The cold bit through his gear as England surfaced in the Bakhmutka River, his rebreather hissing as he exhaled slowly. Beside him, Sinéad "Shiv" O'Sullivan emerged and shook off the icy water like a dog. A combat medic by trade, she had been assigned to him by Moore in case his injuries ever outpaced the regenerative effects of ETT. But given how Shiv casually mentioned having a PhD in psychiatry while they were in the sub, something told England that she was there for more than just patching up his physical wounds, which begged the question of why Dr. Harker had given him the mental health clear for further service if they were going to send someone to monitor him anyway.
"Well, I'm sober now," Shiv quipped in her Irish brogue, "Them's waters be more freezin' than the ones in Galway."
England ignored her. It did not surprise him in the slightest that Moore would assign a chatterbox on this mission. But at least she had better timing when compared to Moore and was slightly more tactful in her attempts at humour too. He trudged toward the treeline, spotting two supply boxes, one of which he hoped contained dry clothes. Sure enough, inside was a spare uniform, a towel, and a pair of binoculars. As he set about peeling off his soaked gear, he heard Shiv squelching up the bank behind him.
England shot her a look, "Turn around, please."
Without saying a word, Shiv complied. But as he pulled down his trousers and pants, he caught her leaning down as if trying to catch a look at his unmentionables.
England sighed as he stood back up, "Do I have to order you to stand behind a tree?"
Shiv quickly snapped straight back up, her back still facing England, "No, sir. I was just uh...I wanted a better look at the...physical effects Erythrotestropin had on your body."
A quiet snort of exasperation and amusement escaped England's nose as he shook his head. Even after all these years, he was still serving with boys using their bangers and beans to think instead of their brains. The difference now was that the culprit was one woman instead of a barracks full of rowdy lads eyeing up a barmaid in a tight corset.
"If you must know," England stated dryly, "it made everything bigger except that."
"Because it's big enough already?" Shiv playfully asked.
England blinked as he tried to process that question, "I...don't know. That honestly depends on what counts as big."
"Anything longer than five inches," Shiv quickly answered.
"Not exactly narrowing it down, there," England muttered as he grabbed the towel and began drying himself off.
Shiv chuckled, "Oh, yes, it does. If you made a woman or two happy with that, then it's big."
A long silence came between the two as England continued drying off.
"You...have been with a partner, right?" Shiv asked, "It doesn't have to be a woman but...you seem like the woman type so..."
"Yes, I like women," England curtly responded, "I've just been saving myself for marriage."
Shiv blinked, caught off guard for the first time since they'd met, "Oh..."
England finished drying off and placed the now-wet towel back in the section of the box that it came from, walled off from the binoculars and dry uniform. Despite there being another long silence between him and Shiv, England couldn't help but be mildly amused that Shiv was the second person this year to ask him about his love life, or lack thereof. And another soldier to boot. As he changed into the dry uniform, he noticed that Shiv actually kept still this time. Even when he was absolutely in the buff, not once did he see her trying to take a quick peek like she was earlier. After he had methodically put his spare uniform on, he turned around and walked towards the direction of where Bakhmut once stood.
"Your box is on the right," England ordered, "Get changed."
Shiv, for once, was quiet as she followed his orders and squelched over to her supply box. Despite the possibility that she was just trying to process how a man could go over a century without giving in to carnal desire, England welcomed the silence before retrieving his binoculars to focus on the real objective. Through the binoculars, he observed the still-smoking remains of the city. Skeletal buildings, craters carved into the streets, and corpses old and new scattered everywhere. It looked just like how it did in the pictures. Near the riverbanks, he saw the compound Averina and her cult were holed up in. Not that it was hard to find. Even if they had rotten away and crows were pecking away at them, England could still recognize the heads on spikes surrounding the perimeter. Alongside the rotting heads were what England assumed were the automated defences Moore had informed him about. Judging from their haphazard shape, it was safe to assume they were cobbled together from the drones sent to end Averina on her former country's orders. Slowly, he put his binoculars in one of the pockets of his coat.
