"The Goods, Part II"

Somewhere in Georgia

Day One, 2100 Hours

Rocket and Roach stepped cautiously out of the shed. They were back in tactical mode, with Rocket carrying the Georgian's AK-47 assault rifle and Roach opting for the man's pistol.

The shed was on the edge of a field; it seemed the large property was once owned by a farmer but the Georgian militants had long since gotten rid of him and camped in his field.

There wasn't a soul in sight, and the two made their way around the multiple pup-tents set up in almost a perfect semicircle around the shed.

Roach was in the process of sorting through rotten blankets and old Russian porn magazines when he heard Rocket call quietly, "Hey, found our equipment!"

Roach, overjoyed that he didn't need to use the Georgians' outdated weapons, hurried out of the tent and ran over to Rocket, who had a fairly large pile of Special Forces gear at his feet.

Roach yanked the magazine out of the Russian pistol and pulled the slide back, ejecting the 9mm shell that had been in the chamber. He then pulled the slide the opposite way and tore it free, rendering the firearm useless. He tossed the components of the piece of junk into the forest.

"Hey, Rocket, you wouldn't have actually shot me, would you?" Roach asked, his expression blank.

Rocket looked up sharply at this and waited a moment before letting a smile creep slowly across his face.

"Of course not, you wanker."

The two chuckled at this and picked up the gear; with their equipment, they could finally operate like the well trained Special Forces soldiers they were.

They walked back into the shed, where they gave Chemo his kit; it was a welcome feeling to be able to hold the grips of their M4's and ACR's in their hands again.

They talked a bit as they quickly kitted up; however, silence fell once they got to Nomad's G36c and his web gear.

After a moment of staring into the dark pile of clothing and gear, Roach suddenly crouched down and began to take magazines from Nomad's gear and stuff them into his assault backpack.

The team realized what Roach was doing after a couple of seconds, hesitated, and then crouched down next to him to get the rest of Nomad's precious ammunition and weapons.

-XXXXXXXXXX-

Ghost and his five-man team moved efficiently through the forest, keeping clear zones of fire and covering every angle of attack. They were maneuvering through the thick plants and trees well until they came upon a house and a field behind it. The field behind it, they noticed, had a small shed on its border, near the back, and multiple tents set up around the shed.

They did not notice the details of this as much as they did the ten-man militant group moving through the field towards a road they had not noticed before.

Archer, the sniper of the group, laid down on a small rise and stared through the scope of his M-21 sniper rifle. After a moment of silence, he whispered, "Ten men. AK's. One RPD light machine gun. No dogs. No RPG's."

Ghost sat for a tense moment, thinking; he had to formulate a plan quickly in order to take the Georgians by surprise, which he fully intended on doing. After a moment he decided, and pointed to Archer.

"Archer, do you have that road map of the area in your butt pack? I need to find the closest crossroad intersection."

Archer pulled it out and quickly scanned the dog-eared paper. After a moment, he said, "Found it. Down the road a bit, heading north. The militants are closing in on us, Ghost. What are we going to do?"

Ghost looked, and indeed, the patrol was walking in a loose tactical column towards the operators.

"Okay. Here's the plan. Archer, Meat, you two stay here and wait for the group to pass you. Once they pass you, follow at a distance in a field parallel to the road so that you can still provide sniper support during the ambush, because we're going to hit them right at the crossroads down here," and with this he pointed behind them, down the road, "and Zach, Scarecrow, and Ozone, you two fall back with me now, until we get to the crossroads. Once we get there, I want you two to quickly rig some claymores or C-4 putty to a spot that will soften them up nice and good. The patrol tripping the explosives will be all of our signs to open up. Remember, if we do this correctly and conserve ammo, we can quickly eliminate them."

The men grunted their approval, and Ghost began to lead them back from where they came from (apart from Meat and Archer) when he said, "Oh, and also, make sure to silence your weapons. Apart from the explosives, I want no unsuppressed gunfire."

With that, he set off with the three men in tow.

-XXXXXXXXX-

MacTavish and his men had just finished wrapping up Worm's field day with the 240 when he decided to search for the last 141 men.

