Day 4

07:31:13

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Rojas was full of holes now. His wrists were numb. If Roach's torture kept up, he would be dead in ten minutes from bloodloss. "I'll ask again…" Roach told him, "Just one more time… if you don't tell me what I want… I swear. I'll drill a hole through your head." As he pulled the trigger-like switch on the pistol-grip handle to taunt Rojas.

Roach really wanted to stop now. He felt like throwing up. He felt mercy when he looked at Rojas. He wanted to call for an ambulance. But they needed the info he was holding in. "Rojas…" he called, "If you tell me what I want right now, you'll be in the hospital in minutes. I give you my word. Just tell me." Roach looked at Rojas. His eyes told him that he wanted to give in. "Come on… Tell me…"

"O- Okay… I tell you…" It was self-pity that made Rojas do it. Roach went near the tied-up prisoner. "What is it?"

Rojas closed his eyes, "You have to believe me… It is the only thing I know. I hope it helps you." Roach went even nearer, their faces almost colliding. Rojas' voice was really soft, now that he'd been tortured. "There- there is a man Makarov once told me of- is a man that he hates more than the Americans."

"Who?"

"He told me- he- the man was in some Russian prison. A gulag." Rojas went on. "Prisoner Six-Two-Seven. Do you know him?" Ghost took out a pad and jotted the said facts down.

"I do not. What else…? Please tell me you've got more intel. This isn't gonna save your life." He said. Rojas frowned; more blood came out from his mouth.

"That is the only information about Makarov…" Roach started to walk away, "No, wait!"

Rojas made the specialist come back. "There is someone. When Makarov does transactions with me… He- He bring somebody with him…"

"What… you mean one of his lieutenants?" asked Roach.

"No… he- he- no speak Russian. Only speak English." Rojas spat the leaking blood on the ground.

"What does he look like?"

Rojas shook his and murmured, "I'm sorry but he was always in the dark. We transact inside warehouse. Very dark, only one light. I saw his uniform though…"

"Uniform?" Roach repeated. Rojas confirmed this. Though, he said that the man wore some kind of camouflage, he didn't know anything else. Roach patted him on the shoulder, "Alright, your ambulance is on its way…"

"Thank you…" Rojas thanked. Roach felt sorry for him. Even if the ambulance made it to him in a minute, Roach knew he would not make it. He lost too much blood. He walked away and made a phone call to the nearest hospital.

Soap and Ghost approached him after he used his cellphone. Roach told them to stop. He leaned over and puked. He reached into his pocket and took out his hanky, which he used to wipe his mouth. Roach was sickened at what he did. To him, torturing another human being was- was indescribable. "You okay, Roach?" asked Ghost. Roach was a bit touched by Ghost's concern. But still, he felt like crap. "No. I'm not okay... thanks for askin' though."

"Right. We should contact Command for pickup. The chopper should be fixed about now. Ghost, do it." said MacTavish. The lieutenant turned his comm on and fixed on to Command's frequency. Nothing but white noise. "Sir!" Ghost exclaimed, "Command's not anserin'..."

MacTavish slammed his fist to his palm and said, "Shite! What the hell's goin' on over there? Now, how are we gonna get outta here?"

Roach answered this. He whipped out his iPhone. "I know, Captain... I'm gonna call DenMother."

Ghost's eyes widened, "Erin?" he inquired as he pulled out the comm from his ear and stuffed it into his pocket. "Yeah" replied Roach, "perhaps she can help us." The iPhone beeped as he dialed Erin's number. The phone rang. "She answered it." said Roach, "DenMother, are you there..." this was followed by a smile from Roach. Erin said something and his expression suddenly changed. It was more of a horrified, dreading look. "How... How did this happen? Wait... I'll put you on loudspeaker and I want you to repeat everything you said. Okay?" Roach pressed the right softkey and laid it on the rock. "Hello?" Erin's feminine voice came out from the phone's speaker. "Erin, you're on with me, Ghost and the Captain."

"OH... well..." Erin sobbed, "The U.S. has been invaded."

"Invaded?" yelled Ghost and Soap in shock.

"Yeah... I- I- I don't know what happened really... there were rumors circling around that the ACS module you retrieved in Kazakhstan was already tampered." the Illinoisan explained. "Damn it!" MacTavish yelled. "Why is this the first time we're hearing this? Where's the general? Is he with you, Erin?"

