The sun peeked over the tops of the village on the hilltop, golden petals unfurling into the pale blue and pastel pinks as it was the bloom of a new day.

The thin, wispy clouds were illuminated with highlights of tropical orange as the air warmed, evaporating the moisture farmers had watered on their opium poppy crops.

Meanwhile, in FOB Whiskey, Pheasant was not ready to face the brand new day, his head still throbbing from yesterday. As the light filtered in through his window he rolled with a groan, turning his back on the painful brightness.

The man felt as if he was dying, the empty bottle on his desk mocking him.

Soon enough he was greeted by the unwelcome sound of knuckles rasping against his wooden door.

"Go away please," Pheasant moaned as all the embarrassment of last night came rushing back-most notably was trying to kiss Soap.

"Debrief in the rec room in ten minutes. Be ready or get a bollocking," Smith barked through the door.

Pheasant's bed creaked as he rolled out of it, stepping through the mosquito nets to grab his deodorant which, in this scorching heat, was a futile attempt to not stink of body odour.

He cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair before putting on his uniform, gently rolling out any wrinkles in it with his palms as he had no time to iron his clothes properly, soon he was dashing off to the rec room with two minutes to spare.

"Ah Pheasant, so lovely of you to join us," a commando, with the golden rank of Sergeant Major on his sleeve, shot Pheasant a fake smile. Pheasant noticed Royal Artillery were seated in the room alongside the Commandos, "do have a seat," the Sergeant Major gestured to an empty seat.

An empty seat next to Roach.

Hesitantly Pheasant took the seat, offering Roach a friendly smile, who remained unresponsive, eyes fixed perfectly ahead at the Sergeant Major and Captain Riley and Captain Firth, the team leader of the artillery observers, who both stood opposite him, in between them both was a map that was adorned with red circles and arrows.

"Alright commandos you did a good job with the weapons factory so we've decided to assign you today another clandestine mission, so no writing letters home to your mums about them," the Sergeant Major congratulated them, flashing a broad smile that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "You're to have a heli take you to one and a half klick out from this house on the mountain, then you'll yomp (long walk) your way to it. Intel says this house is a halfway point that ships out Chernobyl's nuclear fuel rods to sell to Russian Ultranationalists. You're to be attached the a team of artillery observers who will aid you in performing recce on the site, you're just there to see what happens from a ledge just north of the house. Should anything go wrong the observers can call in artillery support."

"Any questions?".

The room was silent.

"Good. Have some scran and then have kit check after that."

Soon enough the they had loaded up into their helicopters under the cover of darkness, blades slicing through the cool air and whipping up a small sandstorm as it took off.

Their NVG's (night vision goggles) were on as they clutched their rifles, safety on and fingers away from the triggers like they'd learnt in basics. Some were listening to music through their earphones, others chewed on gum whilst Pheasant was sharing his last cigarette with Captain Riley-who never smoked save for just before intense missions to give himself a slight nicotine boost to help his mind focus.

Before long the helicopter was landed, blades whirring softly as the team dismounted.

The blackness of the sky was adorned with the twinkling stars and pale moonlight that guided them, it was as dead silent as the grave as the commandos and artillery observers made their way towards the house on the mountain top, towards the ledge they had been promised in the debrief.

After twenty minutes of walking the house was in sight, it might've just been the darkness but it looked imposing sat on a mountain.

Captain Riley let the Sergeant Major know he'd reached the house before they worked their way round to the ledge that hung above the house, giving them the perfect vantage point to observe all the activities of the building.

The artillery observers took off their NVG's, switching from the night vision binoculars.

"Three armoured vehicles approaching," one of the observers said, "they're pulling up at the front of the house."

"Is that..Al-Asad?".

"Al-Asad as in the military commander turning to overthrow Al-Fulani?".

"Who else?".

"Is it definitely him?".

"Yes, PID (positive ID) on Khaled Al-Asad."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Let me tell the Sergeant Major."

