For a few minutes in time, the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and brush provided the only sounds as Edward and Kari hiked along the uneven trail.

Edward broke the silence first with words about the past. A time that he vowed to never speak of, oaths made in the spill of arterial blood and exposed viscera. He closed his eyes for a moment and could almost taste the gritty air that had swirled around him and his unit as they had crouched in a bombed out building in the middle of Somalia.

During an insurgent attack, his commanding officer had been killed by a head shot and Edward had been promoted in the midst of the carnage. His unit had been planting detonating devices when the bullets had begun to rain down around them. A modified molitov cocktail ignited the area around him and his team, leaving them vulnerable.

Another member of the team Marcus, had been shot in the upper thigh and Edward had been able to drag him into the cover of a crumbling wall. It was then he realized that his fellow soldier had also caught an additional bullet to his lower abdomen. Edward could see the gaping entrance wound and exposed ropy loops of intestines.

Kari listened with rapt attention as she was careful to avoid tripping over exposed tree roots and loose rocks. She closed her hand around Edward's and listened as he talked about applying pressure on the actively bleeding gut shot and how he felt around for an exit wound. He discovered in the midst of the firefight that the bullet had not exited Marcus's body.

Edward explained that he got on the com radio and gave their coordinates as the rest of the remaining team fought back against the insurgents. Marcus retained consciousness and struggled to speak to Edward through the pain.

Edward continued telling Kari about hearing a confirmation for pick up from the helicopter pilot. He knew from his previous traversing of the surrounding area that the rendezvous point would be difficult to manage now that he was going to have to hustle the wounded out.

Kari watched Edward's expression go blank as he described the sound of gunfire lessening as the insurgents had taken cover by an overturned military tank. Edward had checked his firearms and knew that any shots he fired were going to have to be deliberate as well as successful in reaching their target.

Edward kept his hand pressed against the open wound in Marcus's abdominal cavity. The hot and sticky blood soaked into his fatigues and reminded him that the softness under his hand was the delicate tissue of Marcus's digestive organs.

"Edward?," Marcus said with some amount of strength still. "If I make it back, don't let me live like an invalid in a hospital bed for the rest of my life," he had started. Edward let him continue. "I don't want to shit into a goddamn bag the rest of my life and it seems right now, that it's a distinct possibility," Marcus said and actually managed a smirk despite the surroundings.

Edward nodded, "I will personally get you to the hospital."

Edward trailed off and walked a few steps next to Kari as he got lost deeper in his wash of memories. She squeezed his hand a few times until he looked over at her, his vision seeming to clear.

Edward managed a chuckle as he recounted Marcus taking a deep breath and coughing sharply. "Hospital my pink ass, it's a tent in the middle of this shit hole," he had said as he closed his eyes.

Edward told Kari how he had then shifted from his position without taking pressure off of Marcus's abdomen when a sudden shadow crossed outside their hiding spot. He had his M-9 out and aimed when the shadow became a man in identical fatigues like the ones him and Marcus were wearing.

Edward had lowered his gun when he saw that it was Clay Adams III, a first class petty officer. Adams was also a medic and from a long line of career Navy men. He had quickly acknowledged Edward and got to work on a makeshift pressure bandage for Marcus's midsection. Adams applied a clean gauze dressing and secured it with a long roll of tubular gauze. He also assessed the bullet to Marcus's thigh and saw that it had been a glancing hit and only soft tissue had been affected.

Adams pressed two fingers to Marcus's carotid artery and counted the heartbeats to himself. He had then looked over at Edward who was gripping one of Marcus's hands.

"Sir?," Adams asked hesitantly after he had also checked for the presence of a femoral arterial pulse.

Edward let go of Marcus's hand and looked at the young officer, "let's get him the help he needs." He had then added, "we are low on ammo. Make your shots count, head or heart."

Edward glanced over at Kari and deliberately left out recounting Adams enthusiastic, "yes sir." He had replied with delicious anticipation. Adams and his father and so forth, all had a love affair with the art of killing and often post mortem dismemberment. His father always joked that he got to fulfill his deepest desires while being inundated in firefight in a combat situation.

Unlike his father, Adams the third, was struggling to keep his kills contained to the battlefield. If she had been able to speak, the dead prostitute from D.C. who he had picked up for some fun, would have testified to his homicidal tendencies. She had gotten into Adams's car the night before he was deployed and ended up finding a final resting place at the bottom of an olive green dumpster outside a 24/7 fast food chain.

Adams felt a twinge in his groin as he thought of the lock of her hair that was in his foot locker back at base camp. He suppressed a shiver as he further thought of his climax, long after the hooker had stopped breathing. Her body had remained warm from her residual core temperature long after her demise.

