A woman screams as Kane’s face is engulfed in flames, the smell of burning facial hair rising up over nearly everything for only a moment, before the fire is smothered under the force of the single largest ass John has ever seen in his life.

  “Holy shit, Kane’s fucking dead!” Spaz spits his drink, as the woman who dropped herself from low orbit tears Kane out of his chair and onto the ground where she continues to ‘dance’ atop him until the fire dies entirely.

  “A good way to go.” Blackbeard nods sagely.

  Bronco makes the sign of the cross, only to stop halfway through as Kane shouts something inaudible from between the woman's cheeks, one hand coming up to smack her rear end in time with the thump of music from the band that plays on the stage above them.

  Kane is consumed by the dancer as she continues to shake everything she has while on top of him, his voice lost in both the woman and the music. Casper raises a glass to the table, and the others waste no time in bringing their own up to clink them all together in a toast.

  “God fuckin’ bless,” Casper intones.

  “Ooh Rah!” Everyone chants, and tosses back their shots.

  “Who’s up for a game?” Spaz asks after polishing off a second shot, one hand gripped around a volleyball.

  “A game? There won’t be a game, Spaz, it will be a funeral, and we’ve already had one death today.” Casper nods down to Kane who looks to have actually died under the woman who refuses to get up from shaking her ass on his face.

  “Ooooh, big talk.” Spaz smiles at him with his perfect teeth and leans in as though he has any chance of goading Casper. “For someone who’s only ever won in swimming contests. Seals might own the seas but Delta has land any day of the week.”

  “I do not see how beach volleyball is a good—” Blackbeard starts, but is cut off by the sound of Casper's chair crashing to the floor as he rockets up from his seat and meets Spaz’s head dead on, their foreheads crashing together.

  “That right?” Casper cocks his head, and presses it harder into Spaz’s

  “You know it, frogman. Or are you too scared to put your money where you mouth is?”

  “I’ll but that god damn ball in your perfect fucking teeth.”

  “Men.” Bella rolls her eyes.

  “Bella, with me.” Casper orders, backing off from Spaz, already making his way down from the beach side bar, making a b-line for the currently occupied volleyball court only a few steps away.

  Bella stands, and Joins Casper at his side without a moment's hesitation.

  “Wow, you’re quick to join our ghost here despite your earlier annoyances with men.” John raises an eyebrow.

  Bella shrugs

  “John! I need you buddy, let's show 'em what we got.” Spaz pats John on the shoulder, and he too wastes no time standing up, eyes locked to Bella who gives him a wink in response.

  “You are dead, Frenchie.” John cracks his neck and clasps hands with Spaz who shouts for Kane.

  “We will see.” Bella pulls Blackbeard over to her and Casper's side.

  “Kane you fuckin’ animal, lets go!” John shouts, and only then does the Aussie pull himself free from underneath the woman, stuffing a slip of paper and a few dollar bills into her swimsuit while giving the ‘call me’ sign with his hands.

  “What's goin' on?” He asks as he comes to stop at John's side.

  “A game, you want Kid or Bronco?”

  “Oi, give me Bronco any day.” Kane shoots some finger guns in Bronco’s direction, and she comes over to their side as they all reach the side of the volleyball court.

  “Kid, let's go!” Casper claps his hands, and Kid pulls his head from a notebook long enough to make out what's happened.

  “Right, sure thing.” He stuffs the notebook under his plate of food and joins them as they force their way into the court, prematurely ending the game currently taking place.

  Kane claps John on the back as they get into position, his crooked grin wide. “You ready to kick some ass Johnny boy?”

  “Always.” John claps Kane on the shoulder, and then pulls Spaz in for a hug as well, finishing with a fist-bump with Bronco.

  Casper, Bella, Blackbeard and Kid get into position on the other side of the net, Bella’s hips swaying in a way that has John's eyes locked to their movements.

  “John!” Spaz calls out, but it's too late, he can't peel himself away from her washboard abs quickly enough, and in a blur of movement the ball comes crashing down to crater into the sand beside him.

  “W…what?” John blinks, looking at the ball right next to his feet.

