Mogadishu, Somalia
1992
Maloney heard the woman, the muffled and gagging screams, long before he heard the militia. Laughing, snickering, the fucking putrid shit they were saying to and about her to one another. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he remained still. Focused.
Always calm. Always focused.
Somali National Front traveled through in packs, loud, kicking up dust. He had heard this clan's dialect before, they were aggressive. They were brash. Maloney just feet from them, blending into the brush exactly as he intended to. As he was trained.
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