Edward and Adams each checked their gun magazines and after an updated ETA from the helicopter pilot, they each lifted Marcus on either side and slowly made their way to the rendezvous point. Edward had shouldered a lot of the weight as they stealthily kept cover while moving to the pick up point. A bullet hit the ground next to Adams foot as they crossed a small clearing and huddled in the partially bombed out remains of a storage bunker.

Edward described to Kari the faint sound of the approaching helicopter as he had strained his ears. He had then turned to Adams, "you will get him to the rendezvous point. I'll provide cover," he said seeing how pale Marcus was becoming as the minutes ticked by.

Kari watched Edward's eyes scan the trees as though he was expecting a sudden sand storm to rain down on them. Edward walked to the edge of a small stream as he recalled what happened next.

"I'll be right behind you," Edward had said and then added with a sardonic smile. "I just gotta leave a calling card." Adams momentary confusion turned to fiery emerald envy when Edward had pulled out a cache of percussion grenades. He shot a backwards glance over his shoulder as Edward checked the backup detonation fuses.

Marcus let out a weak moan as Adams jostled him to the cover of some brush. Edward picked up a few stones from the creek bed as he described the growing sound of the approaching helicopter. Adams had looked back to where Edward was still hidden. He thought if a genie appeared at that moment with three wishes, the first would be to switch places with Edward so he could throw the grenades that detonated on impact. A small smile played over Adams lips as he thought about what he would he would do with the other two remaining wishes.

Edward had waited until Adams had moved with Marcus from the cover of brush and closed the distance to the rendezvous point, before he moved. He told Kari how he had to fire at an insurgent who chose to move out of cover briefly in an attempt to hit Adams with his M16. Edward had set his sites on the shooter and the nameless man appeared through the scope of his rifle, the cross hairs settling in the middle of the enemy's face. Edward had pulled the trigger and watched the insurgent's face implode from the hollow point bullet.

Edward paused to explain that he customarily loaded each bullet to max capacity and with the fired round moving more than 2,500 feet per second, he effectively obliterated all signs of life from the shooter. Edward had put aside the rifle and lobbed two grenades in the direction of the fallen insurgent. He had heard a frantic shout and then all sounds ceased except for the two distinct explosions from the grenades as they detonated upon impact.

Edward had then aimed the rifle and swept side to side looking for evidence of any remaining life. The billowing cloud from the explosion obscured visibility and he found himself squinting through the sand filled wind that washed over and accosted him. Edward had three more grenades at his disposal and quickly maneuvered closer to the pick up point, as he could now see the helicopter. He pulled a grenade loose and examined the detonation fuse.

Edward's memory was so strong that he looked down at his hand that wasn't closed around Kari's to look for the dried and congealed blood under his fingernails. He closed his eyes and could still recall the heady, metallic scent of blood in his nose. He told Kari in a quiet voice that each inhale had been composed of a mixture of sand, blood and death.

Edward sat down on a large flat rock and tugged Kari down to join him. As she settled next to him on the smooth surface of the stone, he recounted how he had carefully made his way to the same brush that had concealed Adams and Marcus. From his vantage point, he described seeing them at the pickup point. They were partially protected by the oxidized hood of a car that was part of a larger pile of discarded rebar and a stained mattress.

Adams kept one eye out for any movement behind Edward, he had an almost tangible itch to disarticulate someone. He slid the discarded mattress slightly off the pile so that he could let Marcus lean against it. Adams trained his assault rifle at the surrounding area in search of any movement.

Once Edward was satisfied with the grenades and knew exactly how many bullets remained in his possession, he had briefly studied the stretch of sand that stood between him and the approaching helicopter's landing zone. He calculated how many steps he would need to take and estimated how many seconds he would be exposed while crossing the seemingly looming chasm. Edward had picked up a fistful of sand and let it fall through his fingers. He reminded himself as he moved from his shelter, to be demonstrative of why he had been nicknamed the right hand of god.

An eerie calm fell over Edward as he moved from his shelter and never lost sight of the rendezvous point. He could see Adams and his rifle trained on the surrounding area and overturned burning vehicles. A single bullet hit the sand in front of Edward's booted foot and as he dived into a shallow ditch, Adams lined up his sites over the shooter and depressed the trigger. He watched the insurgents chest open and blossom like a lush and juicy pomegranate. Except instead of swollen seeds spewing forth their sweet blood, it was singed lung tissue and a bleeding aorta. Adams watched with a jolt of excitement as his follow up shot hit the falling man in the neck, a through and through shot that just reiterated the status of clinical death.

The shallow ditch that Edward had dived into ran almost the entire way to where the helicopter was now landing and he was able to quickly crawl across the hot sand as Adams provided cover for the last few yards. No more bullets rained down and Edward settled next to Marcus's unconscious form as the helicopter landed, causing the sand to swirl in the air and fill their mouths.

