AN: Hey everyone! I really appreciate all the love this story has been getting! Thanks so much! And as you know, I'm wrapping this up, so enjoy this chapter (I think you will!) Also, apologies in advance to any Portuguese speakers who may be reading this. I just used Google translate and have no clue if it translated well or not because, sadly, I don't speak Portuguese! Anyway, enjoy!
Merrick was already in the TOC when Hesh strode in, right on time. He'd tried to limit himself to one visit a day, both to keep him from obsessing and stressing over their progress and to keep Neptune and his intel team from banning him entirely.
"Hesh! Come in, I was about to come get you." Hesh crossed the room to where the two older men stood somewhat cautiously. Three days ago, he'd been none too gently thrown out of the room for interrupting their work, so he kept his mouth shut and tried not to hope for too much.
"Tell him what you told me." Merrick said, and Hesh waited expectantly. Neptune paused as if organizing information in his head.
"We took the time stamp from the video and cross-referenced it with our satellite feed over that grid, and spotted a convoy leaving Rorke's camp about an hour before your assault." Hesh tracked the photos scrolling across the screen and his head spun. An hour. They'd missed the son of a bitch by one hour. "The convoy drove southeast, all the way to Rio. The Fed has a stronghold there. It even has an airfield."
"There's more." Merrick turned to a different GPS monitor. "A contact showed up on the team frequency this morning. It's Logan's." He let Hesh put the pieces together himself.
"So it's a trap. He wants us to come after him."
"Right. My guess is that we made him uncomfortable with the closeness of our last raid; I still don't know how he found out about it. Anyway, he must feel like he's leveled the playing field if he's sending out a signal like this."
"We can't go." As much as it pained Hesh to say it, he knew they couldn't afford to take the bait. "Not if he's this confident."
"We don't have a choice."
"What?" Hesh was stunned. Maybe they were spoiled from getting to pick and choose their own missions, but Ghosts generally weren't prone to throwing their lives away. "Merrick, it would be suicide." The elder shook his head.
"Orders came down about an hour ago. Command has been wanting to strike another serious blow to the Feds for a while. After the Icarus mission we slacked off and gave them too much of a break, so now we're taking down Rio. Whether Logan's there or not, we're going."
"But we're still about eighty percent sure that Logan is there." Neptune chimed in as he switched monitors and pulled up an aerial view of the Federation base. It wasn't so much a base as a veritable fortress. Anti-personnel fortifications fanned out in every direction from the prison-like walls, and none of the buildings within one kilometer of the gates were taller than a single story.
"It's located about a mile back from Copacabana beach. They've cleared the surrounding area in order to make a stealth approach difficult. Basically all we know is what we can get from satellite and IR images of the base. Advanced recon has only gotten blurry images of the outside." Hesh scanned through the base schematics noting placement of generators and barracks… or Neptune's best guess at least.
"In other words: we don't know shit." He interjected. The elder Ghost's head bobbed around uncertainly.
"Pretty much. The only other thing we can guess based on troop movements is that it's got to have a basement much larger than the above ground complex."
The trio surveyed the intel in consternation for a long few minutes.
"We'd need days to plan an infiltration on this place!" Hesh burst out, breaking the silence.
"Normally we'd have them, but I've already been briefed on our orders. The 75th is mobilizing in forty hours, we have to be gone in thirty eight. Command wants us to get our feet wet and soften the target before the Rangers launch their primary assault. We are to take out power and comms, and anything else flammable we find, but our main focus is the commander." The tone of Merrick's voice told Hesh all he needed to know.
"It's Rorke." Merrick nodded.
"Command knows about him… and about his grudge against us, so we're the only ones they'll trust with taking him out."
"What about Logan?" The question was always there, but this time Hesh didn't know if they'd have the leash to go looking for him. He looked at Neptune. "You said eighty percent, I'd go looking if it were one." Merrick smirked.
"Command briefed me on hunting down Rorke, but they didn't say anything about exfil or a return time. As long as we take that base off the grid, and stay out of the infantry's way, we've got all the time in the world."
Hesh felt relieved that Logan was part of the plan, but was confused by the unease he still felt. They were going to get his brother. They were going to bring him home. But the more he studied the plans of the fort the more dread filled his chest. He noted sentry and gun positions but didn't see a plausible route inside.
"Merrick, I know our team is good… the best… but this is crazy." Merrick looked as if he would agree with him for a moment.
"It's no worse than the Icarus bid was, and that was handled by the Air Force. Go round up the boys, I'll brief everyone in half an hour." Hesh left to find the others.
