La Vie En Rose
This is dedicated to Dongo, a very patient fox.
La Vie En Rose
Silver lay inside the hide they had constructed during the night, observing the target area through powerful binoculars. Beside him, the specialist the CIA had provided was scanning the same area through the scope of his modified .50 calibre long range sniper rifle. He only scanned intermittently, letting his eye rest at regular intervals. It was Silver's job to spot and identify the target. It was the specialist's job to hit it on command.
Silver did not mind being the spotter on this task. The Foreign Operations eXecutive agent was a good shot, phenomenal when shooting instinctively at short range, but this job was special. The target was an arms dealer, known only as Yakov, who would be personally demonstrating his air-to-air missiles to the Al Qaida buyers. Intelligence had located the test site. Terrain analysis had found a line of sight outside the security perimeter. Unfortunately the nearest safe spot was over two thousand metres away. Only a handful of snipers, with their personally modified rifles, could make such a shot. Silver was not one of them, but Dongo Fett was.
During the night they had built the hide, a covered shooting position with a slit to fire out of. The opening was wide enough to cover a wide arc in the target zone, but low enough to keep the sun from getting inside where it may reflect of a lens or illuminate movement. Silver had snuck out before first light to place tufts of fur, long-leafed plants and bits of local cloth along the line of sight as wind indicators. Now they were waiting patiently.
One good thing about extreme range sniping, you could pass the time talking. In low tones, certainly, but it was better than having to use hand signals for everything. So far, however, Fett was not proving to be much of a conversationalist. Silver had tried all of the standard ice-breakers: where are you from, what teams do you cheer for, where did you learn to shoot, but the taciturn fox answered in monosyllables.
Silver glanced over at the red and black fox. He had read the file that the CIA had sent over. Dongo Fett's past was largely a mystery. He was an independent operator. There was some interesting physical data though. In the days before biometrics, security officers tended to include physical descriptions, scars, tattoos, and other distinctive features, to prevent impostors from infiltrating. The CIA liaison had included Fett's; probably only to peak Silver's curiosity. This fox would be easy it identify in a line-up, thought Silver, or a shower room. He couldn't resist any longer, he had to ask.
"I hear that you have two cocks Fett" Silver said as casually as he could.
"That's right." The American answered matter-of-factly.
"They both work?" Curiosity was creeping into Silver's voice.
"Yep."
"Both stick straight up or what?"
Fett took his eye from the rifle's scope and gave Silver a puzzled look. "What are you trying to say?"
"Well, you know." Silver shrugged. "Do they both swing the same way? Do they both salute for the same flag?"
"Are you asking if I've got a straight cock and a gay cock?"
"No. Well ... yeah."
"That's a fairly personal question." Dongo Fett made a point of pulling the scope to his eye and scanning the target area again.
"It's just that I tend run into some strange characters." Silver went back to scanning but continued voicing his concerns. "You're not one of those evil half-gay schizos, are you Fett? Not that I care. It's a new world, right to be free and all that. It's just that the last person I met with two cocks tried to kill me unexpectedly."
"Your partner tried to kill you?"
"No. He was scientist that wanted to put a chemical in the water supply that would make everyone bisexual and adore him so he could rule the world. I ran into him last year, just after dealing with a stunted yellow monkey that was altering the DNA of the world's leaders, but before meeting a crazed aardvark that was going to drill to the earth's core to drain the oceans and re-establish Atlantis."
"You ever get assigned to ordinary cases?"
"Nah, I always end up with the weirdoes. Seems that everyone has a master plan to take over the world some days."
Suddenly, there was a loud "˜ping', followed immediately by a supersonic "˜crack' and the "˜zing' of a ricochet. Silver ducked instinctively, even though he knew that if he had heard the shot it was already too late. He quickly brought the binoculars up again, searching for a puff of smoke or movement along the line of sight. By the sound it had been a smaller calibre rifle than Fett's. That meant that enemy sniper was probably along their line of sight and within a thousand meters. The Russian must have anticipated an assassination attempt. A second shot rang out, but it did not come anywhere near them. Strange.
"You see anything Fett?"
Silver got only a grunt in return. He looked to the American. The younger fox was slumped on the big .50 cal, head down beside the stock away from Silver. A coppery odour drifted over. Blood.
Silver grabbed Fett's shoulder and pulled him over. Fett rolled limply onto his back and the sniper rifle fell over on its side. Silver could see what had happened now. The bullet had struck the edge of the scope, driving it back into Fett's eye, which was swollen shut and turning black. The ricochet had passed through the fox's upper left arm before exiting the back of the hide. Unfortunately it had taken quite a bit of flesh and bone with it. Blood squirted from a torn artery in time with the beating of the American's heart.
Silver moved automatically, dragging the young fox further back into the shadows and reaching for the field dressing on his belt at the same time. As he worked to save the sniper's life he could not help wondering why the second shot had not finished them off.
"H ... hold ..."
"That's right, Dongo. Hold on. I'll get you out of here." Silver hoped that he sounded convincing. He wasn't even certain that he could get himself out of there, let alone the wounded American.
"N ... no ... hold me ... don't want ... t ... to die ... alone."
"You are not going to die, and we need to get moving if we want to get out of here. Silver tightened the tourniquet he had put on Fett's upper arm and prayed that it would hold. He prepared to drag the dead weight of the CIA contractor out the back of the hide.
"Don ... don't bullshit ... me ... hold me ... please."
