Tactical Obsession

The heat on the tarmac was thick and heavy, pressing down on Ayden as she stood beside her duffle bag, her posture straight. The true essence of a soldier.

The scent of jet fuel hung thickly in the air, blending with the metallic tang of steel, metal and the dust from the dunes outside the perimeter fence. Ayden lifted the strap of her heavy duffle bag over her shoulder as she took a final glance at the base camp behind her.

Baghdad. This was home. Now it's just a base.

The name stitched proudly on her uniform over her heart.

Intelligence and Operations Sergeant Ayden Holt. IOS.

It wasn’t just a mere title. It was proof of everything she’d endured—every bloodied mission, every wound and scar, every sleepless night, every victory and loss.

The sun was beginning to lower on the sandy horizon, casting long golden shadows and light over the runway as the engines of the Hercules Plane whirred to life with a deafening roar. She stared ahead, her expression unreadable, her mind miles away.

In a few hours, she would be thousands of miles away from this base and dessert, and everything else that came with it, bound for her next contract.

Northern Ireland. New base. New mission. Just as we like it, Ayden.

Her last eight months had been grueling with her contract having her stationed at an elaborate base. Baghdad had been her temporary home for the past year, and despite the exhaustion gnawing at her bones and muscles, she was happy to leave the sand and dunes behind. But not happy to exchange it for mud and rain, plus thick accents of Irish brooding men.

There was a strange comfort in the chaos, her chaos, the adrenaline pumping through her veins during missions, and the unsolvable mysteries that came with it. Unsolvable, until Ayden got her hands full.

But she had been through this before. This was the life she knew, a life she wanted: base after base, contract after contract. She never stayed in one place long enough to form lasting ties, not ever having to see a reason why.

Just me. Alone, just as it should be. Forever.

Northern Ireland was next. She would be stationed at the newly highly established Fort Blackburn, a remote army base tucked into the cold, rainy hills of the countryside. And as far as she had heard, a multi-national base involving different united fronts.

The base was like any soldiers wet dream.

It was going to be another mission, another rotation, but this one felt different somehow. Ayden couldn’t put her finger on why, but there was a weight in her chest that hadn’t been there before when she would leave a base behind. She was contracted to be stationed there for a year, but the mission? The mission was still unknown to Ayden, and her mind was already beginning to buzz.

Maybe it was the wear and tear of years spent in combat and high zones, or maybe it was something else, something she couldn’t yet name.

Calm down Ayden. Whatever it is, it's your life. Nothing new.

Ayden’s military life was all she had ever known. She had grown up in the care of the system in outer London, moving from one foster home to the next, shuffled between cold, unfamiliar houses where she was just another mouth to feed.

Another to abuse, to be forgotten, to crack her spirit in childhood, a childhood she never had.

Childhood abuse during her time in the system from older kids, had shaped her early years. Another part of her story she buried deep, never once letting anyone in.

No family, no one to count on. Just how she liked it.

When she turned eighteen, the system had spat her out, and the military had been the only place that made sense. It offered her something her world never had. Structure, a purpose, and most of all, a sense of belonging, even if it was fleeting from base to base.

She had earned her place in the ranks through hard work and sheer determination, never once given others the satisfaction to see her break.

Rising to a high rank hadn’t been easy, especially for someone like her. A smaller woman, standing at only 5’4”, with a slim, toned frame that often drew unwanted remarks.

Her fellow soldiers would often taunt or disregard her for her size, her lack of brute strength, but Ayden had never let it get to her. She didn’t need brawn when she had stamina, agility, and most importantly, courage. Courage like a soldier she was.

It wasn’t her job to go in guns blazing, among explosions and hell fire.

Her expertise was in the shadows, stealth missions, recon, anything that required someone to move unseen, gather intel, see cracks in enemy infrastructure and her former captains saw it as an advantage.

Her file was impressive. She had served at multiple bases around the world, from the blistering heat of the Middle East, to Europe, to the icy winds of Eastern Europe.

Her superiors often pushed her into the toughest missions and surroundings, the kind where failure wasn’t an option. And she thrived under pressure, gaining more respects from every successful mission.

But despite the respect she had earned, Ayden had never let herself get too close to anyone. The army had taught her one thing above all: People disappear when the bullets stop flying, and she intended it to stay that way.

Friends were temporary. Comrades and collegaues were temporary.