When he turned around, his breath hitched.
Standing where Shiv had been was a figure clad in Russian fatigues with a medic's armband stark against the uniform. His heart kicked against his ribs. Instinct took over before he could think, his hand shot to his sidearm, the barrel snapping up to meet the intruder's head.
"Jesus Christ, Major!" the medic exclaimed in a familiar Irish brogue before taking off her helmet and balaclava, "It's me! Shiv!"
England breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed his arm. Not just because he wasn't being snuck on by the enemy but because he had confirmation that Shiv was human. While he saw Shiv's eyes through the balaclava on her previous uniform, this was the first time he had seen the rest of her face.. She had ginger hair cut into a bob and freckles dotting her relatively youthful face.
"First..." England said as he steadied himself, "Don't blaspheme. Second...For someone with a doctorate in psychiatry, you should know better than to sneak up on a soldier with...what do they call shell-shock again these days?
"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Shiv replied, "Or PTSD for short."
"Yes...that...." England continued, "You shouldn't sneak up on a soldier with...you know...dressed as the enemy."
"I was going to mention it but then you put a gun to my head," Shiv dryly retorted.
England holstered his gun, not saying a word before moving forward towards the compound. While it did nag at him that Moore's contact within Averina's circle managed to sneak in a spare uniform just like his old one but resorted to lending Shiv a Russian medic uniform instead of a spare ARW uniform, he pushed such concerns aside to focus on the mission. After all, Shiv would need the disguise more than he does. As he slid down the treeline, Shiv made sure to follow suit, looking around for any signs of movement in the desolate landscape as she did so.
"For a man called Tom, you're not one for peeping," Shiv quipped.
"Technically, I was peeping," England said as he took out his binoculars, "I was using these to observe enemy territory."
"And was the enemy naked?" Shiv dryly asked "Or at the very least in their pants."
"Thankfully, no," England replied.
"Then it's not peeping," Shiv retorted.
England shook his head as he moved forward. The wind howled through the skeletal remains of Bakhmut as the two soldiers snuck through, carrying the scent of scorched earth and decayed flesh. The crumbling city was eerily quiet, save for the occasional gust rattling loose debris and the careful but not silent footfalls from Shiv. England could tell she lacked his experience in infiltration. That or she wanted him to know she was there as a subtle reminder that he wasn't alone. The crows pecking away at the rotten heads flew away as the compound loomed ahead. Amidst the ever-watchful automated defences were sentries on patrol, moving with a sluggish rhythm that indicated they were exhausted. Not that England could blame them. He had seen boys in the trenches that hadn't slept in days, which had effected their performance on the field. He signalled to Shiv to hide behind the wall of a long-destroyed building before following her.
"Automated defences are crude but functional," England whispered to Shiv, "No heavy armour nor weapon units. Guards are barely alert. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Depends," Shiv replied, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking those turrets wouldn't react to anyone in Russian uniform," England replied, "You can walk past them, sneak behind the guards and knock them out before throwing me one of their assault rifles. Then I take out the turrets with the rifle and we can enter the compound."
Shiv nodded, "Sounds like a plan. But wouldn't it make much more sense for me to scout the inside of the compound for Knight before you start pumpin' the turrets full o' lead?"
England put his hand to his mouth in thought, "Hmm. Yes, that would."
After going over the details of the plan, England signalled at Shiv to move out before him. His hand carefully hovered over the pocket containing his pistol, both to keep him grounded and to make it easier for him to grab it should the need arise. The automated turrets did not react to Shiv, confirming England's suspicion that their IFF system was still set to only recognize the uniform Shiv wore. The guards barely spared her a glance, their exhaustion overriding their suspicion. England noted how her body language shifted. Her usual casual gait stiffened into something more disciplined, her hands moving with the practiced efficiency of a field medic as she adjusted the pack at her side. She was selling the disguise well enough. She paused briefly before approaching the nearest guard. whispering something to him in Russian. The guard scoffed, shaking his head, clearly dismissing her. England couldn't make out what she had said but Shiv had already slipped behind him. In one smooth motion, she struck the back of his neck. The man crumpled without a sound. Swiftly, she grabbed his rifle and slung it over her shoulder before moving back toward England's position, handing him the rifle and walking back to the entrance. England waited as Shiv scouted out the compound. Surprisingly, it only took twelve seconds for her walk in then walk back out before contacting him on her handheld radio.