"N- No. He's on deck."

Ghost took the iPhone and held the it near his mouth. "Erin, we're going back there at the sub pen. Stay on the line so-"

"Ghost?" she said, "we left the pen half an hour ago... I thought Shepherd told you..."

Ghost stomped his boot to the dirt. "He didn't. Where the bloody blazes are you goin'?"

"Shepherd said that we're dropping him off in Annapolis and that One-Four-One is returning to our base in Kazahkstan."

"Kazakhstan?" yelled Roach. "Shite! Shite! Shite!"

MacTavish grabbed the iPhone from Ghost, "Erin, do you have your laptop with you?" It was unusual for the three to hear Erin crying. She was a strong and brave girl. She refused to let anyone see her emotional. "Yeah.. I was using it before you called. Why didn't you use the comms anyway?"

"The comms at your end were down." MacTavish explicated why, "Erin, I want you to search about the Russian Gulags and then cross-reference them with Makarov and a certain Prisoner 627."

"Okay."

"Then, when you're done, I want you to take the intel you got and take it straight to Shepherd. Okay?"

"Yes, sir..." Ghost took the iPhone back and switched to normal speaker mode. He whispered into the receiver. "Erin... just.. hang in there. It's gonna be okay. Don't worry. 'kay. Bye."

Ghost tossed the iPhone back to Roach, who nearly missed it. Ghost faced his mates and said, "Now what're we gonna do? We can't get anyone on the horn!"

"Guys... take a look at this." Roach stated. He showed them his iPhone downloading the news. A reporter stood in the center of the studio. The screen to his left displayed, "US Invaded! Casualties: 2,000,000+" The news ticker read, "U.S. DENIED PASSAGE THROUGH BRAZILLIAN AIRSPACE – U.S. CONDEMENDED FOR MOSCOW AIRPORT MASSACRE – CIA 'BLOWBACK' TRIGGERS HARSH U.N. RESPONSE"

MacTavish slapped his palm to his forehead. "So even if we could contact somebody for pickup, they couldn't. Ah. Damn!" yelled the Scotsman. "The Russians must have deliberately let the ACS module turn on so we can track it and retrieve it. Now, they've got the key to every lock in America."

"And now they're killing a thousand Americans for every dead civilian in Moscow." Ghost showed signs of depression, "Looks like we're out of friends."

"No. Not really..." stated MacTavish.

"Whaddaya mean, Soap?" asked Roach. The captain smiled then clapped his hands. "I know a guy. Roach, throw me your phone." The sergeant took it out again and hurled it to Soap. MacTavish dialed '16211*#117' and pressed the send key. The phone beeped then nothing happened. He, then, registered the numbers '4542788'. It rang and the call was accepted. "Hello."

"Who is this?" The two men who weren't holding the phone could still hear the person speak. "Nikolai, It's Soap."

"Soap? Bravo Team? Price?"

"Yes, Nikolai. The same Soap." The Captain declared. The man he was speaking to apparently knew their Captain. "Well, what can I do for you my friend?"

"You've heard about what happened in the U.S.?"

"Da. I read it in Yahoo!.com."

"So you probably know that Brazil is denying America access into their airspace?" Soap questioned.

"Da, my friend."

"Well the thing is, Nikolai, my men and I are trapped in Rio and our U.S. allies are unable to pick us up."

"And you want me to pick you up?"

At this point, MacTavish crossed his fingers. "If... it wouldn't bother you, yes. We are in need of pick-up." For seconds, he waited for a reply. He hoped that his friend would be able to save them.

"I..." they all gulped. "have not forgotten how you rescued me from death, five years ago. How heavy you ask me will not bother me, for nothing I do can ever repay what you did for me. Thank you."

Soap loosened his collar, feeling a bit awkward, "Well, ahehehe... Can you?"

"Actually my friend, the reason why I can is because I am right here in Rio! Hahahahaha! Alright, I will hack into one of the satellites and find where would be the best place we can meet. Wait. Okay... sending you the coordinates..."

MacTavish's tracker suddenly beeped. A yellow dot appeared 500 meters to the north. It was some kind of compound that had a very large, open space. No doubt the nearest place that could be an LZ.

