INTRODUCTION

WARNINGS- Swearing, violence, small amount of gore, major injury to main character. Some shooting of baddies by Hardys. Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Joe whumping fans- bear with me- it gets there. People who don't like Joe whumping... Sorry, you'll not like it.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT- Thanks to NC my former army medic colleague for his front line first aid info. The techniques described are not invented. The sat tracker is also as described.

This is a stand-alone short story (Thought about padding it out into a full-length adventure but I kinda like it like this…..) I wrote a couple of years ago after a very specific conversation with the above-mentioned colleague. You will most likely be able to guess the content of the part of the conversation that captured my imagination if you read this! The boys are in their 20's. Casefiles reality.

A note to the Guest reviewer who loves the homo-eroticism in my stories...That made me sit up! Not what I was going for at all! I see the brothers' relationship as a pure, unconditional bond entirely devoid of fleeting moments of attraction. However, if that's what you see, fair doos and glad you like it!

THE STORY- HUNTED!

CHAPTER 1- A NEW CHALLENGE

Joe Hardy couldn't keep still. Adrenaline was pumping through his body. His head buzzed with excitement, anticipation and the just the smallest amount of fear. His blond hair was concealed under his helmet. His bright blue eyes searched for Frank, his older brother. He found him, standing stock still nearby. Dark-haired, brown eyed and handsome, Frank was his best friend. Frank was staring into the middle distance. He was focused and ready for action.

To most people who knew them the picture would seem strange. The Hardys, clad in camouflage gear and dressed for combat, armed with rifles and sidearms. They were gathering together with fourteen other men, united in spirit and intention. Joe, excited and fidgety, itched to get going. Suddenly, he heard the whir of rotor blades and looked up. The helicopters had arrived. It was time.

...

Eight weeks earlier, Frank and Joe had arrived at Camp Vega. It was a ground troops training facility for the shadowy government agency known as 'The Network'. It was set in the stunning scenery of the Eastern Rocky Mountains in Wyoming. But they hadn't come for the view.

The brothers had been approached by Arthur Gray, a Network agent who they knew well. Through the years, they had worked with and for the Network on a number of occasions, although a general distrust of the motivations of the agency always prevented them from accepting Gray's repeated offers of permanent recruitment.

But this was different. Gray had offered them the chance to train with front line Network troops to enable them to work with a specialist unit when certain circumstances arose, rather than full time. The unit's function was specific and good by definition. They sent extraction teams to rescue hostages. Frank and Joe had recognised this offer as Gray's latest attempt to draw them into the fold by degrees, but this time they had been tempted.

After much soul-searching, Frank and Joe had decided to do it. They didn't see it as a career change. Working in the family detective agency was what they both wanted and would continue to do. But it was an opportunity to do more. To make a real difference to a few people. They had both been kidnapped in their time and understood the fear hostages would experience all too well.

There was an added draw. Gray had mentioned there would be a few upcoming operations specifically targeting persons held by the terrorist group known as 'the Assassins'. Frank and Joe had carried a personal grudge against them since they had murdered Joe's girlfriend, Iola Morton, with a car bomb eight years previously. It was too good to turn down.

Both the brothers' parents and their partners, Vanessa Bender and Callie Shaw, had been concerned, with good reason. But they knew them well enough to see they wouldn't be talked out of it and had eventually offered their resigned support. Frank and Joe had packed, kissed their girlfriends, and left with Gray, ready to start a new chapter in their lives.

...

The training had been hard. It was physically and mentally demanding. They were at the facility with six other new recruits from across the US. One of their trainers had been a welcome sight- Biff Hooper. Big, blond and boisterous, he was a childhood friend who had helped them with many cases in their teenage years. He had been recruited by the Network shortly after Iola had been killed and now was an experienced team leader. Although he was now hardened by action, his character still shone through. His dry wit had helped pull the Hardys and the six other new recruits through some of the greatest physical challenges they had faced.

From the start, the group had been divided into two teams- Red and Blue. Each team consisted of four recruits, three experienced personnel and a team leader. Frank and Joe were both in Blue Team. Biff was the team leader of Red Team. The teams were to stay as they were for their first few real-world missions. They had to get to know each other well- their lives would depend on one another. They had bonded well during the training and were all becoming firm friends.

