#a vaqueros snapped this photo

[greenlaut]

napping cowboys

[callofdudes]

Hello it's me again! Do you remember me?You wrote my Headcanons request very well And now I'm wondering if you could write it for Grave and rodolfo and Alejandro as well?I'm starting to wonder about their reaction too. I was fascinated by your previous post and now I'm obsessed '_'

Here they are @greenkiki 😊 hope you enjoy them.

Forewarning but I fucking hate Graves with my entire soul. So it will not be the friendliest interaction. So be aware of some angst and minor gore.

Showing them your face

A part 2 of this story but with the Vaqueros and Graves.

You had never shown anyone your face. There was a part of you that you hid away from the others. When you worked with the 141 and the Vaqueros, your team, you didn't reveal your face. Meeting Graves soon after, he too questioned the mask, maybe you trusted him a little too easily.

Alejandro🎖️

Alejandro has worked with you for many years and has only ever seen your face on your recruitment file as you were required to have it off. Being your colonel he does know a fair bit about you.

That being said when you show him your face, when you open up about that part of you and show him the beautiful woman underneath he melts.

But he's a respectful man and gives you the space you need.

"There there, relax. Rubbing alcohol is over. It should only sting a little longer." He reassured you with a gentle touch.

Alejandro places a medical patch on your elbow, making sure to be gentle on the hurt area. You hiss, fidgeting a bit when he presses down on the patch.

"There, you'll live."

He smiles at you warmly.

"Thank you..." You feel over the patch and tuck your shirt sleeves back over it.

"You did really good out there. I'm glad you made it. I don't know what I'd do if I lost a soldier like you."

"Thank you for coming to get me." You take down your mask and smile at him, soft eyes accompanied by a beautiful smile. Alejandro is stunned for a moment, seeing your face in person.

His hand comes up and cups your cheek. He smiles back, admiring your beauty. "It's lovely to see you soldier."

Your smile grows a bit.

"You're very beautiful y/n."

"Thank you colonel."

Alejandro was honored to see your face. You were beautiful as he remembered your photo being. When you both stood to exit his office, Alejandro smiled again and took your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I hope to be able to see such a lovely face again."

You pull your mask back up. "I'm sure you will." You lean in, pressing the soft fabric of your mask to his cheek, and it sent his heart tumbling.

How did he come to fall in love with you so much??

Rodolfo🥈

Rodolfo has always had a bit of a thing for you. He liked the way you fought, how you held yourself. He just liked you for you. How you always looked at him with those beautiful eyes, so full of emotion to replace your smile.

You liked to joke with him, and it was nice having someone other than Alejandro to talk to once in a while. Seeing your face was overwhelming for him. Seeing your face only made his love for you grow.

"We have to save Alejandro!" You argued, starting to pace around the room.

Rodolfo felt his fingers start to itch. His best friend was gone. "I know! I know!"

"Then why are we sitting on our asses doing nothing!!?"

"Because I need more time to think!!" He snapped.

You backed up a bit, seeing the anger and the worry in his eyes. He was shaking, trying to recollect himself.

"Did I ask for my best friend to be taken away?? No! Is his life in danger?? Yes!! Do I want to fuck this up and get him killed!!? Absolutely not!!" Tears filled his eyes.

You stood there a bit shocked.

"I-I'm sorry..."

You pull your mask down and approach him, cupping his cheeks. "Rodolfo, we're gonna do this together. You lead the way, whatever we need to do to get Alejandro back in right here with you. Ok?"

Rodolfo stared into your eyes, examined your face. Your beautiful face. It made his insides twist and more sorrow follow him.

Tears slipped down his cheeks as he nodded. "I know, I'm just worried..."

"I know you are." You offer him a smile, one he can see. You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, making him freeze.

"I'm not going to let you fight alone."

He hugs you tightly, all his emotions colliding into one giant mess. Your kiss gave him reassurance. Your kiss made him feel loved, seeing your face made him feel worthy. And he knew you wouldn't leave his side.

Graves 🪦

You had a crush on Graves when he showed up to work with the 141. Yeah, he's annoying and a cocky jerk without a good personality to make up for it, but you liked him. He charmed you.

Graves had become infatuated with you. Not just your face but your body, your taste, once you let him in you couldn't push him out. He became possessive and needed it every day, when he betrayed you he wanted to make sure your beautiful face was always only going to be for him.

You remember the day you'd shown Graves your face. He was still working with 141 at the time and you thought you could trust him. You liked him. He made you feel some type of way and looking back on it you shouldn't have done it.

You shouldn't have let him cup your bare jaw and whisper loving words near your ear before kissing your lips. You shouldn't have.

Every time he wished to catch a glimpse of your face behind a shed or the back of a transport truck you'd let him. And he'd kiss you, kiss you hard until you couldn't think.

And now you sat here, in a chair, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. Graves watched your blood drip down the tip of his knife, catching the droplet with his tongue and running it along the neck of the blade.

"Look at your pretty face." He bent down and cupped your bloody cheek. Seeing the fresh Glasgow's that would be accompanying you everywhere you went.

"Such a wonderful face, delicate skin and such a wonderful taste." You whimpered when he grabbed your jaw and turned it, licking the dripping blood from your face.

"Forgive me angel." He kisses your temple, having knocked your hat off a while ago. "But I can't get enough of you..."

You couldn't speak, letting him lock the dripping blood from your cheek before kissing your trembling lips with your blood on his tongue. The sting of his saliva in your wounds making your stomach curl.

"I love you y/n, I won't let any other man have you."

[guinea-pig16]

Something Better || Chapter 6: Old Memories

Ghost x Reader x Soap

Fic is below the cut !! Please read the previous chapter here if you haven't already !!

______________________________________________________________

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: Angst, trauma responses, panic attack, mentions of injuries, gun, gunshots

______________________________________________________________

“Graves is alive.” 

You and task force 141 look at Laswell in disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been wrapping up the team's latest mission, when Laswell burst into the comms room and demanded you and the team come to the meeting room at once. 

“Whit the fuck d’ye mean he’s alive? I blew up the fuckin’ tank he was in! Thir’s no fuckin’ way he could’ve survived that!” Soap yelled, slamming his fists on the table. You flinched slightly, surprised by the amount of anger he displayed. You look at the rest of the team. Ghost’s fists were clenched tightly, his eyes cloudy with rage. Gaz was looking at Laswell with complete disbelief. Price had a deep grimace set on his face.

You had heard of Graves before, and were as surprised as the rest to find out he was still alive. You’d read the mission logs, read of his betrayal, and how Soap and Rodolfo from Los Vaqueros had supposedly killed him. You knew vaguely that he had tried to hunt down Soap and Ghost, but based on their reactions, a lot more happened than the logs let on.

Laswell shook her head and looked at Soap with a grimace. “He wasn’t in the tank. He managed to escape with the rest of his shadows.” Soap cursed under his breath and shared a look with Ghost. Gaz ran a hand down his face. 

“So, what information do we have?” Price finally says. Laswell reaches into a bag and pulls out a handful of photos and lays them on the table. The five of you lean forward to get a better look. There’s photos of a base and zoomed in photos of Graves’ face. 

