The Warfighter, the Storm, and the Moon

Chapter 12: Azrael

So... we're just waiting now?

"Yeah. Tangos are arriving on target at 0420. We've got around... forty-seven mikes."

Forty-seven... Michaels?

"No, minutes. Sorry, jargon just slipped through," I absent-mindedly replied, making my equine friend snort in amusement.

Turnin' into a nerd, Boss?

"Considering that I got a college degree, yeah."

Just promise me you ain't gonna turn into that blonde chick, Boss. She's alright, but she's... crazy, to put it delicately.

"On that, we can agree," I sighed, recalling the numerous "Athena-kid" moments Annabeth had throughout the years I knew her... even though it was less than seven years overall—with eight months of that time period spent dormant in gods-knew-where—I could still remember a good many of those moments. Though, in fairness, I've met only a few people in the mythological world who aren't nuts, so Annabeth is at least in good company in terms of craziness.

"Blackjack, set us down somewhere."

Uh, what now? Don't you need to keep an eye on the clearing?

"I chucked a UAV upstairs, bud. I can get the feed on my ATAK. You need to save your energy—and before you say it, I know you're a tough son-of-a-gun, but I need you feelin' good."

Whatever you say, Boss.

And with that, he began flying towards a hill some distance northeast from the target clearing. It was a cool night, which was intensified by the breeze felt from flying at least two or three hundred feet in the air—which only increased as we flew towards that peak—but it didn't bother me all that much. I guess growing up in New York and training in Kodiak certainly helped. Though, come to think of it, that's probably why I hated the Middle East so much, especially during the daytime: it was hot like hellfire.

Hey, Boss. We're comin' in for a landing'.

"Check," I murmured as we came to a halt on top of the hill. There wasn't much room to take off or land, but Blackjack made it work. He wasn't the best pegasus for no reason. Upon making sure that our own perimeter was secure and tasking Blackjack with listening for threats, I got on the radio to check in with the rest of our force. "All stations, this is Knight. Give me a SITREP."

"Uh, what do you mean?" one of the Stolls asked in confusion.

"Situation report," I sighed, forgetting that I wasn't back with my SEALs or any fellow troops.

Something told me this was going to become a recurring problem.

"Oh... yeah, Rook 2 just made it to the drop-off point with the Bishops. We're off-loading them now."

"Knight, this is Queen. We have just reached our drop-off point and are moving towards OP Abigail," Annabeth reported. "Rook 4's backing up his van now."

"Roger, Queen. Make sure you don't get yourself lost, alright? We don't need a repeat of what happened in the maze of doom," I teased, referencing the shitshow that was our Labyrinth quest.

"Screw you, Knight. Over and out."

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, never utter that phrase again," I groaned, cringing at her signoff. "Bishops, how're you doin'?"

"This is Bishop 2. We're all off-loaded and are making our way to BP Caroline," Jason said, rustling of foliage faint in the background. "We'll be there in... fifteen or twenty minutes."