dropped into a hole in the forest. Hannibal managed to school his features into passive neutrality, even against the image of Face, skin white as snow, eyes open and starring, red bullet holes peppering his perfect body, insisted on swimming through his head.

He’d thought about nothing else for the rest of the morning, forcing himself to stay in one emotional piece as he considered this statement and the likelihood of it being true or not. Eventually, he decided on not. If the boys really were dead, and his captors wanted him to know about it, then they would have dragged at least one of the bodies down here to flaunt in front of him, maybe even leave it in here with him, remind him he was on his own. No bodies – no deaths. That was what Hannibal was choosing to believe and he was going to stick with it until he had evidence to the contrary.

He looked back up at the tiny patch of darkening sky just visible through his cellar window and went back to wondering what the boys were up to, and whether Face had come up with a plan to spring him yet.

_______________________

They parked the jeep at the end of the track and within minutes were loaded up and ready to go. Face adjusted his pack and turned to the others, eyes deadly serious. “Okay, guys, this is it. Retrieval mission. We all know the stakes, we all know the plan. If we get split up, keep to your end of the deal, but if you need to withdraw, then withdraw. If we take one more casualty then we will not be in a position to help anyone. That clear?”

Murdock nodded and BA made a humph sound that went straight to Face’s temper trigger. “Well, maybe if we’d hung around a bit last night we coulda done this then and saved us and the boss a whole loada trouble!”

Face turned on him in an instant. He was dressed head to toe in black, they all were, face blacked out and woollen beanie hiding the relative paleness of his hair. He was already starting to melt into the background as the light rapidly faded around him, but the one thing that he couldn’t hide were his eyes, and BA noticed them flashing even more brightly than usual due to the unusual darkness of his skin and wondered if he had ever seen Face quite so angry.

“If we had hung around last night, BA, then we would all be dead now,” he stared coldly at the Corporal, “and where would that leave the boss, huh?” BA narrowed his eyes. “This is a tough enough mission as it stands without you making it ten times worse by refusing to follow my fucking orders! So what’s it gonna be? You gonna do this and get the boss back, or are you gonna fight me and let us all die?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Face and BA stared each other down before Face noticed Murdock’s fingers slowly creeping forward and sliding into the back pocket of BA’s combats. The big guy seemed to deflate a notch at that touch, although his eyes were still full of anger. “I’ll follow your plan, pretty boy,” he muttered, “only as long as I think it’s the best chance we have of getting the boss back. The second I think you’re running out on him again, you on your own. You got that? I aint following you like I follow the boss.”

Face considered him for a moment before nodding. Yeah, he was allowed that. Face knew damn well that BA didn’t respect him, hell, didn’t even like him much, so no, respect was never going to happen. “I’ll settle for grudging acceptance right now, Baracus,” he muttered in reply.

This brought a hint of a smile to the big guy’s lips and he nodded tersely, holding Face’s eyes in the twilight, “Grudging acceptance it is then, man,” he acknowledged, shouldering his own pack and moving out into the scrub.

_________________

Face set a blistering pace that the others struggled to follow. He ran with the GPS in his hand, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and their surroundings as darkness fell around them. Without a moon or stars in the sky, or even a town within three hundred clicks, the darkness was complete and absolute.

Even with Face’s testing pace, it still took them thirty five minutes to reach the top of the escarpment and they were all blowing heavily by the time they crested the ridge and set about unpacking their chutes.

“You sure there’s enough wind for this?” Murdock had obviously tried to phrase his question in the most non-confrontational way possible, but still it instantly riled Face right up.

“Of course!” he hissed under his breath, “Or I wouldn’t be doing it now, would I? You think I don’t want the boss back or something?”

Suddenly he felt Murdock’s hand on his arm, gentle but firm, “I know exactly how much you want him back, Face,” he murmured softly, “and that’s why I am asking.”

