(AN: This plot bunny has been running around in my head for over a month. It started out as a one shot, but after some tampering and trial and error now a full-blown story. For anyone who is just now getting on board and reading this for the first time, the first few chapters are setting up the story, so please be patient. Review, critique, comment and jeer away.

Per the standard disclaimer I own nothing. Spec Ops: the Line belongs to Yager, Entertainment, and Familiar of Zero belongs to Yamaguchi Noboro. Any references to pop culture or the like belong to their respective owners.)

"A man cannot become a hero until he can see the root of his own downfall."

- Aristotle

(June 28th, 2012, Dubai. 19:40 hours local time)

Captain Martin Walker pulled himself out of cover and fired another salvo with his M249 SAW. He was rewarded by watching the Shadow Lugo collapsing, his AA-12 shotgun clattering to the ground. Then the captain's vision blurred, and a bright light blinded him. When his vision cleared Walker looked down and in the place of his former subordinate was a dead Heavy Trooper. But the Delta Force captain could still hear Lugo's voice still echoing in his ears.

"...The only villain is you, Walker...only you..."

Captain Walker didn't know what to say. After all the horrible things that had happened in Dubai, he still firmly believed that Konrad was to blame for all of this, including the death of Lugo. Then he heard Adams call out.

"Walker, get your ass over here! I'm bleeding out!"

A far cry from the the trio of professional Delta Force operators that entered the ruined city of Dubai forty-eight hours earlier, now Walker and Adams were a bloody wreck, and Adams barely even registered the chain of command. Walker slapped a bandage over his heavy gunner's wound and slammed his last morphine shot into his shoulder. Adams spoke again, this time in not as much pain.

"There'll be more inside, we should keep moving."

Walker grabbed the AA-12 and slammed a fresh drum into the receiver.

"Let's kill `em all!"

He took cover by the door and saw several Zulu Squad soldiers emerge in the darkness of the command center's interior. Fearsome in appearance with skull balaclavas and orange goggles, to Walker they embodied the faceless enemies that Delta Squad had been gunning down throughout all of Dubai. What Walker didn't realize, was that they were not so faceless.

"Tangos moving, eyes wide!"

1SG Crosby, leader of Zulu Squad, growled in his radio as he advanced on the now-overrun command center. Members of Zulu Squad were notorious for being cool and detached in combat, but their leader Crosby stood out even in his own cadre, earning him the call sign Iceman. It contrasted with the turmoil of emotions that boiled within. Names flashed through his mind; Bowles, Benson, Tebby, McPherson, Gobbi. All dead; all murdered by this sick psychopathic CIA puppet who called himself Captain Martin Walker.

48 hours earlier, when they first made contact with this mysterious 3 man team, his was the dissenting opinion among the senior commanders of the 33rd; he was in favor of trying to contact this Captain Walker and see if all the violence was just a misunderstanding on their part, instead of total annihilation. All of that changed with the Gate Massacre, 156 soldiers and 47 civilians burned to death with white phosphorus. Out of the ashes of grief over the loss of civilian live and the deaths of their comrades was replaced with a burning hatred of this Walker.

His thoughts were interrupted as he took cover and noted that Walker and the other soldier had taken up positions behind the sandbag reinforced bunker inside the Command Center. He signaled to Martinez, one of the other Zulu Squad soldiers, who spoke in the same cold, clipped manner as Crosby.

"Advancing on Delta, cover my six."

Crosby nodded and signaled his other squad-mate to approach from the blind side with grenades. The thought brought another unpleasant memory, he remembered when Walker had intervened with Operation Cockroach, when 33rd intel found the location of Special Agent Riggs and his team of insurgents. Walker and his team ambushed Crosby and his men as they converged on the ruined department store that was Rigg's base, and what should have been a routine flush out mission turned into a bloodbath. With higher ground and the element of surprise, Walker's team decimated the 33rd, but the kicker was what happened to Pvt. Gobbi.

