Yeah, no. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. The closer he got, the louder the mantra was inside his head, the more anger he felt, the more he relived that moment back on the cliff. This was his only shot at vindication and he wasn’t going to fuck it up again. He was done fucking it up.

He was done.

Tucker wanted nothing more than to say something when he heard that voice, wanted to tell him to eat shit and die while fucking his dead grandmother, but he kept his mouth shut for once. Wash was probably finding his letter now, if not soon. He would be following him here. He would try to get him to stop this stupid mission, and—

Tucker pulled out a grenade as he slid along a wall, hearing Felix’s words, judging where he was without looking around. Fine. Cool. He could do this. He had to do this. Kill him, get the sword, get everyone’s trust back. Three point plan. Fucking easy. He’d be back in time for dinner.

He pulled the pin on the frag grenade, palming it as he leaned around the wall. There was barely a pause before he chucked it at Felix. He hoped. He fucking hoped something so simple would work, but he knew it wouldn’t. Guys like him were notoriously a pain in the ass to kill.

But then again, so was Tucker.

Main thing was to finish it as fast as he could before any fucking reinforcements came.