Brothers (angst)
Brothers
By Slayne22
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Category: Angst/Action
Warnings: Character deaths/language/severe angst
Summary: If we're going out today, we're going out together...
I did this piece for Fanfic Bootcamp. The assignment was to write a death scene. There's no relationship angst here. Nor could I write a huge thing just concentrating on Beach. Warning-- Death scenes for three. And that's basically all it is. The actual death scenes.
*****
The ambush had been rather simple on Cobra's part. Almost a second thought rather than a primary assault. Surely they had no idea of whom they'd actually caught in their snare. There were no hooded madmen screaming in glee, no masked serpents looking to bring him in alive for torture. There was only him and his two best soldiers and wave after wave of vipers. The first group had managed to back them into a natural cul-de-sac in the landscape. Rock and earth surrounded them on three sides with a long narrow clearing in front of them. There were sparse trees to provide cover for the advancing enemy or to break up fire. The only way out was to run into the Vipers kamikaze style, or go up and over the sides.
But that's impossible now, he thought.
* Snap *
* Snap *
The sound of the bullets shooting past Hawk's ears made his mouth run dry. His BDU's were slowly turning a dark maroon, and he glanced down at his shirt. He couldn't see the hole where the bullet had entered, directly below his ribcage, just to the right. The blood was seeping so thickly from the wound that it hid the tear in the cloth. It had soaked the shirt and nearly a third of his pants already. He wasn't surprised that he didn't feel any pain. Adrenaline did that for you. Allowed you to get past the pain so you could act to save your own life.
Unfortunately, he couldn't do that.
Whatever the bullet had hit, his legs weren't working correctly. He'd taken the bullet and dropped to the ground amid the worried exclamations of his two top NCO's. During a lull between the waves of assault, he'd pushed himself up to lean back against the wall of earth. His legs were stretched out in front of him, flat on the ground. He could move them, but not easily.
* Snap *
* Snap *
The wave of vipers bearing down on their position was the 4th or 5th of the hour, he wasn't completely sure he was keeping count correctly. Have we really even been here an hour? It'd felt like days, but he knew that in combat the fear sometimes turned the minutes to hours. The air around them was filled with the metallic scent of blood, strong sweat and burning gunpowder. It singed his sinuses as his breath came hard and fast.
He raised the pistol he held, but the two soldiers in front of him blocked his view. In front of him and to his left, Duke squatted down on his heels, the only one of the three with a loaded M 16. Hawk still thought of him as his top NCO, despite his current classified ranking. Whatever his past, the man faced the Cobras with the same snarling determination he'd always had. He wore his camouflage BDUs and Kevlar helmet.
He even looks like the old Duke.
He had a bloody gash in his left leg, and he held his left arm against his body as his sleeve slowly soaked through with blood, but he fired the rifle with a conservative stoicism, the sound of the short, three-round bursts loud in the small space they inhabited. Vipers in the distance fell with each burst as Duke made each pull of the trigger count.
In front of Hawk and to his right, his Command Sergeant Major knelt with a pistol in each hand. Beach Head wore the same camo BDU's as Duke, same Kevlar helmet, lacking his usual olive balaclava. The man's grim, strong features were set in an unwavering glare. He'd been shot in the right thigh and left side, but took careful aim at the approaching vipers with his Beretta .45 in one hand and a Desert Eagle in the other.
I can't think of two soldiers I'd rather have beside me in a fight.
Hawk keyed the mic on the radio again. As before, only static broke through. Whether the vipers were jamming their signal or the terrain was preventing the signal from coming through clearly, he didn't know. They hadn't expected to fight today. The rest of the Joes sat back at the Pit, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Hawk made the call for help anyway. Just in case they were hearing him but not coming through with a reply. Even as his voice died away, he felt a punch to his shoulder that slammed him back against the ridge of earth behind him. His breath flew from his lungs with a grunt and his shoulder burned.
"General?" Duke was looking back at him. Hawk nodded at him, indicating he was ok. He felt liquid warmth begin running down his chest and didn't have to look to know he'd been hit again. The two soldiers in front of him moved with a fluid grace, aiming and shooting, putting viper after viper down for the count. Blue-uniformed bodies littered the clearing.
