>YEZIDI VILLAGE
>IRAQ/KURDISTAN BORDER
>1420HRS...///

“Welcome to Iraq.” Kasim threw a hand out to gesture at the grisly sight before them. Iraqi police were busy with the digging of a pit with the use of an excavator. Donnelley shook his head at that. Kasim was right, the Muslims did not care for the Yezidis, throwing them away in a big pile like they would garbage.

And a pile they were. On the outskirts of the village, ringed by weeping mothers and sisters and daughters, almost as plentiful as the flies was a pile of the men of the village. From four to forty years old, they rotted in the sun. He heard Smitty somewhere behind them retching up whatever breakfast they’d had back in Erbil. 

“Fucking savages.” Kingsley growled, but for all his righteous anger he still had his hand over his mouth and nose for all the stench.

Only Donnelley and Kasim stood seemingly unperturbed by the aftermath of people put to the blade like sheep. It was something medieval in a time where men found quicker ways to kill. The minds of cruel children at work. This was ISIL. This was Anzor. 

“When did you hear about this?” Donnelley asked, listening to the engine of the excavator gear up as it swept the first of the bodies into the pit, the screaming and wailing of the village women growing with it.

“This morning. Before you arrived.” Kasim scrunched his face as he looked at the pitiful scene before him. “I will have Anzor’s head.”

“It goes without saying you’ll have it after we get a chance to question Anzor?” Donnelley said cautiously, hoping Kasim would see it his way.

Kasim only nodded, which did little for Donnelley’s nerves about the operation. “The census put this village at a population of one-hundred.” Kasim looked at Donnelley, “Now it is forty-seven.”

“Fuck.” Donnelley shook his head. “Alright, I’ve seen enough.”

“You know now what we are dealing with?” Kasim asked him as they turned back towards the cars. “These monsters?”

“Yes.” Donnelley spoke. He’d seen death before. This type of death reeked the same way Somalia did. When his car door closed and Kasim turned for his own car the stench was still there with him, “Too well.” He muttered to himself.

“Fucking Christ…” Smitty said as he slammed his door shut, shaking his head and rubbing at his face.

Kingsley got in after, Donnelley noticing the perplexed visage of his. Donnelley raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Where’s all the skin? Where’d they put it after?” Kingsley said, staring out at the police shoveling the bodies into the pit. He looked at Donnelley, “Where the fuck is all the skin?”

Donnelley didn’t like what that implied. He shook his head and his mind raced for every possibility except for the ones The Program would think up. He desperately wanted it to not come to that. “I…” Donnelley rubbed his face, before speaking again in a resigned sigh, “Fuck, I don’t know.”

>THREE WEEKS LATER...///

Donnelley sat in his room, doing his routine cleaning of his pistol while taking the occasional glance at the news on the television in his room. The story about Anzor’s killing sprees was absent from them, but attacks by ISIS in Syria and in Iraq were still there. Mundane, bomb here, rocket there. Donnelley knew they would be in the public eye for a while. The scene at the village wouldn’t stop barging into his thoughts and he hung his head, sighed at the umpteenth time he thought he could still smell it on his clothes. A knocking at his door took him from his thoughts, somewhat thankfully. “I’ve got the do not disturb sign on the door, go away.”

“It’s me!” He heard from the other side, Kingsley, “Let me in!”

Donnelley grunted as he rose and unlocked his door, turning back around while Kingsley pushed it open and closed it again. He folded his arms and looked at Donnelley like he’d gotten him a surprise. It took the other man a moment to catch on, but he did. “No…” Donnelley felt his lip twitch to a smirk, “You’re shitting me.”

“Hell no.” Kingsley shook his head and waved for him to come along, “We’re headed to Kasim now.”

>INIS HEADQUARTERS
>BAGHDAD, IRAQ
>0923HRS...///

The three of them and Kasim waited impatiently in the situation room. They were standing while the rest of them cleared to watch over the mission sat at the table. The big screen at the far wall at the head of the long table was the only big source of illumination in the room. Smitty had a laptop open and a headpiece, mission control, with a direct line of communication to the Operators on the other end of it. The light of the laptop screen played with the shadows of his face in the darkness. The big screen showed a live feed from a drone, overlooking the city they’d placed Viktor in. Following leads, bracing detainees, and a powerful effort in SIGINT on behalf of the NSA/CIA Special Collection Service and INIS’ HUMINT worked tirelessly for this very moment.

Kingsley smiled, elbowing Donnelley gently in his folded arms. Donnelley gave his own smile and carefully reached over to the table, lightly rapping his knuckles over it before turning his attention back to the noiseless feed. Three men had left the building they were paying especially close attention to, a restaurant in Baghdad that Viktor favored. Shitty tradecraft on Viktor’s part meant a set routine and a set route to and from the restaurant. Lucky for them, unlucky for the piece of shit. “That’s him, zoom.”

The feed slowly zoomed in, focusing in on the three men getting into the car. Even though it didn’t show them in cutting edge HD, they heard chattering from the headset. “Positive ID on the package.” Pause. “Two others.”

