Horseshoes and Handgrenades
Author: emocezi
Title: Horseshoes and Handgrenades.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1160
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Special thanks go out to Shanachie_quill and kyuubi_paw for holding my hands and answering my never ending questions about army stuff. Title is from a Greenday song of the same name. I hate choosing titles. :p
Cougar's watching them all through his scope, keeping a careful eye on the lot of them. He's already taken out the man he came up here to shoot, and so far no ones noticed he's missing. Which is always a good thing. So he's monitoring his team, waiting for the squawk of his radio that's a signal to regroup.
He notices the man creeping through the underbrush before anyone on the ground does. He lines up his shot, waiting for the perfect moment, and presses the trigger between heart beats. Perfect head shot. The high caliber bullet goes through the man's skull like it's a watermelon, and even from here he can make out little chunks of grey matter sprayed out on the trees.
Except the man's body is still twitching and his finger compresses down on the trigger of his AKM assault rifle, spewing bullets everywhere. Pooch tackles Jensen, who's In The Zone as he likes to call it. Clay has already ducked behind the Humvee and Cougar sees Roque catch a bullet in the right upper thigh and go down hard, mouth moving in a familiar pattern that means he's turning the air blue with profanities. Lucky for them the dead man's hand goes limp and the gun goes quiet.
Unluckily, the sound of gun fire is going to bring around everyone else pretty fucking quick, so they have to move. Cougar packs up his gear with steady hands and scrambles down the slopes to where Clay is yelling at Jensen to 'Pack it in faster' and keeping steady pressure on Roque's thigh. The XO was nearly biting through the stick someone had shoved in his mouth to keep him quiet.
Pooch comes running over with two decent sized saplings, rips a bedroll out of the back of the Humvee and sets about flipping the fabric over the trees to make a fast emergency stretcher. There's no way they'd be able to lift Roque otherwise, he's the heaviest out of all of them. Two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle.
It's quick to maneuver Roque onto the stretcher and load him into the back of the Humvee. Pooch jumps in the drivers seat and Jensen takes shotgun for once. Not that he's in the mood to brag about it. Roque swears at them loudly through the entire moving process and then swears some more then Clay lifts his leg into an elevated position to stem some of the bleeding, which brings on more swearing; Roque's voice echoing through the cab. Pooch guns the engine and they're off, speeding off to somewhere safer then here.
XxX XxX
Twenty minutes later Pooch pulls into a heavily wooded area and Roque's shivering from a combination of both shock and blood loss. Jensen's on the radio a second later, looking for a useable signal and calling for a med evac.
Pooch yanks open the door and together they manage to get Roque out and onto the ground with a minimal amount of jostling him around. He swears quietly, voice thin and reedy with pain. Cougar flips his butterfly knife open and goes to work cutting off the blood soaked leg of Roque's pants, needing to see the damage done.
There’s no exit wound, which means the bullet's still in Roque's upper thigh. The bleeding has slowed to an ooze, letting Cougar know that nothing important has been damaged but it's gonna suck for Roque in a few minutes, when Cougar has to dig into the wound to get the bullet out.
“Do it.” Roque mumbles and Cougar nods, grabbing for the CLS bag and unzipping it with steady hands. Clay's already rearranging Roque's body so he can pin his arms down with minimal effort. Cougar half straddles Roque's right calf, and Pooch goes for his left leg and between the three of them they have Roque pretty well pinned on the ground. The last thing they need is for him to flail around and cause himself more damage while Cougar's digging through his leg for the bullet.
Cougar smears a packet of iodine over the wound and his hands, taking time to coat the implements he's going to be using. No sense in pulling out a bullet with dirty tweezers if Roque ends up dying of sepsis, or losing his leg to gangrene.
Jensen stumbles over from the truck, breathlessly announcing that a chopper will be landing a few miles over in twenty minutes and grabs the half empty pack of iodine and smears some on his fingers before grabbing the suture thread and a long curved needle. Cougar's gonna have to stitch up Roque and there's no way he'll be able to manage it with bloody hands.