  “Sorry!” Bella teases, using two fingers to adjust the straps of her bottoms to hug even higher on her hips.

  “God damnit….” Spaz sighs.

  ***

  “It’s a sunburn,” John dismisses, patting at his cheeks as they walk back to base, every ounce of strength focused on not watching Bella as she walks ahead of him back to their table at the beachside bar and brill.

  “Ohh, I see , I see, because here I thought it’s because—” Kane starts, only to be cut off by John’s swiping hand nearly taking the Aussies head clean off.

  “Can it,” John tries, though he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he hopes under the still lingering effects of the booze in his system.

  They had taken to modifying the rules to have everyone drink if they got scored against.

  “That ‘sunburn’ cost us the game,” Spaz sighs, head held low as they sit back down at the table.

  “Fuck off.” John looks around for some sort of excuse, anything to pull attention away from his pathetic performance, but finds nothing, nothing but a new round of drinks set out for their group as the woman who nearly killed Kane gives him a wave.

  Good enough, John thinks, and throws back the liquor.

  Two drinks in, and the table is cleared of its food, John and the team devouring it in an instant.

  Three more drinks, and the music melts away as he grabs Kane and Kid around the shoulders and belches out the lyrics in a shitty accent.

  Four more drinks, and his knuckles hurt as he looks down at several heavily tattooed men.

  “Let's go!” Bella laughs, grabbing him from under the arm and dragging him away.

  John swipes a drink from some unsuspecting man in a nearby patio space, and by the time the liquor is gone he’s getting his head held aloft by Casper while a gate guard examines his ID.

  More drinks fill the outdoor bar on the base, and John pounds them down like water.

  Five more drinks and the sky turns from blue to purple. A patch of his hair is missing on his upper thigh and Kane holds a strip of wax high over his head.

  Another drink and Kane is in the sand, John atop him, hollering wildly until someone crashes into him.

  Six more drinks, and John holds his head in his hands near the warmth of a fire, the buzz finally ending, reality finally melting back into view.

  A hand rubs at his back. “Finally with us?” Bella asks, her head craned down to look John in the eyes as he struggles to figure out where the hell he is.

  “Getting there.” He reaches around for something, another drink probably, but instead finds only a water bottle that Bronco holds out for him.

  “Why don’t you go sober up, we are going to start some karaoke in a moment and as funny as it would be to hear you sing drunk, I do want to hear a sober John give it a good try.” Bella pats his back, and John nods his head.

  He doesn’t care for karaoke much, but it's impossible to say no to Bella while she’s in that damn swimsuit.

  John pounds his water and stands up from around the fire, looking for the workshop for far longer than normal.

  Staggering up, he limps and sways his way across the compound, ignoring the other mercs who rush to the gate as some code is called. John recalls something about some cartel members following them after they left the bar? But it all blurs together.

  John staggers through into the workshop, where Kid tinkers away at something, humming tunelessly to himself.

  “Not joining everyone around the fire?” John asks, fumbling his way to the counter top where he grabs at a canteen.

  “Hmm? Oh, no. too much work to do,” Kid smiles and returns to his tinkering.

  “Come on Kid, this is a vacation before we get back to work, let loose a little.” John brings the canteen up to one of the single best pieces of technology he and Kid have invented. Securing the canteen to the nozzle at the bottom, John presses in a single button and waits for the device to heat up.

  “Maybe, but even then there is just too much that needs tweaking and fine tuning. We can’t have any system failures on this mission.”

  “How many times have we looked over the specs?”

  “A dozen at least.”

  “And how many times have we had to make corrections?”

  “Every time we’ve looked at them.”

  “Exactly, the work will never be done, the best we can do right now is use our kit in the field and see how it plays. We will get more data from actual field work than over analyzing and nitpicking details.”

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  “Maybe…”

  “Maybe? You know I’m right, and in fact you knew that before you started tinkering.”

  Kid remains quiet, and John releases the valve on the bottom of the nozzle, causing the entire machine to vibrate and release a concoction of everything a man in John’s state could ever possibly need.

  His speech remains fine when intoxicated, but the rest of the world smears around him in a dizzying blur. All of that vanishes as he unscrews the canteen and pours the contents down his throat.

