NOVA
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09/02/2003, 3:15am
Passi City
The Philippines
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The farmhouse definitely isn't what I was expecting. It bares a real damn resemblance to the one I grew up in, the one where they found Mom's wedding ring.

Three stories; windows that have absolutely no symmetry with each other and are chaotically dotted around the exterior in no particular pattern.

The chaotic exterior of a chaotic place.

Rifle gripped in hand, we move forward. I'm all set to push in through the East side with Dylan and Miles; aim is to keep as stealthy as possible until we're at the entry point unscathed.

Then we've got permission to break all hell loose.

I can't tell what Tara is thinking since her expression is shielded by a helmet, but she reaches out her arm and gives my own a gentle squeeze of reassurance. I return it, linking my hand around her wrist softly for a second before we separate.

"Hopefully see you on the other side of all this shit, yeah?" She says, sadness laced in her voice.

"That's the plan, look after yourself and radio if you need backup." I sigh, giving a final wave to her before dispersing into my smaller unit.

I wonder what types of horrors are on the inside of these walls, how badly they're painted with death and destruction.

I really fucking hope we find Leo.

We stealthily make our way across the farmland towards the building, the muddy terrain sprouting grass that brushes against our knees.

The only sound in earshot as of now is the faint chirrup of crickets, the noise of the grass swishing as we wade through. They're the type of sounds that would usually relax you, but it won't be long before the calmness is cracked by bullets.

The closer we get, the more familiar the yard looks. It is the exact location that was used in the execution videos. I don't know if I'm relieved that we're definitively in the right place, or haunted by the fact innocent people have been beheaded in this exact damn spot.

And by the looks of it, somebody recently has been. Even through the darkness I can make out the heap of a corpse.

Miles flicks his hand, urging for us to investigate.

"No, it's off of our track. We need to focus on pushing in through the East side." I whisper, shaking my head.

With Leo, I'd expect him to argue with me. That's what I brace myself for, yet Miles doesn't say anything as he continues forward in our planned path.

Breathing a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding, we crouch lower as we near our point of entry.

As soon as we break this window, we have to be prepared for everything.

Dylan raises his comms up to his mouth, "is everyone in position?"

The confirmations start flooding through the radio, North's voice dominates over the rest.

"Push through in exactly 30 seconds time, so we're all in sync."

30 fucking seconds.

I glance down at my watch, the arrows of time only visible by a small ray of light creeping from inside of the window.

Even the milliseconds feel like hours. Miles positions the butt of his gun at the corner of the glass, ready to deliver that damn strong blow to shatter it to pieces. I flick the safety off of the S&W, cock my rifle and tighten the straps of the helmet around my chin.

10 seconds.

Deep breaths. I lean against the wall, hand prepared on the window ledge to yank myself over as soon as it breaks.

Now.

With a swift movement, Miles forcefully shoves his gun against the window. It splinters immediately, the glass raining down to the floor. The noise of shattering fills the space around us, looks like everybody else managed to break in at the same time.

I'm through the window as soon as it's smashed, rifle butt under pressed into my armpit and poised at the ready.

The chaos inside is rapidly intensifying already, yells of rage fill my earshot moments before the gunfire commences.

We're suffocated in a dingy corridor, wooden floorboards leading the way forward and the sounds of gunshots ricocheting the walls; there's doors layered along at our sides. I naturally reach for the first door handle I see, sharing a quick nod with the boys before pushing it open and aiming the barrel.

Empty, fuck.

Wasting no time, I leave the door open and exit in hopes to move right onto the next room.

I don't get the chance as three adversaries emerge from the other end of the corridor.

They immediately open fire, we return it. I duck in the doorway of the room I've just searched, taking cover and poking my gun out to fire with precision.

Yes.

One down, I picked off the bastard in the neck. He crumples into the wall, gurgling and sliding down with a spray of crimson painting the area around him. Dylan pushes forwards, only for him to yell out as he doubles over to the floor.

"Fuck!" He seethes, clutching his knee.

"'Where you hit?!" I yell as he pushes himself backwards into the safety another doorway.

"Kneecap," he hisses. That's one damn painful place to get shot, I've heard.

"Stay there, don't try and fight or you'll just get killed!" I order. He doesn't protest as he scoots away, Miles and I edge towards the chaos.

There's no way I'm letting these pricks corner us before we've made any progress on the rescue.

"Dylan! Radio for Elija-"

"No, I'll survive with a bullet to the knee! We need to save the medics for officers who really need it! I'll get 'outta here," He interrupts before I even finish my sentence, and I seriously think that's the most selfless thing I've ever heard out of Dylan's mouth.

