Snippet #1740089

Mark leaned with his right foot and back against a column on the back porch.
The cigarette made it's way to his mouth as he listened intentfully to her replies.
The blush that came over her face and the accompanying stare immediately caught his eye.
Still he looked on at her with the same poker face he kept for anyone that dared to try and enter his world.
As she sat and crossed her legs he could not help but look at her up and down slowly.
This momentary lapse in concentration could quite easily be noticed by anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention.
It was motions like this, no matter how slight or fleeting they were, that would give Mark away.
They were the closest gestures he knew to show interest of any kind.
The fact that he spoke more than two words outside of business to anyone indicated some small interest.

Still something in how she spoke managed to make him think.
'No doubt you have noticed my disappearing acts, or seen me leaving late at night and coming back early in the morning."
Soon after Mark became reflective even over the last week.
After all it was true he had sometimes spied her arrival over the early morning from his house.
Evenings proved more difficult for Viper as he lacked any kind of night vision gear.
A problem he was soon to take up with Ryder again, very soon.
Still he wrested control from the crippling silence he was more than tempted to take solace in and replied with a nod.
"I have, though to this point I have made none of it my business.
Mr. Ryder probably would not be pleased with my actions but I am not paid for intelligence gathering.
However..."
Mark pulled off his sunglasses and folded the frames in one by one slowly, tucking them back into an inside pocket of his coat he said cooly with a pull on each of his gloves.
"I am intrigued by what I have seen and maybe, just maybe, I can help you.
But..."
he said extending a black gloved hand, peering out from under his grey fedora hat his expression still stoic.
"I can only help if you let me.
I am not the easiest person to know but many have trusted me.
Ryder trusts me to some small extent."
Mark then flashed a smile and said reflectively.
"Many of my other clients have trusted me also.
I am not perfect but on an op there is no one you want watching your back more than me.
If you are simply gathering information I can provide overwatch for you.
My other talent goes without saying."
Mark swept his gaze over her once more before pushing off of the column and looking out toward the range.

Flashback

His mind drifted back to a time when he was watching over a small squadron in a zone with heavy combat.
It was little more than an Iraqi slum that looked like all of world war three had taken place there.
Shattered stones walls laid in the streets over stretching the pavement.
What didn't lay rubble in the streets was either on fire or blackened severely from bomb blasts.
Once again he could hear the deafening blasts of bombs and artillery fire.
The smoke was stifling and made breathing like trying to sift air from concrete.
He was once again laying on that rooftop looking over the street.
The rooftop was one of a family that lived and worked on that street not two days before their patrol showed up.
They had been wiped out by insurgents who viewed them and their help of the Americans as treasonous.
For this they were left with mortal wounds, all of them but none deep enough to kill.
No, no that was saved for the fire started in their kitchen by the terrorists.
They didn't die quickly instead they were left to bleed out and burn to death at the same time.

Just then the convoy came under fire and a voice shouted over the walkie talkie.
"Storm! Whatever you're doing up there get your rifle and get moving now!
We've got tangos coming in from all sides!
Repeat incoming hostiles.
This street is hot."
Soon the voice faded and it was just Mark looking over the structures gazing into the scope of his rifle still without a shot fired.
The next call he heard screamed
"Storm! What the hell are you doing? Fire that damn gun!
Do it now soldier!"

A volley of machine gun fire followed from the soldiers in the platoon.
The humvees they had taken with them to provide support had proven useless as the streets were too filled with rubble for them to go through there safely.
Storm finally loaded his rifle and staring back through the scope he found his first target.
The shot hit him right in the head causing his head to shatter like glass.
The sound of the commander could be heard once more.
"DAMN what a shot!" followed
Mark answered in kind with
"Not so good, I was aiming for his chest."
The next thing he felt something hot in his leg.
As he turned around to address the cause he discovered his leg was bleeding profusely.
Over him stood a 16 year old kid packing a revolver and aiming squarely this time at Mark with his hands trembling as he did so.
Mark laid on the roof there with his hands up.
Very slowly he rose up to his feet, his hands still held high.
The kid was as pale as a ghost and trembling all over now, not just in his hand.
A nearby grenade blast soon caught his attention and before he could turn back.
Mark pulled his desert eagle and shot without aiming at all.
The kid fell like a stone and as Mark walked over to check on him he prayed he'd only wounded this very stupid kid.
But his shot did exactly as it was supposed to do and he he'd caught the boy squarely in the chest.

Present time

Mark snapped back into reality, the only indications that such a waking nightmare had taken place would be the depth of his breathing which was now considerably heavier like he'd ran a race and the full body shiver that overtook him.

He then looked at Seiko with a bit of a lost look in his eyes after clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry, you were saying... about your comings and goings?"