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Hand of the Scorpion In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. ~José NaroskyHand of the Scorpion by ~Bagrada
Brother Anton sighed as he took a long; deep lungful of night air, comparing it to the thick, heavy air of the Serbian Red Zone, where he'd spent the last Seven years. Compared to that toxic-green hellscape, D.C. was a paradise. Clear, blue skies and the only green on the ground was grass, actual grass!
Brother Anton hadn't seen grass since that one time he'd worked with the Black Hand on a mission to Norway, to destroy a GDI propaganda center.
That had been good; an easy mission in a nice part of the world, but this was something else entirely.
Anton and his squad-br
Lonely 
Sta.sh