“Hold, ROE is you follow.” Smitty said.

“Copy.” The man in charge of the small team of CIA Paramilitary and CAG Operators on the ground confirmed, his voice almost muffled to anyone outside of Smitty’s headset.

The car on the feed left, a few moments later another two cars took off after it, the Paramilitary Officers and CAG Operators inside following at a good enough distance. It was a long, tense block of time while the drone followed the two vehicles. All the while, Donnelley could feel his heartbeat quicken and he touched his thumb to his lips, expecting it to go wrong somehow but he tried to shake himself from the thoughts. Superstition telling him to belay that line of thinking lest it fuck everything.

Finally, they’d broken away from the city. After watching them get far enough away, Donnelley turned to Smitty and nodded. Smitty nodded back, “Execute, green light.”

An EC635 helicopter zoomed into view of the feed, Iraqi Special Forces, dropping altitude and pacing Viktor’s car. Two holes appeared in the white paint of the hood and the Toyota Corolla lagged to stop. The helicopter circled over head as the Paramilitary car skidded in front of the Corolla while the other car stayed behind, four men in plain clothes wielding rifles making an aggressive approach from the first car while four others held at the rear car. They didn’t break stride killing Viktor’s bodyguards with disciplined fire as they threw their doors open and made to lift their weapons at the Officers. They pulled Viktor from the back of the Corolla, zip-tying his wrists and hauling him up while they none too gently dragged him to the landing helicopter.

“Fuck yes.” Kingsley’s sharp whisper almost made Donnelley flinch in the former silence, everyone else in the room holding their breath and leaning forward as if this was the greatest action film of all time. “[i]Fuck[/i] yes.”

They were one step closer to Anzor. Viktor was the only thing blocking justice from getting to Anzor Bekzhaev and they’d plucked him from the path of the bullet with Anzor’s name on it. The door of the helicopter shutting like a casket on Viktor.

>THAT NIGHT
>2326HRS...///

Donnelley’s eyes finally opened and he threw the sheets off of himself. It felt like someone had come in and dumped a gallon of water over him. He put his head in his hands and rubbed vigorously. He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but his heart seemed to. It was beating out of his chest, any more hard or fast and his ribs would be dust. He labored just to breathe, reaching over and grabbing up his flask and took a long pull from it, the burn doing little to steady him. But little was not nothing. He braced his quaking hands on his knees and leveraged himself to his feet, rolling his popping shoulders and grabbing up his smokes. He was unperturbed by the fact he was still in his underwear as he opened the sliding glass door to the balcony, overlooking the pool. Beyond that, an entire city.

Baghdad held a quaint beauty to it that no American that hadn’t been here could picture. Most could only bring up images of dusty, loud streets and skeletons of buildings long bombed out. The city lights, the cars on the street, the way the city never slept anymore. It reminded him of home, the lukewarm night air calling to mind West Texas. He closed his eyes, breathed in and out. He opened his eyes and took a drag of his cigarette when he heard something inside his room.

After a bit, he realized his phone was buzzing when it dropped from the nightstand and thudded to the floor a few times. The phone cleared for Delta Green. He crossed the distance between the balcony and his phone as quick as he could. Or liked. Before he could pick it up the call ended. Maybe it’d stop, he thought.

Maybe that’d be the last try.

It started buzzing again. Foster. He swore under his breath as he picked it up, pressing the touch screen to answer and pressing it to his ear. “What?”

“Working Group UMBRA is being activated. Park Service found something in the woods.” Foster said. His voice was dead serious. Donnelley was quiet for a few moments. “You’re going to really want in on this case-“

“You’re shitting me. I just nabbed one of the shitheads I desperately needed to nab and we’re going to get fucking Anzor.” Donnelley shook his head, “You laughed at me when I called you about Iraq and now you’re gonna rope me into something else? Get someone else.”

“Skinned. People. Lots.” Donnelley was quiet again. Donnelley Shut his mouth after that, and Foster started again, “You see?”

“Oh...” Donnelley didn’t realize he was holding his breath, “Shit.”

“West Virginia. Blackriver.” Foster said, “Understood?”

Donnelley rubbed his face again, sighing hard enough it growled in his throat. “Yeah.”

He tapped the screen, ending the call. He again looked out at the city and now the lights that stretched out from his vision held no beauty. The city was a campfire, the darkness of the untamed desert outside its outskirts were filled with the hungry eyes of wolves drooling at the edges of its lights. And now, he knew, worse things yet. Anzor was out there somewhere. What if he’d somehow gotten to America, a wolf in his manger? To Holly? Tilly? 

His phone was clenched in his hand as he stood with his eyes closed, breath laborious and mouth in a quivering scowl. Long ago he’d told himself the things he dealt with for Foster and The Program were foreign, only found in the darkest corners of the world. His missions for The Program, for the Agency had kept away from his doorstep. Until recently. He lashed out and kicked the nightstand, sending the lamp on it tumbling to the ground, “Fuck!”

He stood, his shoulders rising and falling with heaving breath. He needed to pack.