“We know where he is. A drone in the area managed to capture these pictures and send them to us before it was shot down.” Laswell said. You picked up one of the photos of the base to look at it closer. Your eyes widened in realization, your blood ran cold and your stomach dropped. You recognized this base. 

It was the location of your last mission.

Dreaded memories of that night screamed and tried to claw their way to the front of your mind. You willed them to stay back. Not now. Not right here. 

“You alright, Y/N?” Gaz asked, looking your way. You snapped out of the daze you had been in, and looked at him.

“...Yeah, I’m fine… I just…” You glanced at Laswell. She had a knowing look on her face. You swallowed. “I know this base. I can get you guys in and out, easy. I need it re-scouted, though. It could’ve changed since…” You cleared your throat. “It could’ve changed over the past couple years.”

Soap eyed you curiously. This place clearly made you nervous. What happened in it? What happened to you? He looked back down at the picture of Graves. Now’s not the time for questions. He’d ask later.

Laswell nodded. “I’ll have a team sent out immediately.” She looked you dead in the eye. “L/N, I want you to oversee this operation.” Your jaw dropped slightly. 

“But-”

“I’ll get the scouts together. We’ll meet back here for debrief in 4 hours. Dismissed.” Said Laswell before leaving the room. You gaped at her as she left. You glanced at the team around you, who were all eyeing you curiously. You gave them a weak smile and gestured towards Laswell, attempting to say something. When nothing came out, you just simply booked it out of the meeting room. You caught up with Laswell, your cane smacking against the ground.

“Laswell, what makes you think I can lead this operation? You know what happened there.” You say, attempting to keep up with her fast pace. She didn’t look at you, just kept walking.

“L/N, you’re more than capable of leading this mission. You’re more qualified than I am since you’ve infiltrated the building before.” She says. You scoff slightly.

“Yeah, but that infiltration was a bust! Plus, I haven’t been in that base in over two years. And it… It brings back bad memories…” You say the last part quietly. Laswell stops walking and turns to you, a sympathetic look on her face. She lets out a small sigh and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“L/N, you are one of our best strategists here. If anyone can do it, it’s you.” You stare at the ground, lips set into a tight line. There’s really no backing out of this, huh? You let out a sigh.

“...Make sure you have the scouts double check everything before the information comes my way… I’ll start prepping the plan.” You say reluctantly. Laswell smiles at you.

“Will do. See you in a bit.” With that, she takes off down the hallway, leaving you standing there.

___________________________________

Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the body cam footage of the team. They were in cars heading towards the base Shadow Company had taken over. No one spoke a word. You clutched your cane tightly as you stood in front of the screens, an attempt to ground yourself. Everything had gone by so fast. A mere two hours ago you were in the meeting room, outlining the plan. The scouts had been quick with their survey. You told the team where their point of entry was, how many guards were there, and where Graves should be. You prayed to God that the team hadn’t noticed the tremble in your hands.

“Harbinger, this is Bravo 0-6. We have arrived at the base, awaiting green light to proceed.” Price said. You watched as he and the rest of the task force stepped out of the vehicles. You glanced at Laswell, a deep pit settling in your stomach. You had a bad feeling about this operation. She gave you a nod, and you spoke into your headset.

“Bravo 0-6, this is Harbinger, you have the green light to continue on.” You paused a moment. “...Be careful.” You added quietly. The team paused upon hearing you say that. They shared glances with one another.

“Copy that, will do.” Soap replied, getting to his comm before Price could. He could tell that you were… nervous. Something about this place made you antsy and uncomfortable. What could it be? He wondered. 

The team approached the base, disguised under the dead of night. The moon was obscured, giving them plenty of darkness to sink into. You watched on bated breath as they took out the two guards at one of the entrances and slipped inside. Your heart beat louder with each step they took inside. 

A memory flashed.

“Echo, this is Sierra 0-1, we’ve breached the base. Need confirmation of hostage location, over.”

“Copy that, Sierra 0-1. They should be in the main intel room, over.”

“Copy. Heading there now.”

You shook your head and took in a deep breath. You won’t, can’t be thinking about that right now. You watched as they approached the center of the base, avoiding Shadows as they see them. You gripped your cane even tighter, turning your knuckles white. You took in slow, deep breaths as you viewed the familiar hallways. Your heart wouldn’t stop its incessant pounding, threatening to leave your chest.

Price abruptly stopped and signaled the team to stop as well. You leaned forward, eyeing his camera curiously. Suddenly, he motioned for the team to hide as he ducked behind a crate. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz quickly jumped behind various objects around as a swarm of Shadows marched by.

“Harbinger, there’s double the amount of Shadows here than you said.” Price mumbled into his comm, trying to keep quiet as the swarm passed by. Soap and Ghost glanced at each other. You never had incorrect information.

You gaped at the screen as you took in the dozens of Shadows. This can’t be right! I double checked everything! How did they double in size!? You think. Cold washes through you as realization sets in. The scouts missed one of the entrances. You remember exactly which one.

“The scouts missed an entrance. Graves must’ve ordered more Shadows to be brought here after they found the drone.” You say into the radio, hands shaking slightly. You were struggling to remain focused on what was at hand. Beasts from the depths of your memory were battling to surge up front where you were scrambling to figure out what to do. Laswell eyed you from the side.

You watched as the team attempted to make themselves as small as possible to avoid detection from the horde of Shadows. You could tell them to get out of there, but when would you be able to get Graves again? This could be the team’s only shot at getting him. You looked back at the cameras. There was no way the team could make it to the center of the base and kill Graves with this amount of Shadows. You looked to Laswell. She already knew what you were going to suggest, and gave you a nod with a grimace.

“Bravo 0-6, get you and the team out of there. Mission’s a bust, we’ll have to try again another time. You’re totally outnumbered.” You say into the radio with a sigh. You were reluctant to end the operation so early, but you were slightly glad to know they’d be leaving the base soon. Soap opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced with a single look from Price.

“Copy that, Harbinger, we’re heading out now.” Price whispered. He motioned for the team to retreat. They slowly slipped down a hallway and towards an exit. Your heart began to calm itself. You took in a deep breath. They’re fine… They’ll be back soon and then we can try again-

“Shit!” Soap said, his comm picking it up. You immediately looked to his screen. The team scrambled to hide as a group of Shadows passed by. 

“Harbinger, the exit’s blocked an’ we canny go the other way. We’re trapped. Whit do we do?” Soap harshly whispered, weapon drawn. You froze, dread filling your body.

“Captain! We’re trapped here! What do we do!?”

“Calm down, sergeant! We’ll get out of here!”

“Captain, we're taking fire!”

“Harbinger, do ye copy?” Soap whispered again, slightly concerned at your lack of response. Laswell looks at you, worried. You’ve completely blanked at what to do. You’re trying to keep yourself together while also trying to think of a solution. 

