The Gray Man Ch. 38 - Fatima Revenge

Home loomed in the distance, at least for the time being a temporary sanctuary from the storm within. In a swift motion, he laced up his running shoes, the rhythmic thud of his footsteps soon drowning out the cacophony in his mind. The asphalt unfurled beneath him, a canvas for the mental montage playing in his head.

Mile after mile, he pounded the pavement, the rhythm of his breath syncing with the echoes of past betrayals. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the weight of lost trust and shattered loyalties. Angela's absence reverberated in the hollow spaces between heartbeats, a wound that refused to fully heal.

The scars of captivity, the taste of betrayal -- all vivid in the backdrop of his solitary run. In the rhythmic symphony of footfalls and labored breaths, he faced the truth. He was angry, alone, and on the precipice of another confrontation with the shades of his past.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon as TJ Gray navigated the all too familiar route from his residence to Joint Base Andrews. The purr of the engine in the new Lexus reverberated in the air, drowning out the subtle tension that clung to him like an unseen cloak. The mission awaited, and beast in his soul just needed to be quiet for another 72 hours and then it could be satiated.

Arriving at the base, the familiar roar of aircraft brought a quiet sense of routine for TJ as his attention shifted from the steering wheel to the skies above. A Royal Air Force Dassault was waiting on the ramp for him to board.

Once on board the Dassault Gray was reminded that while very similar, the Americans and their British allies did things a bit differently. The Brits had tea, fewer seats, and a bit more of an opulent interior compared to the U.S.

Gray took his seat, spread the intel over the table in front of him as the sleek jet began to roll. As they climbed into the night sky, the Cabin Assistant, a young and attractive Royal Air Force Sergeant, brought her solitary guest some tea and light British cookies, "Tea and Biscuits, Sir?" she said in her gentle accent.

Gray smiled, "Not a Sir - just a lowly NCO like yourself" The young woman nodded, "Sorry, Sergeant Major. We usually carry officers."

TJ nodded, "You were the first scheduled flight and I'm in a bit of a hurry. So, you get the joy of me pouring over this mess for the next 9 hours." He opened his hands to the folders sprawled across the makeshift workspace, all marked TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY.

She nodded, "Those are above my paygrade, I will leave you to your work. If you need me, I'll be up front."

Gray nodded and thanked her before he sipped his tea and immersed himself in the details. The low drone of the aircraft provided just enough white noise to keep his own destructive thoughts numbed.

Mid-flight, Gray needed a break. He motioned for the steward who directed him how to use the inflight satellite phone. When he picked it up he waited for the tone that announced the secure satellite link had connected. He dialed Angela's number. The familiar cadence of her voice carried through the encrypted channel, a momentary respite from the intensity of the mission.

"Hey Ange," TJ's voice carried a mix of warmth and concern through the encrypted channel.

"Hey, TJ," Angela's response held a steadiness that only came with military training. "How are you holding up?"

TJ paused, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Angela's soothing voice on the other end, "Where are they sending you?"

Gray couldn't say and Angela knew he couldn't say, but she had to ask anyway. "It's complicated but Nazir is involved."

There was a pause on the line, and Angela's voice, tinged with familiarity, filled the void. "Be careful, TJ. You know how volatile it can get."

"Yeah," TJ sighed. "Speaking of care, how are you doing? Gretchen mentioned your recovery."

Angela's exhale carried a mix of weariness and resilience. "Getting there, one step at a time. Physically I'm okay, mentally I'm still working through some shit but I'm making progress."

TJ nodded, though the miles between them made the gesture invisible. "You've got this Den Mother. Strongest woman I've ever known. You'll be back in the saddle and General Williams will be thrilled."

A moment of silence hung in the air before Angela spoke again. "There's something I need to tell you, TJ."

The words, weighty and pregnant with significance, hung in the encrypted space. TJ's brow furrowed imperceptibly as he waited for Angela to continue.

"I want you to hear it from me and not through the grapevine." Angela began, her voice carrying a tone of resolution. "I've decided to retire from the Marines. My parents' health is failing, and I need to be with them."

TJ's gaze shifted from the classified documents to an invisible point in the distance. The gravity of Angela's decision settled like a leaden anchor. "Retire? But... what about us?"

"I..." Angela's voice wavered, a rare vulnerability surfacing. "I'm not coming back, TJ. I need to be with my family. They need me now."

