A/N: Your callsign is 'Knife'

Word count: 1.8k

It was my second day in Al Mazrah, the heat was like no other. Smoke and dust hung thickly in the air, and I couldn't take a deep breath without feeling the soot blacken my lungs. Not that I really cared about that, my smoking habit was doing the same thing anyway. Speaking of, I could really go for a cigarette right about now.

My ears were filled with a cacophony of sounds that assaulted my senses. The deafening roar of gunfire, the booming explosions scorching the earth around me, and the harrowing screams of dying soldiers. Friend and foe. A perfect symphony of chaos.

The acrid smell of burning material and gunpowder permeated the atmosphere around me, mingling with the metallic aroma of blood that I could almost taste.

My thighs screamed in pain as I remained crouched behind a concrete barrier, the weight of my gear and weapons weighing down on me like a pile of bricks. The barrier gave me a fragile sense of protection, as long as I was behind it I'd be safe, well that's what I at least told myself to soothe my nerves. It was bullshit, obviously.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as my fingers remained tightly gripped around the stock of my rifle. Any moment the relative "safety" of my concrete sanctuary could be shattered.

I took a deep shaky breath as I cautiously peeked over the barrier and scanned the war torn landscape around me. My heartbeat thrummed wildly in my ears. It was hard to make out any distant movement with the large clouds of smoke obscuring my visibility, leaving the world around me in an eerie haze.

Tracer rounds streaked through the sky, leaving fiery trails in their path as they cut across the town. The thunderous impact of artillery shells reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves and shrapnel in every direction. The landscape constantly shifted as explosions reshaped the terrain, leaving behind crumpled structures and upturned earth.

The world outside seemed so distant, distorted by smoke and debris. My eyes remained focused, scanning the area around me with laser precision. Movement. Fuck.

Menacing silhouettes of American enemy soldiers began advancing toward me with a quick speed. The protection I once felt was long gone, it was do or die. 

My system went into overdrive, and my body geared into autopilot as muscle memory kicked in. My muscles and mind worked in unison as I aligned my sights on the closest threat, the weight of my rifle felt familiar and comfortable in my hands.

Time seemed to slow as I gazed through the scope attached to my weapon, I kept a steady grip on the trigger as my finger gently squeezed it. A controlled burst of gunfire erupted from the barrel. Bullets zipped through the air, seeking the targets I had chosen in front of me. They found their mark and hit them with deadly accuracy.

I immediately found shelter behind the concrete barrier once more and reloaded my gun at an almost superhuman speed before peeking out once again and repeating the process. With each reload, and more neutralized targets, my motions became more fluid and instinctual with a perfect balance of speed and precision.

I tuned out the short bursts of radio chatter in my ear before finally, "Knife, what's your status?"

"Blaze, fuck man I was worried about you." I sighed in relief as I ducked behind the shelter of the barrier once more, with a steady motion I released the magazine catch, and swiftly discarded it to the side, my eyes never leaving the battlefield in front of me.

"You know me Knife, always resourceful." I could almost see Blaze's grin through the light static of the comms.

"Never doubted you for a second," I replied as my fingers fished through the pouch on my gear, retrieving a fresh magazine, "what's your location?" I waited for a response as my fingers glided along the edges of the mag, confirming its readiness. I aligned the mag and pushed it into its rightful place inside my weapon, the satisfying click was music to my ears.

"Found some cover inside the shops close to the town square," Blaze responded, his voice almost drowned out by the loud hail of gunfire on his side of the comms. I chambered a round, and peeked from behind the barrier once more, this time being met with retaliative gunfire letting me know my position was getting closer and closer to being compromised.

"Let's RV there, I'm 300 meters or so away. These fuckers are closing in on me fast." Bullets whizzed by me as I clicked off my comms, the familiar static now replaced by a high pitched ringing in my ears. More bullets impacted the barrier with a resounding thud, causing fragments of concrete to explode in all directions.

Christ.

Footsteps drew nearer, desperate times call for desperate measures. I fumbled for the grenade attached to my gear and felt the all too familiar weight in my hands. I quickly pulled the pin, feeling the resistance of the safety mechanism giving way beneath my fingers.

In one fluid motion I swung my arm forward, and time seemed to slow once more as the deadly projectile arced through the sky, finding its way at the feet of the enemy soldier's path. With a deafening explosion the grenade erupted sending body parts soaring through the air.

Ew.

