The One Who Didn't Make It Back Home.

Star, Angie, and Rafael waved to Marco as he left to board his plane. He wore green came and large black boots. Marco smiled and waved to them as he walked onto the escalator. It was his third and last deployment. He was going back to the middle east for one last time. Most men from his original platoon that had been there with him through it all had already gone back to civilian life. However, Marco wanted to stick it out until every man was back safe and sound.

His flights took several days to get from California to the Middle East. He had flown all the way from California to D.C. He had then board a flight with a stop in England for fuel. After they had refueled the plane landed in Some part of the middle east.

Marco walked off and was instantly swarmed by a few of his platoon members who he had met over the past few tours. Their was Dan, Tom, Noah, and a few others. However, him, Tom, and Ferguson were the only ones left from the original platoon. This was their last time and it was becoming apparent that it would not be a safe one.

The first incident came only hours after being back. Marco was in his quarters trying to sleep off some of his jet lag when he heard a loud. "Boom!" The ground shook and multiply screams could be heard from parts of the base. 'Of course they would.' Marco quickly put on his uniform and ran out of the building. Part of the building lay in ruin.

Marco and a few others quickly rushed to those who had been caught in the explosion. Each person was loaded onto a Humvee and moved out of the facility. While many seemed to only have minor injuries. There were a few that would probably need amputation. Marco still hated the sight of blood but he had gotten used to it by now.

Days later an order came from the higher ups that a local airfield need to be seized and that a large city needs to be cleared. While multiple strikes had been ordered into the city. There still was a large need for ground checks.

Multiply men from Marcos platoon were sent to the airfield while only Marco and a few of his platoon members were sent to the city. It seemed off but he understood the danger the airfield possessed to bases and other facilities.

Marco and his platoon was shipped out via Humvee to the city that was only 30 miles north of the base. Once the group was with in the city. A dog team was released to scout ahead of the vehicles. The group of 24 men decided it was best to split up to cover more ground. Marco, Tom, Ferguson, and nine others went into the small side streets, while the rest of the group searched the large main roads.

Marco and his group walked along the tight walkways of the city, every once and awhile they would climb over debris and other objects. The city was in pieces. However, what was more surprising was the stench that came from the city. The smell of flesh, drug manufacturing and other gruesome smells filled the air. Some of the first timers had to wear masks to keep from puking. Marco however, had dealt with this time and time again. He and his two bros just walked through without a care.

Finally after a long silence, one sound broke through the group. "POW!" "POW!" "POW!" Multiple shots were fired from a building a little ways down from them. The residence fighters sat on the top of a roof covered by different objects as a form of cover. Marco and his platoon quickly jumped for cover.

However, two of the guys had to be pulled into cover. Somehow both had been shot in the leg. "You guys stay here." Marco pointed to three of the youngest guys. "Come on, let's move!" Marco and those who were left ran through building after building, using each as cover. Finally after scrambling through six or seven different buildings the group made it into the small three storey living quarters the fighters were in.

They quickly made their way up the stairs and pushed open the large iron door at the top of the staircase. Ferguson pushed through first. He was instantly fired upon and fell back through the door. Tom pulled him back into the cover of the stairway. Marco pulled a flash bang from his belt and threw it onto the rooftop. He shut the door.

A few seconds later a small. "Pow." Let Marco know it had gone off. Then a few seconds later, it was followed by the screams of men. Marco held back his laugh and pushed through the door. Each of the fighters were taken down in mere seconds. Thoses who tried to grab their guns were killed while the rest were pushed on the ground flat. A group of humvees were called in and the men were loaded in.

They would be taken back for questioning and most likely plea deals for less sentencing. However, most would probably face death or life in prison. Marco and his platoon walked out of the building and cleared the rest of the city. However, it seemed like every few blocks someone would try and put up a fight. The weeks wore on, and the time slowly passed. The waiting was what killed men, not the fight.

Weeks passed and no information had been recovered on anything useful. Marco hated the waiting but at least he wasn't back at base twiddling his thumbs. Marco, Tom and the newly recovered Ferguson had played cards in their down time. It was a way to pass time. "So… How's Star?" Marco shrugged, she hated that he left again and she hadn't sent a letter the entire time he was their. "I don't know, she hasn't sent anything back in the past 5 months." Tom nodded and let out a small sigh. "You messed up big time didn't you." Marco nodded with a small smile on his face. "Oh yea." The two laughed, Star was the least of Marcos problems.

"Did you hear about the new orders from the uppers?" Marco shook his head. "Yea were being moved to help with the capture of some military hid out base type thing." Marco nodded. "You mean the type with tight corridors were we don't usually walk away to well." Tom nodded his head. "Yea, we might as well go out with a bang." Marco rolled his eyes, he really didn't want to go out with a bang.

After a few more days of downtime, Marco and his platoon were moved over two hundred miles to the east. Marco had left right after christmas and it was now summer, he only had a few more weeks to go. One final mission was all that stood in his way.

Marco and his platoon made their way across the desert. Nothing important happened and they safely made it to the rondevu point. "Alright men listen up. All must be vigilant and you all must protect the other. No man left behind got that!"

"Sir, Yes Sir!" Over fifty men walked into the 'base.' It was a series of tunnels in a mountain face. Marco and the other men charge into the labyrinth of tunnels. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. It was damp, moldy, and terrible but not out of the ordinary.

The men quickly clear the first rooms. Drugs, ammo, bombs, and other illegal items were found. However, no fighters. Marco and his platoon continued one to push down a corridor. Still nothing new.

However one sound made Marco's blood run cold. "Ping… Tink Tink." "Everybody get down!" "BOMB!" A grenade went off, Marcos ears still rang but he got to his feet and quickly pulled his gun. Marco turned back to look at his platoon members. Ferguson laid unmoving on the floor along with several other guys. Tom however stood up next to him. Each quickly ran into a room together.

"What do we!" Marco shrugged. "Fight like hell." The two nodded and Marco grabbed a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He waited a few seconds and threw it down the hall. "Boom!" Men yelled in horror. Tom and Marco jumped out and ran down the hall. Each opened fire on the residence fighters. However, Marco got hit in the left arm but he pressed on.

All of them were killed, no one left alive. Marco and Tom walked back down the hall picking up those who were hurt in the explosion. Marco hated seeing Ferguson like this. "I can't believe he's gone." Tom patted Marco on the back. "I know, hard to believe." Marco looked down and realized he had left his gun in the maze.

Marco walked back inside and looked all over for his gun. However he couldn't find it. He walked back to where the fighters had hid. His blood ran ice cold. Cold metal touched his back. 'Fuck!' Was all he could think. The man let out a long laugh and then spoke "Filthy American." "Pow!"

Marco fell to the ground, he watched as the world around him grew white his vision blurred and then it was gone… everything was gone.

What Marcos dead! O no, this is what you wanted right, for me to finally kill Marco. This is a post cleaved fanfic for anyone wondering. Also I hope you guys enjoyed, please do Favorite Follow and Review. It would be much appreciated.

Yea this is kind of a new fanfic but not at the same time. I haven't decided what I'm gonna do yet so be patient with updates on this one.