Alright this is the third chapter that probs will be uploaded in the summer! So buckle in and get your Arabic coffee or Kurdish tea, cuz we about to get real deep here... I mean I hope we do...
{THREE}
'Pain... pain is all I feel in times like this, they're quite common too... there's a reason I do this I just got to remember...'
"كا كا!((Kaka!) Brother!)"
"هه لسه!((hlsa)get up!)"
"ئەوى باشه ديستان، تۆ پێويستى نابيت تا چيتر نيگەران ببيت بۆ من.(it's okay Destan, you don't need to worry for me anymore.)"
"Verdammt!" His fourth language easily slithering its way onto his tongue in times of stress.
"Not like this, brother... not like this." His heart ache worsened at the state of his brother's clothes, red blotches sprouting up all over his arms and torso. The cloth did nothing but hide the gorier truth...
"بۆچى من!((Bochi mn!)Why Me!)" He cried and cried, though nothing was changing his brother's fate.
"بۆچى من!"
{THREE}
"Destan!"
"I'm up! I swear I'm up!" He almost shouted, being pushed back into his stretcher as soon as he jolted upright.
"See! I told you Meghan's magic touch would wake him up!" A familiar gruff voice reached out to him.
His groggy state of mind too tired to catch up.
"Where am I? What happene-"
"Woah! slow down Destan! You're all right, we hightailed it out of there as fast as we could, we're at the Hasaka military airstrip." He now distinguished the low noise as 'the Bearded one', though only through the horrible pronunciation of the city name.
"Where am I hit." The Kurd resigned to his fate, voicing it with a sigh, while closing his still adjusting eyes.
"Just above your hip, you're quite a lucky man Mr. Cawa! Any lower or higher and you would have been out of the game for good." A new man spoke to him, the accent much more familiar for his ears.
"متى الطبيب؟((mta Tabib?)How long Dr.?)"
"سيكون من الجيد الذهاب في وقت قريب ، تحتاج فقط إلى السماح لجسمك بالتعافي قليلاً ، لقد فقدت الكثير من الدماء(you will be good to go very soon, you just need to let your body recover a little, you lost a lot of blood)" He answered in his native tongue.
They easily changed the language at the flip of a imaginary switch.
"Good enough, I guess it wouldn't be a bad time for us to finally get properly acquainted?" The Kurd hopefully questioned.
"You've earned the right kid..." They stopped to look at the syrain doctor who had started to fiddle with his thumbs at the side.
"Oh right! I'll be going. I got many patients to attend too." The arab not so subtly darted out of the medical tent he had been working in.
"You understand that us special forces types are very cautious about our identities, it's to protect those we hold dear to us at home. Except you for some reason don't follow that rule..."
"Anyway as I said you earned it, I'm Craig Jenson, I'll let your guardian angle do her's." The rough man chuckled.
Destan looked to his left, finally noticing a welcoming warmth on his hand. The Blonde Seal sat there, stroking a tentative thumb over his aching palm. She hadn't spoken since it had happened.
"He did much more than earn it... Meghan J. Castellano reporting for duty." She finally spoke, in a voice much more tender and raw than he remembered.
"Nonsense I'd do it all again in a heartbeat! Though I am pretty used to being a meat shield by now, it's kind of what I do..." He stopped to look at to the side embarrassed "And what can I say I'm a sucker for military women." He did what he did best; while giving the Valkyrie's appendage a comforting squeeze.
"See chivalry still lives!" Craig laughed at the side.
"Besides I think you know a way to compensate me later!" Destan chuckled as the Valkyrie gave him a hard hook on the shoulder for the quip.
"Hey! Still recovering!" Destan yelled, which was soon drowned out by the chuckles of all three of them.
{THREE}
The long ride back was uncomfortable, boring, and painful. Don't get him wrong the man was used to flying. With the family vacations, business trips for his family's company. The occasional holiday in war riddled counties. You know normal stuff, he was well adjusted to this. But now he had to cope with constant torment from the disinfectant the good doctor had poured all over his abdomen like he was putting out a fire with water!