“Ready?” Cougar asks and Roque nods, gritting his teeth and fisting his hands in Clay's shirt. Cougar sticks his pinkie in the wound, trying to determine the depth and position of the bullet. The tip of his finger touched steel and he gently removes his pinkie, wipes the blood off on his pants and gets a good grip on Roque's thigh.
Someone had the foresight to cram a wad of fabric in Roque's mouth and it muffles the pained howl the 2ic lets out when Cougar pushes the needle nose pliers into the bullet hole. Three seconds later there's a bloody slug on the ground and Cougar's pressing a spare shirt against the wound that has reopened and is steadily oozing blood.
A few minutes later Cougar pulls off the fabric and grabs the needle and thread from Jensen's hand. It's fast work to close the wound with four stitches and wrap gauze around Roque's thigh. Clay grabs the front end of the make shift stretcher and Jensen grabs the back end while Cougar's cleaning up. They load the 2ic into the back of the Humvee and this time Cougar takes shotgun.
No one says anything about Clay gently running his hand over Roque's head or Jensen quietly rambling on about the new program he's writing. It's white noise, something other then pain that Roque can latch onto.
The clearing comes into view and ten minutes later Roque is being loaded up into a medical helicopter. Clay gets in with him, using the excuse of CO and Pooch goes back to the Humvee. Jensen holds out a fist and Cougar bumps it, holds his hat down against the strong headwind coming from the rising helicopter and heads back to the vehicle. It's a two hour drive to the hospital they're taking Roque to, and Jensen is already complaining about wanting a cheeseburger.
Cougar shoves him into the back seat and takes shotgun, grinning over the whining of 'why can't I ever sit in the front seat. You're all assholes. Especially you Cougs, your the biggest asshole ever'. Pooch starts the engine, rolls his eyes and starts navigating the tricky terrain with an experienced hand.
Title: Horseshoes and Handgrenades.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1160
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Special thanks go out to Shanachie_quill and kyuubi_paw for holding my hands and answering my never ending questions about army stuff. Title is from a Greenday song of the same name. I hate choosing titles. :p
Cougar's watching them all through his scope, keeping a careful eye on the lot of them. He's already taken out the man he came up here to shoot, and so far no ones noticed he's missing. Which is always a good thing. So he's monitoring his team, waiting for the squawk of his radio that's a signal to regroup.
He notices the man creeping through the underbrush before anyone on the ground does. He lines up his shot, waiting for the perfect moment, and presses the trigger between heart beats. Perfect head shot. The high caliber bullet goes through the man's skull like it's a watermelon, and even from here he can make out little chunks of grey matter sprayed out on the trees.
Except the man's body is still twitching and his finger compresses down on the trigger of his AKM assault rifle, spewing bullets everywhere. Pooch tackles Jensen, who's In The Zone as he likes to call it. Clay has already ducked behind the Humvee and Cougar sees Roque catch a bullet in the right upper thigh and go down hard, mouth moving in a familiar pattern that means he's turning the air blue with profanities. Lucky for them the dead man's hand goes limp and the gun goes quiet.
Unluckily, the sound of gun fire is going to bring around everyone else pretty fucking quick, so they have to move. Cougar packs up his gear with steady hands and scrambles down the slopes to where Clay is yelling at Jensen to 'Pack it in faster' and keeping steady pressure on Roque's thigh. The XO was nearly biting through the stick someone had shoved in his mouth to keep him quiet.
Pooch comes running over with two decent sized saplings, rips a bedroll out of the back of the Humvee and sets about flipping the fabric over the trees to make a fast emergency stretcher. There's no way they'd be able to lift Roque otherwise, he's the heaviest out of all of them. Two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle.