A Shadow enters the area that the team is hiding in, causing them to squeeze themselves as close to the walls of their hiding space as possible. Your heart pounds out of your chest as you watch the Shadow slowly walk by. He passes Price, then Soap, then Ghost. Right as he passes Gaz, Gaz’s foot slips and-

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL-” Gaz shoots upwards and slices the Shadow’s throat with his knife, attempting to be silent. But the others heard the yell, and came running. You watch in horror as Shadow after Shadow run in and begin shooting at Gaz. He ducks down, but a bullet hits his shoulder, causing him to cry out. Soap, Ghost, and Price peek over their hiding spaces and begin shooting back. Ghost manages to slip over next to Gaz through the gunfire. You press a hand to your mouth as you see the wound through Ghost’s body cam. Gaz is bleeding. A lot.

“Shit. Harbinger, we need backup now!” Ghost half yells into the comms. He applies pressure to Gaz’s wound, occasionally moving around the crate to shoot at a Shadow. He listens to the silence over the radio. “Harbinger, I said we need backup NOW!” He yells. Why weren’t you answering?

You were stuck, frozen, pure dread and fear filling your body.

“We’ve got a man down, we need a backup now! Echo, do you copy!?”

“Echo, I said do you copy!?”

“ECHO!?”

You could vaguely hear Laswell calling your name beside you, but you were trapped in your memory, reliving it in perfect detail.

“Shit, this is Watcher, we’re sending backup now. Just hold on a little longer boys, we’ll get you out of there.” Laswell says quickly into the comms. Ghost sits there, concerned. Why wasn’t it you that answered? 

Your heart was pounding, your head throbbing. Your hands trembled and you couldn’t breathe. You stumbled backwards a bit, losing your balance. You could faintly hear Laswell calling your name, her hands on your shoulders to steady you. You looked at her, vision fuzzy. Gunshots from the headset rattled your mind. You quickly took it off, throwing it on the ground, covering your ears. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Everything was too much and too little at the same time. You had to leave. 

With one last look at Laswell, you booked it out of the comms room, her calling after you. You ran down the halls as fast as you could with your leg. You could still hear the gunshots, the cries, the fear. They taunted you, echoed through your head, laughing at your misery. You wanted to collapse to the ground and let it swallow you whole. You couldn’t escape it. You rushed past people and finally ran out of the building. You inhaled in as much air as you could, almost collapsing onto the ground. You leaned against the wall next to the door. 

You hesitated.

You hesitated and it almost cost the team’s lives.

You took in sharp breaths, trying to calm your heart beat. You failed them. At the time where they needed you most you weren’t there. Just like Echo. You were just as bad as them. Gaz got injured because you couldn’t control your goddamn emotions. Price, Soap and Ghost are stuck in a shootout, totally outnumbered because of your carelessness. What kind of a strategist were you? What was wrong with you?

You don’t know how long you had been standing there when you heard yells of vehicles approaching. They must be back. You think. Numbly, you make your way to the front of the base. You see medics already standing there. The vehicles enter the base, and the medics swarm them. You watch as they pull Gaz out of one of the cars, his shoulder having been shoddily bandaged during the mission. Blood soaked the sloppy bandage on his shoulder. He made eye contact with you as he was ushered away by the medics. He offered you a small smile. You did not return it.

“Don’t worry mate, I’ve had worse.” He manages to say as he’s rushed past. You don’t respond and watch as he’s pulled into the base. Soap, Ghost, and Price step out of the vehicles and stand in front of you.

“Y/N, whit happened back thir? Ye went silent on us, mate.” Soap asks, concerned. You never went radio silent on them. You look at him. His heart sinks upon seeing your hollow eyes. 

Price opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I’m going to request to be removed from the team.” You say, looking at the ground. The team is taken aback. You were going to do what? The three of them look at each other.

“Why on Earth would you do that?” Price asks, brows furrowed.

You clenched your fists. “Because I gave you bad intel. I didn’t know there were so many Shadows in the base. I could have gotten you all killed.” Soap glances at Ghost.

“But ye didn’t mate, we made it back alive. It’s alright, it was jus’ a mistake.” Soap said, concern lacing his voice. He’s never seen you like this before. You internally winced upon hearing his concerned tone.

You gritted your teeth. “But it’s NOT okay! You all almost died because of me! Gaz is injured because of me!” You half-yell.

“Gaz will be okay, he’s been hit worse. You’re not the one who shot him, it’s not your fault.” Price says.

Ghost was growing more and more concerned by the moment. You were agitated and seemed on the verge of a breakdown. He could see your breaths increasing, guilt consuming you. He was all too familiar with the feeling.

“You can’t trust me to lead your missions anymore, it’s best if I just leave.” You say, clenching your cane. You can’t stand to be in front of them for much longer. You can’t handle their concerned gazes, their questions. You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

“But why? Ye haven’t given us a legitimate reason as te why ye need te leave!” Soap says, brows furrowed. He was confused, why were you acting like this?

“BECAUSE I HESITATED!” You finally yell, snapping. “I fucking hesitated and that almost cost you your lives! I couldn’t control my fucking emotions and it made me freeze okay!? I’m just as bad as-” You cut yourself off. The team is silent, taken aback by your outburst. Soldiers around you briefly stopped and stared, hearing your yelling.

“...As bad as who?” Soap asks quietly, as if he’s trying to not spook you. You open your mouth, but quickly close it, choosing to remain silent. You stare at the ground, unwilling to make eye contact. You feel the burn of their gazes on you. You don’t notice a set of footsteps slowly approaching you. You only look up when you feel a heavy weight place itself on your shoulder.

Ghost stands in front of you, hand on your shoulder. He has an unreadable expression in his eyes as he gazes down at you. You swallow slightly.

“...I trust you with my life, Y/N. You’re more than capable of leading us. It’s not your fault.” He says quietly. Soap is taken aback by Ghost’s words of encouragement. He never expected him to be the one offering comfort.

You stare up at Ghost, brows furrowed. You open your mouth, but your jaw trembles, so you quickly close it. You can feel your eyes begin to well up with tears. You blink them away. You look back down at the ground and slowly shake your head. You gently brush off his hand and look back up at him.

“...It is though…” You say quietly. You glance at the rest of the team, shrinking under their concerned looks. You quickly turn and walk off. Soap calls your name, but you ignore it. You half run back into the base and make a beeline for your room, your eyes burning.

You reach your room and slam the door shut behind you, locking it. You heave in air, your chest feeling like it’s collapsed. You hastily wipe your eyes on your sleeves. You can’t cry. You won’t cry. You’re a goddamn soldier. You’re supposed to be strong.

Then why did you freeze earlier?

You hiccup slightly, holding your face in your hands, willing away the tears that build up. You stand there for a while, trying to calm yourself. Eventually, you make your way to your bed and sit down. You sit there for a moment, and then reach under your pillow and pull out your journal. Flipping to the last page you wrote in, you read it. Guilt builds up inside as you read each word. Without thinking, you hastily rip out the page and crumple it up, throwing it to the ground. You do so to each and every page you’ve written in, until your floor is littered with balls of paper. You drop your journal to the ground and stare at it numbly.

A few minutes pass, and you hear a knock at your door. You don’t bother to look at it, choosing to instead stare at the wall. 