Neither of his men would leave his side. He knew that without even asking. He'd considered ordering them to leave him and escape, but the action had been too fierce. There was little chance they'd make it.
And they'd have been insulted if I'd insisted. For the first time, they would have ignored my orders. If we're going out today we're not going out like that. We're going out together.
As if to illustrate that thought, there was another snap and Beach Head's left side jerked backwards.
"Beach Head!"
Hawk watched with concern as the Ranger's hand went to his hip and came away blood-soaked. There was no exit wound. He seemed to waver for a moment, swaying on his knees, his hard face showing a sudden flash of pain before he straightened again and raised his pistol to fire. The gun clicked empty.
Goddamn it. We're being slowly taken apart.
"Here." Hawk handed his Colt up to the Sergeant Major. Beach Head took it then jerked his arm back as a bullet imbedded itself in his bicep. He fired back at the vipers before he turned to glance back at Hawk and smile. The General read the words behind that smile perfectly.
Sorry, boss. Today's the day.
Up until that moment, General Hawk hadn't really believed he was going to die. It was so ingrained into his make-up, into his whole being, to battle on until no hope remained, that he'd never realized until this moment that he'd never been in that state before. Without hope. He let out a growl of frustration, his anger boiling up within him. He wanted to tear these vipers, all of Cobra, apart with his bare hands until not one remained anything more than a bloody mess on the ground.
My death will do nothing for you, you evil bastards! You may get three of the four GI Joe Command in one day, but I have one soldier left who won't rest until he sees you go down in flames!
Beach Head dropped the Desert Eagle and only fired with Hawk's Colt now. In the same moment, Duke swore and threw down the M 16, pulling his back-up Beretta and drawing a careful bead on an approaching viper.
There was a sharp, wet snap, and Hawk jerked his gaze back to his Sergeant Major just in time to see the man's head jerk back and blood begin pouring down his chest from a bullet hole in his throat.
No! No!
He reached out to grab Beach Head's arm, but the Ranger never even looked at him. His head came forward then dipped low on his chest as he staggered a bit on his knees, turning towards the General. Hawk watched with dismay as the soldier sat back on his heels and then began slowly leaning forward over his own knees. His arms dropped to his sides and his forehead settled on the ground next to the General's thigh, his helmet tipping forward off his head.
He relaxed and was still.
Hawk felt a wave of anguish followed by a sense of calm. He brought one bloody hand down and rested it in the Ranger's auburn crew cut.
Wayne.
He heard a soft sound of grief and looked back up at Duke to find him looking at Beach Head's still form. When the blue eyes met his own, Hawk gave him a grim nod of understanding. Duke turned back to fire at another viper. Hawk took his Colt from Beach Head's grip and raised it to fire at an approaching form. The form fell in a heap.
As the hammer of his Colt clicked on an empty chamber, he felt an odd sense of peace. He threw the gun away and faced forward again just as a slug shot through Duke's chest. It came out his back in a fine mist of red and wrenched the man halfway around, his movement dislodging his helmet. He faced Hawk and their eyes met for the briefest of moments before another shot followed the first in quick and deadly fashion. It pierced straight through Duke and embedded itself in Hawk's upper arm.
Duke fell heavily forward into the General. Hawk ignored the shot to his arm and caught the other man, letting the blond head come to rest on his chest, over his heart.
Conrad.
The vipers seemed to hesitate as the return fire towards them stopped. Hawk watched them as the minutes stretched on. He reached up with his free hand to pull his helmet from his head and set it carefully beside him. He thought about Flint back at the Pit, finding out that all three of his fellow command soldiers were gone. He had a brief moment of selfish relief. I'm glad it's not me. Thank God, it's not me!
Good luck, Flint. Give 'em hell!
A few steps in front of him, a viper appeared and raised his rifle to take aim on him. Hawk held Duke tighter against his chest and let his free hand fall once again to the auburn crew cut of the man laying beside him.
I'm proud of you, boys.
As the viper's finger tightened on the trigger, Hawk did the only thing he could think of to do.
He smiled.
END
A/N- I know I didn't give a reason for them to be there, but I thought that was less important than what was happening TO them.