And to add to his torture he had Meghan hanging off of him like some protective lioness! He didn't even have the heart to tell her it wasn't her fault, it was either this or suffer a beating worse than his mother's when he was younger! No wait, mother's beating will always be the worst...
A moment of hysteric nostalgia aside, Destan felt pretty... Alive? I mean this was basically a normal Wednesday for him, the getting shot part of course, but it was something he loved about the near death situations that made him want to do it more... He might as well be addicted to combat.
"You know you guys never told me where in England we're actually going to." He piped up, shuffling in his seat, which Meghan made sure was securely bolted down. You know incase he fucking flies off.
It was like she thought he would die if he was left unattended... Hmm... pretty accurate.
"That's classified." Craig answered in the seat opposite them, looking up from his phone, which he was probably reading from.
"I'm guessing the whole 'bag over the head' thing till we get there?"
"Yep. Sorry buddy..." He answered back, looking up grinning, not sorry at all. That sly bastard...
"Look it's not that we don't trust, I think you throwing yourself in front of a bullet for me proved your loyalties enough, it's just Rainbow is a very big program, with lots of people, and they don't always get along, but they have one thing in common. Their loyalty... the director wanted you here because over your short career you'be made plenty of headlines, and when the UN pushed for diversity saying 'If you can get Japanese, South Koreans, and Spanish CTUs, then why not a Kurdish one... Six decided she would go for the best."
"We'll be wheels down in five!" A crewman called out further down the cargo bay, his airman's helmet and visor effectively masking his identity.
"You heard the crew, time to bag the Cobra, You get the HVT." Craig cut off the moment, his sudden intrusion forcing Meghan's hand off of Destan's.
"Hey! Wai-" Whatever He was about to say was muffled by the black bag enveloping his head.
He clearly saw Craig take off his Mag Pouch of his belt and stick over his head. Wait... why did the top of his head feel heavy and cold...
The pich it's self was stuffy, barely allowing him any breathing room, it's fabric rough and course chafing his skin. The feelings bringing up dreaded memories, and a rare deep unsettling feeling of claustrophobia. The glimpses of dark rooms stained by blood and excrement of their inhabitants, men in black clothing coming in everyday to mutilate, beat, and torture. But that was in the past, he couldn't let past echos of grief and heart-rending suffering get to him now.
'After all it wouldn't look good for his image if he started hyperventilating now would it...'
Destan was still young, but by Allah the things he had done and seen things that would put some people twice his age to shame... or in this case they'd feel overwhelming pity for him, that's it, after all that death, torture, and agonizing pain; all he got was pity.
'Life's like that middle Wife in a haram,' He remembered his father telling him once, 'she's a bitch but by Allah she's got the body of an angle.' Then he would say after a short pause, 'What I mean is, life will throw you about your whole life from ring corner to ring corner, but in the end it's the it's good things that count, if you put up a fight that's enough for a man...' a weird but endearing saying, incredibly Middle Eastern aswell.
It was times of darkness, you mostly thought of your family and those around you, they were the beacons of your soul...
Men have done horrible things for the ones they love, and they'd do it all again in a drop of a hat.
A gentle hand gave him subtle reassurance, the powerful hands of his 'guardian angel', as he was stood up from his seat; and towards the back of the plane. Once off the ramp of the C-130, Destan felt the cold English channel air hit him like a salty truck, while the rare British sun tickled his neck and arms. Guess if it's not raining... might aswell buy a lottery ticket.
"For once in this fucking place it stops raining! It's a miracle."
"If only I could witness this rare phenomenon!" Destan spoke trying to be coherent through his muzzle.
"Even with a bag over your head you're still taking?" Meghan chuckled guiding the Cobra to a helicopter, which Destan only saw as a unidentifiable object in a world of nondescript shapes.
"Let's go we're missing lunch, the quicker we get there the faster I get my rack time (military jargon for sleep)." The Bearded one grumbled.
