Call of Destiny
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Not mine ., except for my character Sue.
[Soap's POV]
Blini. Hot Russian pancakes flew at full speed missed my face by mere centimeters. Normally, pancakes do not fly but this one is forced to do so due to the direct explosion of an RPG, Rocket Propelled Grenade. The whiff of crisp and sweetness together with radiated warmth assaulted my senses only to give me clue as to what is going to happen next. The stove is nearly mangled open, that gas powered cooker must be going to explode any second now. I got rid of the round thin pancake from my face and glanced back; there Nikolai ducked under one window, reloading his magazine while next to him Price is aiming down his UMP, picking off more hostiles that nearly wiped us out. Both protected from the distance between the room and the stove in the kitchen, but that wasn't the case with our hostess as she walked straight into the debris that was her kitchen, shock was written all over her face.
"Get down, goddamnit!" I barked at her, at the same time my feet scrambled, my eyes scanned the connected living room searching for anything to hide behind. I knew that bloody woman's reaction would not be fast enough against the now expanding gas pipe. I grabbed her by the waist and threw her lithe body behind a full sized leather couch. I jumped to join her but a loud explosion and everything went dark.
[60 minutes earlier]
"Are you sure she didn't keep any weapon with her Nikolai?" I glanced
Nikolai, the Russian, adjusted the rear view mirror of the car we are currently in before replying, "I told you my friend; the most lethal thing she ever handled was an uzi, extended magz, hit nothing."
"I doubt that." Price cut in, "People learn, and in this kind of business, they learn fast. Soap, zoom that photo, look carefully at her left torso."
The old rickety Pentium powered technology whirred to life while it took a few seconds for us to be able to see the result. I can see an unnatural bump just below her left breast; she brought a gun alright, albeit a small one. Had we have the better technology we would find out what kind of gun it is, but for now we have to be satisfied with what little resources we had.
I look up from the old laptop to the rusty ceiling of this rickety rental car, my fingers dug into the sticky sweat stained couch. Gone were, the hummer with machine gun on tops, the intel boys with their gadgetry and toys, unlimited mission funding, vast selection of high tech weapons, and my men. My men. The thought brought me back to Meat and Royce's banter in the mess hall, the smell of Chemo's bomb recipe, the squeaky sound Archer and Toad made every time they clean up their sniper rifles, the incessant talking of Ghost, and Roach's curious eyes. The eyes that glued to every movement of mine, eyes of an FNG, sometimes in the dead of a vacant night I found that boy sneaking into The Pit, mimicking his senior's moves, trying to reveal secrets of Archer's accuracy, Ghost's trained reaction, and…
"Soap." Price's voice cut through my thought, "we are going in 15 minutes."
I nodded, 15 minutes before the mission is when you have to begin to focus and I as the lead commander of the mission will have to repeat the information acquainted with the mission.
"Our mission today is to gather any information of Makarov from his personal accountant with any means possible. She lives in Road Block Apartement, room number 4, under the name of Mary Sue. Target is marked as dangerous and possibly armed. About 5' 3" and 95 pounds with black hair and brown eyes, there are no currently known special marks such as tattoos or scars. Her last visual contact with Makarov was 2 months ago, a week before the massacre in Russian airport. There's also indication that she communicate regularly with Makarov via phone call. The plan is to bait her out, and let Nikolai distract her while me and Price will climb through her balcony. If anything happens during the mission, target is to be snatched to the designated hide out for further questioning. Any questions?" I see only determination in both men's eyes. Price grabbed his boney hat from dashboard and I knew we're good to go.
The climb was easy, for the fact it only 2 story building, and the balcony was covered with several tropical foliages. I got up first than helped Price with guns and rope; I faintly heard hushed voice of Nikolai and a woman speaking in Russian, mentioning a thing or two about fugitives, and two SAS friend. So she kept herself updated alright. Luckily the glass door that connected the balcony with the living room was unlocked, after I carefully shed the curtain with the tip of my UMP, I immediately saw a dainty figure, bottom length black hair braided, shorts and tank tops, looks like she just got up from the bed. Her left hand was on the door handle, and the other hand rummaging something on the cupboard, at the moment all I can think about is gun.
