Many people believe that the arms trade is an invention of the 20th century. A means of getting rich off the deaths of human beings. This is simply not the case. The people purchasing those weapons do so to acquire the strength to see their dreams become reality. There are nearly infinite reasons that people will pick up a weapon. Some do it for an Empire they hold absolute. For a power that they wish to see last forever.

Gaul, Time of the Roman Empire

The patterns of attack, defense, riposte, block, and parry were long and well drilled into Centurion Peregrinus' mind and body. So much so that it made the act of killing no more than a well rehearsed chore.

As a member of Legio VII, he had been campaigning in Gaul with Caesar for the past 12 seasons. Fighting the tribes of Gaul and gaining great riches and glory under the leadership of the head of the Julia household. But more than that, it was glory for Caesar, glory for the legion. Glory, for Rome.

The ambush by the Averni had not been entirely unexpected, but it had caught them off guard, and already Peregrinus' cohort was down to less than half of its strength, though the growing mound of bodies opposite to them was a testament to the fighting prowess of the men of the seventh.

The woad painted warriors were fearsome though, even to the legionnaires of mighty Rome. Their deaths would be in service to the Empire, so that it would stand yet another millennium. There was only one problem however. Peregrinus and his cohort were the Eagle Cohort. They carried the Eagle of the entire VII Legion. To lose it would be to lose the heart of the Legion. To have them seen as outcasts. He would never allow that.

Blood ran in streams down Peregrinus' body, none of it his own. He overpowered his enemies with the ferocity of his blows and with the skill of his strokes. No one could withstand him. But there were so many Gauls, and so few of his men remaining. A mere handful.

The man charged with carrying the eagle, the signifier, fell. His throat a bloody gash as Gallic iron parted it like a woman's legs. The Gaul scarce had time to revel in his triumph before Peregrinus was upon him, Roman Iron removing his head from his shoulders.

"Form up on me! Form up on the Eagle!" bellowed Peregrinus, bashing a Gaul to the ground with his shield before thrusting his gladius through the barbarians heart.

"To the centurion!" came the calls back from his legionnaires and it wasn't long before the were standing shoulder to shoulder with each other. Fighting the way that the legion was meant to fight. As a unit, as one for the glory of Rome.

The smells of blood, sweat, leather, and iron filled Peregrinus' nose, as well as the smell of shit from the split bellies of more than one man. His muscles burned from the exertion, ached from the battering of holding back repeated blows, but he refused to let up for even a moment. He couldn't, not with the eagle of the Seventh Legion at stake.

There was only one hope to spare the legion from shame and that was to get the Eagle to safety. Right now, that safety was the trio of equite scouts watching the battle from the treeline. Even if it cost Peregrinus his life and that of every man under his command, the Eagle would NOT be lost.

"PUSH!" yelled Peregrinus and as one his legionnaires lashed out with their shields, pushing the Gauls back and advancing into them. Peregrinus gave a short series of whistle blasts and his remaining men formed a rough wedge around him.

For every foot they advanced through the Gauls, the lost another legionnaire, but they fought like demons with every step. As determined as Peregrinus to see the Eagle to safety.

Peregrinus fought with reckless abandon, like a man possessed, his gladius but a blur as it slashed back and forth, shield moving as if on its own accord blocking and bashing the Gauls around him. The Eagle of the Seventh strapped to his back.

When only four of his men remained, Peregrinus broke through the ring of Gauls and sprinted for the Equites.

"Take it!" shouted Peregrinus, throwing the eagle standard to the Equites just as a spear lanced through his calf, bringing him to his knees. Searing white hot pain shooting through his leg and up into his body. Yet a smile spread across his face as he watched the Equites turn and ride hard for the main body of the legion.

Peregrinus struggled to his feet and turned to face the Gauls as something heavy hit him in the chest. It bounced off and fell to the ground. It was the head of one of his legionnaires, still encased in its helmet. Barbarians, every last one of them. Catcalls and taunts came from the Averni facing him. They had no reason to rush their kill, he was theirs and they knew it.

"Come then Gauls, see how a Roman dies. You should see how a man dies at least once in your life. GLORIA ROMAE! CAESAR AD GLORUM! UT LEGIO SEPTIMA GLORIA!" Peregrinus charged the Gauls with the name of Rome on his lips. For the Eternal city, he would fight. For the Eternal city, he would die.

xxx

"I told you that the iglas wouldn't sell. People like American built weapons. Makes them think they're all technologically superior and shit. Bloody yanks."

"But the iglas are just as good, better even for the price. I mean if I was trying to sell them strelas I could understand, but iglas? I mean those things are like a spear from god against aircraft."

"But they're not American love. Not shiny."

"Oh pooh," answered back the other woman's employer and aspiring arms dealer. Her name was Ingrid Koskinen, a Finnish national who had discovered at an early age her love for weapons and their function. Going so far as to take a machinists course to learn how to even make them herself, much to her high society family's dismay.

She looked almost too delicate to be a merchant of death. Fair Scandinavian features and complexion framed by shoulder length blonde hair, all framing a face holding eyes as gray as high quality steel and just as sharp. She was slender and dainty, but with barely perceivable scars on her hands and callouses on her fingers. She looked like she would be more at home on a runway showing off the latest designs, not field stripping an AK or grinding a piece of metal to replace a slide on a pistol. She was dressed in a long beige skirt and blouse with a string of pearls around her neck and a pout on her face. A parasol lazily leaned against her shoulder to protect her marble complexion from burning in the sun.