"Right, just hurry Nikolai, I think I can hear the militia nearing us. Out." Roach held out his palm, expecting Soap to return it to him. Instead, MacTavish pocketed the gadget and said, "I'll carry it with me... if you don't mind."Roach, with a blank expression, gradually yet forcibly lowered his hand.

"Ghost, Roach, let's get out of here. If the militia see us here, they're gonna bite our arses."

"Yep. It's best that we leg it!" Roach agreed. He looked at Rojas one more time. He was pale and dead. The trio ran north to the overgrown grass. The iPhone rang. MacTavish scooped it out and looked at the text message. It was from Nikolai: 'My Friend, I sent my men to leave weapons just east of your current area. You might need it. Nikolai.'

Soap giggled like a giddy school boy. "C'mon." he told his friends. He led the way. Three-hundred and forty-three steps, Roach counted, and MacTavish stopped. A big, black crate crushed some patches of grass in between rocks. A crowbar was rested on its wooden side.

MacTavish took it and bashed the crate's lid to smithereens, Half-Life style. "Help me take out these pieces of wood will you?" he requested. Roach smiled mischievously and replied, "Sure, Gordon..."

Beneath the wood was hay. Just hay. "Sir, what is this?" asked Ghost.

"Dig deeper." MacTavish told him. Ghost touched something hard. He thought it was the flooring of the box until he managed to move it an inch. He pulled the thing out. "Whoah!" A G36c was clutched in his hand.

Roach laughed, "Soap, You've got some mighty good friends..." Ghost raised the weapon as if battlecrying. "YEAH! Who was that anyway?"

"Nikolai," started MacTavish, "was my captain's informant in Russia back in the S.A.S.. He was about to be executed and we rescued him in time."

Roach took the UMP .45 and exchanged the USP for the Glock. Ghost took the G36c, which he attached with a Red Dot Sight. MacTavish took the M4A1. They took possession of the whole box's ammo. The team headed to the indicated pick-up spot. Footsteps, other than theirs, revealed that the militia were on to them. "Wait..." whispered Roach who knelt down. He took one grenade and buried it, half-way, on the ground where much grass covered it. He did the same with another one, but at the opposite side. He took a very long piece of wire and tied it to the pins of the grenades. "There!" Roach presented. "Now, that should stop them, even for a bit."

They sprinted more to the north. They were up on the streets again. The street was deserted. Cars that were still on the road were abandoned. The people must have gone home to hide. From there, the three walked and checked the rooftops. The street was an easy ambush point because of the narrow way and the autos blocked some of the exits. What appeared to be a transmitting tower stood tall near a building at the end of the street. They went farther.

They sat down behind a concrete border. Roach heard the tingle of dropping pins. He pointed to direction where they came from. Screams were heard after an enormous, fiery blast came from that place. The militia had walked into his tripwire.

Tires screeching, two Technicals arrived at the scene. The pick-up trucks both had M-60 machineguns fixed in the rear beds. The militia attacked the foreigners, guns blaring. Good for Soap, Ghost, and Roach, the concrete's cement was thick enough to withstand bullets and stop it from drilling through. "Wait for them to reload before we shoot! Remember, shoot the ones manning the Technicals first!" spoke the Captain.

The gunshots stopped. The three turned from a prone position to a crouch position. Inclining on the concrete border, they shot the hostiles reloading the M-60 through the head. Both fell. The three returned to the prone position. The riders jumped out. Armed with weapons bought from the black market, they ran to the transmitter building. Some climbed to the roof and began climbing up the tower. Roach crawled to the right where the border got taller and offered much more cover.

Roach could hear heavy breathing behind him. Yet no one was around, his friends were still compressed at the corner. He looked up. A hostile was right on top of them. A man brandishing a gold-plated Dragunov aimed at him. Tch... Bam! Roach's foe met his end. The man lost grip of his sniper rifle. Roach hung his SMG. The bling-ed gun landed on his hands. Fancy...How the bloody fuck could they afford this?

Roach attached a strap to it. Then, he clipped it on to his back. "Watch out!" warned MacTavish, "Another Technical just arrived!"

Sanderson leaned on the cemented wall/fence, waiting for the right time. He did a SWAT turn and began putting bullets right between their eyes. He shot the car near the hood. A spark caused the car to burst flames. The explosion caused a chain reaction with the other cars.