  The cocktail of juices and stims works through his body like a miracle, melting the buzz away, removing any chance of a hangover, and bringing him back to working order.

  “Why are you really held up in here?” John asks, spinning around to look at Kid.

  He has to blink a few times to steady himself…maybe they should tweak the measurements now that John thinks about it. The juice it produces is meant to cure normal people, and John had drunk twice as much as any normal person.

  Kid shrugs, and John sets his canteen down before making his way over to Kid’s side, looking down at the spec sheets for the new armor.

  “Come on, talk to me.”

  Kid scowls, and sets the papers and pen down.

  “It’s nothing serious John, I just…have a hard time really socializing with the others. When we are on the job and can talk shop or combat it’s great! But we have had a few moments like these before, downtime between missions, when you run out of work talk and reminiscing, and I just…don’t have anything I can share. Everyone else can talk about their lives before all this but there isn’t much for me to talk about. It’s better to just keep my distance so I don’t bring down the mood.”

  “We all god tragic backstories Kid, it’s par for the course.”

  Kid shakes his head. “This is different, and also not about my tragic past.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “I just…can’t relate to them, that's all. It feels bad, not being able to engage at their level. I feel awful when the conversation turns to normal shit because I just can’t meet anyone at that level.”

  “So what, you hold yourself up in here until the conversation gets back to killing mother fuckers?”

  “Just about.”

  “That's a shit excuse.”

  Kid blinks a couple times and looks up to John, who holds his gaze.

  “You are a badass, one of the best damn operators I've ever seen, and one of the smartest fuckers on the planet, but you draw the line at a hard conversation? How many years have you been with these people?”

  “A year longer than you.”

  “Then that's long enough for you to get it through your head that they don’t give a shit. We are all family here, Kid. even if you can’t engage the way you want to, we still want you around.”

  Kid bites the nail of his thumb a bit.

  “What the fuck is there to think about? You’re smart enough to know it’s true.”

  “I know…but still, I just feel out of place is all. It might be easier for you mister charisma, you make friends everywhere you go.”

  “I make enemies everywhere I go.” John corrects, and pats Kid on the shoulder. “But also you’re damn wrong.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really, now take my word for it so I don’t have to vomit up all my shit onto you. I just sobered up and I'd rather be drunk if I'm going to do that.”

  Kid chuckles, and John cracks a smile in return.

  “The only way to get better is to embrace the suck, which means getting out there and forcing yourself to sit down, and enjoy a beer and a conversation around a campfire while your family talks about shit other than work.”

  “Alright, alright, fine.” Kid grabs the papers and tucks them under his arm, but John swipes them away and places it all back on the table.

  “No no, no escape hatch, embrace the god damn suck, you’re going in raw.”

  “Ew, phrasing.”

  “Jesus, you are a kid.” John laughs, and hauls Kid out of the chair and guides him back towards the party, where it looks like it’s already started without them.

  Blackbeard stands tall, one leg on the fire pit, voice echoing out over the night air in a shockingly beautiful melody. John can’t understand a single word Blackbeard sings in Russian, but man can this pirate carry a note.

  John sits down next to Bella, who hands him the guitar he had left outside the last time they all gathered around the fire. John played it a bit, but didn’t sing at all, and Bella seems intent on changing that tonight.

  Kid takes up the seat opposite Bella, smiling faintly as Blackbeard finishes up his song, and the next in line, Kane, comes to rise.

  Kane can’t sing for shit, but he doesn’t care. He screeches the lyrics like a dying animal even with John strumming out the melody to try his best to help his friend out. If you can’t sing well, then sing loudly, a phrase invented by someone who's never had the profound displeasure of having to hear Kane.

  Casper tries to deflect as his turn comes up, but after the entire group threatens to dogpile him, he relents, and mostly speaks the words to a song John doesn’t recognize. He keeps his voice low, its natural rasp lending itself well to his half hearted attempt, and it doesn’t turn out half bad by the end.

  A round of genuine applause rises as he takes a sarcastic bow, and then it’s Broncos turn.

