Chapter Text
A few hours earlier…
It always ended the same way, gunfire, a crash, the screaming of men who had died so many years ago, the cries of war echoing through the trees by unseen men, always getting closer, but never showing themselves. Rain poured down mercilessly, muffling everything, making everything seem off, making the ground uneasy, making thoughts uneasy, making sight uneasy. Still, despite this, he ran, the humid, smokey air stinging his lungs while his heart failed to pump enough blood to make him go faster. To where he needed to run he never really knew, home, family, friends, safety, he just knew he needed to get away, to escape the night, to escape the screams of those he couldn’t get to in time, to escape death, to escape… to escape…
The thought never formed, it simply couldn’t, for the next thing he knew, just when everything was at its climax, there was a large, deafening explosion as heat enveloped him, scorching, searing heat, blinding and deafening him all at once, killing him, and then…
Always, no matter how bad it seemed…
Albert awoke, drenched in sweat, a short, stifled gasp forcing its way from him, his brain reeling from an imaginary death, from something that should have killed him, maimed him, deafened him, blinded him, yet here he was. Alive, unharmed, and somehow, all in one piece.
His first instinct was to reach for his wife, Liên, needing to know she was there, needing to know she was safe, and that this had all been in his head, that it was just a dream, that he was home… yet, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t there. Instantly Albert's heart froze, a million what if’s swimming through him as he tried to sit up, tried to find her, tried to make sense of nothing and everything… but he wasn’t in his bed, so much to his surprise, he found himself standing, only to fall back into… the chair of a plane.
That’s right, he’d crashed, he’d been shot down again, and he’d crashed into… somewhere.
“Fuck me in the asshole…” he murmured out as relief washed over him, instantly letting out an audible sigh afterwards as he ran a weary hand over his face, quickly recalling the events from the previous day. He’d been shot down, but he’d still managed to land the plane without killing himself, or killing the plane. Somehow, the second bogey had been gunned down, how that was Albert simply didn’t know, but he could assume it was because someone had shot it down from the van… Man, he wished he could’ve seen that.
The radio on the plane had still been working, so he’d tried to make contact with the American embassy, only to have been met with radio silence. Lots of silence. Next he’d tried the actual Australian military, only to have been met with silence once again, at which point he’d just gone to sleep, heart still pumping out adrenaline, mind and body reeling from an experience he was never supposed to have relived. All part of being him, he supposed, after all, not everyone could be as interesting as he was.
With all that out of the way, Albert finally remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since the previous afternoon, and was actually starving, which prompted him to quickly get up, stay up, and go back to the cargo hold to find something to eat. However, upon entering it, he not only remembered that he’d ejected everything from it when he ejected the van, but he also remembered that he’d have to file a report as to why he’d ejected everything when he eventually got picked up.
As this realization settled in, Albert just stared at the empty hold for a good long minute, just envisioning the absolute lecture he was in for whenever he got home, and trying to think of a way to properly explain what had happened. Actually, for all he knew a bunch of crazy Australian communist hippies had shot him down in a few janky planes, and he had followed the correct procedure, so the story itself wouldn’t be the hard part to get around… it was not making a big deal out of it that would prove difficult.
“Fuck me.” Albert finally muttered tiredly as he went to try and find something else to eat, hoping that somehow his emergency stash hadn’t been blown out the plane as well. Thankfully, by the looks of things, it hadn’t been, so with a relieved smirk Albert went and pushed aside the loose panel he’d shoved it behind. Unfortunately for him, after attempting to retrieve it from its hiding place, Albert discovered two koala bears pilfering through it, hastily munching on everything edible he’d packed. It took a mere second for the two bears to notice they’d been caught, and for a moment they all just stared at each other, trying to comprehend the other's existence.
This was how it stayed for a good thirty seconds, before Albert finally blinked, then stated to no one in particular, “I thought you guys were supposed to be vegetarian?” Instantly the bigger of the two koalas grabbed a canteen from the pack and chucked it at Albert's face with a great deal of strength, cracking him on his forehead with enough force to send him reeling back. “OW! YOU MOTHAFUCKAS!!!” Albert shrieked as he grabbed his head, giving the presumed koalas time to grab the pack and run as fast as their little legs could carry them, leaving poor Albert in the dust, now leaning his held head against the wall in an attempt to find some better relief.
“You assholes can’t even eat that crap!” he shouted after them, a sharp ache forming behind his skull as he tried to focus on making it go away, the throbs now in time with his heartbeat, steady and true. Despite his best efforts, it took several long, agonizing minutes for the pain to leave, and once he felt good enough to remove his hands, he half expected to find some kind of lump, the throbbing having gone down, but not yet left. Thankfully, there was none, somehow, so with an irked groan Albert marched back to the cockpit, hoping that he might have better luck with the radio today.
Once seated, he snatched the radio angrily from its resting place, tuned in to the embassies frequency, and stated for what felt like the millionth time, “This is Captain Albert Willis of the US Air Force, I have been shot down by two unidentified bogeys, and am stranded. I am in need of back up, my current location is (insert coordinates because I’m not doing that). Again, this is Captain Albert Willis, over.” Again, Albert waited, waited for a response, waited for an answer, waited for something, anything.
Again, nothing happened.
“Fine, ya want somethin’ done, ya just gotta do it yourself.” Albert muttered as he tossed the radio down and stormed out of the cockpit, just wanting to be home, and not wanting to deal with future paperwork, or explain to his superior officers what had happened. Truth be told though, he didn’t know what happened, and that made the future briefing all the more daunting, because he would look guilty of something, what that was yet he didn’t know, but something would surely be blamed on him, or he’d be accused of communism, or a million other things.
These thoughts weighed heavy on his mind, but the silence weighed heavier, quickly drowning them out the more he noticed it.