"Mission just had a change up," the Sergeant Major informed everyone over the comms, "this is no longer a recce mission, this is a kill or capture mission. Get Al-Asad dead or alive."

"Alright, we need to devise a plan," Riley thought aloud, "half of us take the front entrance, that's Blue team, half take the back, that'll be red team. The sides are flanked by cliffs, there'll be no escape," he explained before dividing them into two teams, both with five commandos and toe artillery observers each.

Two artillery observers were left, Riley turned to them, "stay here as overwatch."

They nodded before the two teams precariously made their way down the steep declines of the mountain face, splitting off at the base into their teams.

Pheasant was in the forward assault team, who was snaking their way through the vehicles that made for excellent cover. Captain Riley peered inside of an open, lit window, "five MAMs (military aged males) from what I can see, there's almost definitely got to be more.

"Eyes on, NVG's off," Riley said in a low, sharp hiss as he eyed the front door, he motioned for the team to stack up on the side of the door  before he spoke into his comms, "red team what's your position?".

"Ready to breech."

"So are we. Breech in three, two, one."

On one Captain Riley kicked the door down, tearing it from its hinges, he quickly rushed inside and his team flooded in behind him, "weapons free!" Riley yelled as he took his first shot, killing the man he'd aimed at in an instant, they crumpled to the floor and laid in a deepening pool of thick, crimson blood.

In the midst of mayhem Pheasant heard a noise from behind him, he spun round to see an enemy slipping up in the blood smeared across the tiled floor, they landed hard and scrambled for their rifle.

Without thinking Pheasant took a shot, a bullet landing between their eyes.

"Clear!" the young marine yelled out, he heard shouts of clear from the other rooms.

"Push up to the second floor, we have to find Al-Asad," Riley barked.

The teams united, Riley their point man (leader at front of team), as they trekked up the staircase.

"We're taking sniper fire from the rooftop, we're pulling back," one of the artillery observers from the ledge informed the team, they crawled away from the edge and into the safety where they could not be spotted.

As they worked their way through clearing the second floor a stealth helicopter called in by Al-Asad approached, the overwatch artillery heard the sound of rotor blades and one peeked our to see the helicopter lowering itself onto the rooftop.

"Al-Asad is going to escape in a heli, move-," the overwatch observer exclaimed hastily, cut off by a sniper landing a direct hit, through the gaping exit wound blood splattered on the other observer's face.

"Gahr's been hit," the other observer said as she pulled him to cover.

"Run for it," Riley shouted in raw desperation, flying up the stairs and on top the rooftop as the helicopter began to lift off, he allowed his rifle to clamp against his chest as the sling held it in place before drawing his Glock 17, as he jumped he used his other hand to grab onto the landing slide as the rooftop, swarmed by the team and rapidly shrinking away, just as the man lifted himself up into the helicopter, pistol whipping Al-Asad, he took a shot to the chest that sent him reeling out of the helicopter when he landed with a violent smack on the rooftop.

"He's dead."

"Fuck," the artillery observer leader snapped.

"Holy shit," Roach exclaimed as Heaven rushed over to the Captain who was gasping for air and groaning in agony, and began to assess him.

She found the bullet lodged in his body armour which, while saving his life, still knocked the air out of his lungs-as did the fall.

"I'm fine," Riley reassured Heaven as he staggered to his feet, swatting away the helping hands of Smith and Briggs, "thanks but no thanks," he said simply.

"We fucking lost the bastard," Riley hissed, "damnit," he snapped, rage flared inside of his steel blue eyes as he kicked his boot at the air, "and we lost one of our own."

Then he faced the dejected looking team, "search this place for intel, it might give as a clue as to where Al-Asad is headed so maybe we'll get the chance to hit him again."

They all nodded, and when they disappeared downstairs Riley rubbed a hand down the ticklish stubble of his face and let out a frustrated sigh before informing the Sergeant Major they lost Al-Asad.