Silver already had his arms around the younger fox's chest to drag him out the back of the hide. He squatted instead and pulled the American against him. He sat perfectly still, cradling his wounded comrade. Inside his mind was raging. Get out! It screamed at him. _ Leave the yank, he's a goner anyway!_ But Silver stayed until he felt the body go limp. He felt Fett's carotid artery for a pulse and felt only one weak beat in ten seconds.
Too much time had passed. The rival sniper would have had time to reposition and escape was probably impossible now. Silver decided to do something unexpected. He gently laid Fett's body down beside his rifle. He put the .50 cal back up on its tripod and put Fett's floppy hat on top of the scope to make it look like the weapon was still operational. Instead of sliding out the exit at the back he grabbed his assault rifle and dove through the slit at the front.
Almost immediately a shot rang out, closely followed by another. A bullet sent chips of rock flying into Silver's side. Close, but where had the second shot gone? He didn't feel any impact. Hope it didn't go into Dongo Fett, he thought.
Silver had landed in a hollow of ground just in front of their hide. From there he could move downhill along the line of sight, toward the other sniper. Silver was not dressed for stalking. He would have to stick to the dead ground, but he could move quicker, with no fear of becoming tangled at an awkward moment. Hopefully the opponent would assume that he was trying to get away and move closer. It would become very interesting when they met in the middle.
Silver was carrying a simple AK-47. It was sturdy, reliable and accurate enough at short ranges. The other sniper would be wearing a gilly suit and carrying a much more delicate weapon. The duel would go to whoever could get the first accurate shot off. Getting within a couple of hundred metres of the enemy sniper would give Silver the advantage. He hoped he could do it. He was betting his life on it.
* * * * * * * *
Silver made his way down to where he expected to meet the other sniper. Occasionally he would ease his head up over a ridge, keeping his ears pressed flat back along his head. So far no one had tried to shoot it off. When he peeked he could see that the Afghan rebels were still setting up for the expected arrival of the Russian arms dealer. It looked like they intended to go through with the meeting as soon as he was taken care off. Too bad the .50 was out of commission, he mused, I'll never get close enough to use the AK on him.
Silver came to a notch in a ridge about five hundred meters below their hide. As he recalled from his earlier reconnaissance, there was a bowl-shaped hollow just beyond it. They had considered it but decided that it was too close to the security perimeter for safety.
Silver put the assault rifle down and pulled his Glock before he peeked into the hollow. He was safe from anything on the other side, but if the enemy sniper had made it this far he could be coming up the other side. The opponent would have trouble climbing and holding a sniper rifle at the same time so speed was needed over accuracy in this case. The Glock was good for up to fifty meters in Silver's paws.
There was no sign of anyone moving up toward him. He checked the ridge opposite carefully, in case the other was set up over there, waiting for Silver to stick more of his head up. At first he saw nothing, them a movement caught his eye.
There was someone set up to shoot on the other edge of the bowl, but they were aiming downhill, into the target area. The movement Silver had seen was the head of the sniper turning to check behind him. As expected, the gunman wore a gilly suit that closely matched the colour and texture of the local ground. It was the unnatural movement that had given them away. Now that he had spotted the sniper he could make out more details.
The other sniper was a fox also, a little smaller than Silver and slimmer. He could not make out the breed or markings though the camouflage. It was alternating between scanning the target area through the scope of its rifle and scanning the surrounding territory by eye. As he watched, the sniper scuttled back a few feet and moved a third of the way around the bowl before sneaking up to the edge again. He must not know which direction I went, Silver thought, or which one I'm coming from.
Despite the scrim that broke up its outline, Silver recognized the rifle the sniper was holding. It was an Accuracy International AWSM-F. It chambered the .338 Lapua Magnum round and had an effective range of over fourteen hundred meters. About the distance from here to the target area he realized. Maybe there was still a chance of taking out the main target! If he could only get his paws on that rifle.
He wondered how the sniper below him had gotten one. The only organizations that used it were the Russian military's Alpha Group, a counter terrorism unit, and the SOBR, the Interior Ministry's anti-criminal rapid reaction commando squad. Did the arms dealer's influence stretch that far?
From this position, with the AWSM, a good sniper could hit the target if he was lucky. On the other paw, it was a perfect spot to watch for other snipers from. Anyone with a similar rifle or a .50 like Fett's would be covered. Even a twenty millimetre on a tripod up on the ridge would be in range. Personally, Silver would have set up another four hundred meters further down, where there was more dead ground for moving around in, but to each his own.
Now, how to get that gun? He had not brought his silencer with him and a shot would alert the rebels down below. If their fellow did not give the all-clear signal they would either send up an assault team or cancel the meeting. As he worked different scenarios around in his head the sniper changed position again. This time stopping just out of sight somewhere below Silver. Silver decided to seize the opportunity, or rather, to seize the sniper. He holstered his Glock in a flash and a killing knife appeared in his paw just as quickly. He crouched down below the ridge and waited.
As he expected, the muzzle of the sniper rifle appeared almost directly above Silver's head. More of the weapon appeared as the sniper settled into a firing position. Once the gun had ceased to move Silver reversed the knife, tensed his muscles, flexed his free paw ... and leapt.