Her employee and bodyguard was Alice Montgomery, a former member of the British Royal Marines and actually barely older than her employer at twenty five. She had a messy mop of black hair that fell somewhere down by her jaw that she tried endlessly to keep in check and she had the build of an Olympic athlete. Scars on her knuckles and another small one that cut through her left eyebrow told of a life used to violence. She was dressed in a simple set of khaki cargo pants and a black long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Whereas her employer wore dress shoes, Alice wore desert issue combat boots and instead of a parasol she carried an La85a2 on a sling and wore a light bullet proof vest over her shirt. Her eyes were an icy blue and were always moving, trying to keep everything in sight in case anything was a threat.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" asked Ingrid to her compatriot.

"I could go for a bite yeah."

"Excellent, then please go and get us some food."

"Okay, but if I go off on a jaunt who's going to keep an eye on you? Or give you a ride around the city, because I would be taking the car."

An expression like she had just dropped her ice cream cone came over Ingrid's face and she smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose that I didn't think of that. How about we go off together then?"

"Fine by me."

"Excellent. Tell me, do you know how to speak Arabic?"

"Um...no. That was the translators job, and his contract got finished."

"Oh, well that does put us in quite a predicament. They really do say no in a rather uncivilized way. But I suppose that once we get back to the city center it shouldn't prove too much trouble to find someone to translate for us. Tell me, who do you think would buy our iglas now?"

"Any militia group, though I doubt you'd get as good a price for them. And I don't really like dealing with fundamentalists. Fucking crazy lot so far as I'm concerned. Probably stone you for being dressed indecently too."

"Oh posh, you're far too negative my dear Alice. I always make my sale and I always get paid."

"Yes you do," admitted Alice. It was true too, while Ingrid might suffer setbacks from time to time she always found another buyer and always made a profit and always came out unscathed. Surprisingly.

"Though I would suggest putting that rifle of yours under the seat, you can't walk around a city with a gun worn so openly, and that bullet proof vest simply will not do."

"I'm surprised that you haven't got blisters all over your feet from walking through the desert in dress shoes. Would have been nice if they would have at least given us a ride back to our car."

"SUV my dear Alice. For one being from the United Kingdom, your English skills could certainly use some work."

"Get stuffed," retorted Alice dryly.

"Oh my dear Alice, if you are offering I don't think I could refuse."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Alice quickly as her employer went right into her personal bubble and leaned her head onto her shoulder, wrapping her free arm around Alice as they walked.

"No? Oh, don't be such a tease then my dear Alice," said Ingrid with seemingly genuine disappointment as she went back to walking without leaning on her bodyguard.

A short time later they were both sitting at a cafe eating sandwiches and drinking coffee under a large canopy.

"I must say that I don't think I enjoy Yemen too much. Far too hot for my liking, and too rude at doing business," said Ingrid as she wolfed down her sandwiches in a way that would make most people stare. She ate like she hadn't eaten in weeks and with a ferocious hunger.

"Yeah, I guess," said Alice disinterested, checking her phone for any texts or missed calls.

"By the way I've hired another bodyguard."

"You what?" said Alice for once actually shocked. Despite herself she felt a flicker of anger spark in her, like Ingrid hiring another bodyguard was somehow saying that she wasn't good enough and so she needed more protection.

"Well me hiring him isn't so accurate I suppose. My father is, lending him? Is that the word?" wondered Ingrid aloud, putting a finger to her chin. "Anyways I've been told by my father that he's always worried about my well being so he convinced his partners to lend me this man to act as my bodyguard. He's told me that he's very good, but quiet."

"And who is he exactly?"

"I don't know. I was cleaning my colt at the time so I was only really half paying attention to what he was saying. I think he's North American, or North European. Not too sure, can't remember, anyways what I do know is that his name is Henry and he'll be waiting for us at the hotel."

"And you've waited till now to tell me? This is the kind of thing you really should be telling me Ingrid. What if when we get back he's in the room and I think he's there to kill you and I shoot him?"

"Well then I suppose that he'd be dead and I tell my father that he met an unfortunate end saving me in a deal gone wrong," said Ingrid with a far too happy look on her face.

"I can't tell if you're just ditsy, crazy or a psycho sometimes love."

"A little of everything I would suppose," said Ingrid still smiling.

Xxx

"Alice I do believe you can put that gun away. I do believe that Mr. Henry has taken care of our unexpected guest," said Ingrid standing over the body of a man with a broken neck A silenced pistol just out of reach of his hand. Sitting on the bed nonchalantly was a man wearing a balaclava and dark wrap around sunglasses as well as desert combat fatigues.

"You don't pay me to take chances ma'am," said Alice, keeping her P226 trained squarely on the man sitting on the bed, who seemed unconcerned about the gun pointing at him. "Now get up hands up slowly. Nice and slowly and don't move," said Alice walking forwards like a SWAT officer clearing an office complex. She kicked the pistol to the far side of the room away from the man on the bed who hadn't moved an inch.

