Somewhere Near The Border of Kilinochchi, Thursday Morning
They were about half an hour of driving away from Mannar when the shooting happened. Nate couldn't say he was surprised: the most northern district was the last outpost of the Tamil Tigers, as far as he had been able to determine. So far, things matched up to the news.
Of course, he didn't spend that much time on that train of thought. He was a little busy yelling at the driver to GET DOWN and Wade to GET THE WHEEL and getting his gun out to do some major shooting while he was at it. It became a flurry of movement, just bullets and running for quite a while. His senses were on hyper-alert. The world exploded around him. Wade... was complaining about something.
He sighed. They argued.
It went on for a while. He could make out the army of the Sri Lankan government in play. He moved, eliminating one particular target, that was important-- there were more explosions-- the ground shook-- he fired his gun-- Wade fired his own-- pulled out his eskrima sticks.
There was an airstrip, he realised, a few hundred beats later. He moved, shifting enemy from enemy, Tiger from Army, and there were more arguments, and quick movements, denials, and fire. His mind was sharp, and cold, and he took care of it well and tidy. No casualties-- at least not deadly ones-- as far as he could tell.
The adrenaline wouldn't die down until he was on the small plane, in the air, and Wade was complaining at him about how he always seemed to get them into a fight wherever they went. That had worked out well.
He'd gotten what he needed for now. Whatever that implied.
"I'll get you a beer when we get back," he said, and didn't take his hands off the controls until Colombo.
He still didn't know what'd happened to the driver.
[ 'stablishy and NFB ]
Of course, he didn't spend that much time on that train of thought. He was a little busy yelling at the driver to GET DOWN and Wade to GET THE WHEEL and getting his gun out to do some major shooting while he was at it. It became a flurry of movement, just bullets and running for quite a while. His senses were on hyper-alert. The world exploded around him. Wade... was complaining about something.
He sighed. They argued.
It went on for a while. He could make out the army of the Sri Lankan government in play. He moved, eliminating one particular target, that was important-- there were more explosions-- the ground shook-- he fired his gun-- Wade fired his own-- pulled out his eskrima sticks.
There was an airstrip, he realised, a few hundred beats later. He moved, shifting enemy from enemy, Tiger from Army, and there were more arguments, and quick movements, denials, and fire. His mind was sharp, and cold, and he took care of it well and tidy. No casualties-- at least not deadly ones-- as far as he could tell.
The adrenaline wouldn't die down until he was on the small plane, in the air, and Wade was complaining at him about how he always seemed to get them into a fight wherever they went. That had worked out well.
He'd gotten what he needed for now. Whatever that implied.
"I'll get you a beer when we get back," he said, and didn't take his hands off the controls until Colombo.
He still didn't know what'd happened to the driver.
[ 'stablishy and NFB ]