Silver jammed the blade of the knife into the rifle's trigger guard to prevent it from firing. The sniper's digit would be off the trigger with no target in sight so there was nothing to get in the blade's way. Silver hauled downwards on the rifle. At the same time he grabbed the collar of the sniper's camouflage jacket with his other paw and pulled. The sniper was lighter than he had expected, and came over the edge fast, arms flailing.
The two of them tumbled down the short slope. Prepared for that possibility, Silver spun the sniper onto his back and rode him to the bottom. The rifle skittered away in the process. Silver had a second knife ready as they came to a jarring stop at the base of the slope. He ripped the gilly suit away from the stunned sniper's chest to clear the target area, grabbed a paw full of flesh, raised his arm to strike, and ... a paw full of flesh?
Silver froze, knife raised, staring down at the bare-chested vixen whose breast he had grabbed.
Silver was frozen, memories flooding in. Other than her face, which was coloured with camouflage paint, her fur was brilliant red and pure white. The only other vixen he knew with fur so bright had been his mentor and lover, the senior agent codenamed Scarlet. Laying on her back, eyes closed, tongue lolling, Silvers paw on her breast, it was just like the usual conclusion to the stalking game Scarlet and Silver used to play.
* * * * * * * *
Scarlet had introduced Silver to the game shortly after learning that he had spent several years in army reconnaissance before joining FOX. The game was simple. Pick a patch of forest and pick a date. From dawn to dusk the object was to find the other and ambush them before they did the same to you. You could go in anytime during the night and make whatever preparation you wanted. Both carried air guns loaded with paint pellets. They stung, but they did not penetrate. If you saw the other before they tackled you, you could shot them and they had to back off and try again, but only if you hit them. You had to wrestle the other to submission in order to win. That was the fun part, she said.
The first time they played it Silver expected to win. He had years of experience doing this after all. But Scarlet had dropped on him from a tree early in the morning and put an unbreakable headlock on him. She had forced him into zap-strap handcuffs and disarmed him, removing most of his clothes in the search.
"Okay. You win." Silver told her, self disgust for his poor performance in his voice. "What do we do now? Start again?"
"Oh no." the older vixen purred as she undid the web belt on her camouflage pants and unbuttoned the fly. "The loser becomes the winner's slave until sundown. Didn't I mention that?"
Scarlet pulled the wide-legged pants off over her boots and opened the front of her jacket. Her fur underneath was brilliant red on the sides, white as fresh snow on her chest and thighs; except for a heart-shaped patch of red just above her pubic area. Silver could see it because she had only a tiny thong on under her field gear. She had omitted a bra also, and her pink nipples were already poking up from the silky fur of her breasts.
Scarlet reached up one sleeve and produced a Gerber fighting knife. She sighed as she ran the flat of the razor sharp blade over one nipple and down her belly. She slipped the tip under the spaghetti-thin strap of the thong and with a soft cry sliced it cleanly. She did the same to the other strap. The material of the thong drooped down, held between her legs by the pressure of her thighs. She shifted her weight and parted her legs. The thong dropped to the ground between her boots.
Scarlet stepped closer to where Silver knelt in the dirt and the remnants of last year's leaves. Silver could smell her excitement already and his body reacted. The tip of his cock rose to greet her. She ignored it. Instead, she caressed his ears, tickling the insides where she knew that he was particularly sensitive. For Silver, this was almost as good as sex itself, He closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure.
The smell of vixen in heat grew stronger and he felt something bump against his snout. He opened his eyes and had to refocus. The little red heart was right before his eyes. Just below it, the pink inner lips of her sex were starting to show.
Silver did not need an instruction manual to know what was expected of him. He leaned his head forward and nuzzled the opening with his snout. It was already moist. As he rubbed he felt it become warmer as the tissues swelled with blood. He could feel the same happening to him down below. The inner lips parted around his nose, and he traced the slit to its apex. There he found a hard button of flesh. He rubbed his nose against it and felt her shudder in response.
Silver stuck out his tongue. It encountered the meaty lips of her sex. Feeling around with the tip he found the fleshy inner lips and the slick, wet warm area between them. Keeping her clit against the top of his muzzle, he began to explore her. She tasted sweet, yet bitter, like a good dry Italian white wine. She was moist, and then wet, as he spread his saliva and the juices that oozed from her.
She continued to caress his ears, one paw on each, as he massaged her clit with his snout and lapped at her cunt. She called out his name and pulled him in tighter against her, almost cutting off his air when the tip of his snout disappeared into her dripping cavern. He responded with even more vigour, licking as deep as his tongue would penetrate, driving his muzzle deep between her legs. He was so hard now that it ached, but he knew that his relief would only come after hers.
Silver tilted his head back and let his tongue make contact with her clit for the first time. The touch sent a bolt of lightning through her. He flicked the tip back and forth across it for a while. Then he circled it, going deep to its base. He alternated between the two and he felt her juices flowing freely down the fur under his chin.
As her mons inflated it was becoming harder to keep in contact with her clit. She was taking little steps back to keep her balance and rising up on her toes, which didn't help either. With only his snout and tongue to work with he was forced to shuffle around on his knees to keep in contact. He had only the muscles in his back to call upon to increase the upward pressure on her clit. But soon he had her backed up against the tree she had jumped out of. With nowhere else to go and the tree to lean on she could bear down hard on his face as he lapped.