This silence was quickly replaced with the sound of a thousand different creatures as he stepped outside the plane, trying to get some idea of what kind of environment he was in, and what his next best step would be. However, to his own personal horror, he saw nothing but an endless jungle, which sang her deadly choir without a care in the world, leaving enough room to walk forward, maybe drive through, but little more. Instantly his stomach dropped, and for half a moment, he truly believed that not every animal he heard was actually an animal, and that he might just be surrounded by the Viet Cong.
Then, he blinked, and he remembered that he was in Australia, miles and miles away from that hell, and that he needed to get home, and pull himself together.
With a quick breath in, Albert momentarily returned to the cargo hold to fetch his canteen, keeping his breaths steady and rhythmic, before quickly returning outside again, finding the ambience better than the near silence of the plane. He then promptly sat down, drank half the water within it, and dumped the rest onto his face, quickly jumpstarting his brain as the cold water hit his skin.
“Ok, okokok,” he said to himself, putting his head in his hands as he listened to any new noises that he heard, trying to distance himself from his imagination, “you are Albert Willis, you are the son of Charlotte Willis, you’ve successfully raised six outta seven of your brothas, you’re a good husband, you’re a good dad, you’re a good man. You’ve avenged your mother four times, nearly five, hell it might as well’ve been five, you’ve done things no one ever thought ya were gonna do, you’ve become someone no one ever thought ya were gonna be, and you’ve survived things ya never should’ve survived.
“This ain’t shit, this is you gettin’ in your own head, this is your brain trickin’ ya into thinkin’ you’re somewhere you ain’t, cause brains are freakin’ stupid. Well guess what brain? You listen to me, I’m in control here, not you. I am in Australia, I have saved my brother, his friends, and I have put his bastard father in his place, I took down another plane by spinning my bigger plane into it, and didn’t crash into the continent. I’m a badass pilot, I’m a freakin’ awesome person, and I’m gonna handle whatever comes my way, just like I always do.
“I’m gonna git home, I’m gonna git lectured, I’m gonna do a crap tone’a paperwork, and then I’m gonna go home and kiss my badass wife, and hold my amazing girls, and sleep for a fuckin’ week. Jesus Christ man, you’re makin’ a mountain out of a mole hill, this ain’t nothin’, this is just a bad place to be, and you’re makin’ it worse than it needs to be.
“Fuck man, I’m great, I’m the best thing since sliced bread, I’m gonna not only survive this, but I’m gonna enjoy the time off before I get picked up, and if I don’t get picked up? Big whoop, I’ll just take a hike till I find a town, then git home. Fuck, this ain’t shit, this ain’t nothin’, in fact… hell, that ain’t such a bad idea.
“See? You’re great, Al, you’re just bein’ an idiot, now calm down and git to work, bitchin’ and worryin’ never got anyone anywhere, you’ve handled so much worse than this, you’re just hungry, that’s all. You’re fuckin’ amazing, now git your shit together before a spider eats ya.”
With that, Albert took one last deep breath, then let it all out, releasing the death grip he had on his hair as he stood up, smiling to himself as he looked around his environment with new eyes, focusing on the warmth of the sun and the sound of unknown birds rather than the endless, moist green that surrounded him. This wasn’t so bad at all, in fact, this was actually pretty nice. What made it even better was the plan he’d just come up with, which might not’ve been the best plan in the world, but it was still a plan.
The plan being: Get the plane off the ground and fly to the American Embassy, if that was even possible. If it wasn’t, he’d just walk to a town, how hard could that be?
With all that in mind, Albert went back into the plane to take into account what all he had to work with, knowing damn well that not everything had been in the cargo hold, and that there had to be something that could help him in his predicament. Of course, he was correct, and he managed to find a survival kit, and tool box, one which he could hopefully use to help repair the plane. Honestly, he was in better shape than he originally thought, though he would’ve preferred to have had his own personal pack, but that was just his gripe more than an actual problem.
After eating the bad tasting rations in the survival kit, as well as removing the radio from the plane and bringing it with him, Albert once again made his way outside and went immediately to the left wing of the plane, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would be salvageable. Somehow, despite the crash, despite everything that it had endured, it didn’t look half bad. Upon further inspection, it appeared as though the structure had taken little to no actual damage, however the engines both appeared utterly useless. The key word in that sentence being appeared.
“Alright, babe, let’s see what we can work with.” Albert stated as he took off his jacket, the heat of the day already starting to get the better of him. Unfortunately, the more he looked at the plane, the more he realized that getting it off the ground would prove to be damn near impossible, with the landing gear having been crushed, no proper runway, and no new parts should any be beyond repair. Ok, maybe he hadn’t been fully awake when he made that plan, and maybe he’d been having a slight panic attack, but he was here with the toolbox, so he might as well figure out what got damaged in order to make any future reports easier.
If he was really lucky, he could find the bullet that brought him down and help use it to identify the kind of plane that had been shooting at him. Besides, it was smart to stay at the sight of the crash in case rescuers did come, so he might as well do something while he waited for help to arrive… if it arrived. Whatever, he’d just wait a day and hope someone got back to him on the radio, and if nothing happened after that, he’d start walking.
The longer he worked, slowly getting deeper into the engine as he went, the more he began to think about Jeremy, wondering if he’d landed as safely as he had. Chances were he had, the absolute worse case scenario being that the parachute hadn't opened at all, but he highly doubted that. Realistically, the worst case scenario would be that they’d landed in a very large tree, and were stuck in it, but even then that meant they were all alive and well.
No, no he wasn’t too terribly worried about their landing, he’d made sure they were secure himself after all… It was the Frenchman he really worried about, that selfish, cowardly, low-life spy, who somehow had fathered his littlest brother.
It wasn’t the fact that Spy was Jeremy’s father that upset him so much as the fact that he was currently with him, knowing that Albert knew who he was in relation to Jeremy. Something in that bastard's eye just told Albert that he would let his brother die before telling him the truth, even though he’d sworn up and down that he would never, and that he truly was a changed man. Yeah right, the same guy who’d abandoned a single pregnant mom of then seven would lay down his life for Jeremy, the same guy who had stuck a knife to his throat knowing damn well he was Charlotte's son, yet claimed he was close with her.
