Chapter 5: Heroic decisions.
Elijah, awaiting confirmation on video feed, assessed his options. He could attempt to hold up the guard, make him say that he was going to the toilet, and then kill him, but that in itself led to complications.
The guard could yell into the radio that they were under attack. Sure that would get rid of the guard, but it would add extra blood to his hands, namely the blood of the hostages.
Another point was that maybe these guards realised their lives were forfeit now, and that the guard might try to kill Elijah in a suicidal counter attack. And knowing terrorists, this option wasn't too unlikely.
He put that option on the backburner, and tried to find more ways of dealing with this. Distraction? He could make the guard move off in a different direction, opening the way for his escape.
Impersonation was out of the question; he could pull out a Russian accent, after all, Kurds had lived within the Soviet Union for at least 40 years, but the enemy were wearing uniforms, and besides, these men probably knew each other for years.
So, what course of action to take? All that was left was to wait for a reply from Snake and Otacon on whether he would get that live feed or not.
-- -- --
Nick scoped the area with through his rifle sights, trying to find the targets he had seen on the satellite image- the RPG-7 SAM and crew. However, he couldn't open fire until Elijah gave the go word, so he was stuck waiting for a while.
It took him ages to find the crew; one reason why having a spotter was always handy when sniping. The crew appeared to be having a smoke- one of the most idiotic things you could do at night.
It was the first strike of the match that caught his eyes to them. The match remained lit, and it was passed on to another troop. That got Nicks aim adjusted to where he should shoot. Through sheer ignorance, or lack of foresight, the match was kept lit. Nick pressed his finger to the trigger. Another cigarette was lighted. And . . .
Nick released his hold on the trigger. That there was the time he would have blasted the bastards brain all over the ground. But Elijah had yet to say that is was good to go, so until then, he had to wait and be tortured by the easy targets, like a starving dog without his fangs...
-- -- --
Elijah got a call from Otacon on the CODEC. "This is Elijah. What you got for me, Dr. Emmerich?"
"Got you the feed. Patching it in... now."
Sure enough, a view of the guard came through on his CODEC screen. Although slightly fuzz, he could see well enough. The guard had the radio at his side currently, his hand gripped onto the AK-74 hanging from his shoulder.
Elijah thanked Otacon, then closed the connection. He watched as the guard raised the radio to his mouth and gave the usual "all is well," line. From what Elijah saw, there was a three-minute rotation to the message giving. That left him little time to put his plan in action.
Pulling the combat knife out from the waist sheath, he pulled out from the wall he was hiding behind, took a step forward and grabbed the Russians radio arm, pulling it back and holding it behind his back. In the same motion, Elijah slashed the strap of the guards AK-74, sending it to the floor. Elijah then kicked away the gun, and pressed the knife to the Russians neck.
Elijah then, in a very sharp voice, said into the ear of his captive, "Here's the deal. You call into your boss and say you have to use the toilet. You say anything about me, I'll slit your fucking throat."
However, the guard was tougher then he looked. He managed to pull out of Elijah's grip, knock the latter back and pull up his radio to issue an alarm. Unfortunately for the Russian, sticking out of the radio was four inches of knife handle, the blade embedded in the radio and the man's hand.
Elijah ducked under the flailing arms of the guard, strafed behind him and with all of his strength snapped the guard's neck. The body slumped to the floor, and Elijah pulled out his knife, wiped it on the guard's balaclava, then wrapped the balaclava around the corpses still bleeding hand wound. Elijah dragged the body into a dark corner, hiding it in the shadows as best he could. He then called into Eclipse 6.
"This is Snake. How's the guard situation?"
"He's dead."
"What?"
"I was trying to force him to co-operate. He didn't go along with it."
"Of course he didn't fucking go with it! He's ex-Spetznaz, for fucks sake!"
"Sir, most people shit their pants when a knife is pressed to their throat."
"You should've used another option!"
"All I know is, sir, we've got a dead guard on our hands. That leaves us only a few minutes to execute the RPG-7 crew and rescue the hostages before the terrorists understand what has happened and execute the hostages. If I were in your position, I'd waste less time lecturing me on what I should have done, and more time on what the fuck we're supposed to do now. I'm moving out to my sniper position, so you and your tactical advisors better come up with a damn good plan." There was silence for a few moments, then Snake replied with, "Alright, move into position. Snake out."