{Three}
"Are we there yet?" He spoke his speech still still choked by the black bag.
The longer he was blinded the more he missed the freedom of sight. The longer he spent under here the more vivid the memories got. So he did what he did best... Talk.
"If you start that, I'll throw you out before we get there!" It seemed like Craig was speaking from experience perhaps a family man. He was probably the age.
"Birdcage actual, this is Harbinger-3 ETA five minutes to Hereford." The British pilot grumbled into his helmet microphone.
"We read you loud and clear Harbinger-3, red carpet already rolled out for you." Garbled static was the response.
"Roger that birdcage actual, over and out."
"Are we in a Puma?" Destan asked out of nowhere, the helicopter had been vibrating violently as it was descending.
"How..."
"I can see through this shitty mask, not entirely, but enough to know..." The Kurd still grinned even though no one could see it.
"Alright ladies you have reached your destination, have fun in that ruddy hanger you call a base!" The pilot who now sounded a whole lot more Scottish than his talk on the radio quipped at the two Seals.
Everyone in the helicopter momentarily bounced as the wheels touched ground, and the helicopter recoiled. Being ushered out of the now landed heli, Destan could see a group of buildings, and a whole lot of people about fifteen metres away.
"Are we there yet?"
"Yep!" The Bearded one chuckled partially pulling the awful pouch off his head, revealing quite ironically, a rainbow of colours, people, and gear. It also got him away from the potent smell of smokeless powder that emanated from the pouch.
Though his eyes were partially concealed (He could at least see better now), it hung like a hood now on his head, with only his trimmed goatee fully sticking out of the pouch.
"Well if it ain't my favourite Yanks, welcome back operators." A big gruff old man in the front of the pack greeted; accent overwhelmingly British.
"Top of the morning old man, I got you that souvenir you wanted..." Craig replied, stopping in place as Meghan threw the HVT onto the ground.
The not-so-poor Arms dealer grunting hard as he landed on his bound hands.
"Wait so what am I a trophy?" Destan asked, as Craig chuckled patting the Kurd on the back.
"And you must be the new guy," The old man brought out a gloved hand to shake.
Taking his hand, Destan took his time observing him, mirroring everyone else as they did it to him. An old weathered face, scars apparent on his neck and face. His slightly faded black hair, well kept, showed his discipline and loyalty, while an SAS emblem tattoo embroided on his neck, showed where they lied. He was just about the same height as him, but his build was nothing to laugh at. From where he was standing the Cobra could tell the man's body structure was that of a cruiser weight, but his muscles were packed with power only a verteran could accumulate. His grip was rough, applying a great deal of strength, most likely to test his pain tolerance. He'd have to try a lot harder than that...
All this through a pouch mind you... so he probably not getting some of his observations right.
It was also painstakingly obviously how some of his peers saw him right now, like some vicious animal that would sprout fangs and kill them all if they didn't keep watching him intently. It was all obvious, way they stared at him showed no mercy if he pulled something.
"I'm Thatcher, I'll introduce you to the others in the briefing room, we only came out here once we heard the team had injured." He continued, saying the last part to the two Seals.
"Yep, but we're all right it was Destan here who took the bullet..." Meghan answered not mincing her words, she didn't need too.
All this fell on deaf ears though the men and women behind Thatcher all looked tense, taunt fists, hands prying slowly for their sidearms, and the look of readiness for anything.
"You did!?" Thatcher's grip slackened a little, his face conflicted.
"Just above the hip." Distractly stated distractedly. He saw something he rather hadn't and now his whole body was aching to do something.
"What tabout you Valkyrie?" A redhead woman spoke up next the old man.
"Just a little bruising on the chest..."
'Wait she didn't tell me!?' He felt a little betrayed, but his eyes were still searching for a face he was sure he caught a glimpse of.
All his hairs were on end, his heart pumping blood faster than usual, and his adrenaline glands getting ready to dish out an unnecessary amount of hormones.
"Zostaw mnie w spokoju!(Leave me alone!)"