The teams were put through innumerable mountain runs, hand-to-hand combat, tactical and firearms training before starting to work through a series of scenarios. Each was a faithful reconstruction of an incident actually dealt with by an extraction team in the past. The fledgling teams were placed in the situations and left to deal with them as though they were real. The scenarios were tough. The role-players shot blanks but hit for real and everyone took their fair share of knocks. It was necessary. When they were ready to hit the real world it would be no-holds-barred.

Frank had made the training extra hard on himself. He wanted to train as a team medic. It was still an armed role, but with the additional responsibility of providing front line first aid to any persons in the team who might be injured during a mission. The aim was to stabilise them enough to keep them going until they could be evacuated to the nearest field hospital. The brothers had both been trained in first aid before, but this was different.

Frank studied hard in their rest periods, determined to understand every injury he might encounter so stabilising it could become second nature.

He sat looking at his books one evening in the accommodation room they all shared. Joe was lying on his bunk, holding a pack of ice to his cheekbone. 'How's it feeling?' said Frank, glancing over at him.

'Not bad. Remind me to punch Biff in the face at the next available opportunity though.'

A chuckle came from a bunk on the other side of the room. It was Biff. 'What did you expect? A hug? I was being an evil arch-villain! You should have ducked!'

'Next time I'll just shoot you, Biff.' Joe said, grinning. He was loving the role-playing scenarios as much as Biff.

'Can you guys be quiet? I'm trying to study. I've got exams tomorrow.'

'Sorry Frank. What are you on? Want me to test you?'

'Sure, thanks.' Said Frank. He threw his textbook over to Joe.

Joe flicked through it in search of the goriest bits.

'OK, Frank. Bullet wounds. What do you do? Go!'

Frank shook his head. 'Joe, that's a very general question. It depends on the body part that's been hit, the nature and calibre of the weapon and the rate of bleeding. Be more specific please.'

Joe shut the book and looked over at Frank. 'OK. Shotgun. Head. Lots of blood.'

'I wouldn't be wasting my time. They would be dead. Try another.

'OK. Rifle same as ours, upper leg, loads of blood.'

'Priority is controlling blood loss. The things you could try would be applying pressure directly- with a pressure bandage or your hand- or indirectly over the nearest point where the affected artery crosses bone. Standing on that point with your foot works best. Or you could plug the wound. Or a combination of those things, of course.'

'Yuk. Dare I ask how you plug wounds?'

'Tampon.'

'WHAT?'

'I know, it's gross. You stuff it in the bullet hole. It expands and can actually stop the bleeding. We get issued with sterile ones. Not just straight out the supermarket.'

'Is there a picture?'

'Yes, page 175 or 176 I think.'

Joe opened the book again and turned to the pages. 'Now that is properly gross! Look, Biff. You seen that done?' Joe threw the book over to their friend.

Biff pulled a face 'Yeah. It's a bit grim. Often works though.'

'Understatement of the decade, Biff. No way would I want to do that.' said Joe, shuddering.

'Lucky you're not the medic then, Joe! Anyway, I'm well up with bullet wounds I think.' Said Frank. 'Try something else.'

Biff turned a few pages.

'Explosions. What about shrapnel wounds? OK Frank, big chunk of shrapnel sticking out of someone's chest. Moderate bleeding.'

'That could be interesting. Chests are complicated. There's the potential for what's called a pneumothorax or 'sucking wound'. I've just been looking at them. Air starts to gather in a pocket separating the lungs from the chest wall. The pressure can make it hard to breathe. It's different from a collapsed lung, although both can kill you because you just can't get enough oxygen.' Frank started going through emergency first aid options for different versions of the injury. Biff looked through the pictures in the book, pulling more faces, as he listened to Frank's detailed answer. Joe put out his hand. 'Let's see.' Biff threw the book back to him.

Joe looked at the images of horrific injuries people had suffered as a result of their proximity to explosions. Joe paled slightly as he involuntarily thought about Iola. He never had come to terms with what had happened to her all those years ago, but at least she had been killed outright. He couldn't bear to think of someone he loved suffering with an injury like that. He was suddenly glad he hadn't opted for the additional first aid training. He felt Frank's eyes on him and looked up. Frank was watching him as if he was reading his mind.

'What did you guys think of the scenario today?' Frank asked, changing the subject for his brother. Biff launched into a tirade about how he thought a wrong choice had been made at a key moment. Joe lay back and shut his eyes for a second. So much time had passed yet that day was never far from his mind. He didn't think it would affect him in the field. He hoped it wouldn't. Mentally shaking himself off, he leant back up on his elbow and joined in with the lively banter criss-crossing the room.