"Are we sure this tunnel runs under the depot?" Seay lowered his binoculars from the small grate in the field that separated them from the fortress. He tried to stretch as much as he could while scooting to let Hesh take over his shift on the spotter scope. The only cover they had was the scrub that grew on a small ridge about a quarter mile away from the Feds, so things like standing to ease sore limbs or take a piss were out of the question.
"It has to; they have to have a way to drain off water because of the way the base sits in the bottom of this valley. And we need a way in." Hesh replied. Even with Neptune's best guesses, their most accurate intel still held a large margin of uncertainty. No, they weren't certain that the pipe led into the fortress, but they had nothing else to go on, so it became their route by default. The confidence that the LT said it with made Seay want to believe him.
That was a quality that he hadn't had when the SOWT was first inducted into the Ghosts. Honestly speaking, Hesh was a wreck, and it showed through his leadership style. Seay couldn't exactly blame him, once he'd heard the story of all that had happened to him. He had picked himself up well in the last week, but he still looked as if one more letdown over his brother would send him back to that brink. Because he was a teammate, yes, and also for Hesh's sake, Seay hoped and prayed they found Logan today.
He retreated behind the line and fished an MRE out of his pack, snacking on it and trying to rest for about a half hour.
"Stalker 6-1, this is Actual. Operation Cocoa Banana is a go. Get ready." Neptune alerted them that the Rangers were ready.
"Roger, Actual. Stalker is in position." Merrick released the mic and mumbled under his breath, "Cocoa Banana… who names this shit?"
Seay smiled as he grabbed his gear, and thought it would make a good one for the grandkids. "And this is the story of how a chocolate banana brought down the Federation of South American Socialists!" He crawled, low, up to the rest of the team who were already on line looking over the edge of the ridge. Keegan took the sniper rifle from Hesh. Seay didn't hold out much hope that he could help them from over a quarter mile away, but again, the man's skills were legendary. He would stay on overwatch while the two assault teams infiltrated through the pipes.
"We have fifteen minutes from Neptune's signal to wrap this place up nice and pretty for the infantry." Merrick cemented the details, and each team leader got their watch ready. "If Team One has to go overtime on the secondary target, don't expect any extra pay." They all chuckled and a load of tension left the air, then they settled down for the wait. It only took ten minutes.
"Stalker 6-1 this is Actual, over." Neptune called them up again. The Rangers must be ready.
"Actual, 6-1, send it." They all knew what he would say anyway.
"You're moving out. Go, go, go. And good hunting."
"Thanks Actual, see you on the other side." As Merrick cut the connection, Kick picked up and sprinted down to the grate in the dirt about one hundred meters away, Hesh close on his heels. They got there, popped it open, and scrambled inside in a matter of seconds. Next, Seay ran down with Gillam. Once inside, he looked around. The pipe was more of a large culvert, and was big enough to crouch-walk down, which was good. They would have more time on the objective and less spent traveling. Hicks and Merrick dropped down a few seconds later and replaced the grate above them.
"Everyone here?" No one replied, but Merrick checked visually. "Good. Let's go Hesh." Hesh was on the base-end of their file, and he turned and started down the tunnel. It took five of their precious minutes, even at a crouch-run, to reach the second grate, which happened to be underneath the belly of a troop transport.
"Team Two, go." Kick led the way, quietly pushing the grate aside. He and Hicks crawled out of the grate, and Seay followed, slithering along on his stomach to get out from under the truck. The guards were easy enough to sneak past as long as they stayed between vehicles. Halfway to the armory the team stopped to plant C4 under a few tanks.
They breached the armory, two suppressed bullets taking down the guards posted inside.
"Alright, I've got the three for the comms and the generators. Rig up anything that looks like it'll go boom and meet on the other side in two." Kick ordered, then began hiding the two bodies. Seay had two explosives and scouted the building, eventually placing them both on a large gasoline cache.
He met Kick and Hicks by the far doors just shy of two minutes later.
"All set?" Seay nodded. "Alright. Let's move." They stacked up and left the armory, dropping another group of guards and dragging them into the shadows before rounding the corner towards the generators. Kick handed out his other two packs of C4.
"Seay, tower. Hicks, with me. Five minutes." He led the way to the gate in the fence around the generator, and Seay peeled off left to sabotage the tower. Two guards stood at the bottom of the ladder. It wasn't so much a comms tower as a sentry post with a dish on top. There was a third guard keeping watch, thankfully in the other direction. He crept, low and silent, right up behind the two until he could hear their low conversation.
"Você sabe que o comandante ainda mantém que o homem no porão?"
"Sério? Ele ainda está vivo?"
"Sim, eu tinha que protegê-lo ontem. Pray você nunca tem que!"
"Por quê?"
"É como estar na mesma sala como o diabo."