He definitely had heard that language before, but sadly did not speak this one, though he knew the occasional swear.
Some of the wiry unsmiling operators turned to look at the disturbance, which turned out to be two women, one wearing a beret, fast walking after the other who had short green hair enveloping her face like a jade hood, with a set of headphones and a military cap. She seemed familiar, Destan was sure he had seen her before... And if her abrupt stop, and wide eyes, were anything to go by, she did too.
'That Bitch!' Destan fumed.
'That Bastard' The green haired woman scowled.
'Click! Click! Click!' Multiple sidearms were wrangled out of their holsters, being mainly aimed at the Kurd, while the sounds of bullets entering their chambers echoed through the rain free outdoors.
The only people who hadn't pulled a pistol out like it was a mexican standoff were Thatcher who was still calm and casual, Meghan and Craig honestly not expecting Destan to do such a thing on this side of the hemisphere, and the still crouched HVT who of course did not have anything to draw nor did he know what to draw at. The shit stain would probably shoot himself to get out of this situation.
"Easy Lad, You might want to think about your next move..." The old man collectedly spoke, perhaps he had negotiation training.
"That Polish Cunt has shot me three times! I even have the video footage to prove it!" He countered much like child telling on another.
"And you haven't tried to shoot at her before?" The old man cooly interrupted, a smug grin appearing on his aged face.
"Of course I have, I drew cause she did first. Then these bloody arseholes joined in for the fun of it." Destan motioned with a nod of his head to the crowd of M45s, Sigs, USP, and a myriad of exotic secondary choices still aimed straight at him.
"Quiet Kurd, you're already not giving off a good first imppression." A German accented, pro-dominantly female voice cut him off.
"Easy on your trigger finger German, solange du es noch hast(while you still have it)"
The air suddenly got thick and heavy as if a fog had drifted in to make the scene a little more tense than it already was.
"Alright Gentleman holster 'em!" Thatcher barked forcing everyone to slowly but surely to disengage.
It surprised Destan greatly to see the operators all obey instantly, though some more reluctantly than others.
'Wait where did that guy hide a LMG!?' Destan thought, looking a big tall man in what looked to be Spetsnaz garments.
"Now let's get you to the briefing room and get you introduced, before you get anyone else injured." Thatcher
'I threw myself in front of a bullet!'
Finally the big group shuffled albeit awkwardly back to the mess of buildings, and hangers in the background, the two polish woman from earlier, were right back to quietly bickering, while the blonde German woman from earlier glared, before looking away with her nose held high. Though he didn't miss the way her behind jiggled it's way side to side in her jeans.
'Why does it always have to be personal with woman? Half the men have already forgotten what just happened let alone forgiven me for it.'
Moving in the most organized herd he had ever seen Destan observed those he was walking with, all of them distinguishable from the other. More men in equipment like Thatcher's kept in good pace with him, all having some sort of gas mask hanging from somewhere on their harnesses. While just behind them moved a considerably large flock of French (He could tell they were French because they were speaking it, duh, and perhaps it was also the slight swagger only most French had), after them was what looked to be like a mix of German and US operators intermingling with eachother, and after them were whoever the hell was left.
Although, by the looks of it there were a few Russians, evident with one of them basically yelling 'Blyat!' When the another gave him a hard slap on the back, all the while laughing... Yep defenetly Russian.
Last but not least were him, the breaded one, his guardian angel, and a Turkish HVT What better rear guard than this?
Moving past some new looking office buildings, complete with that new carpet smell he imagined. The group walked past heavy duty doors, closed off by two armed guards at every entry. The offices were probably filled with people who wanted to fight terrorists but were just sent to tackle paperwork instead. Gravel crunched under about 50 or so boots as the herd moved into the main building, right past metal detectors and even more armed guards.
"Please wait here Sir," A cap wearing guard stepped out, after the metal detector duitifully chirped it's annoying tune.
"Alright what is it this time, 'Surprise check', feeling a little touchy feely, or is it because I look like a terrorist?" The Cobra joked as the group stopped moving to look at him.
