One plain envelope. Splotches of brick red smears all over. Tainted.

Sanskar handed the letter while heat of his malabar bean duo borne glare fanned her over with scrutiny. That Amazon warrior like  face just twitched a little. Not a shake, nor a blink.

During his younger days he wore his heart on his sleeves, unlike the mannequin named Swara Raichand. Still now he felt glum, cold n' blue while he recounted each episode of his battle brothers' last moments. Beneath the facade of Commander Rock he was merely a mushy, emotional fool, burying pain was his greatest sacrifice.

The price of the insignia on his shoulders, of the medals on his chest.

He coped by pretending, by getting used to vent his woes in hard way. Through drenching sweats and anger. For this tough looking girl he wanted an easier route. He felt obligated to protect that vulnerability in her, of what even she was not aware.

"Soldiers shouldn't have excess baggage. You should try to shed some by tears for a change."

Too bad though. Swara Raichand had never been fond of easy.

"Tears are freedom, cheat sheet for sinners. Bother not, ain't really looking for exoneration."

How can she break the cage, when her conscience was freshly bruised, battered and scarred from her own deeds?

"Let's have a bet. You die, I forfeit. I swear I won't hit on any  girl for 2 years." The guy seemed to have lost his marbles, blabbering like an idiot. When all he had done was keeping check on his insane, hopeless crush so far.

Muse must have numbed Poet's senses.

"Right. I can easily smack you from hell if you go all Romeo." Swara went back to the charts, her tone as flat and bored as ever. As expected.

"But, if you live, I want a date with you.Until then, this... will have to wait." Arvind waved the khaki Manila envelope before her face, unfazed by that nasty yet irresistible are-you-nuts-you-weirdo look. "I want my mom to know in the first letter I send from here."

"Rather than me why don't you die, Rao?"

****************************

No, he was no insensitive prick.

To his defense, Sanskar let her show all the way through her endless guilt lane. But not more than that. He hated promising souls wallowing in self pity.

"So being alive is a crime? Am I the same criminal like you? Shits happen on mission. People die. Even heroes fail. You are one of them." His grip on her shoulders was unrelenting. "But beating yourself won't make things better. For the sake of your future you've got to move on from the past."

"Don't you get it? I killed him before he actually died." Her words were weighed down with labored breath, strung out in exhaustion.

Sanskar forgot to blink. Stunned at the extent of self blaming one  could do. Or was it something else?

What if... What if Arvind's admiration had not been one sided at all? What if he was more than a colleague to her?Did Sanskar wish to be the one to console her broken heart? Did even he expect her to bear that kind of wound?

No. Negative. Not in a million years. Not after seeing her like...

Stop! Angel on his shoulder chided the devil. Not so noble, Shergill. Not so noble.

Add Ivy League cut hair and attire of civilized male. Crop the giant  and and add a macho man. You'd find an undeniable hottie mutated into the Incredible Hulk in green.

Only, Hulks in uniforms don't show their skin color. They wear camouflages to deceive.

Pushing those dangerous thoughts out of his mind, he took control. "You want punishment? Do something you don't want to do. Survive. Give this letter to Mrs Rao and let her know, her brave son did win the last bet and last battle of his life." His way too fierce eyes changed their ways towards the floating aircraft with green, white and orange roundel, where a man of air had fallen deep into last slumber.

************************

No fracture. No large gash or burns. Just few bruises and cuts.

Swara pondered over her super amazing luck as she stripped off her flight suit and changed into a pair of cargo pants and ash brown tank. Unlike their previous jungle quest she took small mercy on Sanskar (Thank Lord, he'd say) and hid her body of sin and dreams behind one of the finest specimen of Nord Ubangi tropical flora.

Good for his sensitive vision, better for his tentative hormones.

Pulling the lower end of top over her tummy, she peeked her head out, "Yakoma? You said Colonel Rafael's troops will be waiting in Ndu camp."

And there was operation Bondo sweep of course.