Briggs felt an odd creak under a rug in the downstairs basement, pulling it back he saw a door.

Nothing could prepare him for what he saw when he opened it.

A golden glow shimmered across his deep black skin as his eyes bulged in utter shock, "boss, I've found gold," he said over his comms.

"Everyone is. This place is a goldmine of intel. Just bag it up."

"No boss I mean actually gold. Solid gold bars, tonnes of them."

"I'll be with you in a minute."

Riley reached the basement, seeing Briggs stood over the gold.

Riley observed it, "must be payment for the fuel rods. Al-Asad is probably pissed he lost this, I know I would be," he said before turning his attention to Briggs, "I know up north it's normal to work in coal mines, glass each other at pubs and steal from supermarkets but you try to take any of that gold and I'll put you on shit burning duties for the rest of the tour."

Briggs merely laughed with amusement while Riley kept a dead serious expression, before finally caving with a flicker of a smile that went out as quickly as blowing on a match.

The team regrouped outside, carrying bags of intel, after Riley had photographed the house to give as evidence. Above them the darkness was giving away to light as dawn broke, dusky greys were melting away into rich blues as the cloud turned from the colour of pale moonlight to pastel pinks and oranges, meanwhile the stars were extinguishing.

They called in a helicopter to pick them up when they were a klick out from the extraction point. They bundled into the helicopter, and went back to listening to music, chewing gum and smoking. Meanwhile the surviving artillery observer from atop the ledge wiped off the blood, staring longingly out to the ledge where she lost her brother in arms, she held his dog tags in her gloved hand.

"He didn't die in vain," Riley commented, catching her look.

"I know," she answered, her voice had a hollowness to it.

The helicopter fell silence instinctively out of respect for the fallen soldier, another artillery observer patted her shoulder in consolation, "he wouldn't want us to be sad he died, but he happy he lived a full life."

"A full life?" she couldn't help the frustration that boiled within her, "he was twenty one-that's morning," she hissed.

The helicopter descended back into a respectful, mourning silence that was more tense this time. Even though he didn't know him Pheasant found himself feeling sad for the waste of life, for the horror of war, for the loss of his mother.

"What you did back there was ballsy," Pheasant said to Captain Riley as they climbed out of the helicopter, awe lingering in his words as he was desperate to escape his own grief.

"Just really wanted to nail that bastard," the Captain sighed wearily, "I got to pistol whip him though, so swings and roundabouts."

His comment earned a hearty laugh from Pheasant, "that's badarse, real badarse."

"Just doing my job," Riley said, almost embarrassed-whether by Pheasant's comments or failing to capture Al-Asad, was unclear.

"You risked your life, you could've just let the heli go but you went above and beyond to try and get Al-Asad. That deserves some kind of recognition," Pheasant explained, Riley only nodded as he mulled over the words.

"I suppose."

"Suppose? Seriously, it was like real life Rambo."

"Alright let's just drop it now. I saw you shot a guy earlier, how was that?".

"Just doing my job. Simple as," Pheasant shrugged, causing Riley to chuckle.

"See what I mean? It's all just part of the job."

"Fair play," Pheasant said, rolling his eyes.

"You should see the padre (military chaplain)."

Pheasant lifted a befuddled brow, "why?".

"First kill is always hard. It helps to talk it through," Riley explained, Pheasant still wore his confused expression.

"I don't need to have more counselling, I wasted my teen years in counselling," Pheasant said in an exhausted sigh.

"This isn't some dumb, petty teenage problem. This is taking a life. I'm telling you from experience you'll fare better if you talk it through, there's emotions going on that might not surface right now or even soon, but when they fester they'll haunt you. Deal with it now and thank me later."

"Okay, I'll go see the fucking padre," Pheasant said in defeat.

"Shake on it."

Their hands met in a handshake.

"Good lad," Riley smiled, patting Pheasant's back as the young marine smiled back at him.