Spy would’ve killed Albert if he’d gotten the chance, heck, he probably still would, his Ma’s word be damned.
If only he could be there, if only he could keep tabs on that snake, keep his brother safe… He should've told Jeremy, he should've just told him the truth when he had the chance, and gotten him as far away from Spy as possible. Their mission be damned, Jeremy’s safety outweighed whatever plan some evil billionaire had coming, he could deal with it when it came his way, just like he did with all his troubles. However, if Gray was the reason he wasn’t able to make contact with anyone at that moment, maybe it wasn’t so bad that he’d allowed their mission to continue smoothly… Damn it all, he should’ve just deserted and gone with them, what good had the military ever done him anyway?
Well, he’d met Liên, he’d made a crap ton of money for his Ma, and he’d been able to make something of himself, it’d kept him away from trouble when it’d started to tempt him… really, he owed them everything. If he deserted, that would mean hurting his family, it’d turn him into a criminal, it would make him the very sort of man he couldn’t stand, a dishonest one. Damn… Damn it all, why’d his brother have to be a criminal? Why couldn’t Jeremy have just led a good and honest life? He’d done it, Quincy had done it, they’d all done it, the only one who hadn’t was…
Tommy.
Albert just sighed at the thought of his lost brother, wondering where he was, wondering what had become of him since their last interaction, his heart starting to hurt from something that should’ve healed nearly a decade ago. Blaming himself for how he turned out was pointless, but still, he did. He was the biggest brother, he’d been the man of the house, and he’d failed him, which led to him failing Jeremy in the long run. Again, it wasn’t entirely his fault, but still, he was the oldest, and the buck stopped with him.
At least Jeremy wasn’t a jerk anymore, at least he still wasn’t mixed up with Tommy and all that mafia business and seemed to have a team of, well, good hearted people, who all seemed to care for one another, the doctor especially. He seemed like a good guy, a really good guy actually, so much so that he couldn’t understand what got him mixed up with a bunch of mercenaries to begin with, but hey, life had a way of making things happen, and that was ok.
However, what life hadn’t done was make him date Spy, and what on earth a nice guy like Medic saw in such an asshole like Spy was simply beyond Albert.
Ah, he knew what it was, it was the ‘I can fix him!’ mentality.
Poor Medic, he deserved so much better, the big Russian guy was much more his style, or even the black Scotsman. Alas, he wanted the asshole Frenchman, but at least that made Medic closer to Jeremy in the long run, that made him feel good.
Not good enough to put him at ease, but good.
Soon enough he’d lost track of time, just trying to keep his mind busy by searching through the engine, all but the bottom half of his legs now inside the large machine. It actually made him feel pretty good to be in such a tight spot, he wasn’t sure why, but it did, though the nature outside still made a chill run down his spine with every rogue or unexplained noise. To counter that, he simply smirked, and began to sing his favorite song in the world, ‘Fortunate Son’, deciding that he might as well disturb nature's peace since it was so keen on disturbing his.
He would never forget the first time he’d heard that song, some late night while driving home from work, only for it to come over the radio, a new single in the endless stream of new music that seemed to be coming out of the woodworks. Everything on the radio back then seemed to be anti-war, pro peace, so on and so forth, but he’d hardly paid it any mind, after all, what did hippies know about war? Nothing, they knew absolutely nothing, too busy with their tye dyes and flowers to think about the politics behind any of it, or lack thereof. He’d almost changed the channel, but the intro music had caught his attention, reminding him of the whirring of a helicopter's blades, so he’d kept it on.
Nothing, nothing had ever stuck with him quite as much as that one song, as if it had been made for him, and him alone. He’d gone and found the record for it that night, and he’d listened to it until he knew every word, at which point he’d started singing it, not caring that it was the middle of the night, not caring that his kids were trying to sleep, simply forgetting he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t stopped singing it until his wife had forced him to bed, where he’d simply cried himself to sleep in her arms, feeling utterly sick to his stomach with an emotion he simply couldn’t find a name for.
Liên had tried to get rid of the record the next day, but thankfully Albert had managed to save it, promising that nothing like that would ever happen again. It did happen again, but only when her and the girls were gone, and it stopped as soon as they got back. Despite his attempted secrecy, he got the very distinct feeling that she knew, just with the look she gave him every time she walked into the house and found him standing there all sweaty, his voice utterly wrecked. When this happened, he just gave her a big, apologetic smile, and she just rolled her eyes before kissing him, always before they simply held each other for a moment with the sort of understanding that only they shared.
Jesus, he missed her so much. He missed his little girls too.
At least he’d be back soon enough, at least he wasn’t anywhere terrible, he just had to be patient, strong, and steadfast, and hey, he was great at all of those things. All he really had to worry about was spiders and snakes, but those were easy enough to avoid, at least he thought so anyway, which meant it was all up to him to get home.
He could do that, he could get home, he’d done it more times than he could count, after all, he was great. No, not just great, he was fucking great.
“Excuse me, Captain Willis?”
Immediately Albert tried to sit up, only to whack his head on the inside of the engine, prompting a cry of pain to leave him as he clutched his poor head again, pure adrenaline pumping through him with the realization that he was no longer alone. That, and at the realization that he’d been all but screaming Fortunate Son to a bunch of absolute strangers, who'd been standing there for God only knew how long. No… they’d used his title, so his fellow officers had heard him singing an anti-war song.
That was just fantastic.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” The voice said in an apologetic tone, an older man's voice that sounded like it hailed from the midwest, though it didn’t really sound apologetic, which would be typical of a higher ranking army man. Albert's personal favorite, because the army was just known for its lovely personnel.