It did not take long after that. With Scarlet pressing down and Silver pushing up the elusive diamond of flesh was his to tease. Scarlet gasped and grabbed his ears, pulling him against her as she opened and released a flood of sizzling juices. Silver drank down all that he could catch. She shook and her knees collapsed from the intensity of her orgasm. Bearing her full weight on his chin, he chased the retreating clit with his tongue, refusing to stop until she had regained enough strength to stand again and pull his head away.
Silver expected Scarlet to release him at that point, so they could spend the rest of the day making love in the conventional manner. He was mistaken. He was a very sore fox by the time the early summer sun set.
Silver spent a few more afternoons with his snout buried in Scarlet's twat before he finally won. On that occasion he had tripped her from a hide and leapt onto her before she could bring the airgun around. They had wrestled on the dusty ground, knocking each other's weapons aside, ripping each other's clothing in their attempts to get a solid grip.
He had her on her back. Their jackets had been torn open. Scarlet's pants had been pulled down to her ankles when she had tried to shimmy away. Silver's belt had come loose in the fray and his trousers hung below his ass. She kicked at his crotch but only managed to hook a foot in his boxer shorts. They tore in two as he twisted away. Her habitual thong was long gone, abraded away on the rough ground. Forgetting that this was a game momentarily, Silver grabbed a rock with one paw and raised it up above his head. She gasped his name and he froze, remembering where he was.
He looked down and focused. His black and grey fur was almost as good camouflage as the clothes he wore, but her brilliant hues stood out in sharp contrast to the concealing paint she had applied to her face. He was kneeling between her legs. Her tail was off to one side and her knees were bent, exposing her gaping vagina below the red heart. He had one paw on her breast. The hardened nipple stuck out between two of his digits. His erection wobbled in the air above her sex, twitching occasionally as if it had caught her scent.
Without a word he dropped the rock and lowered his paw to his cock. He tilted it down and rubbed her opening to with its tip. A shift of her hips and the look in her eyes told him: slip it in, now. He did, and it slid into her until his balls rested on her buttocks and he could feel her clit against his pubic bone. Silver pulled back and pushed forward in time to an old Edith Piaf song in his head.
Quand elle me prend dans ses bras
Elle me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose
Silver's hips slammed against her at the end of each line. He had changed the gender to a male point of view. His slow-moving cock bumped along her clit as it pumped in and out of her. Silver squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to resist the urge to speed up to an early conclusion. He was singing under his breath. He had fallen into a pattern now. Hips swinging, lips moving, His left paw caressing her breast, his right held off to one side for balance.
Scarlet closed her eyes and panted with her tongue hanging out of her mouth as waves of pleasure coursed through her. She wanted them to come faster but the exquisite slowness of his movement within her was brining her to new heights of passion. She could hear him singing and recognized the song. She knew it well. She had introduced Silver to the tragic French chanteuse's music.
Silver looked down on her and watched his cock appearing and disappearing again inside her. He saw her head roll back and forth with her tongue hanging out and her eyes shut. He felt the nipple of her breast hard against the pad of his paw. He smelled the scent rising off of her as the pressure built in his balls ... the scent of ... cordite?
* * * * * * * *
The smell of modern gunpowder brought him abruptly back to reality. Siler suddenly realized that he was squeezing the enemy snipers breast rhythmically, and that he had an erection. He looked down at her face. She was no longer unconscious, in fact her eyes were wide and angry. Yes, he decided, she definitely looks pissed. Considering that he was about to plunge ten inches of cold rolled steel into her chest she should look scared, desperate or resigned, but definitely not pissed.
Silver shifted his paw from her breast, grabbing her forearm instead. It didn't help, she still looked mad. His raised arm was starting to ache and he knew that he should finish her now, but she looked so much like Scarlet.
"You fucking stupid idiot" she spat at him in Russian. Silver translated easily. He was functional in everyday Russian and a master with phrases like this.
"Fuck your mother." He replied with the colloquial expression that basically meant "˜hello' to the lower classes of the former Soviet Union. "What is your problem lady? You want to work for scum like Yakov you better be prepared to face the consequences."
"I don't work for Yakov you cretin. I'm with the SORB. I came to kill him."
Now Silver was confused. The SOBR was notionally a commando-style rapid reaction force, but a police force all the same. They had gone a little wild a few years back and were supposed to have been disbanded. He had heard rumours of their extracurricular activities, some proactive policing you might say, but nothing this ambitious. That they might make such an attempt made sense though, Yakov was an embarrassment that Prime Minister Putin would dearly love to be rid of. Her anger was very convincing, but why had she been shooting at them?
Silver searched her thoroughly for weapons before getting up. Her rifle was out of reach and they were still below the ridge so he could stand straight up without exposing himself to the terrorists gathered below. He lifted his hat up a few inches so that he could scratch the sweaty fur between his ears. As soon as he did a shot rang out and the floppy camouflaged hat was ripped from his paw. It landed on the ground by the Russian vixen. She picked it up and stuck one digit through the sizable hole the bullet had made.
"That," she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "is Yakov's sniper."
Silver suddenly realized why every second shot was nowhere near him. It had been this female shooting back at the arms dealer's sniper.
"Tell me what happened." He asked urgently.
"The first bullet passed right over my head." She began. "I thought that he was shooting at me. The smoke from his muzzle was almost in line with the target area so I fired back. He had already rolled away though. The second time he fired it was obvious that he was shooting at someone else. My spotter lifted his head to see what he was shooting at and his third round took my spotter out." She gestured to the back of the gully, at what looked like a pile of brush and rocks. Silver could see a paw sticking out from the spotter's gilly suit.