"Let me lay this down." Sanskar dipped his trigger finger against soaked earth near the brim, sketching curved lines and crosses over the muddy surface. "Suppose, this is our location. If we go eastwards, keep close to Ubangi, we'll reach the bend." He pointed towards a cross where to parallel lines divided into two's. "Here Ubangi gives Mbomou above, Uele below. Southern bank of Uele should lead us to Yakoma.There we can cross makeshift tree trunk bridge over a creek. That's the shorter way to Ndu. Now-"

His briefing was put to a halt, eyes went wider. Swara clamped his mouth shut, shushing him with her hand. His ears perked up to the sound of rustling movements coming closer.

Damn! They should've left this cursed place already.

In an area where discretion was an armor, he had been too late to take off his flight suit. A symbol of pride for a Wing Commander, a pair of trousers was the reason of Shergill's current ordeal.

If in anything James Runihura took pride of, that would be his pair of visual apparatus. No, that slit like apertures or harsh brows above them didn't do anything to enhance his handsomeness. But those keen eyes did get him a nickname, "the Hawk".

Like few moments before, they caught a glimpse of the green fabric of that evil spawn of a pilot wore, who had almost single handedly destroyed their notorious artillery unit.

The man and the girl. Obviously the guy was the badass one.

Robed in black, eyes cloning of dead fish, hard cruel gazes. Ambushers crept closer, leaving the pretense of hiding. What their face held - scowls or jeers- was not easy to tell.

Although more than twenty rifles aimed to roar was a clear announcement of war, being Swara and Sanskar two outnumbered warriors.

Violet fire and brown timber on their side, submission was never gonna be an option. "Hold your ground, don't retreat." was their unsaid protocol. Standing back to back, Garuds in crisis scanned their enemy force, in arrogance and valor.

The band of masked rebels inched forward.

"Defense by offense." Sanskar's wrist went for the holster as he chanted the motto of avian commandos in a whisper. "Be the offender."

****************************

Runihura couldn't tell who launched the first bullet out of the two. Sparks of anger coursed through his veins as he took his cover at the back of a rubber tree. The well formed human shackle around their prey had been broken. Reckless firing of the military pilots had sent them back into scatters.

Behind the cover of hedges Sanskar crouched and surveyed the perpetrators. His Glock fired cautiously, aiming with absolute certainty. A bullet whooshed past his shoulder, missing merely by inches.

"Watch out, Raichand!" He yelled at Swara, who had just let another to collapse.

Clusters of pandemonium bullets darted across from all directions. A fraction of second, swift moves of super fast reflex.

His heart was still pounding as he watched Swara diving for a cover, still alive. "On the move, woman! Are you dumb or what?"

Arrogant jerk! MCP to the core!

THWACK! Another insurgent crumbled on the ground.

That arrogant jerk had been keeping an eye on her all this time, it seemed. Just for this reason Swara swallowed her anger and ignored that bruised ego of hers.

Instead she rolled over the ground, went up on knees as her sight caught trail of another  foe and pulled the trigger. Aimed to hit, not to kill. In an uncharted territory, in the heart of blast and smoke keeping afloat itself was taxing. Layers of greenery shielded them from bites of gun though.

A wall of defense for all, no discrimination allowed.

Among ceaseless thunder of pellets a rusty can was catapulted down the range, landed halfway in between him and her. One. Two. Three. A massive explosion preceded uncontrolled scatter of splinters.

One more blow and the dark clouds of smoke erupted, ignited one hell of a wildfire.

Eyes stung and watered; combustion burned its way down the windpipe, constricted the lungs. Dirt smeared all over the face, Sanskar looked over his shoulder, front facing the ground, still reeling from shock of post explosion nosedive.

Couldn't see a thing. Crap! He had no idea about her, that reckless brat Raichand.

Sound of firing went on for few minutes, then faded to the point of inaudibility. Sanskar held on his guard. Strange enough there was no bullet for aim to dodge anymore. Or none to shoot either.

Black fumes thinning into grey, he couldn't find the lithe feminine figure in his range of vision. A sense of unease clenched his gut.

Tensed of silence, scared of solidarity.

************************

In the military menu of linguistics colorful expletives were the secret ingredient of making of an super tangy appetizer. Sloppy cadets picked up momentum, brethren bonded for life, thanks to them. So what decent women were not supposed to curse!