Bonds were forged in fire and distress, but quickly dissolved in peace and neglect. She had let it happen many times before and for that she kept her distance from everyone. Not ever letting anyone closer, not even her superiors.

People I don't need. I have myself and that is enough company.

As she glanced back at the Hercules Plane, her heart felt heavy. The black boots she wore were scuffed, the uniform snug on her lithe frame, perfectly manicured for display, she took pride in that. Took pride in her appearance, not ever having one detail out of place.

“Time to lift off,” the pilot called out from his headset, snapping her back to the present.

She walked, securing her duffle bag over her shoulder once more, her movements precise, practiced.

The other soldiers were already boarding, their chatter echoing in the warm and humid evening air. She fell in line, her steps measured, her face expressionless, not letting anyone read her thoughts.

The world around her seemed to fade as she stepped onto the plane, her boots thumping down on the metal. The hum of the engines grew louder as the ramp slowly closed behind her, sealing her in for the long flight.

Fort Blackburn awaited her. Another mission, another chapter.

But deep down, Ayden knew this one might just be different. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. But ready or not, she was on her way.

And fucking ready I have to be.

Ayden secured herself into the seat, the harness tight across her chest, securing her duffle bag under her seat. She pulled the large, headphones over her ears, drowning out the low hum of the engines.

Around her, soldiers shuffled into place, their voices blending into a symphony of heavy Irish accents, some joking and laughing some happy about returning home to their motherland.

A few men were discussing plans for leave, their excitement to touch Irish soil was high, reuniting with family and loved ones. She could hear the snippets of conversations through the headset, but she tuned them out.

She had caught their glances, though. She always did. The curious, sometimes lingering looks.

Fucking people.

Men and women alike often found something unusual in her whether it was her size, her ranks, or simply the fact that she was different from the rest, a little mouse with a heavy assault riffle sneaking through the battlefield, covered in head to toe in combat gear.

She’d grown used to it.

But she wasn’t here to make friends, and she certainly wasn’t here to entertain the curiosity of those around her.

With a practiced air of indifference, she ignored the stares, letting them roll off her as easily as the tight ponytail held her hair in place. She took a heavy pride and obsession in her uniform and looks, a lasting OCD as everything had a place and needed to be perfect.

Or else her day and mind would be ruined.

The snippets of conversation from the soldiers flowed around her, though she kept her face turned toward the window across the aisle, the headphones blocking most of the sound from the engine. She was almost at peace in her mind, until she felt the weight of a stare, one pair of eyes lingering too long.

She glanced sideways.

The burly soldier, one with a thick beard, was watching her again, murmuring something to his companion next to him.

“Are ya new to the unit, lass?” he finally asked, leaning forward on his knees, his gaze attempting to pierce her walls.

People and their fucking curiosity.

Ayden gave him a curt nod, her face remaining expressionless.

“Northern Ireland rotation,” she said, her voice low, just enough to acknowledge him and nothing more.

He raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a rough post, lass. Not many volunteer for it, y’know.”

“Didn’t ask you to analyze it, but I'll guess I have to thank you for your obvious comment,” she replied short, turning her attention back to the small rounded window of the sandy dunes outside.

His friend snickered, elbowing him.

“You picked the wrong one, mate.”

Unperturbed, the bearded man grinned, leaning back in his seat.

“Right. Just tryin’ to make conversation, y’know. Some folks actually enjoy a bit o’ chat on these hellish flights.”

“Yeah well. Not one of those people,” she replied.

Barely glancing at him before returning her gaze to the faint reflection of her own face against the glass. She slipped one AirPod into her ear to close the conversation quicker than it begun.

Fucking people.

He laughed under his breath, muttering to his companion through the headset comms, “Cold as a bleedin’ Irish winter, that one.”

And I can bite like one as well, fucker.

Ayden didn’t care to respond. She closed her eyes, shifting further into the hard seat, letting the engines roaring humming drown out whatever they said next.

She fished her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her playlists until she found something slow, something that could lull her into the deep, restful sleep she desperately needed as she knew sleeping on a Hercules plane was terrible.

Her thumb hovered over the play button for a moment, hesitating to surrender to the music, or rather be vigilant among the curious soldiers, not liking being undeterred from her surroundings.