It didn't help everyone except him and the "rear guard" had made it past.
The guard just ignored him, as he felt around his sleeves.
"Ah shit I forgot my watch and keys sorry..." The Kurd feigned surprise, taking off the items; not before saying,"Should I take off the belt too? What about my shoes?" A small round of snickers was what he was rewarded.
"Don't worry Officer, I swear I'm not carrying explosives right now."
It was pretty evident that the poor guard was regretting stopping the Kurd, as Destan got a few more chuckles and amused grins from the crowd watching.
"Let me just get this off of you." Craig said as he pulled he hood free from the Kurd's head also freeing his brown pompadour cut hair. Which also let go a stray Desert Eagle mag, falling ungracefully to the floor.
"Ahh that's where that went!" Craig exclaimed before his visage took on a look of confusion as he inspected the dropped mag, "Wait why's there one round missing!?"
The answer came in the form of a smiling Cobra, who was holding a round in between his teeth.
"Looking for this? Also please clean out the pouch before you use it next time, I can still smell the sweat of the last guy you used it on." He chided as he gave he stray bullet back to its owner.
Now there were now pressing matters at hand! Like getting past this top notch security!
"Ahh! I know what it is!" The Cobra suddenly exclaimed, drawing fourth slowly and teasingly his trusty Zulfiqar.
"Man is security tight here or what?" The Kurd quipped turning back to see both the Seals trying to hide their mirth.
Though the Kurd's grin vanished a second later as, Destan turned around and hounded on the guard.
"Now look here mate, the next time anyone who is wearing full military gear is stopped because of a metal detector, I will find you..." Destan threatened, pointing the two prongs at the guard's neck, "And I will-"
"Alright, enough lolly gagging around, we're already as late as it is." The old man intervened grabbing the Zulfiqar from the Cobra's grip.
"Get this back in its sheaf before you poke someone's eyes out." Thatcher seemed to be the only person besides the three behind him who hadn't stop to gape at it. (The HVT still had the bag over his head of course.)
"You compensating for something big guy?" A German voice joked, this time a male.
"I'm half Russian, of course I'm not compensating!"
"Da! a very true saying," A sudden Russian coated voiced close by. "Well met Tovarish." The big Russian guy who had slapped the other on the back earlier, came lumbering forwards ironically like a bear.
He seemed to have found his earlier jokes humorous, as the wide grin on his face would hint.
"Name's Alexander," He greeted this time Destan's hand actually getting crushed, probably not even on purpose. One peculiar thing he did notice was, the other operator's glares at Alexander for mentioning his name.
'Wow they really do hold their identity in such high regard.'
"у вас довольно сильный друг!((u vas dovol'no sil'nyy drug)you have quite a strong grip friend)!"
Destan smirked, collecting his belongings, as the group started moving again; only after closing their gaping mouths of course, this Man... was only 24; but he acted like any other civvie, but had probably seen three wars, too many civil wars and revolts to count. Maybe he had. You could never tell with the Middle Eastern types.
He was an above average build, most likely a natural heavyset, his papers said he was around 6,4" but looked at least 6,5". Unironically though he turned out to be the spitting image of what one would think a Persian/Arabian Prince would look like. Of course when you replace the shimmering armor with Kevlar. Even when idle he managed to look like royalty, a hand always poised on the shimmering gold of hilt of his impressive, to say the least, sword. ( I know what you're thinking.)
The Cobra was in all accounts very strange indeed, he had already shown himself to be a joker, much like their own Blitz. Furthmore his overall appearance wasn't something to ignore either, strapped in full Kevlar armor, guarding his chest, pelvis, and back; he looked ready to brave a war zone at any second. Under that he wore Marpat desert combat fatigues, which went well with the tan of his Kevlar. To finish up His bizarre and otherworldly look, was a simple red beret (which tucked away nearly in his shoulder strap right now), and a checkered red shemagh around his neck.