"He has been stalking me ever since. He probably thinks that he killed the two of you. I thought that he had, but my spotter's mistake made him aware of a second threat." The vixen frowned. "I am afraid that Yakov will not show until his sniper reports that all is clear. But I am reluctant to leave in case he does show. Failure is not an option for my group."
"Maybe if work together we can turn things around." Silver told her.
She looked him over. Her shrug said that she wasn't impressed, but that she would have to work with what she was given.
She stuck out a paw. "I am Yelena Nadezhda Diemchuk. Special officer with the Russian SOBR."
"Silver." Her name meant torch, he remembered from an old lesson. With such bright red fur it was easy to see why her parents had named her so.
"So, do you have a plan Yelena?"
* * * * * * * *
The plan was simple. Silver, wearing her spotter's ill-fitting gilly suit, would be the decoy. Yelena would be the counter-stalker. Yakov's sniper was sure to have the latest in communications gear. They had to capture that intact and try to convince whoever was on the other end that the threat had been neutralized. The only way to do that was to take him out at close range. That's why Silver needed to play cat and mouse with him, to draw him close to where Yelena could strike.
Other than being the bait Silver thought that it was a good plan. He suggested they reverse roles but Yelena reminded him that she had already been all over this area, without being spotted, and that SOBR paw-to-paw combat training was second to none. Silver would have argued about the SOBR training but she had a point about knowing the ground. She indicated the area where she would lie in wait, along the low ground that the other sniper was likely to follow in pursuit of Silver. She set off.
Silver needed to give her time to get in position before carefully exposing himself in a series of locations to draw the other into her. While he waited he cleaned her AWSM-F and inspected the .338 Lapua Magnum rounds. They had left Yelena's spotter in the open so the sniper would know that he got one half of the team. Silver would let Yakov's sniper see him with the rifle, to convince him that he was following the other half. Yelena would take him out with a shot to the head at arm's length, or preferably, with a knife. All that Silver had to do was stay alive long enough to give the rifle back to her if Yakov showed.
He listened for signs of the sniper's approach while his mind drifted. Yelena was so much like Scarlet had been twenty seven years ago. Not only in looks, and the feel of her breast, but in her attitude too. Had she given him a look too as she pulled her gilly suit over the exposed fur, just before heading off to the ambush? He wondered if she might have a little coloured tuft of fur, shaped like the flame of a torch perhaps, just above her pubes. He felt a twitch in his groin.
Silver shook his head to clear it. Have to concentrate on the job at hand, he told himself. But a small part of him still wondered ... when this is all over?
Enough time had passed for her to be in position. Silver began to move.
* * * * * * * *
Dongo Fett came to wondering where he was at first. He had been dreaming that he was in hell. It was hot and dark there, illuminated by the occasional burst of flame. He realized that he wasn't dreaming when the pain in his right eye struck. That's where the flashes of red were coming from. Damaged cones on the retina firing off randomly. He wondered if it had come detached when the scope was driven into his eye. He didn't dare open it to find out if it was still functional.
His left eye did not want to open either, but he forced it. He could make out the butt of his .50, and his floppy camouflage hat resting on it. He pulled the hat off and started checking his weapon automatically, before even checking himself. As his experienced paws felt it over for damage he looked around the hide and wondered where Silver was.
He completed the inventory and function tests on the rifle. The scope was ruined, but the weapon would still fire. He left the scope off and flipped up the iron sights. They were good up to 500 metres, maybe more with a little luck, but there was no way that he could take out the main target at two thousand with them. The best he could do was to shoot in Yakov's direction and hope to scare him off.
He checked himself. His right eye hurt like a son-of-a-bitch but he had a feeling that it was mostly the surrounding tissues that had been damaged by the ring of the scope. His left arm was numb, and there was a disturbing hollow area under the bandages where his bicep should be. He tried to wiggle his digits but they did not move. That was not a good sign.
Dongo dragged himself forward with his right arm, moving the .50 up each time to keep it close. It was his only defence. He had a pistol and a couple of knives but he doubted that he would be able to use them effectively in his condition. When he got to a position where he could look out on the target area and the ground between it and his hide he stopped. Shading his good eye with his wide-brimmed hat he surveyed the area.
What he saw startled him. Four hundred metres below him he saw a sniper coming his way. The sniper was wearing a gilly suit and carrying a rifle that Dongo did not recognize. If he continued coming in this direction he would find the hide and that would be the end of Dongo Fett!
Dongo adjusted the sights for three hundred metres. When the enemy got that close he would provide him with some much needed ventilation on such a hot day. It would be awkward, firing right-pawed but sighting with his left eye. He would probably get a cheek full of rifle and would have to set up again for a second shot, but at three hundred metres even a knick with a .50 cal round would knock down the target, and Dongo was certain that he could do better than a knick. He aimed for the centre of the sniper's chest and tracked him with the rifle as he approached.
Just short of three hundred metres the figure in the gilly suit stood up and looked back for an instant before ducking behind a rock. A shot rang out from somewhere below him, winging off the rock he had jumped behind. Fett shifted his eye, and caught a movement three hundred meters further down from his target. It was another sniper, stalking the first. What the hell was going on?
Dongo studied the two snipers as they stalked each other. The closer one seemed to be trying to escape up the hill, the second following hoping to make the kill. But the closer one was acting strange. From his vantage point Dongo could see that he was moving sideways when he didn't have to, delaying his escape. Was he teasing the other sniper? Daring him to come closer?