  Bronco can’t hold a note either, though she isn’t nearly as bad as Kane. She picks a song everyone knows, a brilliant strategy it turns out because soon everyone is singing along to Elvis’s ‘Hound Dog’.

  Finally, it comes to John's turn, second to last, with only Bella remaining after him to inevitably steal the show.

  “Oh I am looking forward to this.” Bella leans in, resting her chin on her hand as she bites the tip of her tongue in a way that makes John go crazy.

  “It’s been a damn long time…” John notes, taking a few test strums on the guitar, trying to remember the position his fingers need to be in.

  John isn’t much of a singer, though he can certainly play the guitar. His wife was the one with the gifted voice, so he never had to worry much about carrying a note. The memory of her bleeds into his mind as his fingers strum out the first few tones, the sound of her as she gave rise to a single note that carried throughout their house like an entire choir of angels had appeared in their living room.

  There is only one song he’s confident in singing by himself, without the noise of other people to drown him out, or the effects of alcohol to make him think he’s better than he actually is. It’s a song he knows in the very depths of his soul, because it’s the song that his wife would sing the most. It’s a swingy piece, originally on the piano but he managed to play it on the guitar nonetheless, not at all his normal style and yet it burns in him unlike anything else.

  John lets the notes dance across his fingers until he finds the lyrics of Billie Holliday’s “easy living” in his throat, and opens his mouth to sing them.

  “Living for you…” His voice cracks, and fades before the end of the first line, his fingers still carry the note and so he tries to pick it back up with the remainder of the line, but he can’t find the words any longer, and his fingers strike a wrong note.

  The air around him is quiet, save for the crackle of the fire the occasional gust of wind.

  John lets the strings vibrate out, until it eventually dies. He repositions his hands to try again, but the rest of the lyrics linger in his mind and catch in his throat.

  He knows them all, knows them by heart, but he can’t bring himself to say them, he can’t give them voice. In some far away part of his mind he can hear his wife’s voice, humming, singing those lyrics, finishing the song for him… is easy living. It's easy to live when you’re in love, and I’m so in life, there’s nothing in life but you…

  “I… I’m sorry.” John chokes, her fingers still lingering on the first chord of the song. “I...Can’t…” He brings one fist up to his mouth and presses it there, as his eyes linger in the fire, tears building in the corners of his eyes.

  “Do you know La Vie en Rose?” Bella asks, her hand brushing against his own as he holds on to his guitar.

  “I…No, I can’t say I do…sorry.” John sniffs, and bats away the tears that still run down his cheeks. His chest strains, lungs desperate to cry, but he holds it back, even though it hurts more than anything in the entire goddamn world.

  “It’s a long song, but my mother would sing it to me when I was a little girl.”

  John looks to Bella, her eyes soft, understanding, and only for him. Nothing else around the campfire exists then, only her, and her voice, and John.

  “If I sing the first verse in French, can you find the tune?”

  “I can try, sure.” John sucks in a breath, and listens to her as she sits up straight, and closes her eyes.

  “Des yeux qui font baisser les miens…” She starts, and in that very moment the fire appears to grow brighter. John doesn’t understand the words but he can hear the nostalgia, the love in the lyrics. His fingers find the notes as strum along, matching Bella’s pacing, finding the rhythm together until the verse ends, and she repeats the first verse in English. “Hold me close and hold me fast, The magic spell you cast. This is “La vie en rose”. When you kiss me, heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see "La vie en rose.”

  Her voice carries into the night, though it sounds as though it only reaches John’s ears. Her eyes open and she looks into the fire, on hand finding itself resting on John's leg as he plays the chords to her song, until the final lyrics are sung out into the night air, until the final note dances across the breeze, and Bella turns to look at John.

  “Thank you John, that was beautiful.” Bella smiles, one thumb brushing against his leg.

  John nods, and smiles his thanks to her.

  The conversation around the campfire returns, though John doesn’t hear it, not as he looks into Bella’s eyes. His right hand falls from his guitar to rests atop Bella’s, and remains there for the rest of the night.

  Do you listen to the End Credit songs in the Youtube links at the bottom of some of our chapters?