You hear a muffled voice. “Hey… It’s uh… It’s Soap… Was wonderin’ ifn’ye were okay? Ye kind of… Rushed off earlier… Had all of us worried, ye know?” He pauses, waiting for a response. He doesn’t get one. He swallows slightly. “...Ye know ye can talk te me ifn’ye need to, right?” No response. Soap lets out a sigh. “Right… Right. I’ll leave ye be… Hope te see ye soon…” With that, he walks away. You remain sitting there, feeling like a husk of the person you used to be.

Hours pass, and the moon begins to sink low into the horizon to give way to the sun in a couple hours. You’re still sitting on your bed, staring at the wall, letting yourself drown. You hear footsteps approach your door. You tiredly glance at the door, and spot a large shadow from underneath it. 

Ghost stands there in front of your quarters, his fist raised to knock. Soap had told him earlier about his… ‘interaction’ with you. Or lack thereof. He was worried about you. He’d never seen you like this before. He has an idea about what you might be going through. You’re allowing guilt to eat you alive. He doesn’t want to, can’t let you go through it alone. Not like he did. But he can’t bring himself to knock. So, he just stands there, hoping you might let him in.

You stare at his shadow. You can tell he’s waiting for an invitation. You know him well enough to devise that. But you can’t. You can’t let him see you like this. You can’t let him see how broken you are. So you sit there, waiting for him to go away. After a few minutes, your heart sinks as you hear him hesitantly walk away. You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

The sun rises, it’s light reaching you from your window. But you don’t feel its warmth. You slip back further onto your bed, pressing your back against the wall. You bring your knees to your chest and bury your head into them, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

You thought things would be different, that you wouldn’t feel this way anymore. It seems you were wrong. Your past clung to you like a sickness, ambushing you when you least expected it. You held yourself tighter and slowly laid down on your side. You willed the darkness to take you, to engulf you. You let your mind run rampant, afterall, what was the point of holding it back anymore?

You wish you hadn’t taken this job. You wish Laswell had never visited you at the hospital. Soap, Ghost, Price, Gaz. You wish you had never gotten close to them. You wish you had never met them.

You wish you didn't exist.

______________________________________________________________

HEYOOOO !!! Sorry it took me a couple days longer than usual to get this done !! I've been busy with college stuff ((: This chapter was kind of hard to write because I had so many ideas for how it could start and end. I hope you enjoyed it !! People can still be added to the taglist !! Ciao !!!

XOXOXOXOXO <3

tagged people:

@sucka2me @deltottoro @zyonsay

[wftc141]

Blackwatch Chapter 2: The Captain's Den

09:34 AM, Local Time

Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo

May, 2018

It was just a couple of days later before Ray was called in for his second mission. It was abrupt and direct when the Embassy called him while he was in bed during the morning. After their usual process; debrief, preparation and a flight in the C130 the night before, he and the team arrived at their destination for their mission. From what Ray’s heard, the team were in a town near Kinshasa to scout out their target who is a leader of a militia that runs this town.

The team positioned themselves at an abandoned warehouse built on the hills, 100 meters away from the bustling town. Their target was at a large, heavily guarded mansion placed in the middle of the town. Armed trigger-happy men with standard weaponry were found patrolling the mansion’s gate and the yards. Everybody else that wasn’t busy other than Reaper and McCree sat back and waited while some made some double checks with their guns to pass the time. Others did what they usually did.

“I bet he’s feelin’ real comfy living down there.” McCree muttered, holding the SOFLAM which was attached to a tripod along with a laser directed at the mansion.

“For a tyrannical nut job, he sure does like to hide behind innocent people.” Reaper replied.

“Least the blast radius ain’t near anybody, from what I can see.”

And he was right. There didn’t seem to be any sight of civilians, other than buildings that were around the mansion. 

“Shadow 1, this is Pinball. Closing in on target. ETA one minute, over.” The drone pilot tasked in bombing the mansion said as if he was on a rush. 

Reaper lowered the binoculars he was using. “Copy. Target’s still inbound, out.”    

While the two kept watch, Ray wasn’t that enthusiastic of the current plan. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why can’t we just go in there and take him out right now? Would save us a lot of time.” 

“Orders. That’s why.” Reaper answered.

“And we’re just gonna let these video gamers drop a bomb from a drone when there’s a possibility the target could still be alive?”

“Don’t be an idiot, rookie,” Sombra snapped. “The reason we’re not down there is because we weren’t told to go down there.”

Shortly, Reaper caught sight of a small missile from the sky, descending through the clouds and targeting right at the mansion. Not a second later, the missile landed on the mansion and everything went loud. The blast erupted and large puffs of smoke covered the mansion and around it. The shockwave radius reached the town but it wasn’t enough to hurt anybody. Nobody was guaranteed to survive such blast inside.

“Pinball, this is Shadow 1,” Reaper said. “Strike on target successful. I repeat, strike on target successful, over.”

“Copy, Shadow 1,” Pinball replied. “Drone’s pulling out.”

His communication with Pinball cut off. Reaper placed the binoculars and his HK416 into his gobag and got up.

“Alright team, pack it up. We’re leaving.” Reaper ordered.

The team started to gather their belongings while McCree disassembled the SOFLAM. As the team packed their things, Ray looked over to the window where the smoke made itself the spot of attraction. He still felt that uneasiness tingle his body.  Ray still thought they should’ve just busted into the mansion and take everybody out. That would’ve saved plenty of time instead of sitting at the back and watching drones do the job. But if he had a say, he would take it up to the chairpersons. And it was not easy to chat with the tops about his complaints. 

10:57 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy 

Via Margutta

After another long flight back to Rome, the team were dismissed once they arrived at the Embassy. Ray walked out of the building and hitched a taxi nearby. He stopped a few meters away, paid the driver and walked the rest home. The town was quiet as usual. The lamps illuminated the narrow street as Ray walked past the closed cafes and stores, alone while holding his backpack in the mildly warm night. The trees and the espaliers surrounding the street rustled to the quiet wind. If he had some free time, Ray would visit the Piazza del Popolo for some photos and maybe the Colosseum if he had further time. He arrived at the apartment he rented down at Via Margutta and opened the door, which let a rusty creak spread through the corridor.

The light inside was making Ray drowsy, especially with the jet lag. But he was already used to it by then. He had been thinking of his wife, Dahlia for a while. He hasn’t heard from her since his arrival at Rome. Maybe she had been busy at work. Who knows. She may have written a letter sent to him. Ray went up to the mailboxes and unlocked one of them open and to his surprise, there was something sent to him.

It was only an orange folder and nothing else. Ray took it out and looked at it. It was thin and soft to the touch. There was nothing written on it. No message, just a pasted sticker embroidered with his name and address of his rented apartment. He took it with him on the way back to his unit. 

As he closed the door, Ray ripped open the folder while walking up the stairs. Tossing his keys into a small basket in the kitchen, he looked inside the folder. There was only an envelope inside. When he pulled it out, he noticed a folded piece of paper attached to the envelope wrapped by a yellow rubber band. He slipped the paper off and unfolded it, finding a written paragraph. And it was for him:

Ray,

Please understand this is for the best of our future. I can no longer be a wife to a soldier who would risk his life out in the field. Please don’t waste your time to call or look for me just to bring us back. It won’t work. I'm sorry for doing this to you but you must understand that you were never going to leave this life and you never will. I hope you find someone who would accept you as you are.