The rest of the journey was just the big group of men and women, moving in silence, though the Russian were now whispering to each other; like cult members would before "initiating" someone into their cult. He'd either lose a finger, or have to drink huge amounts of Highly expensive Vodka which he wasn't allowed to do... or any alcoholic beverage...
It seemed like the Men and Women of team Rainbow quickly made it to the briefing room without any more security checks.
'Maybe they passed down the memo' Destan idly thought.
The room in which he was soon going to be introducing himself in; was a grand room. Big enough to accommodate the whole team, while still being small and secure enough to be heard clearly in. Although the state in which it was was better than the average war room, he'd gone to some war rooms where the rocks signified tanks and pebbles foot soldiers, it disappointed him that there weren't futuristic holographic projectors being used as a way to manipulate their intel to their liking. Like some sort of sci-fi film.
As everyone got into place, the feeling of sudden nervousness washed over him, it was a common feeling most people got when they had to do something in front of a vast audience. Some of the operators still stood leaning against one of the walls, while the others sat CTU, from CTU. The Russians and Alexander he had seen earlier were sitting at the front, with Alex laughing about something, someone who was in a russian sailor's shirt, had said.
His observations were cut short when the two Seals came in later than the others most likely handing the prisoner to security.
"Alright Cobra you have the floor." Thatcher grinned like throwing new recruits to the wolves was his favourite past time.
"Alright seeing as most of you seemed to have already read my file, I'll keep it short." He greeted walking behind a podium in the front, taking his phone out slyly. After a short pause to think about how he would address his unique audience.
"I'm Destan Cawa, codename Cobra. I'm a Kurdish Peshmerga, from the 13th Kurdish Cobra brigade. I only officially started serving and fighting for my country in 2012 when I turned eighteen, but before that I had left home with my eldest brother, fighting in Syria as freedom fighters, I was sixteen then. I first started out like any child soldier did, I was the water boy, or for the lack of a better term ammo boy, I carried all The ammunition for our group during skirmishes." Destan gave a thousand yard stare reminiscing about his earlier career as a child soldier.
The news definitely seemed to shock most of the people in the room, yes some of them might of started training and preparing themselves before they turned eighteen, but they had never seen a war zone until they were atleast a year into their service.
"I myself came from a wealthy family, since my father owns a weapons manufacturing company, called KC industries, it helped he used to be a gun runner back when he was younger. Most of the gear you see on me was made by the company, including my gadget... this is the KC-17 might look like a modified AK-12 but believe me this is so much better.
"A design by me and my sister, who is the head of our creative division, who invented one of the first high calibre automatic rifles in history that counter acts recoil on its own. Mine. You all know how the basic principle of AK is to use the round's gas and force to push the chamber back and feed another round in. Well I made it so the air being pushed back into the gun also shoots out upwards, near the muzzle pushing the rifle down when I spray. Besides that I also have others things that I use but they have yet to arrive. Let's just hope security doesn't take my gear hostage for having metal in them." Destan grinned seeing a few of the wiry unsmiling operators now either smiling or inwardly chuckling. Unless you count Alex's slap on his own knee, and a mighty Russian guffaw at the quip.
"Now you might ask, what I specialised in?, well being a man of many talents, I speak about six languages. Kurdish, English, German, Russian, a more Parisian French, and out of necessity my least favourite language Turkish. Among those I also know Persian, Pashto, Dari, and Uzbeki. Which are the main dialects used in Afghanistan.
And if I quote the saying of 'If you know the swear words of a language you already know half the language.' Then I know a little Polish, Chinese, Japanese, and Spanish. Which makes me one of the most qualified interpreters in the world." This was a surprise alright, that in itself was a grand understatement. There were operators who knew more than two languages because their line of work or hobbies, like Craig apparently, even though his pronunciation is terrible, this Man knew six languages! No person was safe! No one could talk about him in any earthly speech or he'd understand! Little exaggerated of course he may only be completely fluent in four of them.
