A/N: Just a short prologue to the Epilogue mission ("Mile High Club"), comments and criticisms very welcome.
"Dammit," Cpt. "Soap" MacTavish snarled in frustration as he scanned the room. "He's not here." Instead of President Sayeed, a crate of plastic explosives sat snugly in a corner of the room, attached to an electronic timer. The red display showed give or take three minutes, and ticking. "They've rigged the place. Evacuate the building!"
"Copy that," Chip said through the radio. "Wait a minute, what the fuck- Captain Soap! The plane's taking off! I think Sayeed's on that plane. We need to go after it, Captain!"
Soap wiped a bead of sweat coalescing on his forehead. "Permission granted. Searl, McFoster, go in with Chip." He continued sorting the tangle of wires, trying to find one that would defuse the bomb.
On the runway, Lt. Gary Searl started. "Uhh, you don't know for sure if Sayeed's on that plane, Chip."
"No time for debate, Shirley boy. I caught a glimpse of Sayeed through the portholes. Now get on the bloody plane before it starts taxiing!"
Searl groaned and ran in the direction of the plane in double-time. He could see Chip and McFoster similarly sprinting towards the cargo ramp at the tail of the plane. It was already beginning to raise and close when Searl hopped on alongside Chip and McFoster. There were two sentries in the cargo bay, the closer of which McFoster took out with a silenced slug in his face. Before the other sentry could fully realize what was going on, Chip closed the distance between them and clubbed him with the butt of his rifle. The sentry's skull gave way with a sickening crunch.
"Area clear. Move up, find a good entry point to the passenger cabin," Chip muttered.
With night vision goggles on-line, the three-man team stealthily moved forward, scanning the floor for a weak patch.
"You know, if Sayeed's not on this one, it's your ass," Searle told Chip.
Chip thrust an obscene hand sign at Searle in the green glow of night vision. "Get stuffed, Shirley fucking Temple."
Searle scowled inside his mask but ignored his taunt. "Found one," he reported. He used a blowtorch to trace a small, man-sized square on the floor. "Alright team, we go in deep, and we go in hard."
Chip's tone was mocking. "Surely you can't be serious." He snickered at his own wit.
"I'm serious." Searl thumbed the safety on his silenced MP5, and kicked at the square.
"And don't call me Shirley."