...

It was the last week of the course. The brothers were fitter than they had ever been before and had passed every element of the training. They were considered ready for action.

The eight new recruits, plus their team mates and team leaders were gathered together into a hall for a briefing. Frank and Joe noticed Agent Gray sitting at the front of the room.

The commanding officer of the facility addressed them. 'You've done well, men. All of you. You're ready. The good news is that we're ready for you. Your first mission starts tomorrow. Some of you know Agent Gray. He's going to brief you.

Agent Gray stood up in front of them. He plugged a laptop into the large TV screen on the wall at the front of the room. An image appeared of two teenage boys, both blond-haired. They were sitting together on a sun-soaked lawn, smiling broadly at the camera.

'These are Alan and Sam Hope, teenage sons of an American diplomat based in Eastern Europe. They are aged 17 and 18, they like football and dirt-biking and are thoroughly decent kids. They were kidnapped 6 weeks ago. A huge ransom has been demanded, but the decision has been made not to pay. They are being held here….' Gray moved on to a picture of what looked like a small fortress surrounded by trees '…by this man, Mick McGill….' an image of a middle aged man with dark hair, dark eyes and a range of tattoos came up. '…..He is British in origin and has worked as a mercenary all over the world. He is now branching out into drug trafficking and, apparently, kidnapping. We took out a large group in the area a year ago, McGill is an opportunist and has stepped into the power vacuum. He's still small-time, he doesn't have a big support network or anything approaching a personal army as yet. Having sad that, he has a fortified house in the middle of a vast expanse of woodland and some well-armed heavies. No heavy ordnance, nothing larger than a rifle. This is a perfect first mission. But you have to do it right. OK, back to Commander Brigs. Let's talk tactics.'

Frank and Joe exchanged a glance. It wasn't the assassins, but it was a good mission. They had to get the boys out.

...

Joe ran and ran hard, rifle still in his hands. He was the last man out of McGill's stronghold. He had held off until the last moment, covering Red and Blue Teams as they retreated from the property, mission complete. Six enemy targets neutralised. Two male hostages extracted alive. It had all gone like clockwork. There had been no sign of McGill himself.

There was a mile between the property and the clearing in the forest that had been selected as the helicopter landing site. They were covering it fast. Joe could see Frank running two in front of him.

As he came into the clearing, Joe saw Red Team's helicopter taking off. The hostages would be on board. He could see Biff by the door. Joe jumped in to the second helicopter. He noticed Frank's worried face relax on seeing him. He nodded at him. Blue Team leader was counting them in the door. Joe heard his voice on their radio channel.

'Blue Team accounted for. Go go!'

He felt their helicopter begin to lift off. Joe sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. He felt relief, exhilaration and triumph. And a twinge of guilt. He had 'neutralised' two of those 'targets' personally. But it was the nature of the game. A necessary evil to save the boys. He could live with it. If he couldn't he had no business being there.

Suddenly there was a loud noise- an explosion? Joe felt the terrifying sensation of falling then everything went black.

...

As Red Team's helicopter lifted off, Biff Hooper watched out of the door. The chopper he was in had lifted off and was turning to head for safety. He glanced down at Blue Team's aircraft as it took off. And double-took- a Landrover was racing towards the landing site. There was a missile launcher on the back. A man stood behind it, trying to aim as the vehicle bounced along. Biff's jaw dropped in shock. McGill was not meant to have a missile launcher!

The man in the back of the Landrover fired and a missile streaked towards Blue Team's helicopter, taking out one of the main rotor blades. The helicopter dropped, spinning round 180 degrees in the process. It hit the ground, hard .

Red Team watched in horrified silence. The men in the Landrover didn't seem to have managed to re-load the missile launcher, resorting instead to small arms fire. Red Team's pilot risked circling round the downed aircraft. They could see movement on the opposite side of the helicopter from the Landrover. A single figure, hauling another figure away from the smouldering wreckage, then turning and staggering back. At that moment, an explosion tore through the wreckage, throwing the figure in the air.

'They've got the launcher re-loaded….' someone shouted.

They could afford to wait no longer. They had to complete the mission and return the hostages. Red Team turned and flew for safety.

Biff watched out of the door for as long as he could, then put his head in his hands. He had recognised those figures. It was Joe Hardy pulling his brother Frank away from the flames, before being tossed through the air like a rag doll.