"I also specialize in information gathering, reconnaissance, and Phycological warfare! But enough, instead of talking for hours about what I can do, how about I just show you." The instance he uttered the phrase the screen behind him lit up, showing the video gallery of sorts.
"This is a little montage of clips that I have recorded during battle."
He switched to a video which started out blank and black till it presented the viewers with the sights and sounds of ruined Syrian village. Probably ruined village #136. The crunch of rocks and debris under steel toed boots being loudest thing you could hear until the distant crackle of gunfire echoed far away.
"برا با ئێمە وەرە بڕۆين بۆ قەزاى بازاڕ پێش داعش دەستي بە گوللە باران كردني ئێمە دەكات!(Come brother let's get into the Bazaar district before ISIS start shelling us again.)" A gruff old voice spoke to the wearer of the Go Pro. The subtitles helped very much here.
"وا بزانم ئێمە دەبێت زياتر نيگەران ببين دەربارەى توركيا گوللە باران كردن ئێمه(I think we should worry more about Turkey shelling us!)" The younger voice of Destan jabbed moving in pace with a handsome man in almost the same clothing as the present Destan, also donning the same Checkered red shemagh he was wearing right now...
The two moved a little more down the ruined road, surrounded by ruined houses, a ruined neighbourhood, and a ruined city. The video suddenly fast forwarded as the silence was soon replaced by the intense racket of death and war. The area they had been in, changed to very dark corridors and alleyways, also known to most as a Baazar. The Go Pro being fastened to Destan's head at the time, was getting every piece the of action, that Destan was.
"نقل! نقل! نقل!((Nql! Nql! Nql!)Move! Move! Move!)"
Upon hearing the Arabs shout their charge, Destan peeked and let his gun rip. The Modified AK-74 by the looks of it, singing its satisfying song. The video showed about fived armed men running towards them, though one quick burst of his rifle dropped them like bags of bricks.
"قنبلة!((Qumbala!)Grenade!)" another voiced shouted probably readying his comrades to push after its explosion.
'They've definitely had some sort of military training.'
The younger Cobra hurriedly leaned out of his cover searching for the bombs. With his AK hanging from its sling. The Kurd looked ready to catch something. Just after he peeked two round Objects flew towards him, one high, one low.
"Fuck!" His nerves showing through his more higher pitched voice.
Catching the high one with surprising agility, Destan quickly threw it back, straining his wrist in a mix of surprise and fear.
The second however was more tricky as it skid to a stop just a meter away, and while most of the operators watching would of thought he would have ducked for cover. The Kurd just walked up, and gave the grenade a mighty kick... the thing flew far right down the alley they were fighting in, and exploding shortly after. Funnily enough the groans and moans of the men who had thrown them was all that was left of the sound around him.
The short clip finished shortly after with his logo on the screen and then it going blank.
With sound of the video gone, he now only had the silent gasps and shocked faces of his would-be colleagues to accompanied him.
"What the bloody hell was that!" Someone whispered in the SAS group while the other CTUs just whispered in their own languages.
The whole while the Kurd was fiddling with his phone, he stopped suddenly when the screen once again turned on, with another video. Wait... was that the shooting range in Fort Foreign?
"I've always said 'If you can do something in style, it's always worth your while! Hiyah!" The Cobra grunted using his stance and strength to lob a large grenade over the targets.
"Looks like you misse-"
"Bang!" A sidearm being shot interrupted Craig's snide remark.
"Ping! Boom!" The poor grenade which had been thrown all the way over Destan's targets, burst into thousands and thousands of deadly metal pieces ripping apart the targets much like a shrapnel round from a morter would; right over the group of metal targets shredding them to pieces.
"You were saying Beardy?" The line would've probably made some of the audience laugh but it seemed they were still shocked.
It also seemed that he had edited the vids so their faces were blurred out.
"Not the flashiest thing I have seen men do, but good anough for a recruit." Thatcher chuckled , giving the Kurd a pat on the back.
"Da! You're doing a good job in representing
Russia Tavarish." Alexander supported, along with the another Russian behind him.