"I said hands up or I will shoot yo-hngh," grunted Alice in surprise and pain as in one smooth motion the man on the bed stood up, disarmed her, and forced her to the ground with her arm in a lock and a knee in the middle of her back.

"I am disappointed in you Miss Montgomery. I had assumed that a Royal Marine would have known to keep distance and not close within striking distance when they had a gun and their target did not. I do, however, applaud your action with removing a potential weapon from my vicinity. A point in your favor, but you left Miss Kiskonen exposed as you advanced and standing in the doorway. If I had been intent on killing either of you I would have had another associate nearby to come in from behind. It is fortunate that this man laying on the floor did not have the same line of thinking as I did."

"Get the FUCK off of me!" growled Alice, trying to dislodge the man kneeling on her back.

"Another thing to remember is that when someone has you in a hold like this do not resist. Otherwise it is a simple matter for them to snap your arm. Like I could do now."

"Henry be a dear and get off of Alice," said Ingrid, a frown on her face. "And don't do that to her again."

"As you wish Miss Kiskonen," said Henry releasing Alice and standing up quickly. Alice stood up quickly too, but with a murderous look on her face.

"I should kick your bloody ass," seethed Alice, standing practically nose to nose with Henry who stared back from impassive black shades.

"With a pistol in your stomach?"

There was a moment of surprise, then shock and outrage when Alice felt her own pistol pressed ever so lightly against her belly.

"Henry, give Alice back her pistol. Alice, don't shoot Henry when you get your pistol back okay? Thank you," said Ingrid as Alice grabbed the proffered pistol back with a quick swipe and holstered it in in a quick motion. Glaring the whole time.

"I assume that you have taken measures to have this mess cleaned up?" asked Ingrid, picking up her already packed suitcase from the bed.

"A cleaning crew is on their way and will be here momentarily. I have already booked reservations at a hotel several blocks from here."

"So we're going there then?" asked Ingrid.

"No, there are many small inns that don't ask questions and only take cash. We'll find one of them and stay there for the night. Our flight leaves in the morning."

"What flight? We haven't sold our stock yet," said Alice stiffly. Henry cocked his head quizzically to the side.

"But a deposit has already been made to the Consortium's bank account," said Henry sounding perplexed.

"What?"

"It's true," said Ingrid, forever in her chipper mood and adopting a what can you do posture. "I already sold them to a rival group to the one I tried to sell them to today. I was going to tell them a week after they bought them that they had been intercepted and stolen by their rivals and their men escorting the convoy killed. I was hoping to further the conflict between them to make more sales to both, but I suppose that they just didn't want to buy from me," finished Ingrid with a sigh. "I suppose there's always next time though."

"Henry I do have to ask, how did my father manage to find you? Waggle a big fat paycheck in front of your face? Recruit a blood thirsty killer from America's military? I do so detest having my father interfere in my affairs, even if he does outrank me."

"It was a favor to him ma'am, to keep you safe."

"And I assume he's paying you then? I certainly hope he doesn't want me to pay for the expenses of an added bodyguard I didn't ask for."

"My fee has already been arranged and taken care of ma'am. Is there anything else you wish to question me about, or can we move out?"

"Fine, let's go. Come along Alice," said Ingrid with a simple gesture of her hand and walking out the door and leaving her two bodyguards behind."

"Does she always have this much disregard for her safety, or is this just another of her ways to test me?" asked Henry to Alice.

"Fuck off," spat out Alice heatedly, taking her own belongings and following Ingrid out the door. Henry stared for a moment before following them out.

Xxx

It had been two years since Henry had joined their merry little band of arms dealers and Alice still didn't know what to make of him. He was an enigma so to speak. He would talk when spoken to or when it pertained to the mission, but other than that he was as silent as the grave. It seemed that he never slept either.

He would sleep maybe two hours a night so far as she could tell, then be up keeping watch for the rest of it. They only ever rented one room now when they traveled, meaning that Henry always slept first, usually before Alice or Ingrid went to bed and what Alice considered only to be a nap, then he would be up and about. He was a little handsome too, if somewhat unemotional. It made it nice to know that he wouldn't be drooling over Ingrid or her like some of the other creeps out there while they slept. He was clean too, orderly, and traveled lightly. Alice couldn't ever think of a time when she had seen him with stubble or been unkempt.

His dirty blonde hair was always neatly kept to a near military standard and his clothing was always pressed, hell, he even pressed Alice's clothes and Ingrid's for them as well and he did a better job than most dry cleaners.

In fact he seemed like more of a servant than a bodyguard. He would prepare their meals, do their laundry or see that it got done, drive them around, arrange their accommodations, and really get them anything else that they wanted. But when it came to fighting, he actually scared Alice a little bit.

The man had no fear of death at all. They had only gotten in two fights from deals gone south and each time Henry had gone through them like a one man demolition team. Alice wanted to say that he fought with reckless abandon, but that wasn't true. He didn't just charge in spraying them down or slashing viciously, it was always quickly, but precisely. And he was fast when he killed. A heartbeat and he took down six men. A step and everyone but them in the room was dead. He never yelled or screamed when he fought, never raised his voice. Every time that Alice had watched him fight, he had been silent. It was almost eery.