They were both within range, but Dongo knew that he could only shoot one before alerting the other to his presence. Stuck in the hide with a bad arm and a heavy gun he would be a sitting duck. He looked down to the target area. A group of tiny figures had gathered, watching the progress of the hunt from below no doubt. A land rover that had not been there before was parked off to one side, out of sight from the two snipers below but just within Dongo's. Yakov, no doubt. Too bad his scope was busted, the .50 calibre rounds would go through that Land Rover like hot knives through butter.
The further sniper had stopped advancing. Maybe he suspected a trap, Dongo thought. The closer one must have come to the same conclusion, because he started back down the hill towards the other. The face-off would come soon. There was a small ridge between the two opponents. The one moving could go around either end, but Dongo could see that the lower sniper was in a position to cover both. Would he be able to get a shot off quick enough?
There was only a hundred metres between the two now. Dongo had been adjusting his sights as they closed, choosing a distance mid-way between them. The upper sniper was crouched behind the ridge, getting ready to make his move. The lower sniper had his rifle to his eye, aiming at one end but keeping the other in sight. Here he goes, thought Fett, as the first sniper shuffled his feet for purchase before making a run for it.
A surprise! The sniper didn't go around either end, he leapt right over the ridge. His gilly suit flying around him, momentarily revealing the creature beneath. Unfortunately the other sniper was not so surprised that he couldn't adjust his aim and get a shot off. The first sniper cried out in pain and fell out of Dongo's sight behind the ridge. No further sound or movement came from that area.
The flash of silvery fur, the Canadian camouflage uniform under the gilly suit and the cry had been enough for Dongo to recognize Silver. Had the Canadian FOX agent stashed the sniper gear as a back-up should Dongo fail? At first he felt slighted, but considering the position he was in maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Silver was down, but at least Fett knew who his enemy was now. He switched his aim to the other sniper.
Yakov's sniper was crouched behind an outcropping of rock, at the entrance to a narrow trail with a clump of bushes at the other end. He must be listening for movement from the gully where Silver had fallen. The narrow trail was dangerous, there was nowhere to run if but straight forward, but it was out of sight from the hollow Silver was in. The sniper must have felt confident enough in his shooting because a moment later he rushed forward, taking a new position by the bushes, where he paused to listen again.
Dongo confirmed that the sights were set for five hundred metres. He pulled the butt in as tight as he could and settled in, falling into the breathing pattern that brought the tip of the sight down the centre of the target's chest. He applied pressure to the trigger, let the next breath half out, and the sight came to rest.
Just as was about to fire there was movement in his line of sight. A portion of the bushes broke away. Another figure in a gilly suit had jumped up in front of the Sniper. Dongo did not see a rifle in its paws. It must be the enemy spotter, flashed through Dongo's mind. The figure leapt into the sniper's arms and hugged it, overjoyed at the victory over the FOX team, Fett supposed. Dongo adjusted his aim slightly and finished squeezing the trigger.
The .50 bucked hard against his shoulder, sending a shockwave through his head that renewed the agony in his right eye. He was blinded by the pain for a moment, but he forced his left eye open and blinked the fog away. Five hundred metres below two figures in gilly suits lay one atop the other in a pool of blood and tissue that fanned out behind them, painting the Afghani landscape red. The heavy .50 calibre rounds were designed to take out light armoured vehicles and they were not kind to soft tissue or bone. Dongo doubted that they felt much of anything before their guts were sucked out by the bullet's passage.
A head popped up from a gully twenty metres away from the pair. It was Silver. Dongo watched as the older fox surveyed the scene before climbing up and approaching the bodies.
Dongo felt something wet on his side. He looked down at his bandaged left arm and saw the wet stains of fresh blood. Waves of blackness joined the flashes of red inside his head.
* * * * * * * *
Silver had been prepared to cry out as soon as he heard a shot, whether the sniper hit him or not. He had actually felt the bullet pull at his shirt as it passed just between his arm and chest, and the near miss had lent some realism to his yelp.
As soon as he hit the ground he began to work his way along the dead ground as silently as he could. It was a race now. If the sniper did not pass by Yelena's position he would have to go around and come up this gully, and Silver needed to be at the other end before him.
He paused when he reached the point closest to where Yelena was hiding. He stopped his breathing, swivelled his ears forward, and listened. He heard a "˜click' as a pebble was knocked against another. There was a second of silence and then there was a scrape and the sound of running feet. A snarl was followed by a "˜woof' of expelled air as two soft objects collided. Then he heard the deep voice of the .50 from up above. Fett was back in action!
The shot echoed off the hills. Silver waited until they had dissipated and listened again. Nothing. He stuck his head up and saw the pile of bloody scrim where the sniper would have appeared if he followed the trail to where Silver had pretended to go down. It was too large for one person. Silver had a bad feeling in his chest.
He climbed up out of the gully and approached the bodies. Yes, there were two of them, he confirmed, as he had feared. Yelena must have attacked just as Fett fired. She was on top of the sniper, her arms wrapped around his to prevent him from bringing his rifle up. One paw was still holding the hilt of a killing knife that she had stuck through his neck. He would have bled out in moments if Fett's .50 had not redistributed his spine and most of his insides around the landside.