“It’s fine… It’s fine, really,” Albert managed to get out while still holding his head, “didn’t hear ya roll up, hell I didn’t even hear ya radio, where’d ya guys come from?”
“Didn’t hear us radio? We’ve been callin’ back since last night!” The man insisted with mild surprise, which struck Albert as odd for some reason. “What? I didn’t hear jackshit, and I radioed you, and the Aussies!”
“Well, it sounds to me like somethin’ happened to your radio when you crashed,” the man reasoned, “which would explain why you kept repeating yourself… and cussing us out.”
“Oh shit, ya got that?” Albert stated with horror, recalling the several colorful things he’d said the previous night before slamming the radio down, “Sorry pal, I thought my radio was dead, and uh… Heh, I figure I was a bit high on adrenaline.”
“Well, it’s all in the past now,” the man assured, something about his voice just not being assuring whatsoever, like a sugarcoated lie, “so why don’t we go ahead and focus on the now, ok?”
“Sounds good to me, uh… Say, I never got your name, what’s your name pal?”
“Charles, First Sergeant Charles King, and obviously you’re Captain Albert Willis, or so you kept claiming.” the man said in a friendly enough manner, again, something in his voice just making Albert uneasy. “First Sergeant, eh?” Albert repeated as he continued digging through the engine, having finally located the path that the bogey’s bullet took through it, “Well shit, that means I outrank you! Kinda surprised they didn’t send anyone higher up, no offense.”
“None taken,” Charles assured with a chuckle, “you know what they say, two Airforce Generals are worth an Army Commander, while three Army Commanders are worth a Marine Captain.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Albert declared with potent sarcasm, “tell ya what? What dontcha tell me that after ya land this big’a bird without killin’ yourself, ok?”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” Charles conceded in a near mocking manner, “I’m sure it took a lot of skill to simply… slide this thing onto the ground… While we’re on the subject, what brought you down anyway?”
“Ya know, it’s funny,” Albert grunted as he tried to reach further into the engine for what he thought was a bullet, “I’m pretty sure a couple Aussie hippies were pretendin’ to be airforce pilots, they kept tellin’ me to turn around, sayin’ I couldn’t land without a proper explanation. It got ugly after that, hence why I’m on the ground.”
“No shit.” Charles stated in an oddly calm manner, as if this were old news to him, “Well, how do you know it wasn’t the actual military?”
“Easy, wouldn’t give names, no proper air talk, no explanation, somethin’ was just off about ‘em.” Albert explained as he grabbed hold of the bullet, just barely having enough grip to do anything with it. “You don’t think it was the Russians or Vietnamese, do you?” Charles asked with an oddly morbid curiosity to his tone. “Eh, I doubt it,” Albert replied, “didn’t hear no underlying accent, and they flew like shit. If they were professionals, I’d be dead.”
“Well, that is a damn shame,” Charles lamented without a hint of remorse within his voice, “we got enough problems as is, and how we gotta worry about Australian hippies? I don’t think anyone’s gonna be too happy about that.”
“Yeah… Me neither…” Albert replied quietly, a sudden chill going down his spine, but for what reason, he just wasn’t sure. Actually, he suddenly felt very, very uneasy, as if somehow he was in the worst position he could possibly be in, as if somehow, against all odds, this man knew what he was really doing in Australia. “Well, I suppose that’s for the higher ups to figure out, not us,” Charles continued, “and so long as we don’t run into any of these hippies on our way to the embassy, I think we’ll be just fine, Captain Willis.”
There was a pause then, not a long one, but a pause nonetheless, for Albert simply wasn’t sure he felt too good about the conversation he was currently having anymore, every fiber of his being telling him he was in danger, and that he needed to either eliminate the enemy, or run. However, as far as he knew he just didn’t like Charles as a character, and this would be just a one time interaction that left him wishing he’d never met the man. Army men never sat right with him to begin with, they always thought they were the best of the best, when really they were over glorified gunmen who shot first, thought second. At least that was Albert's humble opinion anyway, and he was right more often than not.
“Willis…” Charles mused out loud, once again catching Albert's full attention, “You know, that name sounds awfully familiar to me, have we met before?”
“I think I’d remember meetin’ you, pal.” Albert said as he tugged at the large bullet, finding that it came closer with every pull, much to his relief. “Are you sure? I know I’ve met someone with that last name before, I don’t forget names…” Charles continued with a downright cold tone, one that was just barely masked with curiosity, as if he were baiting him into saying something he shouldn’t say. “Now let me see here, where have I… Oh, that’s right, now I remember… Say, you wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of, oh, I dunno… Jeremy Willis?”
Albert once had a friend in Vietnam, a man everyone called Coffee. Coffee was a loud, outgoing guy, who was constantly the life of the party, always kept morale up, was quick with a joke and a smile, and overall just knew how to make the best out of a bad situation. He’d met the man during his first tour, and served with him closely for half of it, finding great comfort in his presence.
One day, before a mission, Coffee went quiet, very, very quiet, and simply went and sat by himself, something he never did. Albert had approached him and sat with him, noting his near hollow eyes, his skin an oddly pale hue, something about him seeming terribly, terribly wrong. They hadn’t spoken with each other, not at first anyway, simply sharing a smoke instead, just listening to nothing and everything. Finally, during the last minute of their silence, the last minute before they had to set out, Albert had asked Coffee what was wrong, what was bothering him so much that he couldn’t even smile.
Coffee had simply said that he was going to die that day, and that had been it.
True to his word, he’d been killed hardly an hour later, three bullets to the chest.
Sitting in that engine, hearing his brother's name said with such dark malice, Albert wondered if this was the same feeling Coffee had felt before he’d died, a simple gut feeling that this time, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to make it out alive.
Which was an absolutely ridiculous feeling to have, after all, he wasn’t going to die.