Only one thing was going on Roach's mind. It was a song. "Surfin' Bird". The seriousness of the battle was in contrast to the silliness of the nonsensical, almost stupid, song. "Clear..." he said. A soft, calm expression in his eyes. The last man standing that wasn't a friendly, was limping towards the safety of a concrete. The man perished from bleeding from his wounds.

"Roach? What's with the grin?" asked Ghost. He asked this, though he was more perplexed that everyone was killed by Roach.

"Nutthin..." uttered the sergeant, in a half-conscious state. What went on his minds was: Bi-Bi-Bird, bird, bird is a word...

Ghost turned to MacTavish, "Sir, I don't think Roach doin' the torture was a very good idea..."

With an eyebrow raised, MacTavish agreed, "Yeah... Just be grateful that he killed all tangos..." The duo huffed to get up. Soap scratched his head. Everybody was very much dead.

Roach returned to real life with a flick of Ghost's fingers. "Hey, Roach?" He rubbed his eyes. "Whassup, Bird? Er.. Ghost?"

"Y' okay?" he asked. That was the second time Ghost asked him. Again, Roach replied with a no. "Are you sure? Why were you smiling?"

Roach was taken aback by this. It was quite obvious that he was traumatized with torturing Rojas. "Well, how 'bout you? Huh?" grumbled Roach, "Why so serious?"

Being the point man, Sanderson led the way. They pushed to the street. A few militia appeared but quickly ran off, seeing their dead friends on the pavement. They weren't really trained soldiers. They were just given a weapon and taught how to reload. Roach saw none of them use the iron sights of their rifles. Unless there was a scope, though. At the turn to the left, a gate with something Portuguese was written. He couldn't understand what it was. But because of the raw vegetables laid on tables and some other stuff, he assumed it was a market.

"There, the GPS says we need to go through there."

Roach pulled the squeaking gate. As they entered, he told the guys to stop at once. "Shh.." he hushed, "Movement on the right."

"Let's flank 'em bastards." said MacTavish. Ghost nodded. Instead of entering through the gate, they walked to the right. They pulled themselves up at a side of the gate where the 'arrowheads' were missing. Though, the grills were greasy. Some hoodlums must be thieving from there. After Roach's foot hit the floor, the men turned and quickly raised their arms. "Don't shoot!" said one.

One of the only two was a Caucasian male wearing a helmet, an indigo shirt that was topped with a khaki bulletproof vest. The other was an African-American wearing almost the same drab although his shirt was white. Both were carrying NATO made weapons. Both not bought from the black market. They weren't militia. They were One-Four-One.

"What the hell are you guys doin' here?" asked Ghost. The black guy shrugged and replied, "Well, we was gonna help ya, but we can see that we're not needed so-"

"Huh, hold it you cheeky bastard..." The man was jokingly walking away.

"Hahahaha... Sir, we've come to assist you..." said Chemo, the 'bastard'. The other one explained their being there, "Sir, when General Shepherd told the team that we were goin' back, we asked him to let us stay in case you guys needed assistance. When they left, so did we. We set off for your last know location. Oh, and by the way, that was quite a mess you made back there."

"My, how considerate of you two." said Ghost, semi-sarcastically. "Well, did you two think of evac?"

"Ahem... Well about that... well... we didn't" said Rocket.

"Yeah... my homie here didn't think of it."

"Me?"

"Yeah. YOU. Dawg wasn't that thinking deep enough." he told the three British men. "So, yeah, sir. That's what we did. We thought you might need help."

"Thanks, now let's go." said MacTavish. Chemo replied, "Fo' sho'!"

"Eh?"

"He said 'For sure', sir..." Rocket explained for his friend.

There were now five of them. As they pulled out, Roach saw one chicken in a crate and wanted to bring it with him. Saying that he wanted a pet chicken. After a few minutes of debate, Roach agreed, sadly, to leave it there.

The team now consisted of five members. They were now a 'real' team. "Guys, before we get out of this market, better check your ammo." advised the captain. "Jacked up," Rocket smiled, "and good to go." Roach just grunted.

"Yo! I'm gonna kick me some Brazilian ass!" yelled Chemo, raising his M4 in the air. While, Ghost clapped his hands, "Yeah, C'mon... I don't wanna miss my afternoon tea."