"This is Shiv," Shiv whispered into her radio, "Come in, over."
England pulled the handheld radio from his pocket, "Shiv, this is Stafford. Reading you loud and clear. Report your reconnaissance. Over."
"Roger that, I have good news and bad news," Shiv explained, "The bad news you'll have to rethink shootin' those turrets. But the good news is everyone in there is fast asleep. Over."
"Shiv, Stafford. Roger," England spoke professionally into the radio, "Status of Rhys Knight? Over."
"Roger," Shiv replied, "Found him in a cage with two Alsatians that are starin' at me. Over."
England rolled his eyes, "Copy that. If there are a pair of dogs looking at you, then clearly not every hostile is asleep. Over."
"I'm sorry, every human's asleep," Shiv sarcastically responded before shifting back to her usual chipper tone, "But fair point about the dags. Over."
"Shiv, Stafford. How good are you at disabling turrets?" England asked, "Over."
"I carve up lads fer a livin'," Shiv cheekily replied, "Sometimes put 'em back together if they've been good. With respect, sir, a turret's a piece o' piss. Over."
Shiv took out a scalpel and opened a panel on one of the turrets. With surgical precision, she cut the wire that England assumed was connected to the turret's power source before moving towards the other turret and doing the same.
"Turrets are neutralized," Shiv whispered into her handheld radio, "You're good to go. Over."
"Copy that," England responded, "Moving in. Out."
England carefully maneuvered his way to the entrance of the compound, keeping his nose out for the scent of anti-personnel mines as he did so. As he entered, he could make out the scattered gear, askew boots and empty vodka bottles, and rows of makeshift cots occupied by unconscious soldiers, including Averina herself. She looked different from the pictures England saw in the dossiers. Her ashen hair had grown from her initial pixie cut into something wilder but still boyishly short, her bare arms and feet were wrapped in bloodied bandages, and her armour had been disposed of in favour of cargo trousers and a black T-shirt with a Z-shaped symbol and the letters "#мненестыдно" written under it in white. A crow was perched on her sleeping form, gazing at England. If not for the colonel's snoring, England would have assumed she was the crow's next meal. The smell of polyethylene and liquid explosive was stronger in here too. He carefully moved past the sleeping soldiers and followed Shiv to the location of Rhys Knight. Within the far corner, Knight sat inside the cage with the two Alsatians. His expression was unreadable but the two Alsatians were standing still with their ears pinned back and their teeth bared, growls emanating from their throats as they glared at the two intruders. With careful precision, Shiv took out a silenced pistol and pointed it at one of them.
"What are you doing?" England growled.
"It's a tranq gun, sir," Shiv replied in a hushed tone, "I'd rather not have John Wick after my arse."
Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger and a dart went into the dog's neck. One down, another to go.
"Who's John Wick?" England asked.
"You don't watch a lot of films, do you?" Shiv replied as she aimed at the other dog.
England rolled his eyes, keeping his rifle at the ready as Shiv fired the second dart. The remaining Alsatian let out a sharp growl before its muscles slackened, its eyes drooping as the sedative took effect. Within moments, both dogs were unconscious, their breathing slow but steady. Steadily, England slung the rifle over his soldier and approached the cage before grabbing two bars in each hand and pulling them in opposite directions.
"Hang on," Shiv said before entering the cage, "I gotta examine him."
Shiv knelt down and took out a small torch before flashing it into one of Knight's eyes.