"Don't even think about it!" I sternly whispered my hand steady on the trigger, the tip of my gun right behind her head.
She slowly turned; her dark brown eyes met my blue ones, fear emanates from them but there's also a calculating cunningness threaten to caught me off guard.
"I cannot believe you did this to me Nikolai." She hissed
"I am sorry, tovarisch…" can be heard faintly behind the half – opened door.
Her sights fell on the tip of my UMP, "and as for you, lower the gun."
"Or what?" I challenged.
"Are you stupid? I won't be able to talk if my brains are splattered on the wall." So she knows what we are here for.
There was an impenetrable silence, our eyes engaged on the battle of will, one slip of mistrust she will ended up dead, and I will walk away in empty hands. Right now, that is a risk I cannot afford.
"She's right Soap; all we want is the information." Price warned me. "Young lady, get your hands away from that cupboard. We will not harm you." The older captain walked toward us, he guided the tip of my UMP lower and closed the cupboard she previously rummaged. He then produced his M9 and took out the magazine, "this is my goodwill." He said.
She eyed both of us suspiciously, then in a swift hand move, she slide open the door's chain lock, "Come get in Nikolai, I don't need anyone witnessing a Russian informant by my door. I'm going to get changed."
Just like that she walked away, into a room, slamming the door in the process. I was thinking about going after her, for she can easily pull that reason for grabbing a weapon against us, or jumping out of the window. Price however placed his hand on my shoulder; he shook his head and said, "We need to get this girl to trust us, false information is worse than nothing.".
Soon after she came out with a decent knee length dress, no guns in sight, and both of her hands were occupied with the hair bun she formed on top of her head. "I don't hide any weapons behind photo frames Niko." The curious Russian ignored the statement; his eyes continued its feast upon many photographs hanged on the living room wall.
She then proceeded past me onto the kitchen cabinet, motioning me and Price to sit in a small kitchen table. Lives alone obviously, since the table is actually a small coffee table, heavily decorated with frilly white table cloth. To add the crampiness, on middle of the table is a vase filled with fresh flowers. I glanced up to Price who looked as uncomfortable as I do, which man wouldn't? I feel less manly just by sitting here.
"No boyfriend yet I see." That was Nikolai, strolling his way to the table.
Amidst the clanking of cooking utensils and soft hum of coffee brewer in the kitchen she replied, "What was that suppose to mean?".
That particular sentence, thanks to my sister, could be translated to, 'Go to hell, don't snoop on my personal life.'.
"Well, you'll be 30 by the end of the year and you'll end up being an old maid if you don't find someone soon." Nikolai retorted with surprising casualty, which caused Price to clear his throat in awkwardness. Of all the worst thing you can say to a woman, I face palmed.
Upon hearing no answers he defense himself, "What? It's brotherly affection!"
She countered hotly, "Brotherly affection indeed, your sisters must have been very happy when they DISOWNED you."
In which the Russian guy shrugged lightly, "Their loss."
She rolled her eyes and put 4 cups of coffee in the table. "You guys want something particular for breakfast?" That certainly caught me off guard, cooking us breakfast? A luxury indeed since our 3 men group runs and fueled by MREs and cup noodles. A suspicious luxury.
"Will it include poison?" I asked, a tad bit too sarcastic I admit.
"And risking you guys puking and bleeding on my luxurious custom made Persian rug? You're such a Neanderthal caveman." She then turned to the man beside me.
"Nikolai, what do you want for breakfast?"
Nikolai grins from ear to ear, "Do you really need to ask tovarisch?"
"Blini?"
"Blini."
End of Chapter 1
Author's Note: So what do you think of my fic? Please Review, so I can write better story. The background of the story itself is placed in chapter2, so plz continue reading. If there's any mistake don't be hesitant to tell me, since I'm a new MW2 player, so late I know ^^. I jumped straight from WaW to BO, and I just bought MW2 last month when I heard MW3 is coming up.
I'd also be delighted if you recommend a good fic or two from this section, since I am totally new in this Call of Duty section. Thankies \(^o^)/