The men ran. "Just half a mile now, chaps..." MacTavish said. He wondered what happened to Roach. He was fine a minute ago then he goes mad. It was very strange. Though MacTavish acknowledge the torture had traumatized him, it was very disturbing. It was the last thing MacTavish needed, his men going bonkers. "You sure yer okay, laddie?"

"YEP!" yelled Roach, like a boy.

Back to Roach: He was putting off another one of his acts. This time, he made the team believe that he was demented or something. But truth was, he was still sane but he was not 'okay'. He used these acts to cover what he felt. He felt sympathy for the bad guy. Though not really Stockholm Syndrome, it was similar. He knew his friends would be disgusted if they knew Roach was feeling sorry for mindless murderers, drug pushers and illegal weapons dealers. He didn't know what to do. He just thought maybe if he would act like the guy from A-Team, the Murdock guy or whatever... and seem like his screw was loose, the guys wouldn't think of it. Roach thought it was time to stop this charade. Roach Murdock was out. Gary Sanderson was back.

As they entered the streets, the battle started again. More of the militia poured in from every direction. "Guys they're trying to corner us." spoke Roach.

"No sheeee-it!" retorted Chemo. MacTavish was glad to hear Roach's normal voice, "Roach, that you?"

"Yeah... The real me..." A Sikorsky MH-53 swept above them. It hovered there for about seconds. A man trying to stabilize his footing in the passenger door waved at them. "That's Nikolai!" screeched MacTavish. He called Nikolai and signaled with his arms. "NIKOLAI! Go! We'll be there! ETA 20 seconds!"

"THAT MAY BE NOT FAST ENOUGH! I SEE MILITIA HEADING FOR THE COMPOUND!"

"JUST GO, Nikolai!"

The copter left them. "Pick up the pace, people!" They sprinted as fast as they could. Roach could feel the presence of the incoming horde of gun-wielding maniacs. He could feel them because of all the bullets whizzing past his head. They went inside some makeshift homes. Some idiots inside did banzai charges that ended in them getting a face full of lead. The funny thing was. They weren't even brandishing bayonets on their weapons. What? Were they going to bash them?

They pushed through the enemy. Finally, they found the right house that had entrance to backyard-compound. But the ground was empty. Where was Nikolai?

Dust spread all over the place as the Pave Low appeared. Yet, Nikolai hesitated to land. Roach wondered why. Suddenly, the loud blast of an RPG pained their ears. The rocket went straight for the chopper but as a skilled pilot of the Soviet Army years ago, Nikolai swerved the copter to the left. Making the grenade miss. Thank God for no missile lock on on the RPG-7!

Nikolai called on the comm. A exasperated voice, very different from the one they heard earlier, screamed, "THE LZ IS TOO HOT! WE WILL NOT SURVIVE THIS LANDING!"

MacTavish let go of his armament and crossed his arms then waved at the pilot. "Nikolai wave off! Wave off! Find a secondary LZ and we'll meet you there instead! Go!"

The heli started to turn around, "VERY WELL! I WILL ADVISE YOU OF THE NEW LOCATION A.S.A.P.!"

The bird flew away towards nowhere. MacTavish picked up his gun then shot the hostiles in sight. "C'mon!" he yelled. The comm rang. "Nikolai!"

"My friend, there is a spot near you where I can hover for a minute without being shot down! The militia won't be able to go near you since the location is very remote!"

"Go on!" The team- scratch that- MacTavish decided to go North. The rest, as always, followed. He rushed to an alcove hidden between two houses. There were two tumbled barrels there and a couple of crates. "It is just 37 meters north of you! It is the highest point in this area and 'tis the only roof! The rest is cliff and water!"

"Right! We'll meet you there! Out!" MacTavish ordered his troops to just follow his lead. He grabbed the nearest metal ledge and climbed the roof. Roach stacked the crates so it wouldn't be that hard for the others and used it as stairs. "My friend, from here, it looks like the whole village is trying to kill you!"

When the five of them were on the roof already, MacTavish sprinted. Though he didn't like the idea of it. The tin was very fragile. "Nikolai, tell me something I don't know... Just get ready to pick us up!"