"Please look at the light," Shiv said as he moved the light from eye-to-eye, "Now, can you tell me your name?"
"Yeah..." Knight weakly replied, "Rhys Knight...Junior."
"And your date of birth?" Shiv asked.
"April 24th," Knight answered, "1999."
"Ah, you're a 90s kid like me," Shiv jovially commented, "Though you're younger than me by about six years."
"Am I...dead?" Knight asked.
"No," Shiv replied, "You're alive and well."
Knight tilted his head, "Are you sure?...I'm seeing Freddie Mercury on your three."
Shiv looked to where England was standing before looking back at Knight and giving a quick chuckle and shaking her head.
"That's not Freddie Mercury," Shiv commented, "That's my C.O. But he fought in World War II so...you might be dead."
Knight wheezed out a weak chuckle in response to Shiv's comments.
"Are you experiencing any dizziness?" Shiv continued to inquire, "Any nausea? Blurry vision?"
Knight nodded.
"Right..." Shiv spoke as she carefully put away her light, "And do you have any food allergies?"
"Milk makes me bad but..." Knight replied before trailing off.
Shiv got up and walked towards England, "He's malnourished and showin' signs of a TBI. I'd get 'im an IV but I don't think the Ivans keep 'em lying around. Permission to look for rations, sir?"
England nodded, "Granted. But make it quick. You need to get him out of here soon."
"I think you mean 'we' need to get him out of here," Shiv pointed out.
"In any other circumstance, yes," England responded before turning to face the still-sleeping Steel Lady, "But I still have another mission objective to take care of."
Shiv turned around and started scouting the area, "Right. But don't you lose any limbs while I'm gone, right?"
A smirk crawled up England's lips, "I'll try not to."
As Shiv moved towards a crate that most likely contained rations, England glanced around the inside of the compound. The Russian soldiers were still fast asleep, but they wouldn't stay that way forever. The longer he and Shiv lingered with their target in tow, the more likely it was that one of them would wake up. And given how he was saving up his strength for taking out Averina, he had no interest in fighting his way out of the compound. Even if it would have made a good enough show for Moore. But as he looked around, he saw an unusual patch on the ground right next to the crate that Shiv was walking towards.
"Shiv, look out!" England exclaimed.
Before she could react, England tackled her out of the way without paying attention to his own surroundings. Boom. A loud ringing bellowed in England's ears as he and Shiv were blown back by a powerful yet warm force. He quickly rolled over and tried to get up only to immediately fall over. And that's when it hit him. He looked down. Sinew and muscle glistened where his right shin used to be, with the severed limb lying next to a recently-awoken soldier. While he currently could not hear himself, England could feel himself roaring in agony as he clutched at what was left of his leg. The fog that he had spent months managing returned with a furious vengeance as he watched himself thrash around, screaming like a wounded animal. He watched as Shiv pinned him down and injected something into his neck, her visage shifting between herself and Moore as England flashed between present and past. The sting of a tranquilizer in his neck felt consistent but wasn't enough to mask the pain of his missing leg. Not yet. He heard a deep yet feminine voice bark orders in Russian before seeing the blurred visage of Averina push Shiv out of the way and stare into his soul, her sunglasses making her eyes look like black holes. It did not improve when she took them off, exposing her icy-blue irises. He watched as she leaned forward, her eyes jittering in irregular patterns as she squinted at him, before she lifted up one of his hands and held it to her face. She pulled out her knife and looked down as she made a quick cut to the back of it, observing it with the same cold indifference the scientists testing ETT on him did all those years ago. And just like all those years ago, he felt the wound close up within seconds. Averina looked to face England once again, her eyes remained jittery but clinical while her mouth curled into an unnaturally-wide smile.
"It is you," Averina cooed as if England was her pet, "Hello, Tommy."
Averina placed England's hand back on the ground and put her sunglasses back on. Unaware of Shiv's true identity, she commanded her in Russian to continue fixing him up. It did not take long for darkness to claim him once again but at least it provided a respite from the pain.