-- -- --
Nick finally received the word from Elijah, and the word was go. After a quick check over, he called in that he would take out the radio man, Elijah responded that he would take the primary gunner. Nick slid the bolt lock of his rifle back, then looked through the scope, eyeing his target, all while breathing steadily, dropping his heart rate down.
He exhaled, relaxing all the muscles he could, but keeping the steady aim he had to have. He looked through the sights, and saw his targets. The three terrorists all wore urban camouflage, level II Kevlar vests and woollen ski masks. Two of them had AKs, the other one (assumedly the RPG-7 shooter) carried a submachine gun, a Skorpion if he wasn't mistaken.
And then, he pulled the trigger. The bullet punctured the radio mans neck, blood blasted out of the resulting wound like a spray can never before used. However, there was a problem. The shot hadn't killed the man, merely blowing out a huge chunk of his neck. The Russian was currently about to breathe his dying word into the radio- the word of alarm.
And so Nick ignored the main rule of sniping- never fire twice from the same spot. He knew he had to move then shoot, but there was no time. He slid the bolt back, took the shot and blew open the guards head, the pink brain-matter flying out of the exit wound like a shotgun blast of gore.
A bullet flew from the night towards Nick. It tore a hole in his BDU, grazed the skin across his left arm and then kept on going into the night. Nick hit the ground, checking the hole to see if any major damage had been done. It good luck (or a sheer fluke) that he had not been injured. However, he would never make that mistake again, seeing as the next shot might be aimed better.
He called Elijah on the CODEC. "Elijah here."
"Elijah, someone just shot at me."
"Wasn't a shot from one of the two men we just killed?"
"No, think it was a sniper."
"These guys have a sniper of their own?"
"Evidently."
"Hold on."
Nick looked over at Elijah's position, and saw a discreet flash clean up the last of the RPG-7 operators. Another flash fired, and in an instant Elijah, over CODEC, said, "Fucking hell."
Nick quickly responded with, "What?"
"A chunk of the wall opposite me just shattered. We've got one hell of a capable sniper on our hands."
"And this means?"
"This operation just got a whole lot more interesting."
"Any plan of countering?"
"You let off two shots. I'll watch for a muzzle flash. Elijah out."
The connection closed, and Nick let out a fuck, under his breath. He kept himself on the rooftop, hidden behind the wall keeping people from falling off if they went up there and raised his arm with the rifle. He didn't aim- Elijah said he wanted two shots, and Nick would give Elijah his two shots.
He pulled the trigger, then pulled back the bolt and let off the second shot. As soon as he had done it, a bullet smashed a couple of the bricks above him, sending shards of concrete and stone over him.
The CODEC rang, and Elijah's distinctive voice came over. "Got the position."
"Where?"
"Look over your ledge. In the distance you should see a large oak tree. I saw the muzzle flash near the top of the trunk."
"We've got one sneaky bastard on our hands."
"Rain hell down on him?"
"That we will."
"Who'll be the patsy who has to fire the aiming shots?"
"I did it last time."
"Fine. Zero in on the tree, now."
Nick assumed a stable firing position and began standard aimed shot procedures. Breathe slowly, zero on the spot, and wait for the right moment. The tree was hard to see in the darkness, through the scope, but he could make out the faint outline of the branches. The crack of a suppressed rifle went off twice, and Nick saw the jackpot. A muzzle flash right where he was aiming. He pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a dark shape fell from the tree and hit the dirt. He pulled back the bolt lock again, placed his finger on the trigger and put another bullet into the shape.
Nick flipped on the CODEC, calling Elijah. He started off with, "I think I nailed him."
Elijah quickly came back with, "Or you just wounded him, and he's calling to the leaders and alerting them, so they'll kill the hostages."
"Good point. Hey, if we hear gun shots and screaming, I owe you a beer. Nick out."
Elijah moved his head away for the Heckler & Koch rifle's scope, and gave a quick look at the building. Nothing was moving, but that didn't say it was cleared. However, he had to take the chance. He reached for his CODEC, without moving from his position.
"This is Master Sergeant Elijah Slervansk. Rooftop cleared. Requesting reinforcements." He said.
"Negative, Sergeant," Charlie's frantic, energetic and quick voice sounded, almost drowned by the roar of the Blackhawk's engines.. "We still need confirmation from Mr. Rodriguez . . . Apparently, if we don't know where the hostages are, we don't go anywhere" He cut off.
The Kurd lowered his head in disappointment. "Sean, hurry up, god damn it."
-- -- --
Sean had finally made it to the end of the Service passage. He moved slowly, always "Stalking" that was, balancing his knees and stepping with the back of his feet so that his steps didn't make a sound, and breathing slowly.
