Pripyat, Ukraine
Lt. Price lay still in the long, wavy grass, and took a few deep breaths to control his pumping adrenaline. He cradled his M21 Suppressed sniper rifle close to his body. Captain MacMillan once told him to concentrate on a single stationary object when nervous, and Price did just that, concentrating on a single blade of grass in front of him.
"Too much radiation. We'll have to go around."
MacMillan's low voice cut through the suspenseful radio silence like a sword. The captain seemed to materialize in the wave of grass as he moved up to crouching position. Price copied his commander, and took up position behind MacMillan.
"Follow me, and keep low."
Price followed MacMillan step by step as they stealthily scampered towards a nearby shack. The ghillie suits made Price secure, for a moment.
"Careful. There's pockets of radiation all over this area. If you absorb too much, you're a dead man."
Price's heart sank for a brief moment as the two SAS soldiers reached the shack. MacMillan stopped, and waved a signal at Price. Price fell in step behind MacMillan.
"Stand by." The captain cautioned.
MacMillan hefted his weapon to his sights, and slowly moved through the little shack, looking around for possible enemies. Price followed, covering MacMillan's back. Nothing but silence.
MacMillan exited the shack and stopped. He waved a hand at Price.
"Contact. Enemy patrol dead ahead. Stay low, and move slowly. We'll be impossible to spot in our ghillie suits."
Price looked past MacMillan's shoulders, and noticed two Nationalist soldiers idly patrolling in front of an old farmhouse.
I couldn't have said it better myself, mused Price as he got down on his belly. MacMillan was already lying prone and edging closer to the two sleepy looking men.
The two disguised snipers waddled through the long grass with care, and stopped a few yards away from their unwary targets, who carelessly strode towards them, stopped, and began moving away, fingering their AK-47s and chatting.
"Take one out when the other's not looking." MacMillan's disembodied voice wafted through Price's helmet speakers.
Price leveled his sniper rifle, and chose the Nationalist to his right, a rather pudgy looking soldier who wore a sand colored beanie and a smug look on his face.
He waited for the opportune shot. The two men casually bid farewell and parted ways. The pudgy soldier went to the right, while the other soldier began his walk towards a small cottage tucked behind the farmhouse.
Price held his breath, counted to three, and fired.
The silenced slug pinched the chubby man in the neck, and the man twisted and fell into the soft grass without a sound.
The other soldier looked back to where his partner was just a few seconds ago, rose his AK-47 in puzzlement, and was silenced by a M21 round to the side of his head.
"Good night." MacMillan sounded pleased and stood up.
The two SAS moved swiftly to the edge of the farmhouse, with Price picking up an AK-47 from the pudgy soldier's dead body.
"Hold up." The senior member calmly looked in through the farmhouse and spotted a broken down car parked next to a tree in a small driveway. Another enemy soldier was pacing around the car, smoking a cigar. He looked over his shoulder at the cottage situated right next to the farmhouse.
"There's more cover if we go around." MacMillan stated. "Follow me, Lt. Price."
Price followed MacMillan as they snuck up to the small cottage. Russian voices sifted through the wall of the cottage, and Price could tell there were enemies in the building. MacMillan confirmed his suspicions.
"Four Tangos inside." The captain remarked quietly.
Price slinged his sniper rifle over his shoulder and raised the AK-47, ready to fire-
"Don't even think about it…" MacMillan addressed Price calmly but firmly.
"Sorry." Price replied, and switched back to his M21.
MacMillan pressed his back against the wall of the cottage and edged towards the driveway. He peered over the corner, saw the Russian still smoking by the car, and looked back at Price.
"Wait there. Tango by the car."
Price nodded, and steadily aimed his rifle at the Russian soldier.
"Sir?" He asked.
"Take him out quietly, or just let him pass. Your call," acknowledged MacMillan.
"Yes, sir," Price said. He had already made the decision to take out the bastard, and peered through his scope.
The crosshairs locked in on the target's head. Price held his breath.
One, two, three.