And while you’re at it, please don’t get yourself killed.

Dahlia

Ray couldn’t express it but he felt heartbreak inside him. The hole was empty again. It was as if his life was being tossed into the ocean and left to rot on the bottom of the sea. But she was right. There was no way he could leave his life as a soldier on the field. He already made that choice and there was no going back. Ray didn’t know what was making him stay but he knew it was something about the rush.

Lowering the letter down, Ray looked at the envelope he was still holding. He placed the letter on the dinner table and opened up the envelope where he pulled out a single sheet of folded paper. After opening it up, he stared down at the contents of the paper, one word that stood out the most.

Divorce

11:04 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Vicolo Cellini

A metallic tap as McCree clinked his glass of beer against Sombra’s, frothy layers of bubbles gushed around the rim before they both took a swig. After being dismissed, they both decided to go out together and get some drinks down at a bar around Vicolo Cellini. They’ve been doing this ever since she joined Blackwatch. McCree found her easy to get along as they shared similar pasts. 

The bar was small but enough to fit a soccer team, especially during the brink of midnight. Around the two, bar-goers downed their drinks and mingled amongst each other or to themselves while Italian music blared from one of the portable speakers, loud enough to drown out the chatter. The lighting inside was as if it was a flashy nightclub. As they talked about the usual things, Sombra told him of a mission she did while she was in the NSA. From what McCree’s heard, the NSA was investigating a Mexican energy company for embezzlement, bribery, anything else that was dodgy as hell. McCree had heard on the news about the data leak which tainted its reputation but he never who did it. Until now.

“So let me get this straight. You were the one who exposed Guillermo Portero, the CEO of LumériCo for fraud, right?” He asked.

“Hell yeah, it was,” Sombra replied. “Leaked every dirt of that cabrón everywhere on the internet, including lawsuits on the company that have been buried for the past decade. I almost got chewed out by my boss for being reckless.”

“Instead you got a promotion or somethin’?”

“Yeah, you could say that. And guess what else I did once I was done?”

“What?”

“You know those videos of Portero doing the nasty on several Latinas in a yacht?”

“Yeah?” He replied. However, he began to realize something from Sombra’s tilting head and her growing smirk. “That was you? You leaked those videos?”

Sombra gives out a nod and McCree started to laugh. 

“I’m starting to see why people like you a lot!” He said.

“Yeah, you should hear what the President of Mexico had to say about him!” Sombra replied.

The night passed and more drinks were downed, shifting from beers to some more intense drinks. McCree was surprised a girl like Sombra was able to take that much cognac and not get intoxicated. He knew her for two years and of all the women he knew, Sombra was by far the soberest drinking partner he ever met. Not to mention the number of drinks she had the first time he took her out for the night. As she took a swig of her cognac, McCree poured himself another glass of Jim Beam and downed it completely as usual. 

"Hey, vaquero. Wanna bet?" Sombra asked.

McCree nodded. “Shoot."

"That the new guy won’t last another mission."

He chuckled, taking it as a joke. His face was just about red as a dust storm.

"You're pulling my chain, right?" McCree said. 

"No, I'm serious," she replied. "I’m betting a hundred bucks that this idiota won’t be around by the next day.”

When McCree looked up at her, his grin began to fade. She was smirking but her face wasn’t flushed nor did she look drunk. She was enthusiastic about it but in a completely wrong way.

“Y-you’re for real?” He asked.

Sombra hummed, nodding. McCree was speechless at this point he couldn’t find the words he needed.

“I...umm…”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you like that new guy, do you?”

McCree let out a sigh and leaned towards her. Even though he was half-drunk, McCree still kept his sober ego together.

“I don’t get it, Sombra. Like, what’s your problem with the rookie anyway? I mean, he’s been doing a fine job so far. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong to you.”

Sombra suddenly went quiet. Her smirk faded away but her eyes tried its best to hide her grief. That gave McCree time to figure out what’s up.

“Unless...it’s about him. Isn’t it?”

Sombra sighed as if she already had this kind of conversation before.

“You wouldn’t understand.” She said, looking away from him.

“Well, I do understand wishing for someone who’s done nothing wrong to die ain’t no way to make things better.” 

“It's just-” Sombra threw her arms up and flapped them onto the table in submission. “I just don’t get why we need a new guy for this team. Nico was already good enough. We don’t need anybody else to replace him.”

“Point taken but still, wishing for someone to die ain’t gonna fix anything.” McCree said.

Sombra didn’t respond. Normally, she was more comfortable with McCree ever since she joined two years ago. Something was up with her but McCree couldn’t figure out what it was and why. But from what he’s seeing, Sombra didn’t look to be in the mood to protest or listen to anymore from him. She downed her cognac and stood up, pushing the chair back.

“I gotta go. See you around, McCree.” She said while turning away. 

McCree watched Sombra head out to the front door before disappearing outside. As the loud Italian music continued to play and bar-goers droned on, McCree looked down at the bottle of Jim Beam placed near the unfinished cognac. He sighed as he poured himself another glass. By the next morning, he probably wouldn’t remember the number of drinks he had.

06:30 AM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Embassy of the United States

Unlike everybody else, Genji was sharply earlier than his team. He didn’t blame them. He was still used to the usual routine during his time at the yakuza. How long was it since he talked about his life as a son of a brutal yakuza leader? Genji never wanted to talk about it, especially about that time when he tried to stop his brother from killing him. Any question that was related to his past, Genji would shut it down before they could even finish.

He sat down on a chair with his mug of tea and his phone, sinking down onto the seat’s cushion material. Straightening his posture, Genji set his tea on the table and opened up the messaging app on his phone. 

Genji [6:31]: How did the self-defense lesson go yesterday? 

It took a moment for his friend to respond.

Angela [6:33]: pretty well, thanks for asking. Me and Fareeha sparred to wrap up the day. 

Genji [6:33]: that’s good to hear. You always wanted to learn how to protect yourself.

Angela [6:34]: yeah, a doctor’s gotta have a hobby, right?

Genji softly chuckled to himself as he grabbed his tea from the table and took a short sip.

“How’s it that you’re always the first one here?” 

Genji looked up and noticed Marvel standing near the doorframe, wearing a navy polo shirt with matching jeans and a black cap on top. A jacket was draped over his right forearm. He didn’t hear him open the door, let alone know he was there.

“When you’re a warrior, you follow the rules that apply. Being tardy is one that is not taken lightly.” Genji said.

Marvel nodded slightly. “I see you live up to some strict rules. ”

“That’s how it is when you’re raised as a Shimada.” 

Genji placed his mug back on the table and looked back to his phone. The door closed as he looked away. Once he checked, there was a new message.

Angela [6:35]: still in Rome, I assume? 

Genji quickly typed up his reply. 

Genji [6:35]: Yes. Might have to stay for another month.

He pressed send. It let out a high pitched tone from the phone, loud enough to catch someone’s attention.

“Who are you texting?” Marvel asked. 

“A friend.” Genji replied without looking up.

“Friend? Never knew you had friends.”

Genji glanced up, facing his eyes. “Everybody has one.”

“Makes sense.” 

Genji looked away from Marvel and drank his tea. At this point, he wasn’t up for a conversation. He was always that kind of person who preferred the silence.  