Seay didn't care much what they said, and didn't speak the language anyway. He chose that moment to strike. He shot the far one through his skull, and pounced on the other from behind, slamming him into the ground and sending a round through his spine. He didn't have time to hide their bodies, so he turned and climbed. The guard at the top was oblivious, and easily taken down with a knife to the throat. He placed the explosive on the roof, then turned, clambered down the ladder, and met up with the others. Kick checked the time.
"Three minutes left, perfect. Let's get back and wait for the others." Sneaking back to the grate wasn't as easy as sneaking out. Guards were everywhere, and they seemed to know that something was up. They made it back to the culvert, but Team One wasn't there yet. A minute passed, and the target hit time approached quickly.
"They should've gotten here first." Kick murmured switching over frequencies to check on the others.
"…can't really blame the kid, can you?" That voice. Kick's eyes widened. He didn't belong on their channel.
"Is that Rorke?" Seay asked. Kick nodded, but motioned for silence.
"Oh, you shoulda heard him scream. He wailed, and whined, and he whimpered and begged. You wanna know what he said? What he kept asking?" Kick had no clue what Rorke was talking about. They were out of time. He looked at Hicks.
"Blow it."
Team One left the culvert after Two, and sprinted the distance into the shadows of the building. Once inside, the three men moved like shadows, slipping through the corridors soundlessly, disturbing the air less than the breath of their enemies. They reached the end of the long, narrow hall and turned to the door on their left. A placard read Segurança.
"This is room Alpha." A quick check.
"It's unlocked."
"Moving to breach, stack up."
"Check." If they screwed this up…
"Check!" The breathless whispers came. They were ready.
"Check. On three… One, two, three!" Hushed voices and whispers ceased with the quick turn of the doorknob. The men slid into the room smoothly, one after the other, spreading out to either side to better cover their quarry. He sat calmly in a chair, facing a bank of computers. The screens displayed camera feeds with various views of the compound interior, and even a small concrete room.
"It's about time, boys." The man had barely opened his mouth and Hesh had had enough of his shit. He glanced sidelong at Merrick to get permission for… he knew not what yet. He figured he'd just wing it, and do whatever came to mind. As if seeing the gesture, Rorke harrumphed and said,
"You really don't want to do that, son." Hesh hadn't even taken half a step forward when Rorke was up like lightning, faster than you could've believed, his signature magnum firing off shots. Hesh lunged forward and grabbed his arm, twisting it down and effectively disarming him, before pulling his knife and attempting to bury it between the man's ribs. Rorke released the gun, spun away and blocked the series of quick stabs that Hesh tried, then reversed the playing field by using the same technique to disarm Hesh, keeping the knife for himself. The men circled one another for a brief moment, too short to get any sort of respite, then plunged into another melee, each vying for control over the other. Hesh wondered briefly what had happened to the other two Ghosts he was with, but didn't dare to look around for them. He couldn't let his attention waver, not even for a moment.
Rorke feinted on the left, then caught Hesh off guard, grabbing him and bending him over, thrusting upwards with his knee at the same time. Hesh took three heavy blows to the ribs before Rorke plunged his own blade into his stomach. Gasping for breath, he stumbled backwards, hitting the wall and sliding down it. Rorke seemed winded too; he was bent over, hands on his knees and breathing heavily.
You're losing it, old man. Hesh let out a derisive snort before twisting his face into a grimace. He had been shot in the stomach before, because of this same man, but he never guessed that the pain from a knife could feel so different. Almost worse than the bullet had been.
Rorke finally straightened and went over to Hesh, who hadn't recovered yet. He detached his MTAR from its one-point and took the Glock from its thigh holster, tossing them both out of reach. He looked down at Hesh, his expression one of pure contempt. The violent eyes shot daggers that seemed to say, "Is that all you got?" The gravity of the room suddenly shifted, and Hesh realized an important truth, one that had never really hit him before. With all of his missions in relentless pursuit of Rorke, it was a very real possibility that, he wouldn't come home from one of them. He was shocked. First at the idea, then at the fact that it had never occurred to him before.
Hesh was jerked from his thoughts by a string of very select slurs and curses coming from his left. He glanced over, Rorke taking notice and doing the same, and saw Merrick, coughing up blood, uttering obscenities under his breath. Taking the moment to observe the room, Hesh looked around and spotted Gillam, slumped against the wall opposite Merrick. He wasn't moving.
Rorke stalked slowly over to Merrick, placed a hand under his chin, and jerked his face up to look him in the eye.
"You just don't give up, do you?" Rorke jeered. "When will you thick-headed morons realize: I'm just better than you?" Letting Merrick's head drop, he stood and retrieved his revolver. If there was one thing they could count on, it was Rorke's desire to make his former team die slowly.