Roach was careful to step only on the part of the roof where he saw nails. There, he knew, was the strongest part of the roof since the wooden support beams were there. Although, the was a time where he stepped on it and his foot fell through. "Laddies!" the captain called, dripping of sweat and pacing. "Loose yer vests and weapons! They're keeping you down! We aren't gonna need 'em anyway if we can outrun these damned fools!"

Ghost agreed. He was the first one to follow the boss's order. He unstrapped the Velcro on his vest and dumped it while he was still running. They shrugged and did so too. As Roach was removing the Velcro on his vest, he remembered the golden Dragunov! He felt that it would be such a waste if he just threw it away! He was about to ask MacTavish if he could keep it but understood that it would be a waste of time. Roach gulped then dropped it along with his other weapons. Without the armor, they themselves looked like hoodlums since they were only wearing shirts and jeans. Roach felt a bit naked. "We're running out of rooftops!" screamed Ghost.

"There!" MacTavish pointed to the only house at the back. It was a house by a cliff, making it the highest point. The Pave Low was there, but there was a big gap between the two houses. "We can make the jump just don't stop running!"

MacTavish made the first jump. He leaped into the air and made it to the ledge! He nearly fell but managed to balance himself to stumble on the roof instead of falling to the dirt, three storeys below. Chemo had long legs so he was next. He made it alright to the roof. Rocket, the lightest of them all, made it farthest.

Ghost looked at Roach. "Ey, Roach. Let's jump together!"

Roach nodded. Both of them felt excitement as they neared the end of roof they were on. Roach was confident he was gonna make it. And even if he just managed to grab the ledge, he was sure the guys would be able to pull him up. Adrenaline reached the highest point again and time slowed again. Roach spread his arms as they hurled themselves to the other side. Ghost rolled on the other roof when he landed.

Roach's arms and head slammed on the metal. He made it, he thought. Just then, Roach slid a bit down. He was still on the roof but the metal had reached his chin. The combined sweat and blood seemed to make some kind of lubricant. "Guys! He- !"

He slid down, as he desperately tried to claw on the roof, hoping he could grab something. MacTavish acted quickly and proned to try and grab Roach's arm. But alas! His arm missed Roach's.

"Shit." uttered Roach.

Roach opened his eyes and gasped for air. He had fallen three storeys down. "Roach!" Ghost screamed in the comm. "Wha- What?" Roach sat up. It wasn't the first time he fell. He cursed himself for being so fall-prone. There were a couple of gashes in his arms. He rubbed his eyes. His vision was, indeed, blurred. Something was moving down that street. "Roach! We can see them from the chopper! They're commin' for you! Dozens of 'em!"

His vision sharpened. What was moving down the street were around fifteen militia charging at him. As if the fall wasn't bad enough...

MacTavish's voice came next, "Roach! Get the hell out of there and find a way to get to the rooftops! Move it! Run for it! Get to the rooftops!" Roach forced his legs to stand. Whizz... Whizz... The militiamen were already shooting at him. Oh... God...

Roach kicked down a door to his left. The thing came down in splinters. He burst through the remaining wood and ran as fast as he could. He cursed again for not even having a pistol to defend himself. The building he ran through led to some steps leading down. He took it, even if he needed to go up. Roach knew immediately he made the right choice of taking them when he saw stairs that lead to a home. Rushing up them, he could hear the helicopter's blades nearby.

For the sergeant, there was nothing else to do but run for his life. He had come to a house with a large window. The chopper was a few meters away. "Roach!" screamed MacTavish. "Jump down on those rooftops and meet us south of yer position!"

Rooftops? What roof- oh! Roach looked beneath his position. Around five houses with rooftops that had slanting roofs were built side by side. As luck would have it the roofs overlapped each other and formed a slide. At the end of the slide was a window, much like the one Roach was looking through. "Roach! Hurry up! We're runnin' on fumes here! You've got thirty seconds!"

Roach roll-jumped over the window. He collapsed on the roof and slid down. He felt his bum heat as there was friction with his pants and the aluminum. H went through the second window and broke the table sat beside it. Roach looked up. The militia were giving him the finger and they were hopping over the window. Geez... these wankers are really blood-thirsty they're willing to follow me to the ends of the earth.

"Roach! Twenty seconds!"