But, she knew sleep was vital. If anything, it was her only escape from the thoughts that had been haunting about a new territory, new faces, new superiors.

The low notes of the music filled her ears as she felt her body relax into the seat despite the tightness of the seats harness. The world outside faded; the chatter of soldiers, the vibrations of the aircraft engines, the distant rumble of the tarmac beneath the wheels all melted into a distant murmur.

She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, her fingers finding the worn leather of her wallet. Slowly, she pulled it out, opening it just enough to glimpse the one photo she always carried with her.

This was us. But not anymore.

A small, battered image of a girl no older than six, standing outside a white brick house with cracks in every nook and corner. The girl in a worn dress and muddy shoes, clutching a filthy teddy bear so tightly in her arms it was as though her life depended on it.

As though the stuffings itself, could shield her from her neglect and terror.

The girl’s piercing green eyes were wide with fear, her face etched with fear and worry. Fear for the unknowing future she had.

That was her, the child no one had wanted.

Abandoned on the steps by her mother or father of a foster home in the middle of a cold, dreary English night. She never knew why or who, but there she was. Placed there like the last train stop in the night. Just an unwanted child, an unwanted future.

An unwanted problem.

Ayden stared at the photo for a long moment, her chest tightening with the familiar, old ache. She had kept that picture for as long as she could remember, a reminder of where she had come from and everything she had fought to escape and reclaim.

Some might have a picture of their loved ones in their wallets, but Ayden kept her inner child, the small worried child snatched from any family or love.

That small, frightened girl in the photo believed she had no future, no hope, no love. No one to care for her.

But she had vowed to herself years ago when she joined the military that she wouldn’t stay that way. She had promised that girl a better life, a future she herself would claim. Making sure she always had a prosperous future, without anyone. Just her.

“Don't worry, I got us. I always will,” she whispered under her breath, barely audible even to herself.

She slipped the wallet back into her jacket, her thumb running along the edge of the photo one last time before zipping the pocket shut.

The sound of muffled laughter caught her attention. The two soldiers across from her were still sneaking glances, their faces painted with curiosity and something else she didn’t care to analyze.

She could feel their eyes on her, the way they exchanged looks as if trying to figure her out. The burly man with the thick beard and a deep-set frown, leaned over to whisper something to his companion, who quickly glanced at her before nodding in agreement.

They don't even bother hiding it. They never do. Fuckers.

Ayden rolled her eyes and sank deeper into the seat, letting her head rest against the cold metallic wall of the aircraft. She had long since stopped caring what people thought.

People see what they want to see.

To them, she was just another soldier in a foreign war, another face passing through the endless machine of combat and rotation. They didn’t know her story, and they wouldn’t unless she wanted them to and that never happened. She kept people afar, not liking people middling in her business or ruining her routines.

The plane continued to rumble as it taxied down the runway, the vibrations thundered under the metal floor, making her knees and boots shake.

Ayden closed her eyes and let the sensation of movement and the music lull her deeper into her own thoughts. The music playing softly in her ears began to drown out the world around her.

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as the familiar pressure of take off pressed her back into the seat.

As the plane lifted into the sky, the ground falling away beneath them, she felt the weight of exhaustion finally begin to pull her under.

The adrenaline from the past few months had worn off, leaving her drained, empty. Missions after missions had taken a toll on her body, luckily she avoided gunshots this time around.

No war trophies this time around. Let's keep it that way.

Sleep was her only solitude for the moment, the only place she could escape the constant noise of her own thoughts and the weight of the soldiers close around her.

Her breathing slowed as the world around her blurred into darkness. For a moment, as she drifted toward sleep, she could still hear the muffled conversations of the soldiers, the hum of the engines, the wind howling against the hull of the plane.

Ayden succumbed to sleep, her body sinking into the seat, her mind slipping into a rare, dreamless rest, as she always had trouble sleeping. Both on places and new bases.

Fort Blackburn was waiting for her, another mission, another contract in the life she had chosen and deeply vouched for.

Her secured future.

But for now, there was only the quiet hum of the aircraft, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and the weight of the past fading into the background.

Whatever awaited her in Northern Ireland would have to wait a few more hours, before touch down.

For now, Ayden Holt rested, somewhere between the battles behind her and the unknown ahead. Often the unknown irked her more than it should have, but perhaps this time, she won't expect what is coming.

Whatever it is. I will be fucking ready.