This wasn’t the army, this was an enemy, this was a bunch of Gray’s goons out to get him, thinking they were so smart, obviously having intercepted his channel and blocked his outgoing messages. No help was coming, he was alone, and whoever was out there wanted him dead. Well, good thing he was armed, in the know, and calm. Granted, he had no idea how many men were out there, how many guns they were carrying, nor how good they were, but none of that mattered, after all, he was going to find a way out of this situation.
Albert was not going to die, not today, not like this. He refused.
“Jeremy Willis?” Albert repeated calmly despite his dry mouth, giving the bullet one last tug, finally causing it to come loose from its position within the engine, already knowing exactly what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it. “Yeah, yeah I know Jeremy Willis, he’s my no good brother, haven’t spoken to that asshole in five years, how do ya know him?”
“It’s funny, actually,” Charles replied, hardly putting any effort into sounding friendly now, “I saw him on the news with a few of his teammates, turns out he’s a communist spy.”
“No shit.” Albert stated bluntly, quickly shifting his position so that he could better reach his duel pistols, “That don’t surprise me one bit, fuckin’ asshole… Now don’t you get any ideas about me, I ain’t no commie!”
“No, of course not!” Charles quickly assured, “That’s ridiculous, everyone knows that kin ain’t everything, and those who say it is don’t have the balls to stand up to their mother in law.”
“Thank you,” Albert stated as he checked his pistols carefully, making sure they were properly loaded, “at least some guys have faith in me, that makes me feel better.”
“Trust me, Captain, I have full trust in you, as well as your story. No, I just brought up your brother cause I saw him on the news recently, like I said, and I gotta admit, the story kinda intrigues me. I mean, we got, what? Nine men traveling in a camper van all across the west, somehow staying one step ahead of law enforcement, and the military? That’s just crazy.”
“Jesus, that’s wild…” Albert stated shocked disappointment as he double checked his sights, “I mean… holy shit… What-what’s he even tryin’ to do anyway??? Like, where’s he tryin’ to go? He’s stuck, he’s gonna get caught, I mean, don’t he know better? I fuckin’ raised that moron betta than this, I swear I did, I did everythin’ I could I just… That fuckin’ asshole, Ma’s gonna lose her mind, that’s her youngest, and that fuckin’ asshole goes and does this?!? Don’t he know he got a family that cares, he’s gonna git himself freakin’ killed! Or executed… Why can’t he just…”
Albert just let out an elaborate sigh for the drama of it, smiling to himself for a reason he wasn’t quite sure of. “Fuck…” he continued quietly, just taking in his situation the best he could, finding his heart pounding with an odd mix of excitement and terror, “I just… I’m sorry, he’s my youngest brother and I really… I really thought he was tryin’ to do better…”
“You know… I get it, I really do,” Charles consoled, actually, truly, genuinely sounding like he did understand, “getting betrayed by kin, by a brother… That’s a pain you don’t just get over. It sticks with you, and uh… It lingers.”
“Yeah, yeah it sure does…” Albert agreed solemnly, acknowledging the only bit of honesty this man had offered him, and returning his own.
There was another moment of silence that passed, much more comfortable this time, one which found Albert's smile growing as he readied himself for what came next, after all, he couldn’t hide forever. Breathing felt forced, but that was ok, he was used to checking each and every breath. His heart was racing, but this wasn’t a problem, it just made him more aware, more alert, it was a good thing. Truth be told, he felt great, the feeling of being alive, of being aware of himself, there was nothing like it in the world, for it meant that he was truly alive, and that he wasn’t just surviving, but living. He just hoped that somehow, someway, he’d be able to talk his way out of his execution.
“Hey, ya know what? I’m bein’ rude here, lemme git outta here real quick.” Albert finally said, starting to make his way out of the engine after putting his guns back in their holsters, letting his adrenaline flow like water throughout him, helping him to focus on hiding his truths. “Didn’t wanna say anything, but I was gettin’ tired of talkin’ to a pair of legs.” Charles admitted with a slight laugh, which Albert quickly returned. “Yeah, not my finest moment, but oh well.” he muttered quietly, before finally coming face to face with Charles.
Safe to say, Albert knew he was in for a bad time.
They just stared at each other for a moment, Albert still on the ground, and Charles, along with four other mercenary looking individuals, just standing over him, looking at him with a kind of sadistic glee he’d never seen before. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was probably in the presence of the ‘old bastards’ that Spy had told him about during their debrief, and he’d been told enough about them to know that he alone wasn’t going to be enough to stop them. Still, if he played his cards right, then maybe, just maybe, he could.
Who was kidding, of course he was going to, after all, nothing was impossible for him.
Finally, after what felt like a very, very long minute, Albert just looked Charles up and down one last time, before remarking rather bluntly, “You are one ugly motherfucker.”
“Thanks.” Charles said flatly, his own smile never faltering, but that was ok, Albert hadn’t expected anything much to come of his comment.
With that out of the way, Albert reached for his jacket, finding the weight of Charlotte within it to be comforting, and while standing up he asked with a rather irked tone, “Alright, what’s goin’ on? Who are you assholes?”
“Like I said, I’m Charles.” Charles said again, having officially stopped trying to mask his voice with any sort of real friendliness. “Yeah, I’m aware,” Albert shot back, now at full height and taking on the demeanor of what he was, an Airforce Captain, “but I tell you what, ya ain’t no military man.”
“Not anymore, no,” Charles admitted calmly, too calmly, “but the title still holds, and I wear it proudly.”
“Mmm hmm, right.” Albert stated coldly, happy to find his heart was calming the more he got to look at his opponents, realizing that, simply put, they were old. “Now, why dontcha go ahead and tell me who you really are, before I git your asses in a buttload’a trouble.”
“I didn’t lie about who I was, Captain Willis,” Charles declared in an equally cold voice, “nor did I lie about my occupation, you went ahead and assumed I was still in the military, and that’s not my fault, is it?”
Hmm… That was… Hmmmm… Ok, so this guy was a smartass, good to know. This was just Spy on steroids, ok, he could handle that, this wasn’t a problem, not really, he just had to play his cards right.
