Whiskey Hotel
"Whiskey Hotel still has power! If we capture it, we'll be able to contact command and get some support!" shouted Marshall, trying to be heard over the gunfire.
"Understood, you heard the man. We need to secure Whiskey Hotel!" barked Foley, leading his squad across the pot marked front lawn.
"Sarge, isn't kinda risky to send us in the front door? I mean the Russians have mounted MG's and shit all along the roof. We go straight up the middle we'll be wiped out." said Dunn, watching as not inches from his nose 7.62mm rounds were kicking up dirt.
"I know, Corporal." returned Foley, knocking down a Russian who thought it wise to charge ahead, he got a bullet to the brain. "But you heard the Colonel, the White House still has power. Which means we want it back."
"Yeah, no matter how many body bags we need when we're done." muttered Dunn, picking off the occasional Russian when the torrent of machinegun fire died down a bit.
"He has a point." replied Allen, crouched behind a MiG that had crashed into the front lawn. "You think Marshall's trying to win this one by having them burn through their ammo?"
"At this rate? Yes." grumbled Dunn, snatching up a grenade and returning it to it's owner.
"We got any smoke? If they can't see us they can't shoot us." said Allen, crawling through the mud towards a better firing position.
"I don't have any.." said Ramirez, locking another 40mm grenade into his M203.
"Me either." stated Dunn, reloading his SCAR-H.
"Not a one." answered Foley, removing a grenade from his vest. "What about you?"
"What me?" asked Allen, "No, I don't have any."
"Damn." muttered Foley, pulling the pin on his M67.
"Great, the only good plan and it won't work because Marshall didn't think that smoke grenades would be a helpful addition." grumbled Dunn, checking a downed Ranger for smoke grenades and finding none.
"We got no choice. We gonna have to make a run for it." said Foley.
"You have got to be shiting me." returned Dunn, "there are like forty of them and they have the fucking high ground! And we're crossing open ground for christ sake!"
"Shut up, Corporal! If we don't move, we'll be sitting ducks!" shouted the Sergeant, dragging the Corporal to his feet. "NOW GET MOVING!"
Foley gave Dunn a not so friendly push, which put Dunn in the MG's line of fire.
"Are you trying to get me killed?" screamed Dunn, zig zaging across the uneven ground towards the entrance. Dunn stopped under the porch to catch his breath. "I fucking hate you.."
"You made it didn't you?" asked Foley, urging Allen to make the sprint next.
"Yeah, barely!" shouted Dunn, showing three holes in his sleeve that weren't their prior.
"Ah, you're just being a baby." said Foley, regrouping outside the Oval Office. "Dunn, take point."
"Wait, why do I always have to take point? You always make me do it!" shouted Dunn, tried of always being thrown into near death situations first.
"Dunn! We don't have time for this! Open the damn door!" shouted Foley.
"Fine I'll open the goddamn door!" yelled Dunn, gripping the door handle, when he opened the door he found the room beyond strangely empty. He then proceeded to one of the walls and began fiddling with a painting on the wall.
"Please don't tell me you plan to steal that." said Allen, watching Dunn remove the painting.
"Nah, theirs a message. Can't hear it with the stupid picture in the way.. but now that you mention it, I bet this thing would garner a pretty penny at auction." replied Dunn.
"This is…5-1 to friendly units in D.C.-Hammerdown is in effect. I repeat: Hammerdown is in effect. If you are receiving this transmission, you are in a hardened high-value structure. Deploy green flares on the roof of this structure to indicate if you are still combat effective. We will abort our mission on direct visual contact with this countersign." droned the wall mounted speaker, worse it kept running this in loop.
"Sorry Ramirez, but you're combat defective. You won't be popping any flares today." joked Dunn, slapping the rookie on the back.
"Shut up, Corporal. We have to move." said Foley, heading towards one of the Oval Office doors.
"Sarge, what the hell is Hammerdown?" asked Allen, following the rest of the team as they stacked up.
"It means their going to destroy the entire city. They'll bomb it into dust." said Foley, opening the door just enough to see inside, and not liking what he saw. "More Russians. Estimating five."
"So they're going to kill us all if we're too slow?" asked Allen, unpinning an M67 to roll through the door.
"Essentially." said Foley, opening the door while Allen rolled the frag.
"I hate this Army. Too willing to blow up their own men without solid reason. Where the hell's Shepherd? He'd fucking love this!" shouted Dunn, gunning down the surviving Russians, "Room clear."
"Cut the chatter. We're getting close." whispered Foley, leading the team into an outdoor garden area. Careful fire from Allen's M4A1 knocked the three repelling Russians off their ropes, if the bullets didn't kill them the fall would.
"We've only got a minute before those fighters blow this place to kingdom come!" shouted Foley, leading the squad through a hole in the kitchen wall and into a spiral staircase. In a last ditch defense, five Russians stood guard of the stairs leading to the roof.
"Clear these guys out fast! We don't have much time left!" shouted Foley, taking down a Russian with a quick burst from his SCAR-H.
"We're clear! Let's get to the roof!" yelled Allen, ripping a flare off his vest and tossing it to Ramirez. "You're faster then me! Hurry, before they destroy this whole damn place!"
Ramirez ran as fast as he could, popping the flare before he was even on the roof. A fellow Ranger was doing the same, as he waved the flare over his head, three fighter planes passed overhead.
"Damn, we cut that one close." muttered Dunn, realizing if they had stopped for as long as ten seconds they'd be dead. "So when are we going to Moscow? 'Cause I wanna burn the place down when I get there."
"When the times right, Corporal. When the times right." said Foley, looking out over the destroyed city.
"And what time might that be?" asked Dunn, not exactly enjoying Foley's cryptic answer.
"Allen? Can I talk to you?" asked Ramirez, "In private?"
"Look, if you're coming out of the closet I swear I won't tell anyone." said Allen, watching Dunn and Foley engaged over the topic of 'the right time'.
"What? NO! It's not that. I wanted to say I'm sorry." said Ramirez, looking at his boots.
"For what?"
"For snapping at you before. I was just worried about my sister, and everyone kept acting like I was a grade-schooler, I guess I just got fed up of being treated like I wasn't a full member of the team." continued Ramirez, "But everyone kept treating me like I couldn't take care of my self.."
"Who ever said you weren't a part of the team?" asked Allen, looking back towards Dunn.
"No one, but I could always tell that I wasn't getting the same respect as everyone else."
"Look, Ramirez. You got it wrong, no one respects you any less. Hell, Dunn gets less respect then you do. Besides, Dunn acts like you're his brother, and Foley acts like you're the son he never had. Everyone's accepted your position in this unit except you." said Allen.
"Wait, Dunn gets less respect then me?" asked Ramirez, not exactly understanding how that was so.
"Have you ever spent a weekend with the guy? You can't respect a him after what I've seen him do in his off time, but I trust him with my life. Hypocritical, is that the right word for it?" said Allen, "Come on, 'hero'. You just saved D.C. let's go grab a beer, it's on me."
"But I'm not 21 yet…"
And the official Rangers campaign is over. Hopefully, this is up to everyone's expectations. If not, I am truly sorry. Also, because someone complained about the use of in game dialogue, so I cut it down in this chapter.
Read and Review or I will initiate Hammerdown Protocol on you!