The Latin kept his ears open, and his heart stopped suddenly.
"Let me remind you, Tovarish Sobrietsky, that our country has over 27.000 nuclear warheads, and that should the situation require it, the Kremlin will use them." The voice didn't have a remarkable Russian Accent, rather an Old American Western accent, like those of the Spaghetti Western cowboys. It reminded him of a FOX-HOUND agent, but he didn't remember his name. Like. Revolver Lynx, or something. It was a cat, for sure.
Could it be? He removed the Optic Camera from his chest pocket; it was a PDA, connected to a fibre optic cable linked to a small camera. The voice seemed to come from upwards, and he looked up.
It seemed his luck day, since there was a small lamp, but to reduce costs the builders just let it hanging from a hole, that lead to the cable pipe, which was conveniently under the Ambassador's office. He raised himself, and checked the cable pipe.
It was broken in the lower area, thing that allowed the lamp to be there in the first place. Sean pulled out his SEAL knife, and got it inside the pipe. It had high quality metal, in case they had to stab someone with Kevlar protection. He pressed strongly, and the knife went through the pipe's metal wall and the wooden floor. He then twisted the knife, to make the hole bigger.
It was just barely big enough to let his Fibre Optic camera through. He took a peek to the PDA: The camera was equipped with Night Vision, so green was the predominant colour in screen, but it was clear. Six hostages. The rest would probably be somewhere else, but it was clear that a group of terrorists with AK 's were hanging around there, and the group of hostages, next to the Ambassador's desk, and all seemed scared.
The point was that they were dressed in tuxedos (The hostages, obviously) and that Sean recognised one of them. With a large, round face, a prominent nose, black hair. It was Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky, Russian Ambassador in Washington.
"Command, this is Private Sean Rodriguez. I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's Office. Repeat, I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's office. Proceed with assault."
"This is Eclipse Six" Snake responded. "Ok, Charlie, drop those guys. Machuttes, Bogart, status."
The Caucasian gave a nod, while the Inuit was far more enthusiastic.
"Cocked, locked, and ready to rock, sir!"
"Good. Green light for assault then. Good luck, people." med scared.mewhere else, but it was clear that a group of a terrorists with AK color in screen, but, that lea
-- -- --
Charlie nodded, from the cockpit of his UH-60K Blackhawk chopper. The lights were blue toned, and the atmosphere was dense. That meant they had to be ready to be deployed. Inside, teams Bravo and Epsilon were loading their guns.
"OK, people, the precious cargo is in the Ambassador's office, in the third floor. Repeat, Ambassador's office, third floor"
The Bravo leader, Joshua Machuttes, nodded back as he inserted the 5.56 x 45mm SS109 magazine into his G36K and released the safety. Epsilon leader, Bob Bogart, pulled back the slide of his Beretta M9, and nodded too. Both teams were good to go.
Everyone was silent, each with a grim look. For some, it might be just another mission, but for most of them it was their first, so nerves were there and eating off the team's brains. Some people said horror was the best weapon. And against ECLIPSE, blood relatives of the best soldiers who ever lived, it was lethal. None of them admitted that, they just didn't say anything, in contrast to their friendly nature.
The chopper's door suddenly opened. The frozen eyes scoped the area, with the look of a corpse. Everyone stood up. All guns loaded to the max, everyone fully armed. It wasn't going to be easy to fast-rope with the tactical helmets and the 3 kilograms Kevlar vests, with ceramic reinforcements, but didn't have much of a choice. It was either that or feeling guilty and cowardly the rest of their lives. They wouldn't allow that, and if they had to risk their lives, so be it.
The marker (still in red colour) told the team to stand down, while the other marker (greenish) told them to go. Thank god, the green light was off.
Private Slonovsko was the first one to go. The Russian lady swallowed saliva, grabbed to the rope like the Teddy Bear she had as a child, like it was the last thing she was going to see. How the fuck did she got there? Was it fair? She remembered the reason why she was there, something that had to do with her uncle.
But damn, what the fuck did she do? Apparently, her Uncle had some sort of NATO special forces thing going and, whatever screwy shit he had got into, was dead and she was dragged as a replacement. And what the fuck was the whole psychic power shit? Why was she held responsible for whatever her uncle had done?
The green marker suddenly turned on; she knew it was now or never, and she chose now, and jumped.