Both men spit out grains of sand as they loaded Marcus in the helicopter, they both trained their rifles on the ground as they climbed higher into the air and headed to the makeshift hospital. Throughout the helicopter ride and subsequent jostling to the operating room table, Marcus was in and out of consciousness.

Edward watched the Naval field surgeon wash his hands and get into a sterile gown and gloves as the other operating room staff cut away Marcus's clothes and began to prep his mottled flesh with an iodine surgical prep.

Edward walked away to find Adams after Marcus was anesthetized. He found Adams in a nearby exam room being checked out by a different doctor. He had some bruising from leaping out of the way of the firefight but was otherwise unscathed. The doctor left after issuing him an all clear medical report.

Adams hopped off the table and nodded at Edward. The two of them walked out of the exam room and outside so Adams could light up a cigarette. As he took a deep drag he studied the barren landscape.

"Thank you for your fine performance today," Edward said after Adams exhaled a lungful of smoke and nodded thoughtfully, "Anything to rid the world of these undeserving and unrepentant fucks, sir," he had said with conviction and then quickly asked. "Will Marcus be okay?"

Edward slipped his arm down to rest around Kari's waist as he pulled her closer to his warm side. He told her how he had looked back at the makeshift surgical suite where Marcus currently was before he answered. "I honestly don't know. Dr. Thornton is one of the best field surgeons, hopefully we got him here soon enough."

Adams nodded again and ground out his cigarette with the toe of his leather boot. "I gotta get outta here for a while," Adams had said before adding. "Clear my head," he said flicking his lighter a couple of times in what may have been nervousness or anticipation.

He didn't wait for a response, he just flicked a quick salute and turned on his heels.

Edward had watched him walk away, any other moment he might have followed Adams. Right now however with the knowledge of Marcus on the operating room table clinging to life, was enough for him to say live and let live.

The Naval surgeon Jonathan Baston found Edward after he had stripped away his bloody gown and gloves and changed into a clean pair of surgical scrubs. Dr. Baston's face was unreadable as he approached, he had eyes the color of a summer sky and his smooth skin made Edward guess his age anywhere from 36 to 50. Dr. Baston extended his hand with its clean and filed fingernails as he started to explain Marcus's surgery and prognosis.

"I was able to repair the damage sustained to his colon without having to divert to a colostomy and we are giving him a transfusion to replace the heavy blood loss. He's still coming out of anesthesia, after he has been stable a couple hours you can see him."

The relief must have been apparent on his face because Dr. Batson patted him on the shoulder before he turned to leave and left Edward with a few parting words about how provided there were no secondary infections Marcus should make a full recovery. The surgeon had added he would have a prominent scar on his midsection but that sort of comes with the territory of being in an area where everyone sees you as the banality of evil and wants to kill you.

Edward told her how he had laid down on an empty gurney and caught a couple hours of sleep until one of the medical staff said that he could see Marcus. As he spoke Kari leaned against him and pressed her face into the curve of his neck. As she let her lips touch the smooth skin over his pulse, across the country Mitch was looking through Greg's desktop calendar and making notes to include in his later report.

Mitch glanced down at his grey watch with its Kevlar band as he replaced all the files as he had found them. He locked the door to the small room and moved down the hall to the master bedroom that Greg shared with his wife.

Mitch scanned the room, the taupe duvet cover was adorned with accents in a sunny yellow. The matching bed skirt kissed the plush fibers of the carpet. Mitch crossed the room and flicked on the light in the adjoining bathroom.

As Mitch was examining the contents of the glass medicine cabinet, Greg leaned back in his office chair and perused the secure webpage for Rose. He scrolled through the menu of delectable women from all over the world and the delicious services they offered.

Greg had a slush fund set-up that paid for all of his extracurricular deviant activities. He glanced at an identical desk calendar he had at the office and felt a dizzying rush when he read his departure date for Europe in a month. Greg turned his attention back to the menu and clicked on the available women and their profiles.

Each profile featured several illicit photos as well as a very detailed price list. Greg clicked on Reservations, and the profile of a slender brunette popped up on the screen. He clicked each image of the woman who hailed from Dusseldorf, each photo revealed more flesh but not enough to satisfy his appetite. Just enough to tease his cock to life and he slid a hand to cup his groin as he dialed a long phone number from memory and adjusted his hands free headset while the call connected.

"Discreet Desires, how may we be of service?," came the low female voice.

Greg knew the routine and started reading his credit card number to the operator. After his payment was authorized he was routed to a middle-aged housewife in Los Angeles who had the voice of a goddess.

"Hi there, this is Gina. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?," the sultry voice answered.

Greg ignored her question, "your name isn't Gina. It's Kari," he said as he closed his eyes and unzipped his pants.