By Slayne22
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Category: Angst/Action
Warnings: Character deaths/language/severe angst
Summary: If we're going out today, we're going out together...
I did this piece for Fanfic Bootcamp. The assignment was to write a death scene. There's no relationship angst here. Nor could I write a huge thing just concentrating on Beach. Warning-- Death scenes for three. And that's basically all it is. The actual death scenes.
*****
The ambush had been rather simple on Cobra's part. Almost a second thought rather than a primary assault. Surely they had no idea of whom they'd actually caught in their snare. There were no hooded madmen screaming in glee, no masked serpents looking to bring him in alive for torture. There was only him and his two best soldiers and wave after wave of vipers. The first group had managed to back them into a natural cul-de-sac in the landscape. Rock and earth surrounded them on three sides with a long narrow clearing in front of them. There were sparse trees to provide cover for the advancing enemy or to break up fire. The only way out was to run into the Vipers kamikaze style, or go up and over the sides.
But that's impossible now, he thought.
* Snap *
* Snap *
The sound of the bullets shooting past Hawk's ears made his mouth run dry. His BDU's were slowly turning a dark maroon, and he glanced down at his shirt. He couldn't see the hole where the bullet had entered, directly below his ribcage, just to the right. The blood was seeping so thickly from the wound that it hid the tear in the cloth. It had soaked the shirt and nearly a third of his pants already. He wasn't surprised that he didn't feel any pain. Adrenaline did that for you. Allowed you to get past the pain so you could act to save your own life.
Unfortunately, he couldn't do that.
Whatever the bullet had hit, his legs weren't working correctly. He'd taken the bullet and dropped to the ground amid the worried exclamations of his two top NCO's. During a lull between the waves of assault, he'd pushed himself up to lean back against the wall of earth. His legs were stretched out in front of him, flat on the ground. He could move them, but not easily.
* Snap *
* Snap *
The wave of vipers bearing down on their position was the 4th or 5th of the hour, he wasn't completely sure he was keeping count correctly. Have we really even been here an hour? It'd felt like days, but he knew that in combat the fear sometimes turned the minutes to hours. The air around them was filled with the metallic scent of blood, strong sweat and burning gunpowder. It singed his sinuses as his breath came hard and fast.
He raised the pistol he held, but the two soldiers in front of him blocked his view. In front of him and to his left, Duke squatted down on his heels, the only one of the three with a loaded M 16. Hawk still thought of him as his top NCO, despite his current classified ranking. Whatever his past, the man faced the Cobras with the same snarling determination he'd always had. He wore his camouflage BDUs and Kevlar helmet.
He even looks like the old Duke.
He had a bloody gash in his left leg, and he held his left arm against his body as his sleeve slowly soaked through with blood, but he fired the rifle with a conservative stoicism, the sound of the short, three-round bursts loud in the small space they inhabited. Vipers in the distance fell with each burst as Duke made each pull of the trigger count.
In front of Hawk and to his right, his Command Sergeant Major knelt with a pistol in each hand. Beach Head wore the same camo BDU's as Duke, same Kevlar helmet, lacking his usual olive balaclava. The man's grim, strong features were set in an unwavering glare. He'd been shot in the right thigh and left side, but took careful aim at the approaching vipers with his Beretta .45 in one hand and a Desert Eagle in the other.
I can't think of two soldiers I'd rather have beside me in a fight.
Hawk keyed the mic on the radio again. As before, only static broke through. Whether the vipers were jamming their signal or the terrain was preventing the signal from coming through clearly, he didn't know. They hadn't expected to fight today. The rest of the Joes sat back at the Pit, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Hawk made the call for help anyway. Just in case they were hearing him but not coming through with a reply. Even as his voice died away, he felt a punch to his shoulder that slammed him back against the ridge of earth behind him. His breath flew from his lungs with a grunt and his shoulder burned.
"General?" Duke was looking back at him. Hawk nodded at him, indicating he was ok. He felt liquid warmth begin running down his chest and didn't have to look to know he'd been hit again. The two soldiers in front of him moved with a fluid grace, aiming and shooting, putting viper after viper down for the count. Blue-uniformed bodies littered the clearing.
