Reality Chapter 2

10 years before.

Reality always seemed less real in a fire fight. more cartoonish.. almost funny. Or he just wasnt wired right. His team thought the later. Utterly Nuts. Any one who could giggle while firing at a human who was firing in return just had issues.. screw loose. But honestly most of them had to agree they’d rather have their finger nails pulled out with pliars then enter a fire fight with any one else.

Alexander was hunkered down behind a mud and brick wall the small tale tale wizzing sounds around the top of the wall and a sudden puff of dry mud and stone the only sign that something was odd. He hummed softly to himself as he ejected the magazine on his FNFAL checking the round count then sliding it back into the magazine well. 10 rounds. Should be enough. “She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes. “ His humming translating into a soft singing of deep baritone. Sometimes he even believed the words of his team. Screw Loose.. Nuttier then a Fruit bat. Eh who cares.

Scanning to his left and right as the tune in his head hits random and he starts humming I don’t want to be a chicken and he duck walks further down the wall and turkey peaks past it only to snap his head back and literally giggle as a torrid of AK 47 rounds slam into the wall making it sound like a broken tom tom drum.

“well.. there you are.. you wonderful people!” His radio squaks at him as he leans his head back and adjusts his helmet. “stupid things..” He always hated helmets. “1 – 3 You do that again I’ll shoot you myself” soft laugh “3 – 1 Have to catch me first” His radio squaks again as the words that sound strangely like “Oh shit.. here we go again” fills the waves and he breaks cover at a sudden dead run across the open road. AK 47 Rounds kicking up dust behind him after the shocked fighters across the way realise they have an actual target to shoot at.

“Oh would you like to swing on a star!” He starts belting out the song at the top of his lungs as he slams around the corner of a little mud hut giggling like a loon. He was not supposed to be enjoying this. For the past two days his team of scouts had been pinned down and trapped on the outskirts of the village out side of  An Nāşirīyah. Running out of food, extremely low on water, and no idea of resupply and carrying found or stolen weapons they’d pushed on with their last orders. Scout the village.

“1 – 3 You alive?” “3 -1, nope”

He giggles as he starts to hum twinkle twinkle little star.. his tunes on complete random today as he duck walks along the side of the little hut. Dust continued to kick up from the sides of the hut and its walls literally shook as something heavier opened up on it. Probably an RPK.

“1 – 3 Good.. you do that again you definitely wont be alive, you have an opening about fifteen meters ahead of you maybe able to get a better shot” “3 -1 Copy. Moving”

Moving comes out in a sing song flow of words as he stands up and almost skips the last fifteen meters and finds a small hole in the wall. He pulls on a pouch tab on his gear and the RIIIPPP of velcro rolls through the air. “Seriously fucking hate that..” Oxymoron much for a guy who sings in combat?

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