For a moment, Face almost drowned in the emotions those words stoked within him, but he swallowed it back and nodded, returning to his kit. “There’s plenty of wind, HM. And I know the kit isn’t ideal for paragliding, but that will work just fine as well.” They were using the chutes they came in on, fast and lightweight enough to double as a paraglide for those skilful enough to handle them.

Face was going first, “Okay, everyone got their coordinates?”

Murdock and BA nodded, “Set off right after me, and try to stay together. Remember the roof is quite sloped so be ready to hold on, and its wooden, so sound carries, right?”

Two heads nodded at him so he stood and adjusted his harness before taking a deep breath and running like all hell for the edge.

Murdock stood and watched him as he dipped, climbed and then was swallowed up by the black night before turning to BA. “Go easy on him, huh, big guy?”

BA raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s not easy for him, you know. Just think about how it could have been different.”

Watching as Murdock sprinted after Face before throwing himself into the air, BA shook his head, “No way I’da left you behind, crazy guy...” he muttered to himself as he tightened his own straps and prepared to take off.

________________________

Face was waiting, virtually thrumming with anxiety, by the time Murdock landed lightly on the steeply pitched roof next to him and started hauling his chute in. “Where’s BA?” Face hissed helping Murdock stuff the reams of nylon into his backpack.

Murdock looked up into the night sky but could see nothing, “Just behind me, chill, man, he’ll be here.”

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Face leant over the roof to stare down into hastily cleared space all around the house, currently patrolled by one solitary guard. He frowned and leaned further over, lying flat on his stomach, secure in the knowledge that he was hidden by the glare of the huge floodlights positioned on the walls just beneath him. He heard BA land behind him, incredibly quietly for such a big guy, but didn’t turn around, too preoccupied with the sight below him.

“Face!” Murdock appeared at his elbow, “We’re all here, muchacho, let’s move it!”

Face didn’t stir.

“Face!!”

“It’s not right,” Face responded, eyes glued below.

Murdock slid along next to him, his body a warm solid presence, helping Face to keep his focus and he too checked out the scene below, “That lorry wasn’t there before...” he muttered seeing immediately what Face had spotted, “What do you think that means?”

Pushing back up the wooden tiles, Face just narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know,” he muttered tightly, “But you’re right, we need to get moving.”

Silently following him, Murdock met BA’s dark stare. He knew that Face had a pretty good idea what the lorry’s presence meant, just like he and BA did. But somehow they were all thinking that if they didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true...

Face slipped his knife out of its sheath and ran it around the edge of a skylight, levering it under the wooden frame and catching it with his fingers, lifting and opening until it reached the extent of its spread. He tested the gap and hissed in frustration through his teeth as he realised that the gap wasn’t big enough for even Murdock to slide through, never mind him or BA.

He flashed his eyes up at BA who instantly took the window from him and braced himself, jerking it up and back and breaking the hinges. Face was through the gap before BA had even had the chance to lie the window to one side, leaning in head first, Beretta held in front of him, before pulling up, reassured the attic was as empty as he expected it to be, and dropping through feet first instead. He lowered himself slowly in, taking all the weight on his arms, slowly extending until he was hanging only a foot from the floor. Taking a deep breath, he dropped, trying to cushion his fall as much as possible and deaden the noise throughout the rest of the house.

As soon as he hit the floor he dropped to one knee, gun, with suppressor already attached, pointing steadily at the door. He counted out four minutes before he moved, looking up through the skylight to where Murdock’s anxious face was just about visible, and signalling for them to follow him in. He helped them both drop in, ensuring they were as silent as possible, before heading over to the door.

Suddenly, it was as if his dispute with BA had never happened. They took up positions around the door without any conscious thought and moved through, each man backing up the other, covering the unknown, functioning on autopilot like they had done in hundreds of training sessions over the last few months.

They reached the top of the attic staircase, still without having seen a single guard and Face motioned where he needed the others to be. Taking point, he started down the dusty steps, gun ready and eyes wide, the sounds of movement and voices clearly reaching them from the floor below. This was where it got messy.