"All right, guys, listen up. We're going to go double check our bearings and find out any houses or other buildings nearby. Then, we are going to search those properties until we find them."

Toad nodded his head and quietly said, "Sir, what if they are all dead? What if the Georgians have simply murdered them?"

MacTavish's eyes gleamed and he grinned as he said, "Toad, I'm more worried about their captors then them."

They all laughed and the Captain added in, "Rook and I will fan out and search for nearby buildings. Royce is leader while I'm gone. Royce, maintain a perimeter and try to raise our MIA's."

Royce's head snapped upward. "Yes sir."

"Good. Rook, be back from your recon in five mikes."

"Wilco, Captain."

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

Archer and Meat waited until the column passed them. They sat in the field parallel to the road, and watched the Georgians patrol past. After they had gone by, Meat began to get up.

Archer began to do the same when he heard talking coming from down the road.

"Oi! Get down, you twit!"

He grabbed Meat's ankle and swept the two hundred pound man on his ass.

"What, what's the fucking problem?"

"There's someone coming. Keep it quiet until I've got a visual."

Archer pulled his M21 sniper rifle to bear and peered through the scope. Meat pulled his M16 up from beside him and looked through his red dot sight.

"I've got nothing, mate," said Meat. "Maybe you're getting paranoid or soft."

Archer blinked. "Shut the fuck up, I know I heard something."

Meat began to formulate a comeback when Archer interrupted his thoughts.

"I knew it. Four Georgians, armed to the teeth. They must be a back up to the patrol."

"That or they were late in rolling out of bed this morning."

"Whatever. Screw a silencer in. Get ready to take these fuckers out."

Meat was suddenly all professional. "Copy."

Archer, clad in his ghillie suit, got up and sprinted to a small dirt mound in the middle of the field. He switched his safety off and murmured into his throat mike, "Ready. On my mark."

Meat, not having the advantage of a ghillie suit, sat cross-legged in the bushes in the edge of the field. This shooting stance was a little trick he learned back in Brecon Beacons, England during Selection for the SAS six years before. A United States Marine Corps Force Recon Staff Sergeant had taught the "muppets" a lesson in shooting. The cross-legged stance was rare, but Meat loved it because it was comfortable.

"Wilco," he whispered into his throat mike.

Archer lined up the lead militant's head in his scope. He watched the man talk to his friend, light up a cigarette, and sneeze.

Just as the man finished wiping his nose, Archer inhaled and then exhaled quickly. He squeezed the trigger and a pick cloud appeared behind the man's head, spraying the man behind him. He heard the report of Meat's M16 and watched one more fall.

The operators finished off the last two, and regrouped in the middle of the field.

Archer immediately started to hustle in the direction of the crossroad. Meat followed close behind.

Archer turned his head and yelled to his partner, despite orders to "keep it quiet" from Ghost.

"Meat, we need to hustle! I don't think we'll make it in time to give support if they need it!"

-XXXXXX-

Ghost and his three-man element quickly reached the crossroads and deployed. Ghost, carrying an ACR, and Ozone, carrying an M4, set up on the right corner in the bushes and Zach, carrying a 240, set up on the left side with Scarecrow, who also carried an M4.

As the three operators screwed in their silencers, Zach began to set up the bipod on his machine gun. However, Ghost noticed and hissed, "Silencers or no."

Zach hesitated, swore under his breath, and drew his US Navy SEAL- issued SOCOM Mk. 13 USP, a .45 caliber handgun designed especially for combat situations where longer weapons weren't used.

He screwed in the silencer and ran to the road leading into the intersection. He quickly took four bricks of C-4 putty and molded them to the ditches running parallel to the road. He poked a radio transmitter into each brick and set them to the correct setting. He then pulled out the detonator and ran back to the bushes.

"In place, Simon," he said, settling into the grass.

"Good. Archer, Meat, status?" he said into his earpiece.

"Ghost, the militants should be arriving in tee-minus one mike. They're hustling, Ghost. Don't miss your opportunity to blow the charges or they're going to overrun you. We'll provide sniper support."

"Copy. Team, stand by. Forty-five seconds."

Zach prepped the detonator, and flicked the safety off of his sidearm. With its silencer attached, it was extremely long- possibly as long as the hand guard of an M-16; the weapon was quite large compared to its smaller sister, the H&K USP.

The team waited in silence for fifteen seconds, without even the sound of breathing emerging from the operators. Ghost sat for what seemed to be an eternity.

Zach realized he was holding his breath and exhaled just as the first hostile entered the killzone. He knew from training that he was to wait until the end of the column passed the first charge in order to achieve a "trapping" effect on the column. There were ten men in the group, he knew, so he counted them off.

Everything seemed in slow motion for the former SEAL; it took a long time for the last soldier to saunter through the gap, smoking a cigarette. Zach breathed in and noticed the last man was carrying the machine gun in the group.

Good, he thought, as he squeezed the button on the detonator.

The last three men in the column disappeared in a fireball, and the next two flew forward, their clothing on fire. The first five were quite obviously shocked by the explosion, but surprisingly recovered quickly; they took knees and raised their weapons.

Ghost, Scarecrow, and Ozone opened fire, and two of the men went down immediately, their chests stitched with rounds.

Zach lined up his sights on the first man in the column, and pulled the trigger. The huge pistol bucked, and a round drilled into the man's neck. Zach followed up his first shot with two more consecutive shots to the man behind him, knocking him to the ground. The last man realized he was done for and got up to run, but he only ran about three steps before the loud shot of an sniper rifle cracked and the man's head burst, sending visceral brain matter spraying into the mud. The man fell to his knees, and then onto his face.

The four operators fanned out into the crossroads and checked the scene; as Zach unscrewed the silencer on his sidearm, he came upon the man whom he had shot in the neck. The man was still alive; gasping and coughing blood, he spit onto Zach's combat boots.

The young SEAL couched down and pulled the Georgian up by his right shoulder. He jammed the handgun into the militant's chest and leaned in to whisper into his face.

"Срок окупаемости это сука." Payback's a bitch.

With that, a shot rang out, unsuppressed, and unaltered; it was this shot that drew Roach, Rocket, and Chemo to Ghost's position less than ten minutes later.

-XXXXXXX-

MacTavish sat on the small rise about 300 yards away from the intersection. He watched, smiling, as his second-in-command, his protégé, set up a textbook ambush. He also watched as the hostile column ambled down the road, about two hundred feet from the intersection.

These bastards are even dumber than Carrot Top was, the young Captain thought. They walk right into an area that is nothing more than a natural bullseye, and the only thing they're worried about is picking their noses.

As MacTavish watched the men get closer and closer to the crossroads, he readied his M14. He settled his head on the 8x24 scope he had mounted on it and steadied his breathing.

Remember what Price said, thought MacTavish. "Macmillan would be proud."

MacTavish watched, mesmerized, as a well-planned ambush played out at the crossroads. However, he thought he'd conserve his teammate's ammo by taking out the last militant.

As he watched Zach dispatch the last militant, he got up and called Ghost in on his mike.

"Ghost, come in, do you copy? I have a visual on you. Hold the perimeter until I regroup with my team and fall in on you."

"Copy, sir. Out."

-XXXXXXXX-

The three missing operators, Archer and Meat, Ghost's team, and MacTavish's team finally regrouped on the crossroads. They debriefed, gathered information, checked weapons and ammunition, and decided on a plan of action.

Roach waited until the planning had finished to tell his comrades about the loss of Nomad. MacTavish and Ghost's faces hardened, and everyone was silent. Their Captain was first to speak.

"Nomad was a good man. He was ambitious, reliable, brave, and fierce. He may have been a muppet, but he had the stuff to rise fast in the one four one."

"Aye," murmured Royce.

"I am going to miss him dearly. But the best way to honor his memory is to finish the job, or he will have died in vain. Correct?"

A collective "Yes, sir" was heard from the group.

Roach was next to speak. "Sir, I used my thermite grenade to torch the shed. It's the best warrior's burial I could think of."

MacTavish nodded. "All right, then. Let's get on with it."