A heavy silence engulfed the line as the reality of separation sank in. The mission, always looming in the periphery, now shared the stage with personal sacrifice.

"Duty calls, Angela," TJ finally spoke, his words a mix of understanding and conflict. "Be Well."

The secure link disconnected, leaving TJ alone with the weight of decisions made and a mission yet to unfold. The compartmentalized ache within him, a familiar companion, resurfaced as he returned his focus to the intelligence briefings. Duty, sacrifice, and the relentless march of time framed his world, each moment etched with the complexities of a life entwined with service.

As the aircraft soared through the night sky, Gray closed his eyes. The feeling of abandonment pounded in his soul. He didn't know whether he wanted to cry or put a hole in the wall. At 36,000 feet above The Atlantic, neither was a good choice.

"No time to be sad," he grumbled to himself. He returned to the scattered piles of classified documents and a myriad of emotions, faced the stark reality of separation. Duty and sacrifice, constants in his world, cast a shadow over the compartmentalized ache within. "Nazir will die." he whispered as he looked at weather reports over the islands for the next few days.

Once on the ground Gray isolated himself in a corner of one of the hangars. A cot, some makeshift plywood walls and his gear were his entire focus. Even though on base, he ate Army MRE's and prepared. 36 hours later the C17 climbed into the sky and headed south to The Red Sea. Their cargo that night was a solitary operator who had chosen to do a High Altitude Low Opening jump to help avoid detection.

18,000 feet above the islands the ramp lowered and Gray stepped into the darkness. Rushing to the earth at terminal velocity he angled himself like an arrow towards the areas that seemed to be populated by the Houthi on the eastern peninsula along the northern edge of Farasan Island just north of Abu Twoq.

As the earth drew closer Ghost realized that the only safe place to come down was in the water just off the coast. As he hit 3000 feet his parachute opened and his gear bag dropped from his waist held to his body by a nylon strap. As the warm ocean waters drew even closer Gray ditched his helmet and oxygen mask allowing it to sink to the bottom of the sea. His eyes scanned the horizon as his feet broke through the water.

Quickly he scrambled to exit from his chute harness, retrieve his weapons bag. He used the buoyant bag to steady himself as he flooded his chute, harness, and O2 tank and let it sink alongside his helmet. As he started his swim to shore he murmured to himself. "I'm a fucking US Army Ranger. If I wanted to be a fucking Navy SEAL I would have joined the fucking Navy."

As Gray crept onto the beach he knew he was in the right place, that for once the intelligence had been accurate as he saw a missile launch from probably 3 miles away and streak out into the sea hunting its prey.

Once he was oriented he became The Ghost, a shadow against the sand qs navigated the beach with the silent precision of a predator closing in on its prey. His mission was clear--pave the way for the SEALs' assault on the launch site. After that, it was time to hunt down Nazir Omar.

As the launch site's structures materialized in the darkness, Gray's gloved hand traced the outline of a laser device. A flick of his wrist, and the invisible beam painted targets with lethal precision. This was his battlefield, stealth, quiet, hidden. He was the maestro orchestrating the silent symphony of infiltration.

In the distance, the SEAL team emerged from the waters, silent and deadly. Gray's laser directed their approach. Two clicks on the microphone acknowledged their readiness, and the SEALs flowed into action like water coursing through the labyrinthine structures.

As chaos erupted at the launch site, Gray, a lone wraith, Gray's mission was finished. However, he was not done. He moved towards the ominous bunker with antennas and snorkels to allow the folks inside to coordinate their attacks, hidden from sight. The air thickened with tension as he slipped through the shadows, an avenging specter in pursuit. It was time for the Ghost to hunt.

Approaching the bunker, Gray took a strategic look around the compound. He silently disarmed guards with the calculated grace of a martial artist, each takedown executed with a lethal efficiency. The whispers of the SEAL team in his earpiece were the only sounds beyond the crashing of waves. The silence of Farasan Island was shattered only by the soft thud of incapacitated bodies meeting the ground.

Inside the bunker, a clandestine command center unfolded--a nerve center pulsating with the heartbeat of The Houthi operation. It was the SEALS job to deal with The Houthi threat, Gray's mission was much more personal.

In the labyrinth of corridors, Gray's pursuit intensified. Shadows clashed and danced as he closed in on the living quarters hidden deep in the bunker. The search for the elusive target became a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, the outcome destined to reverberate far beyond the confines of Farasan Island.