It's quick to maneuver Roque onto the stretcher and load him into the back of the Humvee. Pooch jumps in the drivers seat and Jensen takes shotgun for once. Not that he's in the mood to brag about it. Roque swears at them loudly through the entire moving process and then swears some more then Clay lifts his leg into an elevated position to stem some of the bleeding, which brings on more swearing; Roque's voice echoing through the cab. Pooch guns the engine and they're off, speeding off to somewhere safer then here.
XxX XxX
Twenty minutes later Pooch pulls into a heavily wooded area and Roque's shivering from a combination of both shock and blood loss. Jensen's on the radio a second later, looking for a useable signal and calling for a med evac.
Pooch yanks open the door and together they manage to get Roque out and onto the ground with a minimal amount of jostling him around. He swears quietly, voice thin and reedy with pain. Cougar flips his butterfly knife open and goes to work cutting off the blood soaked leg of Roque's pants, needing to see the damage done.
There’s no exit wound, which means the bullet's still in Roque's upper thigh. The bleeding has slowed to an ooze, letting Cougar know that nothing important has been damaged but it's gonna suck for Roque in a few minutes, when Cougar has to dig into the wound to get the bullet out.
“Do it.” Roque mumbles and Cougar nods, grabbing for the CLS bag and unzipping it with steady hands. Clay's already rearranging Roque's body so he can pin his arms down with minimal effort. Cougar half straddles Roque's right calf, and Pooch goes for his left leg and between the three of them they have Roque pretty well pinned on the ground. The last thing they need is for him to flail around and cause himself more damage while Cougar's digging through his leg for the bullet.
Cougar smears a packet of iodine over the wound and his hands, taking time to coat the implements he's going to be using. No sense in pulling out a bullet with dirty tweezers if Roque ends up dying of sepsis, or losing his leg to gangrene.
Jensen stumbles over from the truck, breathlessly announcing that a chopper will be landing a few miles over in twenty minutes and grabs the half empty pack of iodine and smears some on his fingers before grabbing the suture thread and a long curved needle. Cougar's gonna have to stitch up Roque and there's no way he'll be able to manage it with bloody hands.
“Ready?” Cougar asks and Roque nods, gritting his teeth and fisting his hands in Clay's shirt. Cougar sticks his pinkie in the wound, trying to determine the depth and position of the bullet. The tip of his finger touched steel and he gently removes his pinkie, wipes the blood off on his pants and gets a good grip on Roque's thigh.
Someone had the foresight to cram a wad of fabric in Roque's mouth and it muffles the pained howl the 2ic lets out when Cougar pushes the needle nose pliers into the bullet hole. Three seconds later there's a bloody slug on the ground and Cougar's pressing a spare shirt against the wound that has reopened and is steadily oozing blood.
A few minutes later Cougar pulls off the fabric and grabs the needle and thread from Jensen's hand. It's fast work to close the wound with four stitches and wrap gauze around Roque's thigh. Clay grabs the front end of the make shift stretcher and Jensen grabs the back end while Cougar's cleaning up. They load the 2ic into the back of the Humvee and this time Cougar takes shotgun.
No one says anything about Clay gently running his hand over Roque's head or Jensen quietly rambling on about the new program he's writing. It's white noise, something other then pain that Roque can latch onto.
The clearing comes into view and ten minutes later Roque is being loaded up into a medical helicopter. Clay gets in with him, using the excuse of CO and Pooch goes back to the Humvee. Jensen holds out a fist and Cougar bumps it, holds his hat down against the strong headwind coming from the rising helicopter and heads back to the vehicle. It's a two hour drive to the hospital they're taking Roque to, and Jensen is already complaining about wanting a cheeseburger.
Cougar shoves him into the back seat and takes shotgun, grinning over the whining of 'why can't I ever sit in the front seat. You're all assholes. Especially you Cougs, your the biggest asshole ever'. Pooch starts the engine, rolls his eyes and starts navigating the tricky terrain with an experienced hand.