Viper 1-1, on standby.

41: Losing It

One more. Just one more and it will be done. One more kill, one more punch, one more sweep, just one more. And then I'll have repaid my sins. - Unknown

VIPER 1-1 PoV:

        Music silently played in the background, creating a somewhat calm atmosphere in the room. Around me were bodies. Masks. Radioactive agents... My brother? What the hell? I shook my head around, lightly hitting the side of my head, until my brother disappeared. I hadn't slept for... What, fifty hours? My head was pounding, my hands were shaking, and I could barely focus...

C'mon, Johnnie... Can't you calm the fuck down?

My breathing became the only movement in the room as I managed to keep my hands still.

Let's do this...

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Tina's PoV:

         Soon after I had reported John's absence, Harry gathered up a group of operators, including me, to go find him. We were going to Australia. I'd always wondered what it was like. I tried zoning out, sleeping, and reading, but nothing got my mind off the situation at hand. John had left, but why? I just hoped that John knew I cared.

It was just nineteen minutes into the day when we all arrived in Australia. I had brought my gear, which didn't exactly fit with Australia's climate. The hot temperature of Australia had happened to hit over 112°F after we had landed, a stark difference from the below-20-degree weather I had experienced less than 48 hours ago. Once we were given barracks I removed my jacket and put on a military-issued tee, signed with tons of names, which I had been gifted by the JTF2 when they had learned I was back in Canada. When I walked out, I saw Goose sitting in a lawn chair that had been positioned in front of his barracks. He had an earbud in his left ear, and I could hear the bass from where I was standing.

"Hey Max," I said as I leaned against the barrack wall, assuming a comfortable position.

Max: "Hello, Tina. Reckon you're scared for John, right?"

"Yeah. What's Australia like?" I replied, trying to change the subject. Max acknowledged it and followed suit.

Max: "Mostly just warm. The damn attacks messed with the civilian population. Our own 9/11." He said before grabbing a water bottle from the ground, sipping it, and then fiddling with the cap before setting the bottle down. I couldn't think of anything more to say, so I just asked Max if he was ready to fight.

Max: "Always ready." He got up and threw his water bottle into a nearby trash can.

But I was wondering; Was I ready?

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??? PoV:

???: "Ma'am, we've found a survivor. One of our agents." I waved off the two masked men as they dropped the survivor onto the ground. The light from the fire outlined his person and made him visible and allowed me vision of a clean-shaved blonde male in Radioactive issued clothing. I pitied him for his bloodied clothes, remembering when I had been forced to blackmail him into Radioactive. He coughed blood onto the carpet as he looked up. He looked bewildered and swiftly got up, saluting me.

Survivor: "Ma'am." He said as he shakily held his arm high.

"At ease, soldier. Sit, please." He took down his hand slowly and flopped down into the rocking chair. "A drink for both of us, please?" I asked the guard at the door. He went off to fetch us something, hopefully, some vodka. I turned my attention to the survivor, noticing he was eyeing the plate of fruit that sat on the small table between us. I signaled to him to go ahead and eat the assorted fruits before speaking to him. "What is your name and designation? What is your rank? What happened?" He eased into the chair and began speaking.

Survivor: "My name is Peter Balandin, I am from the 2nd Infantry Platoon. I am ranked a Lance Corporal. My platoon was sent to do a deal with a splinter group of White Masks, to give them the funding we had promised. We were met halfway by people who we believed to be the 5th Recon." His quick speaking stopped as the guard delivered our drinks. Vodka. Nice. He drank a third of his Vodka, coughed into the nick of his arm, and continued. "They led us forward to three cars and escorted us to the dilapidated cabin where the deal had been agreed to take place. When we arrived, Lorenzo, a private, walked in first, taking a bullet to the head. I felt the butt of a gun ram into the back of my head as I saw my com-" He drank his vodka again, and I saw his hands shaking violently. "Comrades fall to the ground, and I saw my CO be slammed against the wall. When we were forced into the cabin, we saw White Masks hanging from the wooden roof, and dismembered body parts laid scattered around the room." He began hyperventilating as he finished his vodka. "And then... They opened the briefcase, revealing the nineteen-grand which had been arranged, and took it to a car outside. Only eight fake Radioactive and Masks had stayed to torture me and my comrades, and my CO went first. They disposed of him quickly, and all my Comrades went before me. I had the ultimate torture out of all of them. I had to witness their deaths..."

"I am sorry to hear that, soldier," I said as I urged him to continue.

Peter: "еще водки." I understood his request for more Vodka, although not understanding Russian. I grabbed the bottle and poured him another glass. "I am sorry for taking us off track, where are we?"

"When you and your Comrades were being interrogated."

Peter: "I had been about to be interrogated, and then the masked man keeled over towards me, and a man seemingly appeared in front of me. He killed all the Masks in seconds and then turned to me. He then put his knife on my fingers and-" He hesitated. Why did he hesitate? "He just left... He checked the corpse's bodies, stole the CO's phone, and then left." He picked up his glass of vodka and began drinking.

"Thank you for your time, Peter." I waited for him to finish his vodka to continue speaking. "Peter?"

Peter: "Yes ma'am?"

"Do you think you can take any more as a platoon leader?" He gloomily looked up and replied.

Peter: "No ma'am. I am sorry."

"Well then, Peter, you have repaid your debts with your service." I said as I walked to my desk, opened a drawer, and began searching for a file marked with the name, "Balandin, Peter". I took out a sharpie and wrote in large letters, "VOID". I then took out a recording tape before throwing it into the fire, watching as it burned.

"Go home, Peter. Be with your wife and kids." I said. My final order to him.

Peter: "Really? Thank you so much, ma'am." He said, attempting to hide his joy.

"Call me Larissa," I said to him.

Peter: "Thank you, Larissa."

"Have fun, Peter," I said as he walked out the door, as I smiled at his joy.

As his footfalls silenced and I stood, basking in the heat of the fire, I wondered how long it would be until my boss realized I had been releasing contracts. My smile grew ear-to-ear as I added another saving to the twenty-seven I had already done.

"Good luck, Johnnie," I whispered to myself as I stared at the tape, which had become ashes.

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