As the SEALs outside fought the visible battle, Gray navigated the hidden war within the bunker's depths. The hunt for Nazir was far from over. In his ear Gray heard, "Prepare to breach." After a short pause came the whispered warning, "Flash Bang Out!"

Deep within the labyrinthine bunker complex, the muffled echoes of the firefight in the command and control center reverberated through the concrete walls. TJ Gray, was truly in his element. A specter of retribution, as he dispatched guards who stood in his way and others who raced towards the firefight. His eyes scanned the dimly lit corridors, navigating the twists and turns as he followed the trail to Nazir and Fatima.

Finally, Gray reached the secured ensuite where his prey had taken refuge. The door resisted his initial attempts to breach. With a practiced hand, he attached a small breaching charge, its subtle hum lost amid the cacophony outside. He whispered into his mic, "Breach, breach, breach letting the SEALS know that the explosion would be friendly.

As the door blasted open, it revealed the room beyond. The room was opulent as expected. When he saw Fatima and Nazir he pulled down his balaclava and smiled, "Hello Nazir, good evening Fatima."

Fatima screamed at her husband, "Shoot him!"

Awkwardly Nazir reached for an assault rifle next to him but he was not fast enough as Gray closed the distance and delivered a backhand momentarily stunning the man. Nazir staggered as Gray kicked the AK away. Nazir knew that he had to change his tactic. He taunted Gray with a smirk. "Gray, my old friend. How's Underwood? Turned him, didn't I? A pity he didn't see it coming. What about your cousin and your girlfriend, I do hope they have recovered."

Gray's response was a measured silence, his eyes betraying a storm of emotions beneath the stoic surface.

As the psychological duel intensified, Fatima, the venomous seductress and mastermind of the operation interjected with promises of untold wealth. "Underwood was weak and brash. But you? Join us, Gray. Imagine the power, the riches. We can make you a king in this world of chaos."

Gray's gaze remained unyielding, his resolve unbroken. "You think?"

She took a step closer. "Remember Scotland, remember the boat. I can give you anything you desire." She smiled, "Do you remember Mr. Gray? Do you remember that night when your cock slid deep into me? Do you remember me moaning, ' "Fill me, breed me, give me what I want. Do you remember your cock exploding, sending your seed deep into me?"

Nazir screamed, "Fatima!"

His scream was met with an immediate scolding, "Shut up, Nazir"

Gray was stunned. The drugged state he was in when Fiona and MI-5 rescued him. It was all just a gray fog in his mind.

Fatima's smile dripped with venom. "You will never find your daughter, Mr. Gray. Yes, you bred me like a common breeding mare. It was exquisite, unlike the 30 seconds that Nazir is good for when he slides into my Persian folds. But about our daughter. She is beautiful - green eyes like yours but a beautiful Persian complexion like her mother and my luxurious hair. The perfect gift of both of us."

Gray was still stunned, almost too stunned to respond.

Fatima walked even closer. "Does it make you feel good that everyone who sees her knows that Nazir couldn't possibly be her father?" Does it arouse you that she will be raised by another man who couldn't do the basic duty of providing his wife with children?"

Gray was smacked back to reality when he heard the SEALS like shadows emerging from the darkness. Chief Petty Officer Mason, the team leader, called out, "All Clear" before he locked eyes with Gray. The silent communication between them was a language only warriors understood. Mason spoke, "We gotta go, Top.."

Gray, a wolf in the midst of the den, turned toward the SEAL leader. A confident smile played on his lips. "Give me 30 minutes, Chief, and we will be out," he declared as he pushed the door closed.

Mason, recognizing the gravity of the situation, barked orders to his team. "You heard the man, 30 minutes. Grab every piece of intel you can."

The door closed behind Gray, shutting out the chaos of the command center and the urgency of the SEAL operation. He turned to Fatima, "Where is she?"

Fatima laughed, "Well hidden my dear. Well hidden and well cared for." Her hand raced out and slapped the American across the face. "Hidden where you will never find her."

Nazir started to move, the red dot laser from Gray's sidearm landed between his eyes, "Don't fucking move, Nazir." The laser robbed Nazir of his courage as he knew the nine millimeter hollow point would stop him in his tracks before he could do anything. Gray motioned to the chair, "Sit down and don't you dare move."