So with that it always made it awkward to sit with him and watch Ingrid work her magic when they were selling weapons. Especially now that they were in Southern Russia and selling basically the exact same things that HCLI and whatever the other company was called to the same major.

"So where do you want to go when you die?" asked Alice to Henry as they watched over Ingrid from a partially collapsed wall they were using as a seat. There was a smell of sewer in the air from the ruptured sewer line, faint, but entirely there as well as the smell of smoke, gunpowder, and brick dust.

Alice was dressed in common green camouflage uniform complete with combat boots and a medium strength bullet proof vest. Her trusty La85a2 sitting on her lap. Henry was dressed similarly, but was wearing a balaclava and his bullet proof vest was heavy military with heavy ceramic plates. Thing must have weighed close to forty or fifty pounds, but he moved like it didn't bother him at all.

Alice didn't really expect an answer from Henry, he seldom did answer, even when asked a question. Alice had assumed that it was because he was simply an anti social asshole, but the more she worked with him, the more she realized that he was completely focused when on a mission. Beneath his dark sunglasses, she could see his eyes constantly moving. So she was more than a little surprised when he actually did answer after a few minutes.

"Valhalla. Perhaps the realm of Pluto."

"Really? Why there? Looking for some good food and drink while you wait for the end of the world?"

"No. If it does exist, I have a lot of friends waiting there for me. I would like to see them again."

Alice was a little surprised at Henry's admission. He never talked about himself, his past, or even if he preferred a certain kind of food over another. He acted so robotic sometimes it almost seemed like he was one half the time. Was he actually starting to come out of his shell? Even still, it was a little too emotional for Alice.

"Puffy white clouds and a spot with the big man not good enough for ya?" prodded Alice and very nearly fell off her wall when Henry actually started to laugh.

"The men I've served with wouldn't fit in too well up there. Most believed that they would go there and wished to, but I believe that they'd get bored and start trouble," chuckled Henry, an unusual levity to his voice. There was something below the levity though, something like deep sorrow, but it was hard to tell because it was only there for an instant.

"Well that's why I want to get in there. Trouble's my middle name," said Alice. "They've had it too good for too long up there anyways. What good's eternal peace without some excitement every once in a while huh?"

"You know Alice, I like you."

"You coming on to me love?" asked Alice genuinely curious. She could almost see the smile underneath Henry's balaclava though.

"No, you're just good company to be around. I enjoy the levity."

"Really? Then what's with Mr. Robot all the time? This is the most I've got you to talk ever in a single sitting and I damned well can't remember you ever doing it outside of a task or some shit like that, so what's up?"

"Well, I suppose that I am guarded most of the time and I don't trust people easily."

"Holy shit mate, Russia cast a spell on you? You going to tell me your life story now, because me and Ingrid have been taking bets and let me tell you good sir. Not many of them are positive about you I have to say too," finished Alice with a smile.

"I can imagine. Anyways I wanted to tell you that this deal is going to turn a little south for us."

"Oh? How so," said Alice, the levity leaving her voice as her ice chip blue eyes started scanning the faces around them with renewed scrutiny.

"That man's communications equipment has been destroyed, which means that he'll want a new one and he seems new enough to the game to think that because he has soldiers he can bully his dealers with threats to get him a new one immediately. There are two of here able to get a replacement immediately, HCLI, and us."

"So should we get ready for a fight?"

"No. It won't be that confrontational. We'll most likely be given protection but not allowed to leave until we get him what he wants."

"What's so bad about that then?"

"I don't think this man can pay what he owes. He has maybe several hundred men tops. With what he's already paid for weapons from the three groups here and his lack of significant backers I imagine he's going to want to run a tab with us."

"Princess doesn't take cheque or credit."

"No she does not," agreed Henry.

"So the plan to go with them as far as they'll allow, tie them up and make a break for it?"

"Or shoot them."

"Why do you always want to shoot them?" asked Alice.

"Less complicated that way. Fewer bodies to pursue us and less chance of one of them getting free and warning their commander."

"Looks like Princess is done," said Alice getting to her feet.

"Another successful sale!" proclaimed Ingrid loudly and cheerily, pulling Alice into a tight hug. "But we've got a problem to take care of now," she whispered into Alice's ear as she was hugging her. "Be ready for it."

"Easy as pie love."

xxx

Alice was driving along the pipeline that they were all fighting for in this region, heading up the mountain to where they'd be able to get a signal to order the equipment that the major wanted. The major had also sent along two of his supposedly elite soldiers to keep them safe on the way. Both men armed with Kalashnikov rifles and both men seemed to be very unhappy about their new assignment. Alice knew that they wouldn't actually let them leave the valley though, not until the equipment that they wanted showed up.

Only thing being though, was that they weren't going to get the equipment, because the major had all but said that they couldn't afford it right now, and Ingrid did not make payment plans. She took half up front, half on delivery. No exceptions. Things would have gone much closer to their plans if the younger of the soldiers in the backseat had kept his hands to himself.

Ingrid had been patient, forgiving even as Alice watched in the rear view mirror, but she quickly saw that she was reaching her limit. When the mans wandering hands finally tried to wander up Ingrid's skirt, the princess had had enough.