Gobbi was still an idealist, believing that the Damned 33rd would be vindicated once the world knew the truth of what happened. The young father of two from Kentucky had struck up a friendship with the usually gruff leader of Zulu Squad, and they shared many an evening off duty at the putting green swapping stories. In that firefight Gobbi had broken formation to try and take out Walker, who had taken cover behind a HUMVEE. The next Crosby heard was Gobbi screaming in a panic.

"Get it off me, for Christ's sake get it off be before it goes!"

Too late, as soon as Crosby had eyes on the private, he exploded in a shower of red gore and body parts. That sick bastard Walker had thrown a "sticky" grenade and it stuck to the unlucky private. Gobbi would have turned 23 next month. His baby girl just turned 3.

An explosion jolted Sgt. Crosby back to the present as he saw one of his squaddies fly back from a RPG explosion. The other one had taken cover by the Memorial Wall, but the enemy Heavy Gunner unloaded his M249 SAW onto Pineada's position. The corporal barely choked out a "Fuck! I'm hit!" before collapsing on the ground.

Crosby let out a sigh. Martinez and Pineada were down. More names to add to the Memorial Wall. Assuming they ever recaptured the Command Center. He spoke into his radio.

"Taking casualties."

He tried to control his emotions and staying focused on the mission. Muzzle flashes burst from the darkness, and instinctively Crosby ducked. There was a clattering noise and he looked down, only to see a grenade at his feet. Time slowed down, and he thought he heard a voice. A soft melodious female voice echoed in his ears.

"Sergeant Robert Crosby, you have suffered so much, and for so little..."

Before Crosby could react there was a blinding flash, and he found himself in a world of bright white light. Before him stood a lithe figure clothed in wispy thin garments of a purple and gold colors. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he saw that the figure was a beautiful young woman with green hair.

A beautiful woman with green hair? His rational brain rebelled at what he saw. Maybe this was the afterlife? Heaven? It didn't fit with what he remembered being taught as a child. The ethereally beautiful lady slowly strode up to him, her dress billowing as she stepped forward. She cocked her head to one side and her green tresses swished as if teased by an unseen wind. She stared intently at Crosby with large eyes that were the same hue as her hair. The lady looked over his clothes, his armor and his weapon, and finally looked him in the eyes. She continued in the same soft musical voice.

"All you ever wanted was to be a hero. And yet cruel fate has turned you into a monster."

He stared at her for a long time before responding.

"With all due respect, ma'am, who are you?"

She smiled.

"Who I am is of little consequence. I am here to grant a boon, to answer the wish that has burned in your warrior's heart for so long. I will grant you your wish. You will become a hero."

Before he could respond, the lady reach out to him and touched his armored chest with the tip of her finger, and he felt a burning pain convulsing through his frame. Another blinding white flash, and he found himself face down.

Grass. The first thing he perceived was green grass. It was over 18 months since he was last stateside, but it felt like an eternity since he saw grass. A breeze blew cooled the back of his neck and wicked the sweat that was staining his balaclava. As he began to get his bearings, he pushed himself to his feet and looked up. The sight that greeted him made him freeze.

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière sat on the ground from where the blast blew her on her backside, staring at the apparition before her. At first she thought it was a golem, but then it became evident it was a human male. He was dressed in very odd clothes, wearing black and white armor that was neither metal nor leather but some sort of woven material. He wore a helm covered in black material, his face was hidden behind a scarf patterned after a human skull, his eyes were concealed behind a visor of mirrored orange glass. He appeared disoriented, but when he noticed her he tensed up, bringing his weapon to bear. It looked like a sleeker version of a musket, but made of some sort of black material. Then he spoke, in a guttural harsh voice.

"'Become a hero she said'. Dammit Walker, you son of a bitch!"

(AN: Seriously I thought that the guys in Zulu Squad in Spec Ops: The Line were some real badasses; cool uniforms, cool equipment, ice-cold combat chatter. So I'm putting one in Familiar of Zero. If you want to see our Zulu Squad sarge being a fish out of water at the Tristain Academy of Magic, then proceed to Chapter 2 Adapt and Overcome. I've removed the chapters involving the fate of Adams and Walker since it was causing some confusion. They have their own story Friendship is Magic: The Line. Hope this helps. Enjoy!)