Yes

"Get him!" a man shouted in French.

The pale man dodged through the back gate of the yard, chugging the beer in his hand as fast as he could. He realized after a moment his life was more important than the alcohol, and with one last swig tossed it aside. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he slid behind a wall and pulled a CZ-52 out of his jean jacket. Just as he did two men suddenly came running by. He counted two seconds, then jumped out into the alley, glancing back the way they had come to ensure they were alone.

"Hey!" he cried. They whipped around. One of the men had the good sense to bring his gun around as he turned. He was the first one the man shot. No sense in letting the smart one get the drop on him, and he only needed one mouth; one mouth would talk easier if the other was shut permanently.

"Body armor yah?" the one holding on him said, and he fired. Two 7.62mm rounds went clean through the man's vest, and one caught him in the eye. A halo of blood, and he slumped down, an arrogant expression still on his face.

phone

"You're serious?" Shawna, my cousin, said. "He's in Africa? How did he get there?"

Brad shrugged and stirred his coffee. The barista had slopped it together in a hurry, and the leaf she had tried to create in the froth was misshapen. He hated Starbucks; more because he thought society currently was shifting towards that stance of abstract distrust of corporations that it takes from time when it gets bored than because he actually disliked their coffee. Brad liked Starbucks coffee.

Shawna hated it which is why Brad arranged to meet her there. He loved watching her community-college, populist contempt boil over into her attitude.

"Jesus, that idiot," she mumbled. "Is this because of that one time..?"

"Maybe," Brad said. He raised his eyebrows without looking up from his coffee. "All I know is, he's over there right now. And taking satellite phones off dead guys."

"Jesus."

---

mssgheadng-
to:bradrome@[XXXXXX]
frm:tomtom@[XXXXXX]
Brad,

There's a swamp ahead of us. Not water, but morals. Ethics. We have to do what we need to do to accomplish what we need to accomplish. The means are easily forgotten if the ends are great enough.

Gone, gone, baby it's all gone

Author's note: This is a separate story from the previous two posts.

---

His phone rang. He picked it up, saw an unknown carrier message, and almost killed the call. He took a sip of his coffee, then answered it anyways.

"This is Brad."

"Brad, it's Tom!"

"Who? Shit, Tom? I can barely hear you."

"I know, this fucker's satellite phone is a piece of shit."

"Where the hell are you?"

"Tanroon, it's a small city-state just inside Somalia."

Brad choked on his coffee. "What the fuck are you doing there?" he shouted.

"I can't hear you man, this thing is a piece of shit. I should have left it on the asshole's body. Oh shit; gotta go, there's an air strike coming."