“Guess I’ll just grab myself a snack,” Marvel said. “I’ll leave you with your friend.”

Genji drank his tea as Marvel walked away with his hands in his pockets. Once the door closed, he looked up from his phone. The room was once again empty except for Marvel’s jacket draped over one of the chairs. Genji looked around briefly before facing the screen of his phone, finding another message in front of him.

Angela [6:36]: got to go. Patient just got admitted in 

Genji [6:36]: alright. See you soon.

He slipped his phone back into his pockets when there was no response. 

8:11 AM, Local Time

Reaper entered the meeting room with Widowmaker where Major Salvatore waited for them. There was another operation for them, although they already completed one yesterday. The desk that was in the middle had two folders placed for the two. They sat down and opened up their folders. The photo attached to the papers showed a black and white picture of a man in his mid-50s with a plump head topped with a black beret and a short sleeve cargo shirt sitting on his wide shoulders. The same man from Kinshasa.

“What’s this, Major? We already killed this guy.” Reaper asked, holding out the folder.

“That’s what I’m about to explain, Reyes,” Salvatore said. “As you can see, your target has cheated death. Mwikiza Bodho AKA. Captain Congo was supposed to be taken out by the drone strike yesterday morning. However, our team managed to dig into the reports from the Kinshasa police and no documents related to his death can be found.”

“So he was never at the mansion?” 

“No, he was but we believe he managed to slip away with a severe amount of burns.”

“Did you check again?”

Salvatore nodded. “Yes but to no avail. As I was saying, intel analysts has picked up some satellite images and found him getting his wounds treated at an elementary school several miles away from Kinshasa which was abandoned during the Second Congo War and is now being used as the militia’s stronghold.”

“How many men are in there protecting him?” Widowmaker asked.

“Seven or more. There’s a possibility there’s going to be more men to pick him up once he’s finished treatment.”   

“Let me guess. Another drone strike?” Reaper sunk back and crossed his arms.

“No. This time, your team is going there to kill him in person so you can remind Bodho nobody’s untouchable.”

“That shoulda been the final decision in the first place, rather than a damn drone.” 

“I’m with Gabriel on this one but the drone strike took a big toll on Bodho’s army.” Widowmaker said. 

“Well, now’s your chance to retire Bodho for good,” Salvatore replied. “This is a six-man-team mission, on the ground and as always, keep it as quiet as possible. This must not be traced back to us.”

02:43 AM, Local Time

Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo

Arriving at Kinshasa was no different from yesterday. The team geared up on helmets fitted with night vision goggles, plate carriers and suppressed UMP-45s for their mission. Widowmaker however brought her personal rifle while Marvel took a Glock 17 with an Osprey suppressor and a flashlight attachment with him. They boarded the MI-24W stationed for them with their pilot inside and flew off to their destination. The helicopter hovered over the barely lit streets loudly but their altitude was high enough to avoid disturbing the peaceful night. 

As time passed, the helicopter flew past the quiet houses a few meters near the forest. The team was mostly quiet throughout the flight. Ray stared at the ground of the helicopter, listening to the muffled rotors flapping from above. Out of all the team, he was dead quiet for the entire day. It was unusual for him. Maybe he was feeling down throughout the entire day. Maybe it was the divorce papers he had to sign while sustaining painful emotions.

“Hey, rookie.” 

Ray looked up, back into the real world and turned to McCree beside him.

“You good?”

Ray nodded, trying his best not to blurt out his dejection.

“Listen, if you’re still pissed about not going in and killing that Congo pal in person, this mission will make it up to you.”

He nodded again and looked away. “I’m okay. Just wanna concentrate on the mission.”

Ray didn’t hear from McCree afterwards. He didn’t want to let personal matters get in the way of his job. He had a mission to do and thinking about something too personal would endanger not only him but his team. Ray may feel like he let his wife down but if there’s one thing he can try to do, he would keep himself safe.

Few minutes later, they arrived at their destination near a deserted village. The helicopter slowly lowered down to the ground, sweeping dust and dead grass with the rotors. The headlights shone upon a rusted sign planted near the gates: Numbani Elementary School. The doors slid open and the team hopped out with their weapons ready. Ray got out last. Shortly, the helicopter lifted up and flew away from their sight.

“Let’s go.” Reaper ordered, leading the team.

Ray jogged after the team past the front gate, taking them to a long, narrow path with trees and bushes surrounding them. As they trekked up a small hill, faint chirps and croaking noises echoed through the bush. Shortly, they arrived at the main gate of the school with the sign next to it bigger than the one from the entrance. 

The school’s entrance was completely empty and poorly lit, the team had to put on their night vision goggles. The schoolyard at the front was filled with dead trees and overgrown grass. Several tents, weapon crates, power generators with scattered cords and banners were placed at the playground. A couple of vehicles were parked around the yard. Some of the scribbled drawings and paintwork of the school buildings have outgrew itself, degrading its colour and any soul it once had. As the team advanced through the yard, they closed in towards one of the classroom buildings with their weapons raised. 

“Shadow 2, take the Overwatch position by the classroom building to your east.” Reaper ordered.

“Copy.” She replied and moved away from the team.

While Widowmaker headed towards the other classroom building, the rest of the team went up the stairs leading to the door entrance. McCree and Marvel approached the door entrance and stopped. McCree pushed the door open, letting out a typical creaking noise. The team passed them by, entering the school building. McCree and Marvel entered last once everybody else was in. 

“Genji, take point.” Reaper said.

The masked Japanese nodded and moved past Reaper, leading the way. The hallway was pitch black empty with small chunks of rubble scattered around each corner. There were several classrooms on each side with broken windows, rusted lockers and overturned furniture. As they moved cautiously, the team heard muffled voices above them, through the thin ceiling. Ray noticed a blood trail on the floor which lead to the left in front of them.

The team followed Genji who was tracking down the blood trail, taking them up the half-paced staircase. Ray looked around and discovered a bloodied handprint stamped on the wall next to him. While they made their way to the upper floor, Ray looked behind his shoulders with doubt before turning away. 

The team approached down the hallway of the upper floor where there was a hanging pipe on the ceiling. Shortly, Genji stopped by the classroom to their left where the blood trail ended. Muffled voices were heard from the room. The team stacked up beside the door slowly to avoid applying pressure to the creaky wooden floor. After a countdown to three by Reaper, he moved aside and kicked the door open.

The team stormed in one by one, opening fire on the surprised soldiers. They gunned down several of them who were unprepared. Ray didn’t notice any sign of their target. Two remaining soldiers managed to dive away from the gunfire and entered another room to their right. Reaper and McCree quickly ran up to the door and stacked up next to it. Ray was just approaching the door when he heard something assemble loudly. And then there was a kachunk. Reaper was quick to realize what it was.

“Incoming!” He yelled.

Ray had just heard him before he was suddenly pulled away by the collar. Before he knew it, .50 cal bullets penetrated through the door. It shredded the wooden door apart within minutes.

“Holy shit!” Ray heard Marvel say through the gunfire.