"Henry, go with plan B," said Ingrid looking straight ahead. Without a moments hesitation and moving so quick that Alice would have missed it had she not been watching Henry broke the young soldiers neck before pulling out a knife and stabbing the other soldier through the neck that was sitting in the front seat.

Alice swerved the car a little bit before she relaxed again from the sudden violence, the metallic coppery scent of blood rapidly filling the car as the man bled out next to her. It took a little while but his twitches finally subsided and when he stopped bleeding Henry let him go. He slumped forwards, straining against the seatbelt holding his corpse in place, his fatigues stained red and his open but unseeing.

"Alice be a dear and stop the car. We need to offload a few things," said Ingrid calmly, but looking a little more green than normal. Despite being somewhat used to the violence it still seemed to affect her though she did her best not to show it.

"Sure thing Ma'am," said Alice pulling the car off to the side of the road. She and Henry quickly dragged the bodies out and threw them into the ditch before climbing back into the car. Henry seemed to have no qualms about the bloody passenger side because he sat right in it without so much as a word, his balaclava covered features giving away nothing.

They continued on for a while in the car until they reached the base of the mountain where they parked the car on the side of the road and ditched it. Alice still had her British bullpup rifle, but only shook her head at Henry's 'choice' of weaponry. The man just loved vintage weaponry.

"Love, why don't you join us in the twenty first century?" asked Alice bemused as they cut a path up through the mountains forest.

"It works," was all Henry answered back.

Indeed, if one were to see what Henry had armed himself with they would wondered if he was from a bygone era. A bolt action German Mauser 98k with a scope was in his hands and on his back was a 45acp Thompson submachine gun. Both weapons now over sixty years old and terribly obsolete by modern standards. His sidearm was of the same vintage, but at least it was a reliable 1911 pistol. In fact the most modern weapons that Alice had ever seen him use was the AK47 or M16 assault rifles.

"Are you planning on invading France with that rifle or something?" jabbed Alice.

"Maybe in the next century."

"Smart ass," muttered Alice before adopting silence and moving carefully.

They made good time considering the terrain, but after an hour they had to duck into cover as a patrol of soldiers wandered by. Henry had his Mauser slung, but tracked them the entire time with his Thompson, watching them go by.

It smelled earthy where they were, the decaying leaves and plants more pungent with the fresh rain from the night before, the damp soil cool, even through their clothes where they knelt, creating wet spots. Sun filtered through the leaves overhead, but the sun had begun to arc down in the sky and it would only be a few more hours till sunset, though the light hadn't turned golden yet.

The soldiers passing by in the patrol were poorly disciplined, or at the very least lacked noise discipline. They talked amongst themselves, loudly like they were in a cafe or bar, some even laughed. If they were army, they were third rate reservists in terms of discipline, but as for combat skills, Alice and Henry didn't know.

Henry had them wait ten minutes after the last of them had passed by before he signaled them to move on. There would be an extraction helicopter inbound another kilometer ahead for them. All they had to do was make it there in one piece and wait for the helo.

Henry had never talked about his service or where he had gotten his military experience, but the man moved like a tiger stalking his prey. He was damn near silent and he used the terrain and cover like he had lived here all his life.

Every so often he would stop and hold up his fist for them to do the same and then he would just listen. He would be completely still, looking like he wasn't even breathing, then after differing amounts of time would signal them to keep moving. Sometimes in the same direction, sometimes on a slightly different course.

After about half an hour of moving like this, Henry held up his hand again, forcing all present to go down to a knee and stop. Everyone present strained their ears and they quickly heard the faint, but growing thrum of a helicopter.

"Ours or one of their?" asked Alice quietly.

"It will be our extraction. The major and his men did not and do not possess attack or transport helicopters, said Ingrid primly. "They will be picking us at at our secondary extraction point further up the mountain. Though I would suggest that we hurry. I do imagine that the major's men won't be too far behind once they see the helicopter."

The clearing turned out to be a rocky meadow with a couple of rocks that one could call boulders if they felt so inclined, but the interesting thing was that their extraction was already sitting there. A puma helicopter was parked with the flight crew sitting at the controls and a pair of Consortium mercenaries standing at the ramp leading into it.

"See, what I tell you? Easy as pie," said Alice smiling. The smile vanished with a snap of rifle fire that took her in the back. Her face went to a look of shock and pain as she fell.

"Rifle fire, get down Ma'am," said Henry grabbing Alice by her webbing and pulling her behind a boulder. Ingrid on the other hand, instead of getting down like Henry had said was making a beeline for the puma and sprinting. The pair of Consortium mercenaries were firing into the treeline as was the crew chief or gunner on board the puma. The a whine that was steadily building to a roar, the puma started to come to life, its rotors whirring.

Alice stared at the helicopter in a state of shock, vision getting fuzzy and watching as Ingrid, bullets kicking up dirt at her heels quickly ran up the ramp into it, the pair of mercs following close on her heels. Then watched the ramp close and the helicopter begin to climb into the air.

"She left, she fucking left us," murmured Alice numbly, barely hearing the high powered crack of Henry's rifle next to her or the smooth click-clack of him working the bolt.