-- -- --
Nikolai Amerstraus was now certain; the man he had shot was not moving, not breathing, but at the point he regretted not asking for Night Vision Goggles. The Russian sniper's head was split in half, one of the halves impressively away from the body, a testimony to the .300 Winchester round's deadliness. The fucking idiots operating the SAM were not moving either. All shots had been clean, except the guy who almost lost his neck. The guy Elijah shot didn't seem so deformed, thanks to the 7.62 x 51mm NATO's lower punch.
The Romanian raised his head.
The Blackhawk flew over the building, and stopped over the rooftops: It just stood there, as if it was floating, and the team members started dropping. The team was sliding down, one after another, in two second intervals. The team was being deployed. And that meant those Communist sons of bitch were going down.
However, he remembered the second part of his mission: Make sure nothing gets in or out of the facility. He took a glimpse of his partner's location; Elijah was also watching the show: The team landing from the helicopter with maximal precision, result of weeks of training, before Snake arrived of course.
That meant that the mission was still going, despite of everything.
-- -- --
"Raiden. I mean, Jack, where the fuck have you been?" Asked Eclipse Six, watching his Tactical advisor walk in, almost casually, drinking his coffee, while Snake and Hal were eating their nails off.
"I was checking the Satellite Images. The thermal recon showed an exaggerated concentration of heat in the dining room."
"What was the temperature of the mass?"
"Almost 38 degrees in the Celsius scale"
"It might be the hostages. . ." Hal reasoned, in an optimistic tone.
"Or just a sort of Barrack the terrorist gathered" Snake responded.
"Snake, Sean detected only six hostages in the Ambassador's office. They are at least 20 hostages, remember? It has to be!" Otacon said, trying to get Snake's spirit up.
"OK. We'll make sure Epsilon team goes through there. anyway, remember, Sobrietsky is the precious cargo. If someone is vital, it's him."
"All right."
"What's the status on the blood sucking freak's cousin and your brother-in- law?" Snake asked, while turning his chair around to face Otacon.
"The snipers have cleared the rooftop, they are unharmed and as far as we know, undetected."
"Great work." Sears remarked.
"Any luck hacking into the terrorist's communications?"
"No luck . . ." Otacon shook his head slowly, showing his lack of hope on the subject.
"But the Recon showed Satellite radios, which means that they are using a military satellite, right over Washington at the moment." Snake said, taking a peek at the picture of the RPG7 crew. "Taking the offensive is one heroic decision."
"We are in luck, then!" Jack Sears, AKA Raiden shouted confidently.
"Explain" Eclipse Six asked, seriously, in an almost dark tone.
"Right now, there's a Russian military satellite going right over the U.S., right? It is likely that they have hacked into the Soviet Union's Tactical Network to use their satellites for communication. Anyways, the Satellite will be off American airspace in two minutes. It will be another 40 minutes until another Russian satellite passes through. Without any Satellites, the terrorists won't be able to communicate using their radios. That gives us exactly 40 minutes to execute the assault without risking a coordinated counter-attack! "
Otacon and Snake stared blankly at Raiden. How could he, a few months ago a rookie, become the tactical mastermind he was now?
"Jack, I could kiss you. . ."
-- -- --
"This is Bravo leader, we are here!" Joshua shouted, his voice a blur, shrouded in the noise of the helicopter above him. The ECLIPSE troops landed in a coordinated way and got into a circular formation; making a circle, defending the landing zone. They were crouched, in order to maximize accuracy, and with their rifles raised.
"This is Epsilon leader, sir, we are good to go." Bogart announced, crouched, in the perfect circular formation.
"Squad, listen, this is Snake. I want to you to hold that position until . . ." He checked his watch "Within one minute and thirty eight seconds. The enemy will be uncommunicated during the following 40 minutes."
"Roger that, sir!" Joshua responded, while setting that time in his chronometer and decided to be in charge. "Slonovsko! Recon!"
"Two hostiles down, sir!" The woman responded.
The bodies were lying there, not moving, but they still had one minute to pass, and they would use it. Epsilon leader was gave the next order.
"Dolph! Check the hostiles!"
The African American nodded, and took a run for it. He stood up, and ran out of formation, towards the RPG7 Launcher and its crew. What he saw there would stay in his mind for ever.
"Oh shit!" He shouted through the radio. "His fucking neck was blown off! Holy mother of god."
"Are they dead, John?" Bob asked, in a far more natural way than Joshua.
"Yes sir! Dear god, not even their mother would recognise them!" He was panicking, after all, this was his first antiterrorist mission, and hell, it was way tougher than the regular battlefield.