Hence having her boss driven so crazy, Swara Raichand cursed him. When her real enemies aka those f***ers gun launched those bombs she swore like a sailor in the making.

The rain of bullets had seemed to focus on her, trailed her akin to some wicked unrelenting spell. It was sheer luck she still stood unscathed.Gunners closing in from behind and the sides, she had none but one way to go.

How far had she strayed? How many crucial minutes had been elapsed?

African hot humid summer it was, yet she felt a feel of shiver along her spine. Dull thumps were surrounding her in dozens, she whirled as if wind she was. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! She pulled the trigger in maniac spree.

Cleaning for her commander before they could soil the swamp sageness on her expense.

*************************************

Smaller footprints followed by many more larger ones. Shells dropped on the grass. Rage and trepidation playing side by side, Sanskar's bod was on shake.

Apparently that girl had taken her call sign too seriously. Whizzing away as she had done, probably flying high, shooting sparks, not realizing at the end she would be the end.

Like a firecracker, not firefly.

"Drop the weapon, Commandant. We got her." More than the command and taut,strident voice behind it, it was the sight that made Sanskar lose his cool.

That man, short, rotund had eyes as dark as tar set on his captive. Swara, the latest synonym of freedom in Sanskar's dictionary was fixed in a pervert's grip. One hand roughly pulled her bun that was a mess, another fist had a small knife, placed on her hip, thumb moving on in an obscene way. That wasn't the end. On each side a brawny man held her arms in a crushing grip.

As if the wrath of the tigress had them burnt. So they came with all the balls and chains they could use to subdue her.

Not that it worked much. Otherwise she couldn't have snapped at them like that.

"Rather I'll die than letting these creepy ba****ds have their way."

"Don't think your boss will agree, bitch." Uneven sharp nails of his dug deep in the hollow of her cheek. His leery eyes perused her body and turned to face Sanskar. "Ever heard of LRA, commandant? This band of creeps uses  very much alive bodies like hers for one and only purpose. I can show if you choose to feign ignorance. Like, show everything a man wants to see.

As if implication of words was not crude enough, the knife held by Runihura hacked, splitting the fabric aside all the way down her stomach.

So this was how impotence felt, Sanskar was almost mad with frustration. So much his conscious mind escaped the wounded growl he had let out of his chest.

Nor he could help his heart plummeting into a pit of dread as Swara jerked her body in disgust and stomped her detainer on his foot.

Along went the blade all the wrong way.

Infuriated more than hurt, Runihura's hand took no time to slash her side. Not that the assault was intended. His fist just lost control over the butt and slipped.

But Sanskar was not going to give the snake a benefit of doubt. He was screaming threats, ready to attack at any moment. His temper skyrocketed when Swara's head fell behind from the impact of a backhanded strike.

"Careful , commandant. Next cut won't leave anything for imagination."

Why did her strength had to seep away with every drop of dripping blood? Why couldn't she get these slimy hands off her body? She had given more than hundred percent not to be the best of the girls, but one of best young air warriors.

All did it take was an ugly attack on her femininity to bring her down. How tough did he seem, invincible Sanskar Shergill he was, yet her unyielding boss had no way but to share the impact of the fall.

Because he cared.

She could see it. So much concern, as if she mattered. The lines of torture on his face. Resignation written all over his deep coffee orbs. He tossed his Glock and dropped to the ground. His hand fisted as the men in black garbs howled in unison.

Sanskar took a deep breath. He hoped he had taken the right decision. No way he could watch them killing her indomitable soul. No way he would glance at her vacant eyes. Once those terrorists got too drunk and heady of victory, he would figure out their escape plan.

Setting a model of compliance, he offered his wrists before him in unison. He made no move nor any sound as they fixed them in a bond, except one silent vow.

Heaven forbid, dare they touch one more thread on her. Bound or not, they'd have to face the worst of Shergill.

Or they should face hell anyways. Sanskar decided. At least the man they called Runihura.

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A/N:
Phew! I managed an update! Yeeeeeeee! I hope you still remember me.😊 This chapter underwent lots of rewriting and reediting. I hope I haven't lost my touch completely. Should you find this a little please encourage me with VOTES ⭐️and COMMENTs

Love,
Anahita