She tried to get up, but equal parts searing pain and weakness spread through her, making her vision dim for a moment before she blinked and it returned to normal, although she was panting now, even though it hurt to breathe now.

"Henry, you've got to go, I can't fucking move and the bitch left us to die. Get out of here."

If Henry heard her he gave no sign, just rammed a stripper clip full of bullets into his rifle as rounds thudded and sparked off of the boulder they were hiding behind, sending rock chips and dust flying into the air. She couldn't read his face behind his balaclava, the dull black fabric obscuring everything.

"I'll be right back," said Henry. A moment after that he was up and running, but towards the men who were shooting at them and Alice lost sight of him.

Henry was running, the rounds hissing at him like angry snakes as they missed him by inches as he zigzagged between the rocks for cover. He slid in behind a boulder, rifle already up to his shoulder and bringing a face in line with the cross hairs. The saw the man shift his aim towards him, but Henry pulled the trigger before he did and watched a spray of red leave the mans head out the back and crumple down. Sweeping right another man fell into Henry's sights and he squeezed the trigger, hitting the man in the heart, the heavy 8mm Mauser round punching through the mans light armor and body like it was paper. Henry cycled the bolt without breaking his aim and found another soldier who came out from behind a tree and fired a burst towards him, hitting wide by at least eight feet. As he tried to get back behind cover, Henry put a bullet through his center mass. Not an instant kill, but he would be out of the fight for the moment anyways. A fourth man tried to advance, but Henry shot hit through the throat and the man stumbled forwards another step before he fell to the ground and lay still. Henry fired another shot, hitting a man in the vitals who simply crumpled to the ground lifelessly.

Henry tossed a pair of smoke grenades that threw up thick grew smoke that obscured him from the treeline where the enemy soldiers were shooting them him from and used the screen to reposition and reload his 98K. He hadn't come armed for a long fight, he only had the five rounds left for the Mauser and then he'd have to get in close. Then again, he'd never shied away from that before.

He put down the Mauser and brought out the Thompson, flipping the safety off. In WW2 an experienced Thompson submachine gunner could hit a man at a hundred yards with a burst of fire. Henry did just that and sent a man tumbling back as the old workhorse sent a grouping of heavy .45acp into his chest. These men were inexperienced, and starting to panic. Henry would fire and move. Fire and move. Each time taking down another of their number and throwing grenades into their midst. The idea was to make them think that they were fighting multiple enemies with fire coming from so many different directions and grenades going off. It was working too. They were losing cohesion.

They were firing blindly into the smoke, where Henry had been but not where he was. They couldn't find his silhouette in the smoke, but he could see theirs, having gotten used to picking out even the tiniest of movements, the majors men didn't stand a chance. Most of them weren't even wearing body armor which left them incredibly vulnerable to the firepower of the Thompson.

Sprinting the last few meters and Henry was in amongst them. The first man's eyes widened at seeing Henry next to him, before his whole skull disappeared in a gory spray to the hungry chatter of the Thompson. Henry killed the two men next to him as well, emptying the magazine in his Thompson and reloaded with practiced ease. Twenty rounds didn't sound like a lot, but in the right hands, it might as well have been endless.

Quick, clean bursts brought down another fire team and there weren't too many of them left now, but Henry was out of ammo for his Thompson and the bolt locking back seemed to mock him as he came upon another trio of soldiers.

The first drew a bead on Henry, but grunted and staggered in pain as the Thompson itself hit him in the face, Henry following close behind his thrown weapon, grabbing the man and throwing him into his comrade behind him. Then just as quickly Henry drew his 1911 from his hip holster and shot the other soldier, the heavy pistol barking and kicking in his hand, making the Russian topple backwards minus a piece of his skull. Then Henry pressed the pistol to the back of the mans head who was entangled with the other soldier and pulled the trigger twice sending the two bullets through both of the two mens skulls.

Henry emptied the pistol towards another small group of Russians, rolling behind a tree and running into a dip as bullets kicked us dirt by his feet and set wood splinters racing past his face.

With a satisfied clack, the pistol took another magazine and Henry emptied it just as quickly, only killing one other soldier and wounding another firing on the run as he was. Before he could load his last magazine though, Henry ran into another one of the soldiers quite literally. Henry reacted first, grabbing the man and driving his knee into his stomach, then as he crumpled in two threw him to the ground and plunged his knife into his heart.

There was just three left and Henry rushed them, out of options as they took aim at him. Henry pulled a tomahawk off his hip and threw it as he ran and with a solid thunk it stuck into the skull of one of the soldiers. The other two could have emptied their rifles into him though, at this range they couldn't miss. But they were terrified. The man who had wiped out their whole platoon was now coming for them, and one of them turned and started running, the other fumbled trying to replace the magazine on his rifle.

Henry stabbed him in the neck, quick and precise through the jugular and let him fall, gurgling to the ground. The last man he caught running and drove his knife through his back and into his heart. He exhaled sharply when Henry stabbed him, shuddered a few times, then fell silent. Henry let him fall, and retrieved his tomahawk from the face of the dead soldier which came free with a meaty sucking sound.

Four minutes. That's how long it took from the first round being fired to Henry stabbing the last of the major's men and ending their assault. This came so easy to Henry after all of these years now. Even now his hands were steady and it seemed that he was so hardened to killing that all it took was a moment to make sure they were all dead and he was double timing it back to Alice reloading his pistol with the last mag. He thought about leaving the Mauser behind, but picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. It could still come in handy.