For a band of working class goons, the militia were quite stacked. That machine gun was strong enough to outnumber a small convoy in an open area. Suddenly, the firing ceased and loud clicks followed up. There was then desperate voices from the other room. Guess not every African militia knows how to handle a machine gun and the fact they’re taking their sweet ass time fixing their gun gave the team a chance to retaliate.

Reaper took a grenade from his vest, pulled the pin off and threw it through the gap of the shredded door. As the grenade rolled down, the voices rocketed from struggle to panic accompanied by frantic footsteps. Then, an explosion erupted and the noises stopped. Reaper and McCree stormed in and cleared the area, taking out the remaining soldiers hiding behind desks with several weapon crates on it. Ray followed Genji and Marvel inside as they checked the corners. Ray found the DSHK machine gun on the ground with the bipod scattered around the plastered floor. 

“Clear!” McCree called out. 

“Any sign of the HVT?” Reaper asked.

“Negative!”

Ray walked past McCree and went out of the classroom, stopping by the hallway. He glanced to his right to where the staircase was and then turned to his opposite side. He caught sight of a small figure down the hallway. Ray aimed his UMP-45 and opened fire. The bullets slipped away, causing the figure to run off.

“Got eyes on possible HVT!” Ray called before making his chase.

He ran after the figure down the hallway, eager to take him out. He was definitely the target. There was no reason for any soldier to run away. Ray caught up with the figure running down the stairs and without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. Just in a second, the figure fell over and rolled down the stairs loudly before slamming onto the wall. But Ray was done with him yet. He emptied his entire mag on his body as he walked down the stairs and once it was empty, he switched to his suppressed Beretta 92 and continued to shoot his lifeless heap. The pistol clicked and Ray was about to eject the mag before a hand appeared in front of him and held onto the slide off his gun.

“Easy, partner, easy,” Ray looked up and noticed McCree beside him, urging him to lower his pistol. “He’s already a goner.”

He looked back at the corpse which was now filled with bullet holes as well as his blood-soaked clothes and loosely wrapped bandages.

“Just making sure.” Ray replied, flipping the safety back on. He felt a sense of satisfaction from this.

Reaper then bent down by the body. It wasn’t easy to tell since he was completely pelted with bullets. Maybe Ray went a little overkill with the corpse. After a moment, Reaper reached out to his go-bag.

“Yep,” he said as he pulled out a camera. “That’s Bodho.” 

As he took the photos for NATO’s confirmation, Ray glanced back and noticed Marvel and Genji catching up to them. Once Reaper was done, his earpiece buzzed.  

“Shadow 2 to Shadow 1. Status.” Widowmaker said.

“Shadow 1 to Shadow 2, HVT has been eliminated. We’re moving out, over.” Reaper replied as he stood up.

As the team walked down the hallway towards the door, there was another update from Widowmaker.

“Shadow 2 to Shadow 1, I’m detecting multiple vehicles approaching the school gates.”

The team stopped once Reaper froze. Ray could hear a faint engine rumble from outside. He looked over towards the entrance of the school by the end of the hallway. Reaper remained silent.

“I’m counting approximately fourteen armed hostiles exiting the vehicles. Several of them are about to head into your location, over.”

From Ray’s view, there were only five of them and a large group of soldiers heading their way. If they were to take every single one of them out, the team would merely have pure luck on their side. And it was not easy for Reaper to explain a messy  shootout with one of the dangerous militias of Congo. Reaper turned towards his team and gestured them to follow him, leading them into one of the classrooms to their right. 

“Shadow 1 to Shadow 2, hold your fire. We’re letting them pass, over.” Reaper said. 

He lifted his finger off the earpiece and waved the team down while crouching under the window.

“Keep your heads down. Now.” He whispered. 

The team began to hide behind anything they can fit. Ray hid behind the right side of the door while Reaper shuffled into a prone position. Shortly, the doors swung open and Ray caught sight of armed soldiers with bare arms and chest rigs from the corner of his eye. Some of them had loose cargo shirts and dirty bandanas. The men chattered amongst each other while passing by the classrooms, unaware of the team’s presence. 

Once they were in a safe distance, Reaper got up and peered over the windows for a moment before cocking his head sideways. 

“We’re clear. Move.”

The team ran out of the classroom and back to the yard. By the time they were out, the soldiers would’ve found their leader’s body by now and would be relentlessly hunting down anyone responsible. But it would be too late. 

“Shadow 1 to Shadow 2, we’re in the clear, over.”

“Copy, Shadow 1. Moving out.”

As the team went past the basketball court where it was now filled with Jeeps, Ray glanced over to the building where Widowmaker was. There was no sign of her but earlier, he heard she was experienced in using the environment to her advantage during escapes. They made it to the front gate where they walked back down the hill.  

“Ray.” Marvel said.

“Yeah?” He replied.

Marvel pointed to his forearm. “Your arm’s bleeding.”

Ray looked down at his right arm and noticed a cut on his forearm. Small portions of blood was seeping out of it. It appeared to be there for a while. Must’ve been a graze from the DSHK. Ray shrugged it off.

“It’s just a scratch. It won’t kill me.” Ray replied. 

Reaper turned around and noticed Ray’s wound. He looked at it for a moment before flicking his eyes to him.

“Remind yourself to get that arm checked out by Moira once we get back.” he said.

“Yes, sir.” Ray replied.

Eventually, the team jogged their way down the path and towards their LZ where their pilot would be waiting at. For the first time, Ray didn’t look back.

12:07, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Embassy of the United States

Once the team returned to Rome, Ray took his leader’s word and stopped by at the Embassy’s medical office where he got his wounds treated by Moira herself. But of course, he used some of the medical supplies from the helicopter to prevent his wound from infecting during the trip. 

Moira was easy to get along although something about her unsettles him. Maybe it was the fact she’s so into the human anatomy and the nature of science. She had just finished up on his wound.

“Here you go, good as new. You should be fine for a few days.” She said, tearing off the latex gloves. 

“Thanks.” Ray replied. 

As Moira stood up from her stool, Ray looked at his arm where the bandages were laid. There was still some small amount of blood on it but since the wound wasn’t too deep, Moira only had to apply some water and antibiotic cream afterwards with bandages wrapping around the forearm. 

“Is something bothering you?”

Ray looked up to his right where he noticed Moira staring at him while washing her hands. 

“What makes you say that?” Ray asked as if he’s fine.

“I’m not just a medic,” Moira replied, wiping her hands with a paper towel before tossing it into the bin. “I have a Major in Psychology and Sociology before I joined the military and I’ve noticed that your wedding ring has been missing ever since you arrived at the Embassy yesterday.”

Ray looked down to his hand where he realized his wedding ring wasn’t on his ring finger since he left it back at his apartment. He was perplexed he had forgotten about it. 

“Something happened between you and your partner?” Moira deduced.

Ray sighed. If she already figured it out, there was no point in denying it. “Yeah. She sent me the divorce papers for me to sign.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Moira leaned onto the counter with her left hand while her other laid in her hip. 

“Well,” Moira said. “I personally am not one to give proper advice since I have absolutely no experience in marriages. But if Reyes trusts you, he may help you move on. I know he was once happy.”

Ray looked up. “Really? He doesn’t seem to be that kind of guy who smiles a lot.”