Silver slung her rifle over his back, knelt, and examined Yelena. Her fixed stare was enough to tell him, but he felt for a pulse anyway. There was none. There was a hole in the back of her gilly suit just large enough for him to put one digit in, but the real damage would be on the other side, where the bullet exited. Silver did not want to turn her over.
An electronic crackle came from somewhere under the two. Silver forgot the gore and pulled them apart to search for its source. He produced a small black two-way radio and wiped the blood from it. The radio spoke:
"Confirm Kill" it said in Russian.
"Confirmed." Silver replied simply, hoping that the sender was not expecting a codeword.
"Stay on station until I recall you." That was good. Silver risked another one-word reply.
"Acknowledged." The radio went silent.
Down in the target area the tiny figures were standing in the open and pointing up. A Land Rover rolled up to them and stopped. A new creature stepped out of it and joined them, one in western clothing. Could it be?
Silver grabbed the AWSM. He brought it into his shoulder. The stock was a little short, but he could compensate. He looked over the scope to get in the general vicinity then looked through it and scanned until he found the group in the valley below. Yes! It was the target. He was holding a duplicate of the radio, laughing and gesturing to where the shots had come from. He believed that his sniper had removed the treat and was watching over them. He was wrong on the second count, maybe on the first too.
Silver adjusted his hold on the sniper rifle. He rested the stock in the fork of one of the stunted trees growing on the hillside. The scope would be set for Yelena. He prayed that she did not have any unusual eye problems that would throw his aim too far off. He could not count on getting a chance to adjust fire. He set the range to maximum.
Silver centred the cross hairs on the chest of the target. Breathing steadily made them rise and lower from crotch to head. He glanced at the wind indicators and checked the robes of the terrorist beside the target. The air was still, there was no need to adjust for wind. The target was facing Silver now, addressing his customers, spreading his arms demonstratively. Silver took a full breath and let half of it out. The cross hairs came to rest on the third button of the Russian's shirt. Silver squeezed the trigger.
The .338 made the weapon kick a bit, but the muzzle returned to the point of aim in time for Silver to see the target stumble backward. The round had struck a few inches high of his point of aim, just where a tuft of fur stuck out of the "V" of his shirt. The entry wound was barely visible, but the spray of blood on the white shirt of the bodyguard behind him confirmed the hit. Knowing that the relationship between the points of aim and impact now, Silver was able to put a second round into the target's chest before he fell.
He lowered the rifle to take in the whole scene down below. Tiny figures were running in all directions but toward him. The Afghani's were firing in the air, not even bothering to aim. Yakov's people were piling into vehicles and heading out. Their meal ticket had been punched, time to go find a new one.
It looked like no one wanted to risk themselves to revenge Yakov. Sad really, thought Silver. He looked down at the Russian police officer and the unknown sniper. Flies were already hovering around the bloody holes in their chests. Her spotter was hidden not too far away, near some tools Yelena and he had brought to prepare their firing position with. As Silver recalled, there was a shovel amongst them. He decided to call for evacuation, and to bury all three while he waited for the air lift out.
Yelena had attacked the sniper from a trench that she and her partner had made several days before and occupied this morning. They must have passed Silver coming back from placing his wind indicators without knowing, what with everyone being careful and quiet so not to alert the Afghanis. He buried them together in the trench. It did not take long. Afterward he trudged back up the hill to see how Dongo Fett was doing. He had heard nothing from the American fox since the .50 had fired.
He found Fett unconscious in the back of the hide, where it was coolest. Dongo had put fresh bandages on his arm, and had pulled his floppy hat down over his right eye. Silver gently shook his right shoulder. Fett's good eye opened. Silver told him that the helicopter would be here soon and offered his some water. Fett took a few sips. It gave him enough strength to talk.
"I saw the sniper coming for you." He told the older fox. "I thought that he got you. I was going to take him out, and then suddenly another one of them appeared in my line of sight. I fired and damn if I didn't get them both. Saw you take out the target. Good work."
"No. Good on you Dongo." Silver patted his good shoulder. "That was a heroic shot. Five hundred metres over iron sights using the opposite eye and paw. If it wasn't for you I would not have had the opportunity to take Yakov out."_ Yelena would have done it_, he thought regretfully.
"It was a hell of a shot, wasn't it?" Dongo gave Silver a weak smile.
"Yes. Yes it was." Fett had made a heroic shot. The target was taken out. One friendly was wounded and two of the opposing force had been killed in the process. That's the way it will go into the official report, Silver said to himself. Fett did not need to know what had really happened. He would sleep easier if he never did.
* * * * * * * *
The helicopter took them back to the Canadian base where the medical team was on standby. Silver used the facilities of the military intelligence group to file his preliminary report with FOX Headquarters. He stayed in Afghanistan until Fett was stable enough to be evacuated back to Canada. By then they had already removed his left arm.
One of the planning staff, the grey fox Bill Hanlan, known as "˜The Professor', was on the plane waiting for them. During the flight back he interviewed both Silver and Fett, letting them take turns sleeping. He made meticulous notes and sent messages to the Chief of Staff at regular intervals. They were interested in who the mystery sniper and his female assistant were. They also wanted to know who might take over Yakov's business now that he was dead. Silver was unable to help with either problem.
When they landed in Ottawa Fett was taken directly to the FOX infirmary. Since he had been injured while contracted to them he was their responsibility. Silver was told to clean up and report directly to the Chief of Staff, Tancred Williams.