Henry found Alice with her vest off and shirt removed, with her torso bandaged where she had been shot, but she looked very pale and clammy. Her gaze looked unfocused and she looked sleepy. Her breathing was deathly quiet and shallow, but she looked up at him and there was still a spark of life in her.

"The fuck are you love?"

"Alive, and so are you for the moment. We need to get you out of here and to a doctor."

Alice grinned weakly at him, but it seemed she was fighting to stay awake.

"I ain't going to make it love. Besides you can't carry me."

The sound of ripping Velcro followed by a thud, and Henry's heavy and expensive ceramic plate vest hit the ground.

Pulling out his knife, Henry cut straps and clasps from the vest, before doing the same to Alice's vest and taking the sling off of his his rifle and hers. Finally satisfied with his creation, Henry attached Alice to him like a rucksack, though she hissed in pain as he picked her up.

"I'm not going to make it love," said Alice weakly.

"Then I'll drop you when you die, until then you're coming with me," snapped back Henry.

"You're a real sweetheart you know that? Or maybe you just wanted to tell people that you got a hold of my ass eh love?" murmured back Alice with a chuckle, before slumping forwards onto Henry's back. Her breathing was shallow and weak which worried him. Henry did like Alice, she was a smart soldier and she was a good sort to be around. He shouldn't be moving her, but if didn't she wouldn't make it. He had to try.

Henry didn't know how long her ran for, but eventually the sun set and the temperature started to drop. His legs were burning and it felt like there were iron filings in his lungs, sweat stinging his eyes as he tried to blink it away, and he was so thirsty. He had learned a long time ago in another life though that you marched or you died and continued on undeterred.

"Henry, we need to take a break," came Alice's voice, quiet and distant from his back. Wordlessly, Henry slowed and stopped, carefully undoing the harness and lowering her to the ground underneath a tree.

"How are you feeling?" asked Henry.

"Like shit, felt like my body was on fire, but now It just feels fucking numb. I feel dizzy too."

Henry looked at her dressing and saw that it was soaked through crimson. He could change the bandage, but what she really needed was a doctor and a hospital. Henry had access to neither of those things and he didn't have access to anything besides a basic first aid kit.

"I'm going to change the bandages," said Henry, prepping the field dressings on the ground next to her.

"Hey Henry. Look, I'm grateful that you're trying so damned hard to help me, but I ain't gonna make it love. Look, I have a favor to ask you okay?"

"What do you want," asked Henry, keeping pressure on the wound as he cleaned and changed the dressing on the wound on either side of Alice's body. It was a through and through, but it looked like she had been hit by more than one bullet.

"I have a sister. Her name's Elizabeth, but just call her Liz when you see her. She fucking hates Elizabeth," chuckled Alice before having the chuckles turn into a coughing fit. "She lives in Edinburgh, crazy redhead was in the paras for a bit. She's never been any good with money and she's been waiting tables at some shitty Indian restaurant last couple of years. I've got some money saved up from doing this gig and I want her to get it yeah? Can you do that for me love?" asked Alice, handing a folded piece of paper to Henry.

"That's where she lives."

"The wound isn't bad, you'll make it, it'll just be uncomfortable so stop your whining. You'll be fine."

"You know, you're a lot softer than you let on," said Alice.

"How do you figure that?" asked Henry tightening up the new dressings.

"You suck at lying you know that love? You won't look me in the eyes when you tell me that I'm going to be fine. Also, your voice isn't Mr. Robot. You sound like you're afraid that I'm going to die."

Henry finished with the dressings after a final inspection of his work and gave a spare t-shirt to Alice to cover her up against the cold.

"Are you ready to move? It's a long ways yet before we'll be able to call for help or get you a doctor. Can you make it?"

"No, but I think that I'll make you carry me all the same. Also, take this eh love?" said Alice putting the folded paper into Henry's breast pocket. "Now that's my last request to ya eh? Don't want to forget about it or maybe I'll cause trouble for you before the man upstairs. That is if I'm not going for a hot tottie first yeah?"

"Just get ready to move," said Henry lifting Alice back up in her sling and cinching her to his back.

"Hey love, I do have one question for you though. Where did you serve?"

Henry was quiet for a few moments before he answered.

"I don't have time to tell you everything, but for years I served with the French Foreign Legion. That being said I've fought on every continent save for Antarctica and Australia."

"Bullshit, you don't look a day over thirty," said Alice, a defiant smirk on her pale face.

"I'm much older than thirty Alice."

"No shit? Well, I do like older men you know. But you're also a frog so I think that counts against you. But I won't discount you," said Alice slumping forwards and hissing as Henry started running again. She was silent after that. Her shallow breathing the only indicating that she was still alive.

Henry didn't know how many miles through the valley and up the mountain he had run, but all he knew was that it was a lot. Alice felt cold on his back, but she was breathing which was good, but if he didn't find her help soon she would die and Henry found that that thought bothered him quite a lot.

He hadn't agreed to her request, but he would do it all the same. You didn't refuse a last request. It just wasn't right.