They moved like silent, deadly ghosts. Face taking out every guard they came to, a quick knife across the throat and they died silently, their bodies dragged out of the corridor and hidden. Face studiously ignored the looks that Murdock kept throwing at him, shocked he knew by the killing. Hannibal was always the one who decided if they killed or not; it wasn’t a predetermined certainty. If the boss thought they could get away without unnecessary death, then they would. But tonight Face had made that decision himself, and even though he knew it may just come back to haunt him on some dark night in the future, he was happy he’d made the right decision for now – these bastards had upped the stakes themselves by taking the boss. This is what they got in return.

By the time they reached the top of the steps to the cellar, having combed through the rest of the house and finding no trace of the boss, Face’s expression was almost as dark as the night sky. They moved into position again, Murdock trying to take point, trying to save Face from what might just be at the bottom of those stairs, but Face just waved him back. They crept down, night vision goggles showing them in shades of grey and green the empty plate and cup on the floor, the open shackles hanging from the wall. Face swore and lifted a shackle up to examine it, finger tips coming away coated in fresh blood and he looked up at the others, “Still wet,” he told them, “He’s not been gone long, must still be somewhere around here.”

Face turned and headed for the steps again when the sound of an engine firing up outside caught his attention. He ran to the empty window frame, high in the wall above his head and jumped, finger tips digging into the crumbling edges of stone, feet scrambling for purchase to help him up, “Shit!” he exclaimed, seeing the lorry, tail lights flicking on, starting to edge away from the house. He knew he had no chance on earth of being able to get up the steps and out of the building before the lorry disappeared, plus he had no idea how many guards were still upstairs, chances are he would be sprinting straight into a bullet, so he hung on grimly with his left hand as his right reached to swing his M4 off his back, struggling to hold himself up at the window and set up a shot at the same time.

The stone under his left hand crumbled, and he slipped, scraping the skin from his fingers as he desperately scrabbled, trying to hold on. At the last possible second, just as his cramped hand slid off completely, he felt something underneath his feet, broad but soft, moving slightly as it took his weight and he pushed back, standing on that unsteady platform, finally yanking the M4 around and bringing the scope up to his eye.

He forced himself to be calm, to breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth, just as Hannibal had taught him all those years ago. He had one chance at this shot, just one and he couldn’t blow it. Flicking the gun into single shot mode he found what he was looking for in his scope, held that steadying breath, then exhaled slowly as he depressed the trigger, one, two, three times, the gun barking out in response.

They were good shots; he was as certain of that as he could be in the circumstances and he watched morosely as the lorry lumbered off down the track away from the house.

He glanced down and found himself balanced on BA’s back, the big guy’s face showing the strain of holding up his XO’s weight. Face instantly jumped down, patting BA’s arm as he straightened up with a muttered, “Thanks,” and turned back to the steps.

“What did you see?” Murdock hissed, flattening himself against the wall at Face’s side as they ascended.

“Nothing much, just that lorry leaving.”

“The boss on it?”

Face sighed, “Dunno for sure, but he’s not here, so...”

BA joined them, “So, what’s the plan LT?”

Face’s expression was grim as they reached the door to the hallway, “We follow them.”

There was a beat of silence, “On foot?”

“Still no reindeer, Bosco.”

“Faceman,” BA was pissed again, “They in a truck. No way we gonna catch them up, fool!”

Face looked left and right along the dark hallway then led them out, keeping to the shadows, his feet silent on the floor.

“You’re right,” he hissed as they regrouped at the front door, “Not until they stop anyway.”

“And why would they stop?!” BA’s anger with Face’s obtuse answers was growing with every second.

“If they run out of gas,” Face muttered slipping outside and scanning the immediate area thoroughly.

“They not fool enough to run outta gas!” BA hissed in frustration.

Face crouched behind an old broken down wagon and looked back at BA grinning, his teeth strikingly white against the black grease on his skin, “They will now I’ve put a few holes in their gas tank,” he whispered.

Murdock giggled while BA just stared at him.

“Come on,” Face muttered as he shouldered his gun, “They’ve all bugged out here, we need to move.”

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