Nazir's voice, shaky from the events, "What are you going to do, kill us?"

TJ shook his head, "No, but I am going to hurt you."

In one swift movement Gray's hand latched onto Fatima's throat. "Where is my daughter?"

Fatima choked out, "Our daughter, Parisa. I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

He squeezed tighter, "Where?"

Fatima felt her world begin to close in, the pounding in her ears was overwhelming. She couldn't speak. Gray shoved her away, her body gasping for the oxygen her brain craved. Fatima fell to the ground and held her throat as she found a voice, "That's the difference between you and me Gray. You can't kill in cold blood, I can. So, you can't kill us. What are you going to do now? Arrest us? Take the mother of your child away from our daughter?"

Fatima never saw the slap coming. Gray's hand shot out so quickly that Nazir barely saw it before he heard the unmistakable sound of skin against skin then his wife recoil and lift her hands to her cheek.

Nazir and Fatima, to outsiders, were a very traditional family. Traditional colorful long dresses and head scarfs, at times - depending on the cleric they were trying to impress even a long black dress and hijab. Behind closed doors however it was Fatima who ran the operations, Nazir was merely the public face of their enterprise.

Nazir had never heard someone raise their voice to Fatima, much less slap her across the face. He waited for her response - it never came as the large American closed the space and pulled her to her feet. The voice was even lower this time, "Where is my daughter, whore?"

Fatima's left cheek was already crimson from the slap, but it didn't change her taunting smile. "She was carried in my womb, delivered by me. She is my daughter and you will never see her."

The next slap was as quick as the first, again twisting Fatima's head sideways, "I will never tell you." This time there was a response as her hands came up to claw at her captors face. Fatima was furious but her rage did not compare to Gray's rage.

Nazir could only watch as Gray roughly grabbed his wife by the shoulders and pushed her to the floor. The American fished his hard cock from his combat pants.Nazir had never seen anything like it. The cock was as angry as the man, almost 9 inches, as big around as a bottle and angry.

Seeing Gray's large hard cock jerking close-up in front of her face, Fatima turned her face to one side, looking away. The American slapped her with his cock as his anger only seemed to intensify. He grabbed Fatima's luxurious hair and jerked her face back towards his cock. The fist in her hair caused Fatima's mouth to involuntarily open to scream but her captor immediately thrust his hard cock into her mouth, thereby silencing her cry.

Shame washed over Nazir as he realized his own cock was responding well to this raw sexual assault happening in front of my own eyes, and to his very wife. He couldn't stop his hand from moving beneath his own robes as he began to stroke his own cock which was pathetic in comparison to the one he was watching.

Nazir watched as the large man started to thrust in and out of Fatima's mouth. He expected his wife to bite or use teeth or protest as she would if he wanted oral sex. Nazir was fascinated as he heard a low groan escape, not from the American but from his wife.

The hard thrusts caused her to choke on his large cock, but that did not stop the onslaught. Nazir could only watch as he saw his wife's hands come up and begin to stroke the huge prick invading her mouth. Then her dainty hands dug inside of his pants and pulled his lemon sized balls free, she started to caress them freely and of her own free will.

Gray pushed Fatima backwards and violently tore the long colorful skirt from her body. Then with a mighty rip, he tore the silky G string away from her hips. Fatima did not fight him, which only caused Nazir to be even more turned on. He had never seen his wife submissive, but in the presence of the stranger she seemed to be almost aroused by his actions.

The American pulled a strand of nylon webbing, about 2 inches wide from the pocket on his thigh, doubled it over into a loop and swung it sharply through the air, the howling cutting the air before the crack of the nylon against the tender flesh on Fatima's inner thigh. With a flick of the wrist the strap came down again on the inside of her other thigh.

You fucking raped me when I was drugged, I'm going to make damn sure you are wide awake." Gray again aimed the red dot of his sidearm at Nazir's forehead, "Play with yourself until you cum. Make yourself cum for me.

Fatima nodded her large brown eyes wide open, in fear or in lust was still yet to be determined. "Oh God," came the moan that told Nazir that is wife's expression was more than just fear. "God yes, whip me while I cum"

Gray's hand moved again and the webbing sang its song of violence again and again across Fatima's thighs as her hand flew over her clit. Her eyes never left the angry American, the father of her daughter.