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I had a lot of issues with the man.
Most of all, I did not like how his network seemingly extended to young Americans, inciting and igniting hatred against their own country within their hearts.
Yes, a lot of this man's forces included people born in the same land as me.
And that fed into the urge I had to take him down, once and for all.
"Let's do this, team," I muttered, "and stay frosty."
"You got it, Grizzly."
Per the norm of a Ghost Protocol, we stepped out as a team in the guise of Kandar civilians.
This was a mission where we had to operate in complete secrecy.
We'd all grown beards and taken on the appearance and clothing of the locals.
Of course, we had our protective gear under longPerahan tunbans—soft, knee-length shirts that we'd paired with loose trousers.
It still felt like a big challenge to gel with the incendiary nature of everyone around us.
Not only were we from an entirely different land, but we were educated in a different kind of discipline.
This was born of the urge to save and protect, not destroy and kill.
"Let's go."
My men and I got into the unit's Razorback right in the midst of a whiteout. We sat in silence as it carried my team forward.
The sandstorm billowed and swept around us.
This city was every terrorist's dream.
A tiny speck of dust buried in the heart of Afghanistan's treacherous mountains, the very air here was thick with the putrid stench of fear.
We stepped outside the Razorback, a heavily armored vehicle specially sanctioned for this mission, once we were within reach of the coordinates.
The heat was a living force, and it burned my skin. I couldn't tell what was more potent, the unrelenting sun or the weather.
I groaned as the hot air slapped my face relentlessly. "Oh, the things I'd do for a damn scotch right now."
Cole grinned at me from the side. "I know what I'm packin' next time."
I loved this boy. He was the best of the best—he'd trained and served in Jordan, Mosul, and Jalalabad. We started our SEAL lives at the same time.
He was part of the reason I survived Hell Week in one piece.
I smiled back, my face still grim. "You know what they say, Falcon. Only the brave and the foolish enter the fray."
"Well, it's a good thing we're a bit of both, huh?"
Dust devils spun across the barren earth, kicking up stinging sand and grit that clung to our faces like a thousand invasive bugs.
The air was thick with acrid fumes of burning garbage and diesel, a miasma that hung heavy and suffocating in the still, oppressive heat.
The true terror of Kandar, though, was its people.
Like desert sprites, they moved like shadows, their eyes cold and calculating as they watched American forces patrol the streets.