He had grown fond of Alice's witty and crass company the last couple of years and had vested one of the few small parts of himself he had left in her. She had become one of his few friends and he refused to lose her. It seemed though that fate had other plans.

He was running up a dirt road leading towards the crest of the mountain, his mind focused on only running and breathing, maintaining proper form to conserve as much energy as possible. Perhaps it was his focus on his own breathing that made him notice the lack of Alice's.

Henry stopped running and listened. He didn't hear anything. With new found energy and sense of urgency, Henry undid his improvised harness and lowered Alice to the ground. She was corpse white and cold to the touch. Henry put his fingers to her throat. No pulse. Her wrist, no pulse. He put his ear right by her mouth. She wasn't breathing. Alice Montgomery was dead. Henry stared at her for a moment, feeling the piece he had invested of himself vanish with her but he had seen this happen far too many times to break down and weep. It left a hollow spot in him for a moment, but then as he had done for years he pushed it down and soldiered on.

"Valeur et Discipline mon cheri. You were a good soldier, perhaps in another life we will fight together again. Find peace if you want it, trouble if you desire it. I'm sorry I couldn't watch your back like you watched mine, but we both knew that there were never any guarantees in this life. I pray you forgive me all the same though."

His eulogy said, Henry picked up Alice bridle style and carried her off the main road. Using his tomahawk as a pick, he loosened up the dirt and scooped it away with his hands. It wasn't a deep grave he dug, but deep enough to keep scavengers from picking the flesh from her bones. He laid her in the grave gently and scooped the dirt back in on top of her. He took her knife and used it to make a makeshift cross that he stuck into the ground.

He didn't stay long after that, long enough to catch his breath and then he began trekking cross country parallel to the road, but hidden in the trees. Henry had fought in forests many times before, jungles too and the years spent moving quietly and unseen, trying to determine if he was the hunter or the hunted made silent movement more natural to him then walking down a street.

It was because of his long years of practice, that Henry heard the majors men, making their way noisily up the mountain though it was obvious that they were trying to be silent. It would be the easiest thing in the world to simply let them pass. To ignore them and move on. They were most likely going after the other arms dealers and their bodyguards. It was of no concern to him. But an image kept flashing through his head. The look of shock and pain on Alice's face as she fell to the ground. The pale but defiant face of the woman who was now dead.

Henry realized that he had his fists in a white knuckle grip and he felt the smoldering fires of rage building to an inferno in his gut. A rage that would only and could only be quenched with blood. He wouldn't let them get away with it, Alice's death demanded as much. More than that though, Henry wanted vengeance, craved it like a heroin addict does his needle. Henry took the tomahawk off his belt loop and spun it around, the black weapon glinting where the bare steel shone through. In his other hand Henry took out his combat knife, a simple K-bar. Without his armor weighing him down, he moved demon fast.

Xxx

"Koko, it looks like we're not going to be running into any opposition," came Lehm's voice crackling over the radio.

"No? What about the gunfire we heard earlier? Did they move on?" asked Koko, holding her hand to her headset.

"No, but they won't be tracking us anymore. Looks like the KI Bodyguards saw to that."

"Really? Just the two of them, or did they get reinforcements?" asked Koko surprised. She had expected at least platoon strength forces to come after them, if not more.

"No, it looks like just the one," answered Lehm over the radio.

"Just one?"

"Yeah, you're going to want to see this."

Koko escorted by the rest of her bodyguards, Valmet and Jonah especially came down the road leading away from the major's sphere of control came upon what one could only describe as a massacre. Cheap military surplus casings littered the ground with trees holed and branches splintered. It turned out that she had been right though, it had been platoon strength forces that had come after them, but they hadn't made it even halfway up the trail to the building that they had been in. They were all dead.

They were spread out, bullet casings surrounding them as if they had been shooting in all directions, most had laceration or stab wounds, though some had been shot. There was blood everywhere, splashed on the ground and trees like some mad artist throwing paint of a canvas and in the middle of all of it was a man sitting on a rotten tree that had fallen over, looking at the ground and blood still slowly dripping from the weapons that he held on his lap. Koko started walking up to him.

"Koko, wait," said Valmet concerned for Koko's safety near the gore covered man.

"I'll be fine," said Koko, brushing off Valmet's concerns. "Besides, you're all here with me right?"

"But Koko," insisted Valmet.

"I'll be fine," said Koko, continuing to advance on the gore covered man.

"You would be Henry right? Bodyguard for Ingrid Kiskonen from KI ltd right?"

"Yes, that's me," said Henry idly turning his tomahawk in his hand.

"Did you do all of this? I must admit that it's quite impressive, I trust that you are compensated well for your services?"

"Butchers work, and I'm paid well enough," answered back Henry.

"Am I to assume then that Miss Kiskonen is dead then?"

"No she's alive. She was extracted via helicopter."

"But you didn't go with her? Or she didn't wait for you?"

"You ask for too many questions for polite conversation Miss Hekmatyar. I bid you adieu," said Henry rising, bits of gore falling from his form as he did so.

"Are you sure that you aren't looking for new work now that your employer left you?" called out Koko to the Henry's retreating form.

"I've always got work to do Miss Hekmatyar. Always somebody who needs to die."