"A Ghost won't stop –" Merrick began breathily. He looked at Hesh pointedly, trying to convey a silent message.
"- until his mission is complete. Yes I know. I'm the one who drilled that into you, remember?" Rorke spat the words out venomously. Checking the chamber, he strode back to Merrick, who was still screaming sentences with his eyes. Hesh began to realize what he was asking.
"I also remember teaching you that no man gets left behind…" Rorke's voice droned on in the background as Hesh focused on what he had to do. Working through the agony, he loosely held the grip of the knife stuck in his stomach. His knife, and he'd become a human sheath.
God must hate me. He tightened his hold on it and slowly drew the blade out, choking his own screams back. Rorke couldn't know. He couldn't hear him coming. It took all of his willpower to remain silent. Every twitch of the blade in his flesh sent out arc of agony to his spine and through his body. Looking up quickly, he saw that Rorke still had his back turned and was focused totally on lecturing Merrick.
One final, excruciating pull and the knife was free of him, along with much of his blood. It spread, warm, into his uniform, staining the digital a sanguine red. Hesh half-heaved himself to his feet, using the wall for support, before almost toppling over again. He imagined the pain streaming out with the blood and it calmed him; he filed the thought of blood loss away for later.
Move it, Walker! He imagined the voice of his father, telling him to shift his ass. As quietly as he could he staggered across the room. He held the knife in his right hand and clutched his abdomen with the other. He was only feet, seconds away from plunging the blade into the back of Rorke's neck when something tipped him off. It couldn't have been a noise or a sound. Hesh was a Ghost, he didn't make mistakes. But, just as when they had first breached the room, Rorke spun with inhuman reflexes, even as Hesh drove the knife down with all the strength he could muster. It clearly wasn't enough, as Rorke batted his hand away, easily taking the knife and immobilizing him with a quick punch to the ribs. He yelled, and doubled over, following the pain, trying to let it flow out and into the floor, but the tortuous knots remained. Rorke hauled him upright by his shirt.
"Tenacity! I like it!" Rorke waved the knife in Hesh's face and held him pinned against the opposite wall. "Maybe I picked the wrong brother, huh?" He finally settled the blade along Hesh's neck. He struggled against the grip, fleeting thoughts wondering why he always seemed to lose his strength when Rorke was in the picture. Glancing behind him, Hesh saw Merrick trying to stir himself from the floor… without much success. He scanned the room, looking for anything that could help. Anything he could use. Even if he still had his MTAR, it would be useless. Rorke was right up in his face. Hell, he could even smell the anchovies he'd had for lunch. Giving him a hard knock against the wall, Rorke called Hesh's attention back to him.
"All the other one ever did was whine and complain… but," Rorke paused and chuckled, "weeeell, you can't really blame the kid, can you?" The Southern drawl mocked him, and Hesh fought all the harder against the owner of the odious accent at the mention of his brother. Hesh continued his desperate search of the room for some advantage, anything to tip the scale back in the Ghosts' favor.
"Oh, you shoulda heard him scream. He wailed, and whined, and he whimpered and begged. You wanna know what he said? What he kept asking?" Rorke spoke quietly, face to face with an irate Hesh. The latter glared daggers at his attacker, imagining tearing him limb from limb.
"'Where are you, Dad? Helpme, David!'" Rorke's drawl mocked him and Hesh raged against the chokehold, scrambling for a way out.
Suddenly, the building shook, the lights went out, and you could hear the power grid shutting down. Hesh used Rorke's momentary confusion and his own hellish rage to shove him backwards and take his knife. Rorke yelled and Hesh felt more than saw him lunge. He just raised the blade. Rorke slammed into him, and they crashed to the floor.
"You can't kill me!" Rorke roared. Hesh twisted and the monster screamed. Pulled, and stabbed again, this time hearing a small wet gasp come from his enemy. And he did it again.
Twist. Pull. Stab.
Again.
Twist. Pull. Stab.
He did this until Merrick's wet cough snapped him back to reality. He and Gillam looked like dead men in the darkness, the room only lit by a sliver of window.
"Merrick?" Hesh abandoned the dagger in Rorke's chest, and dragged himself towards Merrick, still fueled by the furor of a moment ago.
"Merrick, talk to me!" Hesh cried desperately. The Ghost didn't move.
He's breathing. He's okay. Just get him out. Hesh glanced over at Gillam and noted that he hadn't moved at all during the encounter. Carrying both of them would be impossible in his current condition.
"Hesh, what's going on? Come in!" Hesh's radio crackled to life in the eerie silence.
"Kick?! Perfect timing. I need you!"