>OUTSIDE WHITE TREE
>BLACKRIVER COUNTY, WEST VIRGINIA
>0800...///

The world moved past Donnelley’s eyes, but not too fast. The trip through the mountains was serene, almost. Like wiping a slate clean before it was dirtied up again by a brief foray through White Tree. What he saw reminded him too damn much of his little hometown in West Texas. Trailers, tweakers, trash. And he wasn’t talking about the litter. He shook his head with a grimacing sigh as a man with a gnarled face of sores stared blankly at them as they turned a corner.

His mind went back to Texas as they drove through the the near-empty mining town of White Tree. Like the young Sheriff Deputy Joseph Donnelley right out of the Army, he set to wondering just how he’d clean up this town on his lonesome. Most likely with the same results as last try. He thought back to the fruitless door kicking and yelling matches and booking processes. Nothing ever changed. Ever.

“Place looks sad.” He heard Foster from the driver’s seat break him from his reverie, “I like the hair, by the way. Nice color.”

“I liked the silence.” Donnelley said simply, and the silence went on.

They broke free from White Tree and made their way back up out of the little valley it was in, towards the mountains. In the distance, Donnelley could see flat where flat wasn’t supposed to be. Pillars of smoke like black snakes reached up like the miners were smoking the angels out of heaven. “They blast the tops clean off. Don’t even want to know what that’s doing to the rivers.” Foster said, “Oh, sorry, [i]silence[/i]. That’s right.”

Donnelley only gave Foster some heavy side-eye before looking back out at the mines just before the apocalyptic sight disappeared behind trees. A few more minutes of driving until Foster started slowing the car down. A roadblock had been set up by the County Sheriffs, Foster flashed an FBI badge and they were waved through up a packed dirt road. “I didn’t know that.”

“Huh?”

“FBI?” Donnelley smirked, “You’re FBI material, alright. Fucking-“

“[i]Big Idiot[/i], yeah. Here.” And Foster tossed a wallet to Donnelley, plopping in his lap.

Donnelley folded it open to reveal a very, [i]very[/i] good fake FBI ID for a John Davidson with his face. He didn’t ask Foster how or where. He didn’t want to know. The less he did, the better, and it wasn’t as if it was the first time they were breaking the law together. The brakes let out a high-pitched complaint as they came to a stop at the scene. Donnelley looked past Foster to see State CID in windbreakers and white-clad forensics specialists in their jumpsuits. 

“How long ago?” Donnelley asked, hanging an arm over the top of his door and the other over the roof, watching Foster get out.

“NPS called me first before they called it in officially.” Foster winked at Donnelley.

The other man only shook his head as he closed his door. The two of them closed in on the scene, receiving hard stares or cautious glances. They were Suits to these people, but they had no idea just how far up the government chain they were. They flashed their fake badges again, “Special Agents Forrest and Davidson.” Foster said. “We’ll be attached to this case.”

“Detective Maryanne Roy, West Virginia CID. Good to have you two.” She lied through her teeth. Donnelley knew it was a lie because nobody liked having Feds around. “Body was found a couple days ago, still fresh. Dental records were sent off for identification of the body first thing.” Detective Roy had a slight scowl on her lips as she put her hands on her hips, “Come with me.”

She took them over to the edges of the cordon where holes were seen. As Donnelley peered in, he could pick out dull and dirtied luster in among the dirt. Bones. Roy gestured to the shallow graves, “There’s more of these too. Several people, one grave.”

“Can I get a look at the body?” Donnelley asked.

“Of course, yeah.” Roy nodded, waving him and Foster on. They followed her back deep into the center of the cordon and sure enough, there it was. Images of the Yezidis being pushed into a pit flashed through his mind before he shook them off. Roy shook her head, “Whoever did this was practiced. A hunter, with a fucking good knife.”

“Uh huh.” Donnelley hiked up the legs of his jeans to squat next to the body. It was a woman, he could tell by the small but still noticeable mounds of tissue around the chest. “Medical books.”

Donnelley muttered. He hadn’t been this close to the Yezidis back in Iraq and even the pictures didn’t do it justice. “What?” Foster asked.

“It’s like those fucking drawings in the medical books, you know? The skinless people just posing.” Donnelley grunted as he got back to his feet, knees crackling. “Fucking clean.”

“Too clean.” Foster frowned.

Donnelley nodded and excused himself. He took one last look at the body and made his way back to the privacy of the car, sliding into the passenger seat and shutting his door. He looked at through his phone, picking out the numbers, not there were many. He sent out the text, ‘Working Group UMBRA is activated. Blackriver, WV.’

[url=https://youtu.be/RYllKEkAtYU]Another fucked up case.[/url] Rubbing his forehead, he looked up and through the trees at the mines far away, writhing smoke rising from the scarred and dead mountaintop. He looked back at Foster and Roy, and the body. The [i]girl[/i]. He shook his head. It was too easy to dehumanize the dead. A defense mechanism. Not people, just bodies.

He sighed, looking back at the heartbroken hills.