Silver walked into this old friend's office less than an hour later. The large golden-toned fox was sitting behind his desk, reading the messages that Hanlan had sent from the plane. He waved Silver into a chair.
"This won't take long, Silver. We can do the official debrief later but there are a couple of points I'd like to clarify. What do you think of Fett's performance?"
"He was amazing. A lesser fox would have died of shock from that wound. To pull himself up to that gun and keep his head straight long enough to use it on the right target ... I'm impressed." That was about the highest praise Silver could offer.
"Good." Williams replied. "We have to replace his arm and pay him compensation for the rest of his life, but the surgeon tells me that the eye will be okay, if not very pretty. We intend to offer him a permanent position here at FOX. Neither an artificial arm, or a permanent and severely bloodshot eye will stop him from being a long-range sniper and support weapons expert."
"I'm sure he'll fit in nicely." Silver wondered if Tancred knew about the young fox's two penises.
"There is one other thing." Williams said, referring to a transcript of Fett's statement taken on the plane in one paw, and a letter with the seal of the Russian Federation in the other. "Would you care to explain to me where you got your paws on an SOBR Gilly suit and sniper rifle?"
* * * * * * * *
Silver left the Chief of Staff's office an hour later. Tancred agreed that Fett did not need to know anything beyond what Silver had already reported, but the Russians would have to be told some form of the truth. Maybe they would tell them that Yelena had taken Yakov out and had been killed by Al Qaida while struggling with Yakov's security officer. A slight error in the map reference, and by the time they recovered the bodies the nature of the weapon that killed her would be undeterminable. She would be a secret hero in her department, like Fett was to FOX now, and no less deserving. Stranger things had happened in the prevailing fog of war.
Silver decided to head straight over to Vikki's apartment. She was the junior agent that he had comforted when she had returned from her first mission with a broken spirit, and one less paw. Knowing that he was due back today she would be waiting up with their son. Even though he was helping to raise the kit, Silver and Vikki did not live together, not officially anyway.
Vikki's apartment looked like a war zone. It was not just messy, Silver had seen it messy, it was a disaster area. Towels stained with various bodily fluids were everywhere. Splatters of what might have been food, before and after digestion, spotted the walls. Piles of washed, unwashed and semi-washed clothes cluttered the tables. Rubber toys with tooth marks evident littered the floor. A wailing cry that quite possibly violated Geneva conventions topped it all off.
"Hi Vikki." Silver addressed the exhausted vixen in the centre of it. "Leslie still teething?" The look he received in return answered his question, and several others that he had not thought of asking. He felt his balls retract defensively.
"Why don't you just sit there and relax while I clean up?" He ventured. Presumably she was sitting on the couch, although it was difficult to be sure with all the stuff piled on it.
"No. You don't know where anything goes and you'll just screw up my system." She replied sharply. "Play with your son while I clean up." She handed Silver a wiggling bundle in blue fleece overalls. "Just distract him so I can get more than five minutes of work done without interruption."
Leslie Sterling Beausoleil, Silver cringed at the name, was his son. And despite Silver's frequent absences the kit seemed to recognize him as someone special in its life. Maybe he thinks I'm his Grandfather, Silver thought wryly. Still, the baby stopped crying and began to gurgle happily as he tried to pull Silver's whiskers out by the roots.
"He's got quite a grip." Silver noted as Vikki drifted by carrying a load of freshly folded towels.
"You should see what he can do to a nipple when he's hungry. Try it out next time." She answered gruffly as she disappeared down the hall.
The stereo was tuned to the oldies station that Silver favoured. There was likely a bottle of his favourite wine chilling in the fridge. Afterwards there would be a light supper, and several hours of slow love making. Or there would have been a year ago. With the two of them alternating missions and juggling full-time shifts at the Academy until Leslie was old enough for daycare, there was very little time for each other.
Silver looked around the apartment. Now that the piles of laundry were gone the stains of recent burping, vomiting and leaky diapers could be seen. Vikki hustled by with disinfectant and a damp cloth, making them disappear. Silver compared her, standing there in rubber gloves, house coat and slippers, with her ears tucked into a dust bonnet, to the exotic Yelena. How she had reminded him of Scarlet. He wondered what might have happened between them if she had lived.
Another song began playing on the stereo. It was the Louis Armstrong version of La Vie en Rose.
"Hold me close and hold me fast.
This magic spell you cast,
This is la vie en rose." Louis sang in his gravelly voice.
Was la vie en rose buried on an Afghani hillside, Silvered wondered, or was it here in Vikki's apartment?
Finished cleaning, for now, Vikki slumped down on the couch beside him. "He's asleep." She said, nodding at the baby.
Silver glanced down. He had the kit cradled with one arm. Sure enough, Leslie had curled up in a ball against his chest and was snoring softly. One paw was lightly gripping Silver's thumb.
Vikki sighed and leaned against Silver's shoulder. "Did you meet anyone interesting on the mission?" She asked idly, her voice full of fatigue.
"Nope." He put an arm about her shoulders. On the stereo, Louis was blowing the melody low, slow and sweet on his trumpet. Vikki began to snore in time with Leslie.
It wasn't exotic, Silver mused, but it felt like home. The trumpet solo ended and Louis started singing again:
Give your heart and soul to me,
And life will always be,
La Vie en Rose.
Good advice, thought Silver, and he pulled Vikki and Leslie in tight to him as the night drifted in.
The end
La Vie en Rose © Edith Piaf
Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett