Capture

Ramirez opened his eyes.

Nothing.

He was back in his house with his family and his girlfriend, all right there beside him watching the Super Bowl on TV. He could feel his girlfriend's warmth as she snuggled up to him, his arm wrapped around her as he popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth. They were all just having a great time, with laughter and shouts of "Go! Go!" at the TV screen filling the living room. Ramirez felt completely at peace with his family. He looked down at his girlfriend, and she turned to face him.

She smiled, and her face began melting. Eyes, nose, mouth, it all fell off, blending into an unrecognizable mess. Ramirez recoiled at this sight, placing his hand out in front of him to prevent her from getting closer. His hand groped to his side, reaching for his sidearm, but it wasn't there. Inwardly, Ramirez shook his head. Who the hell carries a gun 24/7? Looking around, his family had disappeared. Only his girlfriend, or what was his girlfriend, remained. The entity was on all fours like a wolf stalking prey. There was no face to tell its expression, but it was clear that it wanted Ramirez dead.

Ramirez started to get up, but he found he couldn't move his arms and legs. He was trapped! Desperately, he tried to move about, but it just didn't work. Ramirez was locked down, left to die in front of this monstrosity that was once his girlfriend.

The body moved above his pinned form, face uncomfortably close. There was no breathing, no sound emitted at all. Just a moving body, drawing ever closer. Just when Ramirez thought it would touch him, it drew back, seemingly retreating. Ramirez looked up, and the body looked like it was changing its mind. But then, a fissure opened up in its face, tearing a ragged gash where its mouth would be, if it had one. White fluid dripped from the opening, and the body opened it wide, letting go of an earsplitting roar that sounded more like a demon than anything else. For the first time since many, many years ago, Ramirez felt a pang of fear. The body moved closer, and closer, until its face was only a short distance from his, and it lunged...

Ramirez jerked awake with a gasp, hands jerking fruitlessly at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. With a start, he realized he was still in the hands of the Russians, waiting to be interrogated. The Russians had removed his combat gear, leaving him in his BDUs and socks, and putting him to sleep with an uncomfortable drug. It was also probably why his mind had dreamt up about that abomination.

Elissa. God it felt like a long time since he had seen her. How long ago was that? The memory of the dream was still fresh in his mind, how her body felt against his, how warm he felt, and how he felt unbelievably safe. It was like nothing would ever break them apart.

Never mind about that now, he had far more important matters to attend to. He looked down at his restraints and found that they were steel chains, shining and glinting into his eyes. No way he was going to be able to cut his way through those. Accepting the fact that changing his current situation would be futile, he looked around the room that he was in.

The room was dimly lit and spartan, to prevent him from escaping. The far wall was sealed by a thick-looking steel door, ominously painted black for some reason. There was no way he would be able to unlock or break that. A thin beam of light shone through a grate in the ceiling, and there was an open window with bars blocking any type of access. The room was also out of the question, then.

Simply put, Ramirez was fucked. He had to wait, or at least figure out something to begin his plan. But even then, if he succeeded, where would he go? Was this a simple police station? Or was it a high-security prison with security cameras all over the place and an MP officer with a submachine gun every five steps? The possibilities were endless. And where the hell was Dunn?

Ramirez lost himself in these thoughts, now that he started thinking about it, he found that he couldn't stop. Escape, friends, fellow soldiers, family... The thoughts drifted farther and farther away, and Ramirez felt himself losing consciousness to sleep once again...

BLAM!

The cell door flew off its hinges, clattering noisily to the floor. Ramirez, wildly disoriented, felt hands grab him up and out of his seat, and his restraints cut loose. Two slaps across his face and several blinks later, Ramirez found himself staring into Dunn's face.

"What the fuck man?! You could've knocked first!" Ramirez was, for some reason, pretty angry that Dunn had busted into his cell. Sure, he was glad to see him and even more ecstatic about the idea of getting out of the blasted containment building, but did Dunn really need to barge in like that?

Ramirez felt himself unconsciously shove Dunn several times. It occurred to him that he was speaking and operating his vocal capabilities, but he had no idea what he was saying. By the looks on Dunn's face, it was probably something obscene and not pleasurable to hear.

Dunn rushed up and grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders, and shook him a couple of times. Ramirez blinked, and seemed to gain some sense back into himself.

"Uh..." Ramirez looked straight at Dunn, confused. "What just happened?"

Dunn let go of Ramirez, careful not to let his guard down. Ramirez was obviously disoriented and had something done to him, and it would not be a good idea to turn his back on a vulnerable individual.

"You were captured and kept here, in a Russian outpost not far from where we were. After I saw you get knocked out, I radioed Sarge and the squad was able to carve a path and follow the Russians that took you. They're holding out just inside of this compound. C'mon." Dunn waved Ramirez forward. "Let's get you out of here."

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Ramirez had soon fitted himself with some equipment from a dead Russian. He liberated a AK-74M and strapped four fragmentation grenades to his new vest. The black didn't fit well with his ACU camouflage pattern, but it was still an indispensable item in combat. After getting set up and making sure the rifle worked, he nodded to Dunn, and together they headed out the door.

They were greeted by intense sunlight and the squad firing on at least twenty enemy Russians. Ramirez sprinted to cover, sliding in beside the sergeant.

"Pvt. Ramirez reporting for duty, Sarge!"

"'Bout time! Now, let's get back to that village and find out why in the world the Russians are so adamant in capturing and holding the place! Nixon! Set off those charges now!" Foley was blasting away with his M4. He waved the whole squad forward, and they all began to push against the Russians.

Ramirez leveled his rifle and fired in bursts. It was relatively simple: aim, line up, squeeze the trigger and repeat. The squad was doing well, and a second set of charges was set off by someone in the squad. The explosion tore through the lines of Russians in front of them and punched a hole through their defenses.

"There's our chance, get your ass moving! Go! Go! GO!" Foley barked out the orders while laying down heavy suppressive fire. Ramirez high tailed it on the heels of Dunn as he rushed through the Russian line. The entire squad soon joined him, Foley bringing up the rear.

"Into the alley, go!"

As Ramirez found himself in the back of the group, he pivoted and turned to give the squad some more covering fire from the pursuing Russians. Something began to throb in his head, something completely foreign and unwelcome. Ramirez finished off the rest of his mag and ran back to the squad, where someone else was covering him. He ignored the pain and kept running, not stopping until finally:

"Alright team. Good work. Let's stop for a little bit to regroup. Give me a headcount and a casualty report. Hopefully that village will have quieted down a little bit and we can move in on the target."

Ramirez sank to the ground, the rifle clattering beside him. He was so tired, and just wanted to go home. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each passing second, and just when he was about to drop into blissful sleep -

"Let's move out!" cried out Foley. Hunter 2-1 was on the move again.

Dunn came up beside him and helped him up.

"Hey. Are you alright? You seemed to be hit with something back there at the base."

Ramirez shook his head clear and replied in the negative. He was still a little disoriented.

"Ok. Keep yourself frosty. I don't want to have to drag you around dead or unconscious, yeah?"

"Yeah," mumbled Ramirez. All he wanted was to just get this thing done, and head back to his bunk to get some rest.

Hunter 2-1 headed off into the setting sun, towards the small village that was just oh-so vague to the squad. What was lurking there that the Russians wanted?

Hey there, readers! Here's an update for the story. Not bad for the ridiculous amount of time since the last update. I'm still getting a few ideas about this thing, and don't fret! It's still alive and kicking.

And please don't kill me for wanting some reviews. Hope all is well, and Happy New Year from Hong Kong!