I took the moment of chaos and confusion and capitalized on it, I hightailed it behind me and began sprinting through the narrow streets, going off of pure instinct and intuition in the harrowing search of the town square.

My footsteps echoed on the pavement as they weaved through the maze of crumpling structures and shattered storefronts. The town once filled with life was now nothing but a ghostly shell. My heart ached for the innocent lives lost in all of this destruction, but it was my orders from Major Hassan, whether I agreed with them or not. They deserved to die, or at least that's what I was told, they housed the soldiers who aided in the death of General Ghorbrani.

Rubble from broken windows and collapsed walls littered the streets, forcing me to navigate with agility. I could tell those damned Americans were gaining ground on me, their presence signified by the crackling of gunfire and shouted commands drawing ever so closer. Pure adrenaline surged through my veins as I picked up my speed further. Each second was precious, something I learned long ago, and my survival depended on outpacing my pursuers.

My breathing became labored, my heartbeat pulsed loudly in my ears, and my body screamed in pain letting me know I had pushed it way past its limit. Sweat mixed with the dirt caked on my brows as I dodged between abandoned vehicles and makeshift barricades.

"She's over there!!" I heard an American voice call from behind me. The sound of bullets whizzed past me as I began to run in a zigzag pattern.

I quickly turned a corner and came face to face with an enemy soldier. Years of training and close quarters experience took full effect as I pointed my gun at the soldier, and pulled the trigger. Click. My eyes widened, I pulled the trigger again, click. A wave of pure dread washed over me as I saw the soldier before me grin, "you'll see your General in hell, terrorist bitch."

I ducked as the soldier fired a shot in my direction and dove into him like a D1 footballer, tackling him to the ground. I pinned his arms down with my knees as I unsheathed the knife on my holster. The cold steel becoming an extension of my arm. I smirked down at the soldier.

"When you get there, tell him Y/n sent you."

Before the soldier could respond I dug my knife deep through his neck with lethal accuracy, I made sure to stare into his eyes as they slowly glossed over. I smiled knowing my face would be the last he'd ever see. I tossed my now useless rifle to the ground and pulled the M13 out of the neutralized soldier's cold hands.

More footsteps behind me. Fear and determination intertwined in my mind, and the promise of death drove me forward as my feet began sprinting once again.

But it was too late, they were too close now. Those precious seconds, the ones I spent wrestling that fucker to the ground, the ones I spent grabbing my knife, the ones I spent staring into his eyes as I watched the life leave them. All gone, wasted.

That's when I stopped running. My heartbeat slowed into a normal rhythm, and the world around me seemed to stop in time. I held my gun close to my chest, my gaze never leaving the scope of my weapon. My finger laying patiently on the trigger. "تعالوا خذوني ، أيها الأوغاد (Come and get me, you bastards)!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the alley walls.

The footsteps grew nearer and nearer. Commands being yelled left and right, the voices getting ever so close. Until they finally rounded the same corner I had rounded only a minute ago, a smirk crossed my face.

"Gotcha."

My finger squeezed the trigger, never letting up for even a second. Bullets sprayed from my gun. The recoil was almost enough to knock me off my feet, but I held my ground. Bodies dropped like flies. The potent aroma of iron filled my senses, the metallic smell clung to the air as my gun kept firing.

Click. No ammo. I quickly discarded my weapon and unsheathed my bloody knife once more. They should know by now, I was a force to be reckoned with. I weaved through bullets with my blade held high, ready to strike anyone I found in my path.

It felt pretty badass until I felt the butt of a gun slam into my temple, and I collapsed to the floor with a loud thud. 

My vision blackened as I felt a warm liquid slowly cascade down the contours of my face. Voices around me were muffled by the high pitched ringing in my ears. My head pounded and screamed in pain.

The cold feeling of metal tightening around my wrists let me know I wasn't going to die, not yet anyway. But just because I received the so-called "mercy" of life now, doesn't mean I won't be begging for the mercy of death later.

I felt myself get hoisted up by my vest as a cloth bag was placed over my head. "W-where the f-fuck are you taking me?" I slowly spoke with slurred words, my Arabic accent thicker than ever. I almost couldn't recognize my own voice, I doubt they could understand what I said. Or maybe they just didn't want to tell me.

"Knock her out." A husky British accent spoke. 

Question answered. It was the latter. 

I felt the same gruesome pain of the butt of a gun being slammed against my temple. With a resounding thud, my body once again fell to the floor before being thrown over a strong shoulder and marched away.