“Touche.” Albert conceded flatly, watching with great irritation as Charles' smile simply grew, and became very, very smug. “However, ya still haven’t told me who ya are, and yeah, I got your name, but what the hell is it that ya do, and why’re ya buggin’ me?”
“Well, I’m actually currently being employed by the owner of Mann co. to track down the Tuefort nine, that includes your brother. See, he and his team have caused Mr. Mann a great deal of trouble in the past, and he kindly volunteered his services to the government to help find them, which includes me and my team. We were actually on our way to find them, but well, I couldn’t help but get sidetracked when I saw your plane go down.”
“That right? Well, you’ll be happy to hear that I’m ok, and if you’re still offerin’ it, I would love a ride to the American embassy, or hell, even the closest Aussie base, think ya can do that for me, pal?”
“You’re not worried about the fact that I’m hunting your brother?” Charles queried with the kind of tone that instantly sent a chill down Albert's spine. “Like I said, I haven't spoken to that asshole in five years,” Albert reiterated coldly, “so if he wants to go and throw his life away, that’s his choice, I did my best, and… And there ain’t nothin’ more I can do… Granted, I am curious as to why you’re here and not the states, seein’ as that’s where he is, but hey, whaddo I know?”
Charles' smile then grew again, just slightly as a low, barely audible chuckle escaped him while he looked past Albert towards the wreckage of the plane, simply nodding to himself in a way that indicated that he knew a bit more than he was letting on. Seeing this, Albert simply let out a quick laugh of his own, now keeping his full attention on the larger man, that feeling of dread starting to return to him, despite knowing that he was not going to die. Well, at least… No, no he wasn’t going to die, he couldn’t die, he refused to die, not today, not like this.
He was great, and he was going to stay great.
After too long a silence, Charles, without looking at Albert, explained with an icy calm voice, “You know, that’s a fair point, it really is… However, your brother isn’t in the states right now. No, no it turns out he’s actually here in Australia right now, isn’t that wild?”
How… How would he know that? That didn’t make any sense, how on earth…
“What’s even wilder,” Charles continued, now walking past Albert and towards the wreckage, causing the younger man to quickly turn towards him, needing to have eyes on him, needing to know his next play, “is the fact that somehow, against all odds, those absolute morons were able to ship their camper van out here. A entire fucking van, all the way from the states! I just… for the life of me, I could not figure out how they did it… Until I found this two days ago.”
With that, Charles threw an envelope over his shoulder, which Albert quickly caught, looking it over carefully, always keeping one eye on his enemy, the sound of his own heart starting to echo within his ears, no longer bringing him any confidence. On the outside, it was blank, but upon opening it, Albert's blood ran cold.
Within it contained the cargo log for his plane, including one camper van, special request by the CIA for an undercover mission in Vietnam… just as he’d ordered.
“How… How did you…” Albert whispered to himself, keeping his voice steady, and unreadable, knowing that this man was waiting for him to slip, hell, he was all but salivating over the chance to pounce. Too bad he wasn’t a moron, and too bad he wasn’t going to fall that easily for this little trick… Though really, it was hardly a trick, and more of a truth…
“Now wait a fuckin’ minute!” Albert shouted furiously, instantly storming towards Charles despite every instinct within him screaming at him to run, “How the hell didja git your hands on this! This is classified, active military personal only, and even it’s classified for most folks! You’d have to be a spy yourself to git ahold’a this, so the way I see it-”
“I don’t think that’s your biggest problem right now, Captain.” Charles snapped, still dawning his cold, sadistic smile as he finally turned around to face Albert, stopping him in his tracks instantly. “I’d say your biggest problem is the fact that you loaded up nine wanted men into your plane, and brought them here. It’s right there in black and white, I mean come on! You’re tellin’ me that without any prior planning, without any prior discussions, you just happen to schedule a supply drop to Vietnam, that happens to hold a camper van, that’s going to an active war zone without any protection at all, all under twenty four hours? I’m not stupid, Captain Willis, and I know your brother’s here, because you brought him here… Now, why don’t you cut the bullshit, and tell me where he is?”
Something was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong.
That was classified information, that wasn’t something that one got by happening to snoop through files, that was… Something was wrong at the embassy, something wasn’t right, at all. His channel hadn’t been blocked, he’d reached the right station, and… they’d been there to hear him. It wasn’t that no one had heard him, it wasn’t that his signal hadn’t gone through… It was that no one had been there to respond… expect these old bastards.
Gray had managed to get the army to side with him in America, he’d manipulated the entire country into thinking his brother and his team were communist spies… How long had he been setting up in Australia? How long had he been placing the pieces necessary for a complete takeover? No, he couldn’t have been here long, he’d talked with the proper authorities, real officers, his landing had been vetted… but if by pure, terrible, unfortunate chance something had happened just after he’d been cleared…
This was it then… They knew… He was… He was going to…
He was going to be great.
“What part of the sentence, ‘I haven’t spoken to my asshole brother in five years’, are you not comprehending, you fuckin’ neanderthal?” Albert demanded to know, taking one more step closer to Charles, absolutely refusing to show that his bluff had been called, “I mean, Jesus, I’ve met some pretty stupid people, but pal, you’re gettin’ higher up on that list every time ya open your mouth, so why dontcha quit harassin’ me over assumptions and stolen information, and fuck off, before I make sure you end up like the Rosenburg's!”
Did Albert actually think that this threat was going to have any effect on his enemies?
No, no he did not, but damn it all it felt good to say it out loud, after all, what else could he possibly do?
Perhaps as expected, Charles' smile did not drop, instead, it changed. Any sign of superiority, smugness, or belittlement faded from it, as it simply became so terribly, terribly cold, shrinking just enough to notice. The older man then nodded to himself, and took in a deep, quiet breath, somehow becoming larger because of it. That was ok, Albert was used to large assholes thinking they could get their way with things because they were big, and the sight didn’t intimidate him. It was the fact that behind him some of his fellow mercs had begun to laugh to themselves quietly that made him realize that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have made a threat.
