Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

VI

Stationary state. No improvement, no degradation. Nothing has changed, except that his eye is not moving any more. Maybe he finally is really asleep, safe from what he's been through that we know nothing about?

Again, I take his big hand. He seems less feverish to me, he's not shivering any more. Guess it's positive. Again, I talk to him. I'm not talking about retaliation, this time. Not because Lin forbade us to seek it, but because it's no use. We will never be able to get our revenge for what they did to him. Never. The Company's reputation is stained with blood. But Lin doesn't care.

Yesterday night, we had a visit from the warlord that tolerates us. He goes by the name of the "Old Man in the Mountain", as if he were the heir of the Master of the Hashishins sect, which gave to our language the lovely word of "assassin".

But the "Old Man in the Mountain" would never debase himself by visiting a Company of roumis led by a woman. We nicknamed this warlord the Dotard, in derision.

With Lin, who knows very well what the local warlords think of her and her men, no ceremony. She received him in her very small office, right in the middle of paperwork. Of course, nowadays, paperwork is not really paper. We use computers. But just to put him on edge, she created visible paperwork. He tried to get into her good graces, but she didn't give in.

What came out of this... interview was that the Company is starting to have a fucking reputation. Implacable. Determined. Vengeful.

I attended the meeting, seated at a micro-desk set up especially for this occasion. I was, officially, the Captain's secretary. Lin wanted me to listen in. As a witness. What I noticed most of all was that she recoiled slightly at "vengeful".

The warlord was offering her his protection. That gave her one of the very few good laughs since Erk was brought back. It was tinted with malice, though. She let him know that, when his turn would come, she would take care of him too. He left with his tail between his legs.

I'm still talking to the Viking, sharing two or three anecdotes, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Kris. He eyes still have dark circled under them, but despite being drunk last night, he seems to be standing on his own.
- Thank you, Archer.
- You're welcome, Kris. Do you know what happened?
- Not now. Please.

His hand squeezes my shoulder. Despite his apparent slenderness, he is very strong. His hands are powerful. He isn't hurting me, but I sense I'd better shut up. I can feel his hand shaking. I pat that shaking hand.

Then I get up and leave him with his brother. I turn around on the way out and look at them. And I find myself envious. Kris's touches are filled with such tenderness... I have never been that close to my own brother.

* *

I resume my story. I have to. I owe it to him.

So, we unpacked our toys. Lin had us fully re-equipped, not just guns. But we'll start with that. For firearms, she went to EMA – European Manufacture of Armament –, a European company, based in Brussels, with factories in Sheffield (UK), Saint Etienne (France) and Solingen (Germany). And for the rest, at Fox Guerrilla, a Franco-Spanish company.

For this mission, we each set off with a new handgun, assault rifle and even a sniper rifle. Well, actually, one for the whole team. Let me play the catalog out to you, just this once, I promise.

Handgun: EMA PSAF V4 « Behemoth », 9mm parabellum, OTAN ammunitions. 15-rounds magazine, + 1 in the chamber. It comes with a built-in suppressor. Super light but very efficient, inspired by the famous Glock 17.