The Eyes of Fate (Currently in Rewrite)

That's not a Scene

Ranger

The Train Depot

Laine, Oklahoma

December 17, 2019

"So we're maybe a hundred meters out of our tents, and I'm suddenly knee-deep in something. I wasn't expecting the drop, and I went face first into it." Henry, Fang's brother-in-law, says. Like Ranger, he's almost out of breath from laughing. "So it turns out, with our NVG's on, I couldn't see the pit that the privates had dug earlier that day."

"Oh shit!" Ranger gasped, suddenly realizing. "You fell into the latrine pit?"

"Ayup." Henry nodded. "Soaked my entire uniform in shit. Had to go through the rest of the god damned mission like that."

Ranger threw his head back as he laughed, one hand on the M1911 on his lap to keep it from sliding off. The older man joined him, laughing at something that definitely wasn't funny at the time.

The party had just about wound to its end. Most of Fang's family had left over the last couple of hours, but there was still a smattering of siblings and cousins hanging around. The moms that were still around were cleaning up in the kitchen, having chased all of the kids off who tried to help, and everyone else had taken up seats at the various tables after loading up gifts and coolers and leftovers. The rest of the Eyes were still split up, sitting with the friends they had made. The sun was setting outside, and the night was cooling rapidly enough that Fang and Sentinel had corralled the children inside to stay warm.

"So what about you?" Henry asked. "Got any good stories from when you were a headstomper?"

"What do you mean?" Ranger asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone was casual, but he knew the other man would catch the hidden meaning. What do you know?

"Dude, come on, it's so obvious you were in." Henry gestured at him. "Even if I discounted all the shorthand and slang you know as you just being a wannabe, you walk and talk like every operator I've ever seen outside of work. Your go to sidearm is a 1911, which you've outfitted to be as close to a JSOC model as possible. You have a habit of scanning the room in four-point turns, and then you'll double check on people that you deem threats. You didn't do much more than speak unless spoken to until you were swapping stories with me and the other old men. And lastly, you moved right up behind your boy the second shit started going down, but you didn't move until he signaled that it was okay. So yeah, you're not just an operator; you consider being here a mission."

Ranger lowered his eyebrows, finally realizing just how high they had gone while Henry analyzed him. "You were really fucking good at your job when you were in, weren't you?"

"Good enough that they hit me up as a "civilian contractor" less than a year after my retirement." Henry laughed. "And I can tell that you were too, which is why it surprises me that we never worked together. So who were you with that has you hiding your props from a brother?"

"Okay, okay." Ranger sighed and leaned in, lowering his voice. "Keep this quiet though, okay?"

The older man leaned in with him, suddenly serious. He nodded once, and Ranger knew he wouldn't breathe a word of what they were about to discuss.

"You were in way before I was, so I'm sure you know all about "Diversity Squad", right?" Ranger rolled his eyes as he recalled the name.

"Yeah, I know the name." Henry sounded disgusted, and Ranger grit his teeth for just a second before he continued. "Always hated that name. I read some of those after-action reports, and those girls did damn fine work."

"Glad to hear not all of the old guard hated them." Ranger commented.

"Yeah." Henry nodded. "Supposedly the whole team went rogue after their team leader got put out over assaulting a local. He came back and started going after Americans until they caught him again. He got put in a hole, and the girls got put out."