Then, Charles let out a quiet, soft chuckle, and began to speak in a very, very cold, very dark tone, all while lacing his words with an all too convincingly friendly tone.
“Albert… Can I call you Albert?”
“No.”
“Albert… It’s obvious to me that you are a very intelligent man, and that you have worked very hard to get where you are, and that you take your job very seriously. I respect that, and I respect you, I really do respect you, I also respect the loyalty you have towards your brother, it’s just… It’s admirable, it really is admirable. You just don’t see enough loyalty these days, everyone's so quick to keep themselves safe, to make a quick buck, to do whatever seems easiest… You’re not like that, and I respect that. It’s just a damn shame that the man you’re loyal to is a man I’m tryin’ to kill.
“Now, I believe you when you said you haven’t spoken to your brother in five years, I really do… Up until a few days ago that is. I’ve met Jeremy, and man, that kid… There’s just somethin’ really wrong with him, and that’s the truth. He’s a fine guy, don’t get me wrong, he’s got skill, and he’s smart where it counts, but he’s not really a… family guy, know what I mean? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that he called you in a panic, begging for help, and you, being the loyal older brother that you are, couldn’t help but help him out, am I right?
“Like I said, you’re a very smart man, and there’s no way a guy like you would ever agree to something this ridiculous without knowing what was actually going on, so you knew that there would be potential danger involved… just not this much, right? Or maybe he didn’t tell you everything, that seems accurate to his character, doesn't it?
“I’m gonna cut to the chase, I know you’re type, cocky, you think you’re on top of the world, but you’re not, you just got really far from nothing, and it makes you feel bigger than you are. Rightfully so, you’ve clearly made something of yourself, and seeing as you’ve got a ring on your finger, you’ve settled down real nicely with what I’m sure is a very lovely woman, nothing too special, but she’s yours, and by the gray hair at such a young age, I’m gonna guess you’ve got a couple little ones running around, right? Or maybe you got them from trying to raise your crackhead brother, either way, you’ve clearly got family that cares… and family who’s only willing to speak with you if they need a big favor, and have no one else to turn to.
“Obviously this is a lot for you, after all your kid brother is gonna die, but hey, he made his choices, and you… You obviously did your best, really you did, but it all comes down to nature vs nurture, and Jeremy’s nature isn’t exactly copasetic with yours, is it? With all this in mind, I think you need to ask yourself a really hard question, and don’t just answer right away, really take your time and think about what’s best not only for you, but your family. Now, answer me this…
“Is your asshole brother, whom you haven’t spoken to in five years, really worth leaving your wife a widow?”
Oh…
He’d known they wanted to kill him, but actually hearing it…
Albert swallowed, and he swallowed hard, that feeling of dread returning to him as his heart grew hollow within his chest, memories of everything he and Liên had lived through flooding him all at once, memories of him promising her over and over that he would never leave her, that he would hold her till death did them part, that he would place her above all else. He couldn’t leave her… He couldn’t leave his girls to grow up without him, he couldn’t leave his mother to wonder what had happened to him, his brothers, they depended on him… Jeremy depended on him…
This wasn’t fair, after everything he’d lived through, after everything he’d done, after everything he’d sacrificed, this was his defining moment?!? A pawn in someone else's game, forced to either advance, or die for another player!?! Yes, yes he’d die for Jeremy, so many years ago he would’ve laid down his life for him, he had once laid down his life for him, but he was beyond those days now, he had his own life, so did Jeremy! His littlest brother was a man, he wasn’t supposed to need this kind of protection anymore! He wasn’t… This wasn’t fair…
He didn’t want to die, not today, not like this…
Leaving his kids fatherless wasn’t something he could accept, knowing his unborn child would never meet him, leaving Liên alone to raise three kids alone, in such a cruel world, in such a terrible, terrible world… He couldn’t do that… He’d be no better than his own father, his brother's fathers… How could he leave her alone?
How could he betray his brother, his littlest brother?
Jeremy wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t, he wasn’t like Tommy, or his Uncle Casey, he was a really good person, and he was glad to have him as his brother, honest he was. Yes, yes he’d made some stupid choices, he’d left them, he’d been terrible to Quincy, to him, to all of them, but he was past that now, he was a good person… He was so glad to have him back… He didn’t want Jeremy to die.
He didn’t want to die either… Not after everything, not when his life was finally at peace…
There really wasn’t a choice, was there? No, no of the many things Albert had in life, choice was never really one, everything he’d ever done, he’d done for someone else, and just when he finally thought he’d had it… It was gone. Dear God, had it really come down to this? Another impossible choice with only one real answer, another sacrifice to be made, all for his family…
All a part of being him, right?
Just another day as Albert Willis, the greatest person ever, a man who could not die, not today, not ever.
“No… No, I don’t think he is…” Albert reasoned quietly, heart pounding, a sickening feeling wrapping around him wholly at the idea of what he was doing, of the consequences of his actions, the reality of what he was doing… but it was the only choice he had. Upon saying this, he watched as Charles' smile grew, something truly evil lying within it, within him, his entire demeanor radiating with victory at the sight of the broken man in front of him. Albert had expected this, truly he had, he just hadn’t expected it to make him feel such raw disgust towards him, such deep, unadulterated loathing…
Which was why when he flashed his own crooked smile and made Charles falter in his ego, it made Albert feel so, so much better about what he was about to try and pull off.
“I know he is.”
There were two guns strapped to the back of his waist, his jacket hiding them both, each with six chambers.
There were twelve shots total, enough to shoot everyone present twice, and have two left over.
All he needed to do was be quick, but hey, his entire career was built on being quick, so really, this was nothing.
The price of his failure would be high, so terribly, terribly high if he missed those shots, but he had to try, he had to believe he was going to make it… No.