Although I don't have the chance to reply as one of the bastards lunges at me with a blade.

I slide on my feet, firing the final bullet in my round that luckily lodges into his arm. He yells a cuss, swapping the knife into his opposite hand and coming for me again.

My back hits a wall and he swipes the Ka-Bar across, probably aiming to slit my throat.

So I kick him right where it hurts.

It's probably not the most 'special-op' move of me, but you have to work with the advantage you have in a situation. It's successful, since for a split second he yells and his knees buckle. I snatch the opportunity to drive him backwards into the ground, pulling out my own knife.

"Where's the fucking hostages?" I hiss, straddling him and poising my blade at his neck. He growls and tries to break free, I don't let him.

"Tell me or I'll cut your fucking throat." I warn, pushing the glinting metal slightly against his windpipe.

Miles makes his way over after neutralising the other prick, covering me as I interrogate.

If this bastard doesn't talk in the next twenty fucking seconds, I won't hesitate to kill him. He can either be useful or be dead.

He's really testing my patience. I draw some blood, hearing him cry out and shake his head frantically. He just makes it worse since my blade slashes his neck slightly deeper from the movements.

"Up! Second!" He yells desperately, gritting his teeth.

I don't waste a second in standing up, whacking and rendering him unconscious before gesturing at Miles to follow.

He could damn well be lying, but he should know I'll be back to kill him if he is.

We're light on our feet. I reload, nearing the end of the corridor. There's so many voices, but no particular direction they're coming from.

Miles and I are already arguably at a disadvantage since we're one man down.

We're met by another terrorist as we spin the corner. He raises his gun but barely gets the chance to shoot before I blast him down, moving around his discarded form.

There's the bottom of a staircase in front of us and a room positioned to our right; door already open. My best guess is that this adversary just came out of there. I aim, kicking the door open the rest of the way.

I know he said we need to go upstairs, but it's better to check everywhere we can on the chance that he was lying.

It's empty, looks like it was the old kitchen. Wooden counters, the stench of meat. There was probably a time where this room was used for loving family dinners.

Now it's used to fuel the stomachs of murderers.

I shut the door, Miles close behind me as we edge to the bottom of the staircase. Seemingly in the clear, I lift up my comms.

"Has anybody reached the second floor? Over." I ask, gun still poised at the ready in my other hand.

The static crackles for a few seconds, the noise of gunfire in a different part of the farmhouse intensifying.

A pit begins to form itself in my stomach as I get no response, so I repeat myself.

Nothing.

Miles has started to pace anxiously at my side, my pulse now throbbing in my ears.

If everyone else has been picked off, we're absolutely fucked.

"We're at the staircase, over."

I breathe out a sigh of utter relief from hearing Banksy's voice after a tense few seconds.

But, we're at the staircase?

So there's two staircases? This could play to our advantage.

"Apparently the hostages are up there, move now." I instruct, already starting to advance up the steps.

Banksy mumbles a quick 'copy' before the line goes silent. I share a nod with Miles as I go ahead, him a few steps behind me.

With each step, my heart thuds a little more intensely. The anticipation of what we're going to find-

Fuck.

I hiss as a bullet cracks out and skims along the side of my shoulder. I thought Miles was meant to have my fucking back.

He's now returning fire, despite the delayed reaction. I can feel the familiar damp warmth
seeping into the fabric of my shirt. I raise my shoulder and roll it as Miles annihilates the opposition, ensuring I've still got my movement.

Luckily, apart from an ache, it's still mobile.

"Sorry about that," he mumbles from behind as I fly up the staircase.

"Maybe just try to be more vigilant," I snap without a pang of guilt.

If I'd been a step or two to the left, that bullet would have probably buried into the back of my neck.

He doesn't reply, that's what I thought.

We reach the top of the staircase, a mezzanine style second floor until it branches off into two separate corridors. One heading East and one leading West, individual rooms sprouting off to the sides.

It's like a goddamn maze.

And of course we get shot at.

An adversary flings himself at Miles, shooting a few badly aimed stray bullets and wrestling with him. Another joins in, turning it into a two on one.

I raise the S&W until my wrist is grabbed and twisted, forcing it from my grasp. I'm caught off guard, I have no fucking idea where this prick came from.

He pulls out his own pistol and takes a few shots. I throw myself beneath the line of fire, some bullets ricocheting off of my helmet with a clank as I lunge for his waist, tackling him into the mezzanine's railings.