Price fired off a shot. The silver arrow streaked through the air without noise and hit the Russian straight in the back of his cranium. The dead man dropped his cigarette and jerked backwards, luckily missing the car in his fall.
They waited to see if the Nationalists inside the cottage responded to the shot.
"Okay…"MacMillan waited for a while. Then, sensing the coast was clear, he pointed two fingers at the open driveway in front.
"Go!"
MacMillan and Price hastily sprinted to the car and positioned themselves so that the car was between them and the cottage.
After making sure the Nationalists didn't suspect anything, MacMillan ran across the rest of the driveway and jumped over a small wooden fence. Price came in close behind. They ran and hid behind a tree, and Price could see a few buildings scattered around in front, with a church tower rising over an overgrown hedge.
"Don't move." MacMillan warned. He then added slowly, "We got a lookout in the church tower…and a patrol coming in from the north."
"Let's move up for a better view."
MacMillan and Price approached a high brush, concealing them from the lookout's view. The Nationalist paced around in the windowless church tower, unconcerned.
"Do you have a shot on the lookout?" MacMillan asked Price.
"Yes, sir." Price replied, aiming his crosshairs directly at the lookout, matching the target's every move.
"All yours," MacMillan acknowledged.
Price held his breath, waited for the unsuspecting soldier to walk right into his line of fire, and pulled the trigger. The lookout's head burst, and the corpse fell on the spot.
"Beautiful." MacMillan said admiringly before looking ahead.
"Target approaching from the north. Take him out quietly, or just him pass. Your call." He said to Price.
Price readjusted his sights and swiveled his sniper rifle left to face north. He could see another soldier casually walking towards them, looking away. Price held his breath, heard his racing heartbeat, and fired again. The soldier's chest jerked back and the rest of his body followed as he collapsed into an awkward position.
"Tango down. Go," ordered Captain MacMillan ordered, and got up to his feet. The two snipers ran towards the dead soldier's body, and MacMillan proceeded to strip the body clean of G3 rifle and ammo cartridges. He slung the G3 over his back and pocketed the extra ammo.
MacMillan and Price approached a wooden house. The captain held his M21 with one hand and slowly opened the door with his other, cautiously moving into the house. Price looked back at the carnage before backing up into the house behind MacMillan.
The pair slowly walked through a long dusty hallway, looking up to see light streaming in through square holes in the ceiling that illuminated more dust particles. Price took note that just two days ago someone had been living here.
They reached the end of the hallway, and a doorway that opened up to reveal a small cemetery outside. MacMillan scanned the cemetery for more enemies.
"Coast is clear." He pronounced, and stepped out of the house into the wild grass surrounding gravestones.
Price followed, and the two SAS men walked through the cemetery, tense. MacMillan looked up.
"You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Enemy helicopter, get down!" MacMillan pushed Price down at the edge of the cemetery and hid beneath the shadow of a concrete fence.
"Stay in the shadows." MacMillan cautioned. Price heard the rhythmic sound of helicopter blades turning, and looked up to see a helicopter pass them by overhead.
MacMillan waited for the sound to fade, and got up.
"Let's go," he motioned to Price, and the two of them scampered out of the cemetery into a large wavy field.
After jumping over a small fence, they heard the helicopter again. This time though, the helicopter engine was standing by.
"Get down, now," said MacMillan, and both of them hit the grass.
MacMillan and Price slithered and weaved through tall grass towards the sound, and saw two to three tanks rumbling straight towards them with as many as twenty Nationalist soldiers following them on foot. The entire patrol was moving straight towards them.
Price tried to spot sizable gaps between the enemy soldiers, but couldn't find any. There was a chance that he or MacMillan could get stepped on. That would reveal their cover. If that didn't happen, there was a chance the tanks would run them over, and that would be worse. Price gulped. MacMillan was probably thinking the same thing, as silence hung over their frequency.
Price slowly slung his M21 over his back and pulled out the AK-47. Whatever was going to happen, he would be ready.