AN: I originally posted this on a forum under the name of Agent Smith. I recieved positive responses to my story over there, so I thought I should share it with the commuinity and to show those to are still following my Call of Duty 4 novelisation that I am far from dead. Please review this oneshot and tell me what you think!

Callsigns

Bravo 2 is a SAS sniper team inserted deep into a fictional Eastern European country to eliminate a corrupt general, Vladimir. Said country does not support the general and has authorized NATO forces to take him out.

Thor is a USAF AC-130U assigned to assist the snipers in their mission.

The howling winds whipped against the trees, depositing snow onto a ever-increasing blanket of white.

In the expanse of wasteland, the smooth outline of the drifts of snow shifted as without a sound, two figures rose. The ghillie suits of the two snipers, combined with the storm, had made the duo virtually invisible for almost an hour. Now, they made their move.

The spotter whispered into his throat mike. "Thor, this is Bravo 2, we are approximately 1400 meters from our intended firing position."

The reply came back over the hum of propellers into the sniper's headsets. "Roger that, Bravo 2, we are in orbit overhead. Tell us when you're ready and we'll light em' up."

"Affirmative."

Like a pair of ghosts, the snipers crept, crawled, and darted across the distance to their chosen position. Twice, they had to hunker down to avoid patrols. After half an hour, they reached their position, a small rise overlooking a medium-sized compound about 1200 meters away .

"We're here, let's set up."

"Yes sir." The sniper readied his rifle, an Arctic Warfare Magnum with a suppressor screwed onto the end of the barrel. Meanwhile, the spotter was peering through his scope, scanning the base below. A perimeter of barbed-wire fence encircled the compound. Several machine-gun nests were placed in specific intervals just outside the fences. Inside, several concrete buildings littered the compound. A fueling depot for trucks and light armored vehicles was close to the main gate. In the middle of it all was a command bunker, with a communications array off to one side. The entrance was clearly visible to the two marksmen on the hill.

The spotter tapped the sniper and indicated the entrance. "Center of the base, bunker by the radio tower. Entrance, 1387 meters."

"Got it boss", the sniper replied as he adjusted his scope. A minute later he said, "I'm zeroed in. Give them the signal."

"Roger that." The spotter responded. Then into the mike he muttered, "Thor, this is Bravo 2. We're in position. Commence bombardment."

"Roger that, engaging."

The relative peace inside the base was interrupted as the fuel depot exploded, sending a plume of smoke and fire twisting into the sky. It was as if a giant fist had decided to play God. The depot was completely obliterated. Shouts ensued, and alarms began to sound.

Inside the bunker, General Vladimir was startled as the walls of his domain shook and dust rained from the ceiling. A young soldier flung open the entrance of the bunker and yelled, "We are under attack! You must get out of here comrade general!" Vladimir stood and rushed over to the contingent of soldiers who were prepared to escort him out. A series of explosions, these smaller than the first, slammed into the supports of the communications tower. The tower began to list to the side.

"Shit! It's the tower! We must get out now!" The group sprinted out into the cold just in time to avoid the tower collapsing on the bunker.

"Tangos coming out of the bunker.", the spotter noted.

"I see them."

"Hold on, I think I see the target.", the spotter said. A few seconds later, "Positive ID. It's him. He's moving towards that truck by the entrance."

"I'm on him."

"…Send it."

The sniper depressed the trigger.

The .338 Lapua Magnum bullet left the barrel and covered the distance between the rifle and the general in just over a second. The round struck the general at the base of the throat. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Target down.", muttered the sniper, cycling the bolt.

"Affirmative. Nice shot."

"Thanks. Now let's pack up and get to the LZ." The pair went about cleaning up and quickly left as soon as they were done, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.

The Lynx helicopter settled down, the downdraft kicking up flecks of snow. The two snipers clambered on board and motioned for the pilot to take off. The Lynx rose into the air and soared off into the sky, quickly swallowed up by the storm.