He grunts, I swipe up my discarded pistol and swing it at his face. It collides with his nose as he buries his fist into my stomach. I resist the urge to double over as I fling my head forward, helmet cracking against his temple as hot blood starts to rain down his face.

With a shove, he's flipped over the railing and onto the first floor.

My attention spins to Miles, who has managed to take one of the bastards out. The other is pinning him down, both guns kicked off to the side. I fire the S&W, a bullet satisfyingly meeting it's resting place in the back of his head as he flops forward.

Miles kicks his corpse off, giving me a thankful nod as I pull him to his feet.

The noise of footsteps swings our attention once again as we cock our guns, but I'm relieved to see the bloodied-yet-alive figures of Tara, Banksy, Xavier and North.

"Oh thank God it's you two," Tara whispers, jogging over and giving me a swift side hug.

"Have you seen the others yet?" I urge,

"No, they're still on the first story. They're covering us from down there." Xavier informs.

I lift my comms up to insist an order, but North reads my mind. "We've got officers on both staircases, we just need to neutralise the damn bastards up here."

We nod slowly, all of our heads swivelling East and West.

"Three and three?" I ask, glancing at them all.

"Yes, I've called for some more backup. Hopefully another four should be up if all goes to plan down below," North sighs, using his hand to swiftly divide us.

"Banksy, you go with Nova and Miles and head East. The rest with me," he orders, already turning to jog West. I give Tara a final nod before turning East with the two men, all three of us picking up our pace as we fly towards the end of the corridor.

The doors get kicked down one by one. Some rooms have separate hovels cosied within them, it really is a maze.

I enter a room on my left, which is where I hear a noise which is unmistakably crying, muffled slightly.

Leo, or the other hostages.

I sprint to the source of the sound, a door within what I'm guessing was once a bedroom. Raising my gun in case it's a trap, I yank the door open.

What?

"Abe?" I ask quietly, crouching down. He's bound up in what seems like a cubby hole. Savagely beaten, rag in his bleeding mouth and chains around his wrists and ankles.

He starts crying heavier when he sees me, I unhook the rag from in his mouth.

"You're alive," is the first thing he murmurs, complete disbelief in his voice.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I whisper, tilting my head. Miles has his gun raised right over my bleeding shoulder, ready to blow his head off if he makes a wrong move.

"Jed told him that he killed you," he replies in his broken English, wriggling his wrists.

I really do think he's harmless, he's only practically a kid, but I'm not going to untie him yet.

"What do you mean? Who is 'him'? Who did he tell?" I urge, sparks warming up and ready to fly out of my heels.

"He told the man with the hawk on his hand."

Leo's tattoo. He's here and he's alive.

Please let him be okay.

"Where is he, where are the rest of the hostages?" I hiss, standing up.

"I'm not sure, I'm 'blindfolded when brought to here. I believe further down corridor, and we made a turn or two."

A turn? The room must be hidden within one of the others, otherwise it'd be a straight walk.

I give him a short but grateful nod, speaking into my comms instantly, "the hostages are being kept in a room that's already within another, look out for all doors and hidden points of entry."

North replies with a 'copy' as Miles and Banksy sprint out of the room. I turn on my heels, but stop as I hear Abe sigh.

"Will you leave me here?" He sniffs, trying to wipe his tears on his shoulder.

He really is just a kid.

It's risky, but I owe it to him. If he hadn't told Leo that day about how Jed was planning to kill me, I'd be dead.

"No," I whisper, "I'll come back and untie you, I promise. For now, pretend that we haven't spoken and stay there. It's safer." I reassure him.

He seems to trust my words as he shrinks back into the cubbyhole, pulling the door over with his chained feet.

I swivel again and follow out after the other two, sprinting out of the doorway-

"Nova!"

The second I'm out of the alcove, something collides with my helmet and cracks it as I feel it fall loose. I'm knocked to the floor, winded momentarily as I reach for my gun.

My helmet rolls off as I sit up, and that's when the realisation comes in.

There's a machete wedged smack in the centre, blade cut inches deep into the hard structure.

Gunshots start erupting, and I'm in a really risky position. I drag the machete from my helmet, gripping its handle as I lunge to my feet.

There's a man facing me, tall. He has a mask shielding his face and hair, but just by the outline of his figure I recognise him.

He's the masked executor, Las.

I don't think before I lunge at him with the machete, driving it right towards his chest. He tries to slide aside, but I'm swift enough to get a stab at him.

I expect the blade to glide right through the skin, but it's resisted. Instead it makes a sound that sounds like clattering metal as he kicks me off to the side.