Neither of his men would leave his side. He knew that without even asking. He'd considered ordering them to leave him and escape, but the action had been too fierce. There was little chance they'd make it.
And they'd have been insulted if I'd insisted. For the first time, they would have ignored my orders. If we're going out today we're not going out like that. We're going out together.
As if to illustrate that thought, there was another snap and Beach Head's left side jerked backwards.
"Beach Head!"
Hawk watched with concern as the Ranger's hand went to his hip and came away blood-soaked. There was no exit wound. He seemed to waver for a moment, swaying on his knees, his hard face showing a sudden flash of pain before he straightened again and raised his pistol to fire. The gun clicked empty.
Goddamn it. We're being slowly taken apart.
"Here." Hawk handed his Colt up to the Sergeant Major. Beach Head took it then jerked his arm back as a bullet imbedded itself in his bicep. He fired back at the vipers before he turned to glance back at Hawk and smile. The General read the words behind that smile perfectly.
Sorry, boss. Today's the day.
Up until that moment, General Hawk hadn't really believed he was going to die. It was so ingrained into his make-up, into his whole being, to battle on until no hope remained, that he'd never realized until this moment that he'd never been in that state before. Without hope. He let out a growl of frustration, his anger boiling up within him. He wanted to tear these vipers, all of Cobra, apart with his bare hands until not one remained anything more than a bloody mess on the ground.
My death will do nothing for you, you evil bastards! You may get three of the four GI Joe Command in one day, but I have one soldier left who won't rest until he sees you go down in flames!
Beach Head dropped the Desert Eagle and only fired with Hawk's Colt now. In the same moment, Duke swore and threw down the M 16, pulling his back-up Beretta and drawing a careful bead on an approaching viper.
There was a sharp, wet snap, and Hawk jerked his gaze back to his Sergeant Major just in time to see the man's head jerk back and blood begin pouring down his chest from a bullet hole in his throat.
No! No!
He reached out to grab Beach Head's arm, but the Ranger never even looked at him. His head came forward then dipped low on his chest as he staggered a bit on his knees, turning towards the General. Hawk watched with dismay as the soldier sat back on his heels and then began slowly leaning forward over his own knees. His arms dropped to his sides and his forehead settled on the ground next to the General's thigh, his helmet tipping forward off his head.
He relaxed and was still.
Hawk felt a wave of anguish followed by a sense of calm. He brought one bloody hand down and rested it in the Ranger's auburn crew cut.
Wayne.
He heard a soft sound of grief and looked back up at Duke to find him looking at Beach Head's still form. When the blue eyes met his own, Hawk gave him a grim nod of understanding. Duke turned back to fire at another viper. Hawk took his Colt from Beach Head's grip and raised it to fire at an approaching form. The form fell in a heap.
As the hammer of his Colt clicked on an empty chamber, he felt an odd sense of peace. He threw the gun away and faced forward again just as a slug shot through Duke's chest. It came out his back in a fine mist of red and wrenched the man halfway around, his movement dislodging his helmet. He faced Hawk and their eyes met for the briefest of moments before another shot followed the first in quick and deadly fashion. It pierced straight through Duke and embedded itself in Hawk's upper arm.
Duke fell heavily forward into the General. Hawk ignored the shot to his arm and caught the other man, letting the blond head come to rest on his chest, over his heart.
Conrad.
The vipers seemed to hesitate as the return fire towards them stopped. Hawk watched them as the minutes stretched on. He reached up with his free hand to pull his helmet from his head and set it carefully beside him. He thought about Flint back at the Pit, finding out that all three of his fellow command soldiers were gone. He had a brief moment of selfish relief. I'm glad it's not me. Thank God, it's not me!
Good luck, Flint. Give 'em hell!
A few steps in front of him, a viper appeared and raised his rifle to take aim on him. Hawk held Duke tighter against his chest and let his free hand fall once again to the auburn crew cut of the man laying beside him.
I'm proud of you, boys.
As the viper's finger tightened on the trigger, Hawk did the only thing he could think of to do.
He smiled.
END
A/N- I know I didn't give a reason for them to be there, but I thought that was less important than what was happening TO them.