“True. He’s been through a lot during his time at the Delta Force. But take my word for it. You’ll be feeling much better once he tells you his story. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

Moira swiped off her coat from one of the chairs nearby and walked out of the room. As the door closed shut, Ray sighed and shifted his feet, positioning himself to a slightly comfortable spot. There was still issues going on around his head. Ray wanted to whisk it off his memory. It was plaguing his mind. Who knows what would happen if he let it consume him while at the field. But he couldn’t help but sense something empty like a large hole waiting to be filled. Ray thought of Dahlia’s last few words that hit him the most.

You were never going to leave this life.

And you never will.

[atwaba]

((This picrew is incredibly fun, as you can see by the time I had with it today.))

From left to right:

Nathan L. Cameron. Only son of America. Literal ray of sunshine. Would live on a beach and do nothing but surf if allowed. Speaks 16 languages but still forgets common English words. Head over heels for Svetlana and will smother her with affection anywhere, anytime.

Svetlana Iconova. Only daughter of Russia. Always snacking and forgetting English grammar rules. Will steal your car keys and throw them in a fountain if you piss her off. Possibly unable to get drunk. Head over heels for Nathan but is much more hesitant to act on it in public.

Kazu Sato. Youngest son of Japan. Extrovert fueled solely by caffeine and chaos. Constantly wears a mask to compromise between his fear of cameras and his need to join in with social media fads. Seems like the quiet one of the group but will drop more curse words than Nathan knows languages.

Wyatt Ottoman. Only son of Canada. Stand-up comedian who seems chill but can and will snap when angry. Speaks Canadian and Quebec French, and sometimes combines them when tired. Has been banned from every Starbucks in Montreal. Once snapped a hockey stick in two out of pure frustration while watching a Senators game.

Vaquero Peréz. Only son of Cuba. The actual chill guy in the group who just wants to hang out and play Wonderwall. Flirts aggressively with everyone but melts as soon as someone flirts back. Phenomenal skateboarder but doesn’t jive with the ‘skater’ aesthetic. Met Nathan when they collided at the bottom of a hill with Vaquero going full speed on his board.

Abigail Tremblay. Only daughter of Canada. Amputee who makes too many ‘give me a hand’ jokes. Doesn’t often wear her prosthetic because it doesn’t ‘look cool’. Very bitter that the circumstances of her limb loss prevented her magical heritage from just growing a new one. Loves her service dog and has thrown hands in her honor.

[giochamba]

Here I am on my birthday last Friday, filming my friend @principe_q at Vaquero Taquero in Austin for Porque No? Shout out to @acto_cc for hanging with us/snapping this photo and @_flacucho for hosting! #Austin #snakeskin (at VaqueroTaquero) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvUdQDRAx6Y/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=yix2f2j8ixp8

[caminobueno-blog]

Boquillas del Carmen

Big Bend was established as a national park at the height of WW II.  Originally conceived as an international peace park with its sister park Sierra del Carmen Parque National.  For various reasons the idea never came to fruition but from it the border crossing at the small Mexican village of Boquillas (bo KEY yas)  was saved.

A half mile down a gravel a small parking lot is the front yard for a new low building emulating local adobe construction. Inside a park ranger reminds us to take plenty of cash, that the border crossing closes at 6:00 pm and points toward the back door. A dusty trail winds down between the trees of the Rio Grande River valley.

The trees give way to the banks of the river itself, a silt laden ribbon of water perhaps a hundred  feet wide. Four other touristas stand with us in silence watching the action on the other side. The flat bottom row boat is laden with boxes, a suitcase and a large potted plant. A pickup truck has been driven down to the river and the goods are being transferred from the boat to the truck. The women are greeting someone as the men load the contents of the boat into the truck. The rancherita music of a radio drifts across the river as a young boy on a horse shows off his riding skills on the open river bank.

Emptied of its content the small flat bottom boat is rowed across to our side.

“Hola, buenas dias. Quatro? … four?” says Adriano to the four next to us. He helps them into the boat and seeing he can fit two more calls out “Ven aqui … come, come”

Loaded to capacity the small boat scrapes the bottom as we push off from the shore.  It’s 10:00 in the morning and sun is heating up the land as Adriano pulls on on the oars. “How deep is it?” someone asks. Adriano bangs his oar on the bottom in response.

Upon reaching the Mexican side a man steps up with a role of tickets saying “Pay me, pay me. Five dollar.” Pointing to Lorraine I say “Dos”. “Ten dollar” is the reply.

Walking up the bank past the pickup truck still surrounded by women apparently working out they’re all going to arrange themselves in the now loaded truck for the ride back to town, a man calls out “Burros, burros.” 

The other four tourists decide to walk. He turns to us “Burro five dollars, peekup truck ten dollars”. “Burro” I reply. There is a stir in the burro corral as the vaqueros bring 2 burros. Each is checked that the cinch is tight, the bridle properly placed. From the group around the burro corral a young man steps forward. “I am Cervando. I guide. Si?”.  “Sure” I reply realizing I don’t exactly which way to Boquillas in the trees and dry channels of the Rio Grande.

We mount our burros and with “yip yip” and a swat on the hind end we are off to town.  The burros amble past the other 4 tourists who snap photos as we go by. In about a half mile we reach the edge of town

“Here. We walk.” says Cervando. Already we can see the fence in front of the first house is draped with colorful embroidery for sale. Cervando leads us up the unpaved main street of Boquillas. Lorraine stops in front of a house and finds an embroidered bag she likes and asks the woman to save it until we return. The conversations are a fascinating combination of Spanish and English and when stumbling block is reached in the conversation everyone jumps in to assist.

Rounding the corner we can see the main street is pretty empty. Two pickup trucks and jeep are parked along it. A smiling child comes running out holding out a piece of cardboard covered in trinkets.

Cervando walks us up the main street casually greeting friends along the way and pointing out the sites.  The church has few pews and worshippers stand during mass (an old European tradition). The altar is spartan in its simplicity but  Cervando says mass is said every Sunday. Lorraine asks him where his house is and he points up the road.  As we walk along he points out the hospital and school (65 students grades 1-12). He especially points to the new trailer by the school saying “Computers for school.” We decline his offer to show us the solar array. It provides the electricity for the town.

Just then a little boy dashes from a house up the street and comes running toward us. Cervando turns toward us with a big smile. “My son.” .  The boy speaks in the rapid speech of an excited child and runs back to the house to tell his mother that papa is coming. He returns with a piece of cardboard covered in trinkets. 

Cervando’s wife comes out to greet us. She has her embroidery on display and one she is working on next to a chair by the door. The house has 2 rooms and is brightly painted. A small pipe laying on the ground supplies water.  Lorraine purchases a small bag with a javelina embroidered on it.

Cervando says he does not live here all year. In a month he and his family will leave for Musquiz 250 kilometers to the south.  This place is remote. It is 100 miles in any direction to a place large enough to have a grocery store or department store. Some people live here year round but many like Cervando’s family move with the seasons. In summer the the temperature will reach 110 in the day and no touristas will come. But in January Adriano, Cervando and the burros will be back and the vaqueros will be listening to the rancheritas on the radio waiting for Gringos to return.