Bastards wearing a vest.

My back hits the wall as I aim my gun. If I can hit him in the head of neck, I've won. On the other hand, I don't want him dead.

I want to interrogate him.

"It's been a while," he chuckles.

What?

He's trying to throw me off track, so I swing my gun at him. He barely dodges as he lunges at me. I swipe my feet, twisting and shoving him into the door as I whack his face with the butt of my rifle. I grab the top of his mask before he head butts me, sending me stumbling.

Just as I'm about to send off a bullet, a spray of them flies in from a different direction. Unsure if they're from the guns of allies or foes, I duck down.

The sound slowly dies, Tara running over and pulling me from off of the floor.

"Shit, thanks," I murmur, swiftly reorganising myself. I shove my helmet back onto my head, despite the fact it looks like it could break in half at any second.

"Of course," she says, glancing around.

This makes me glance around, and fuck.

"He's fucking gone," I hiss, fighting the urge to kick the wall.

"Who?"

"Las, he was right fucking here!" I yell out in complete frustration.

I need to get my head screwed back on. Las can wait, Leo and the hostages are my priority.

Tara's mouth opens slightly in shock as she gazes off, clearly unsure of what to say.

"We need to continue searching," I mumble after a few seconds, gesturing for her to jog with me.

"You search the rooms, I'll cover you. The others are checking further up the other end," she orders, earning an approving nod as I move onto the next room.

My boot meets the wooden door as it splinters, instantly revealing two adversaries stood beside an old wardrobe. They raise their guns, Tara mows them down from behind me without a moments hesitation.

She's someone I really can trust to have my back.

I have a good feeling about this. The way they were stood next to the wardrobe, almost as though they were,

guarding it?

That's when I hear it, the noises from inside; behind the wardrobe. They're even louder than the distant gunfire, an array of different voices.

"Tara, help me push this!" I yell, she practically teleports to my side.

Together, we heave it sideways. It's not heavy considering it has absolutely no contents.

And it feels as though I'm looking at gold dust.

An off white, stained and splintered wooden door. I yank it open, stepping into the other room with Tara already radioing our backup.

I'm met with terrified faces, worried expressions. It's the hostages, and they're now completely fucking silent.

My gaze darts frantically until it rests on a particular set of eyes. Deep brown, tired, bruised around the edges.

"Oh my god," his eyes plaster open, jaw falling in shock.

I can't contain the smile as it plasters across my mouth.

We've done it.

We found the hostages.

I've found him.

Footsteps approach behind us, I'm relieved to see that it's our team rather than any more of Altashih. They all advance into the room, Banksy and Miles guarding the door as we get stuck into the process of freeing the hostages.

I know exactly who I'm untying first as I stride right over to Leo.

Is he crying?

"You look like shit," I grin, kneeling down next to him and picking the locks.

He remains completely silent, staring at me like I've got ten heads.

He does look horrendous. There's crimson cuts and bruises all over his face. His floppy, rich brown hair is matted with dried blood. His peppered, russet eyes are absolutely exhausted, as though all life has been drained from them.

The lock clicks as it falls loose. I notice that one of his hands is definitely not in the best condition, it's completely purple.

That hand is suddenly in the back of my hair as I'm yanked forward, right towards his chest. His other arm wraps my waist, stretching around my vest as he pulls me closer against him, as though I might disappear. I wince slightly from the pressure against my shoulder.

What the hell is going on?

"I thought you were dead. I fucking thought you were dead, Nova. I really thought I'd lost you." He mumbles into the top of my hair, leaning his head into mine.

"I'm not dead, I'm okay. We might end up dead if we don't damn hurry, can you walk?" I urge, fighting the desperation to just sit and hold him for another minute. He nods slightly, pushing himself up to his full tall height.

I gaze up at him and hesitate before outstretching my arm, letting my hand gently press against his bruised cheek.

"It's all going to be fine now, yeah?" I whisper, forcing a smile to mask the seriousness of the situation.

He leans his head into my hand and grins back slightly.

I can't tell if his is forced or genuine.

"I don't think I've ever been happier to see someone alive, than I am to see you right now, Shields." He chuckles in disbelief, placing his battered hand over my own on his cheek, intwining my fingers with his as best as he can.

"Honestly? Me neither," I whisper, smirking like a fucking kid. I can't stop myself, and I lunge forward and hug him again. Burying my head into the square of his chest.

His arms are immediately around me. One around the back of my neck, the other around the small of my back. The ache in my shoulder seems like nothing.

But, I guess all good moments have to come to an end.