"The question is do you even know how to use that." The Russian with the sailor's shirt asked this time.
"This?" Destan asked gesturing to the scimitar.
"Da." He confirmed.
"Oh we've seen him fight with it, against a desperate squad of ISIS soldiers, charging with machetes and swords. You wouldn't believe it if we told you." Craig answered for him.
"Good thing I have that recorded aswell."
The screen changed this time to a smoke coated desert while a line of black figures ran full tilt with swords above their heads.
The first person view definitely helped put them in his shoes, as he took on about 7 soldiers mostly with his Zulfiqar, expect halfway through with two his pistol.
"Need I show more?"
"I think that's quite enough show boating for one day, after all you'll have more chances to show these fine soldiers all you can do tommorow in initiation." Thatcher took charge of the conversation again.
"Now any questions?" The Brit asked to the now less harsh looking audience.
A few hands rose, but one near the front seemed to be bursting to ask. Giving the over-energetic girl a another once over, Destan finally noticed one thing about the woman here, that they were astoundingly beautiful.
'Is being extremely attractive, an obligation in this team?'
"Alright I pick you." Destan said pointing to the girl in cute round glasses still looking like she was going to explode.
"Can I have your phone!" It sounded more like demand than a question...
"Umm sure... but good luck getting past the firewall."
He slowly forked over his phone... his Nokia Brick to be exact, she did say give her his phone...
"There, be careful it's pretty tough."
The girl just looked at like it was some sort of alien technology.
"Your real phone..." she asked nearly crushing the old phone in her small dainty looking hands.
"Alright Alright! Jeez if looks could kill." The Kurd murmured at the behest of the others who just looked on in mirth.
"Now who else?"
There were still a couple of hands, waiting to be picked, while Alexander now seemed looking at his carryall he had brought in with him. Right next to the door.
"Alright you." He chose again, this time his hand landing on the redhead from earlier.
"Yeah, you said you were 'specialized' in Phycological warfare, but is that all you going to bring to the field? I don't see how scaring a terrorist is going to stop one of us from dying." She not so subtly questioned his reason for being here.
"I was brought here because I was told that a bunch of Counter Terrorist Operatives needed to be taught how to fight terrorists! I don't know if this a joke or not. But what I do know is all this juicy knowledge up here will help me get out of any situation faster than you ever could with your professional training." Destan motioned to his head, not so subtly goading her into a trap.
"What are we gonna do big guy? take cover behind your big ego when the bad guys start shooting? or is your mouth the only thing that functions properly on your body?" The bite of cold steel was much more welcoming than harsh words like these.
The room almost immediately thickened with conflict, Meghan who was still next to Craig was glaring daggers into the woman's head, while Alexander seemed as equally unsatisfied with the American's manners. The FBI team however seemed to have come to the same conclusions about him already, he also caught a quick glimpse of the Polish girl taking look at him, before looking away even faster.
"I wouldn't expect ex-IDF to understand the more complicated areas of combat, after all shooting civies is all they teach you right?"
Several of the onlookers became confused as to how he had deduced she was of israeli decent, while the Jew herself was fuming. While others eyes wide with surprise.
"I don't know which is more worse, the fact you're so eager to attack the only other person from the Middle East, or how extremely low your IQ must be not to know anything beside, shooting bad guys." Destan let his clenched fists fall to his sides, as crossing his arms only let her know how angry she was getting him, furthermore the grin he previously wore had now dissolved into a hard scowl.
"You little bastard! I'm going to-"
"Alright Ash, stand down," Thatcher stepped in before they had to wash their clothing of Middle Eastern blood, both Israeli and Kurdish...
Destan smirked once again as the redhead had been quickly put in her place.
"After all you'll get to test him yourself tomorrow..."
'Fuck you old man...'
{Three}
Alright this the great OC gets to meet the main characters scene that every fic has in it! It is always the most important scene, since first impressions should always be good. I think Destan had a good impression... I guess he might have to bribe a few people to get on their good side?