He knew he was going to make it
Just another day as Albert Willis, he supposed, the greatest person ever.
With speed not even he knew he possessed, with his heart pounding out of his chest, with the knowledge that this was his only chance to live, Albert reached back for his guns, for his lifeline, and grabbed hold of them, ready to kill, ready to live, ready to go home to his family…
Except…
His guns weren’t there.
…
Odd.
He’d checked them over before leaving the engine.
Why weren’t they there?
As the color began to drain from his face, the audible, clearly attention seeking sound of a man clearing his throat was heard from behind him, so as any sane person would do, Albert turned around. What he found was the merc who looked the most to be a spy, what with the sock and eye gizmo, holding both his guns tauntingly, his one visible eye shining with the kind of smugness only a spy could possess.
That’s right, he’d turned his back to the rest of the mercs in order to keep an eye on Charles…
Huh…
Maybe… Maybe that hadn’t been his smartest move…
“You’re a… You’re a spy, aintcha?” Albert asked the spy looking merc with a horribly hollow tone of voice, who simply tossed both his guns away without much care. “I am.” the spy confirmed with sadistic glee, far too pleased with himself for Albert's liking. “Huh… Ya know, I don’t like spies. I really, really don’t… Just think you guys are a buncha smarmy assholes, ya know?”
“That does tend to be the impression we give off, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it really is…”
Well… His great plan had failed, and he was going to leave his wife a widow… as if.
When he turned back to Charles, this time having no idea as to what he was going to say, do, or even attempt to do, he was faced with a terrible mix of joy, and sadism, a look that promised no hope at all for him. This look manifested itself into a punch to the face, the hardest he’d ever felt in all his years of fighting, strong enough to make his mind blank, and send him reeling back. Except, he didn’t hit the ground, instead, he was grabbed by one of the mercs, which one he didn’t know, and was held to face Charles again.
He didn’t see the next two strikes to his face, he couldn’t, but he really felt the third one to his gut.
At that point he was let go, causing him to fall to the ground in agony, air refusing to enter his lungs as the world around him spun and faded, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth being the only thing centering him in place. That, and panic, but it wasn’t wild, it was pointed, sharp, its purpose clear as day. That being to get up, breathe, and live on.
“You know, I’m not a violent person,” Charles declared as he walked over to Albert, just looking down at him without a care in the world, “I have a reputation as a violent person, but I’m really not. Violent people fight first, ask second, and I don’t do that, I prefer to not be violent, and have things settled in a more… civilized manner.” Finally, his lungs began to work, and Albert gasped in air as pain entered with it, causing pained sounds to escape him as he involuntarily curled into himself, trying to dull everything he could. “I gave you many opportunities to be honest with me, I told you what would happen if you failed to cooperate, and still… You pull this? Who am I kidding, I should’ve seen this comin’, I did compliment you on your loyalty… I just put my money on the wrong person you’d be loyal to.
“So… Now that you understand what’s really at stake right now…” Suddenly, it felt as though iron had clamped around his neck, once again leaving him without breath as he was lifted into the air, and forced to meet the face of who was surely his killer, leaving him no time to check his emotions, leaving fear, pain, and hatred burning within his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me where your brother, and his asinine team of morons are!” This tone was different from the others Charles had used, gone was any glee, gone was any false friendliness, gone was any false intent, now it only held rage, pure, violent, loud, volatile rage.
In the next moment Albert was tossed to the ground, once again forcing a pained, stifled breath to escape him as the reality of the situation finally came crashing in. He was in over his head, he had no way to save himself, he was all alone, and no one was coming to help him. This was it, either he betrayed his brother, or he died. Not the options he wanted, but he’d already made his choice.
He was not going to abandon his family.
His brother.
Liên would forgive him, she’d understand, and with luck, her, and the rest of his brothers would come and avenge him. Man, that was a really nice thought, he could die with a thought that nice… Good thing he wasn’t going to die, right?
Right.
Once Albert was certain he could breathe properly, he slowly began to get up, fighting back against the urge to just stay down, his legs still feeling unsteady from the trauma he’d received. In fact, much to his own embarrassment, he found himself having to pause for a moment in order to make the world stop spinning, but after spitting out some blood, he did stand up, keeping still despite how unsteady he felt. Again, he looked Charles in the eyes, letting everything show, not caring about hiding his true feelings, after all, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Before he spoke, Albert reached into his jacket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, quickly retrieving and lighting one, taking comfort in the action, the smell, the taste, the sensation of smoke entering his lungs, it just brought him such indescribable peace. He didn’t like how shaky he was taking that inhale, how his hand trembled, but he just couldn’t help himself. Maybe it would be the last bit of comfort he ever got… he sincerely doubted it.
Finally, he looked at Charles, and blew out the smoke onto his face, smooth and steady, really wishing he had the time for another inhale, but still satisfied from the one drag he got. He smiled again, knowing it was bloody, knowing it wasn’t quite right, but not caring. Actually, if he were to guess, he probably looked pretty badass. That made him feel good, after all, one always wanted to go out looking their best, right? Then, with all the confidence he could find within himself, with all the courage he had left, and all the hatred he could muster, Albert said this.
“Kiss my hot. Bostonian. Ass, you skank ass motherfucker.”
Man, it felt really good to say that. It was totally worth whatever happened next.
Not to his surprise, Charles' smile returned to him, though really, it was more of a smirk, as he let out a quick, terribly amused scoff, before simply shaking his head and chuckling quietly once again. He then let out one last sigh, before looking at Albert, saying in a rather disappointed tone, “Albert… Men like you are the reason I have such a violent reputation.” This in turn just got a quick, terribly amused scoff out of Albert, after all, the man in front of him was an absolute moron for thinking in such a small minded fashion.
Alas, he never got to say that out loud, for before he could even think of a comeback, something that felt like the butt of a rifle struck the back of his head, and everything went black.