Sanderson rushed. He went left to the next room and found yet another window. It didn't occur to him that he was on the second floor of the house. And there were houses nearby. He jumped out and ran on the roofs. He saw the chopper descend slowly. MacTavish threw down a rope ladder. Almost there... Aaaargh! He felt the bullet tear through flesh and sinew on his shoulder. No... can't stop...

"JUMP FOR IT!"

He almost missed the ladder. But his right hand grabbed the last bar on it. His goggles hit the wood and it cracked. Gotta get another one... He felt the ladder being pulled up. Someone took him from the shoulder and he screamed. His vision started to get fuzzy again. "Ah... I made it?" he asked.

"You did, mate. You did." said Ghost. Nikolai looked behind his seat, then asked MacTavish, "Where to, my friend?"

"Can this copter reach Kazahkstan?" MacTavish answered him with another question. Nikolai paused for a moment to think. He gave the dashboard a glance and faced MacTavish back again. "Yes we can, but we have to refuel."

"Ghost, where can we refuel?"

"The closest is... our base in Texas... some of our boys are there. One-Four-One Dallas sector. It's an airbase." Ghost prodded his finger on the map taped on the side. He returned to his seat and grabbed the medkit nailed on the wall.

"Thank you... Nikolai... that's the place."

Shepherd sat on his chair in his cabin. Actually, Captain Mancuso's cabin. But as Shepherd's ranking officer on the sub, Mancuso insisted he borrow his cabin. Mancuso was the 60 year-old captain of the USS Dallas. He had commandeered this submarine since 1981. Quite a long time ago.

There were 45 rpm records on a phonograph on the table. Mancuso turned it on. Claire de Lune played. Shepherd scoffed. Though he didn't show it, he was never a big fan of music, much less with classical music. He took his Zippo from his pocket and unscrewed the cap of his cigar case. The cigar popped out and Shepherd slid it out. He cut off one end then ignited the lighter. The fire illuminated the dark room. "Like some whiskey, General?" offered Mancuso.

"Thanks, Captain... I'd like some..." Shepherd puffed from the cigar. Mancuso poured the liquor into a glass, then he handed it to the General. Shepherd took a sip. The whiskey warmed him all over. It felt nice since it was cold in the Atlantic. He slouched and pondered... They'll pay... and they'll regret that it never happened... He mind heated a bit because he thought about it again. "How troubling..." uttered the sub captain.

"Eh?"

"The- U.S.- invaded... and there's nothing we can do to help..." The skipper gloomed. He sat near the phonograph. "I wonder how they're holdin' up?"

"Don't worry, Captain... Our boys out they're are ten times the men than the Red army."

"Yes... but one can't help feeling a bit... depressed."

Tak... Tak... Tak... a knock on the cabin door. Mancuso stood and opened it to peek. "General, it's one of your men."

"Let him in."

'Men' was a misnomer. Her brown hair waved as she stepped into the cabin. "Oh..." said Shepherd, "It's you, Nirent." Erin, though she had been crying her blue eyes out for the past two hours since she heard of the invasion, was still very pretty. "Sir," she began, "I have information about what Captain MacTavish got out from Rojas."

"Captain Mancuso..." Shepherd faced him, "Would you please excuse us?" Mancuso nodded and said, "Aye, skipper" He walked out and closed the door.

"Sit down, Nirent. Oh and before you do... shut the goddamned phonograph off." Erin took the needle from the record and turned it off. She sat opposite Shepherd. Shepherd pressed the button on the desk lamp. He took his cigar from his mouth and put it on the ashtray. Nirent handed him a Manila folder. He took out the papers and placed them where the light shone. "A gulag?"

"Yes, sir... and the prisoner 627 seems to be connected to Makarov."

Shepherd turned the page. "And a military officer also has a connection with Makarov?"

"Yessir..."

"I knew it... the Russian government did have a part in the airport attack. The Russians are a bloodthirsty folk."

"Sir, it hasn't been proven that the officer was Russ-"

Shepherd interrupted her, "Good work, sergeant. Elaborate the info once we get back to Kazakhstan. Well- I know I'm being dropped off in Annapolis but I'll get back to One-Four-One HQ within the day. I just have a few loose ends needed to be taken care of in the U.S. Get yourself some coffee or some sleep."

"Sir, yes, sir!" she went out with a salute. The general saluted her back. Shepherd turned-off the light and puffed his cigar again. Mark my words... the country will pay!