"Ok, retreat to formation."
John R. run towards the circle, and crouched in the circle, between Bogart and Slonovsko. He tried to push the destroyed heads of those terrorists in the back of his head, took a breather, and focused in his duty; to save those hostages.
"Squad! Time's up! Move out!" The circle broke after the order; The two teams ran in their own directions, with absolute determination and showing the results of those moths of training, running in military manner; almost crouched, with the G36K always raised, ready to shoot.
Team Epsilon reached the door way that lead to the stairs. Bogart, checked it quickly. "Ok, it's locked."
"What are you planning?" John asked when he saw Bogart retracting the G36K's butt and hanging the 5.56mm rifle from his shoulder, and pulled out a small package of his back pack. He placed in the door, and pulled out his detonator.
"Retreat, Johnny, this is gonna blow big!" He said, while walking backwards. John R. Dolph crouched behind him, covering his back. Then the explosives expert triggered the detonator.
The door was consumed by a ball of fire, which tore it apart; it became a rain of small wooden stakes flying in all directions, followed by a thunder noise. By the end of the detonation, the door was nothing but some ashes in the door step.
-- -- --
"Iosef, did you hear that?" One of the terrorists asked to his partner, both clad in their Gray BDU. Both wore balaclavas, but Iosef 's was pulled upwards, only covering his hair, revealing a thin face, and cold blue eyes.
"Yeah, Boris, sounded like an explosion."
"Do you think the others heard it?"
"C'mon! This place is huge! We may be the only ones."
"I'll radio HQ." He said, pulling out his radio. However, the Russian satellite was now out of range, orbiting right over Nicaragua. "HQ, this post #2. We heard an explosion near the stairway leading to the rooftop. Send an investigation team . . . Over . . ."
The satellite was too away, and it seemed Raiden's plan had worked; only static. The next Satellite would arrive in 39 minutes and ten seconds, but it was currently in the north western Pacific Ocean, also out of range.
"Shit!" Iosef shouted.
"Did they say anything?" Boris asked.
"Nichievo, comrade" Iosef shook his head.
"Let's go and check out ourselves . . ." Boris said, smirking and inserting a fresh magazine into his AK.
-- -- --
Sean stopped, and took a breather. He had got out of the hostage zone undetected, and besides, the Russians didn't even know he was there in the first place. He had not gone far; he was now near a command post, the place where terrorists gathered. Would not it be nice if he knew exactly what the terrorists were up to? He prepared his Directional Microphone.
"Major Arbatov, are your men in position?" The western accented voice asked, in a relaxed tone.
"Yes sir. They have re taken their patrol routes prior to the assault." It didn't take many brains to realize that Arbatov was the Major in charge of the Russian Army battalion stationed in the Embassy.
"Good. Captain Steyanovich?"
"My men have been stationed in the lower area of the Embassy. In case that any of Arbatov's men ask for reinforcements, my men will act as a backup team. It suits their training better than patrolling, comrade." Steyanovich was the Alpha commander, no doubt about that.
"Excellent. Colonel Vereyanka, Colonel Vassov, how are the negotiations going?"
"No use. Those Americans are stubborn and idiotic. They firmly believe we will use REX against them."
Sean blinked, and prepared his CODEC.
"Sir, I got something. The data at the Ambassador's apartment, it's worth gold. "
"Roger, this is Snake. Otacon, I mean, Dr. Emmerich has hacked into their security camera. I'm checking that out . . ."
Snake turned his attention to the monitor, currently showing the Ambassador's apartment. The apartment wasn't large, it had brown walls, pretty comfortable, and allowed the Ambassador to relax; Nice TV set, VCR, DVD, it seemed as if Mr. Sobrietsky could live a full life without walking out of the Embassy.
One of the men had a Russian military outfit. The greyish pattern in his pants, and a Kevlar vest. It wasn't likely that he was going to be shot, it was plain image. Other two, with Officer Clothes, brown suits that showed lack of imagination, and, not to Snake's surprise, a couple of KGB berets.
However, Snake's heart stopped when he finished sweeping the room with his eyes, and saw him; General Ivan, Shalashaska, the only terrorist survivor of Shadow Moses. But Snake preferred his codename . . . Revolver Ocelot.
"That's no surprise, comrade" Ocelot smiled to Vassov, a young KGB Colonel. He had a thin face, and a cold look; He and Vereyanka were the ones that had reached the site in the car, under cover.
"General Ivan, I'm afraid that the negotiations are going nowhere." Vereyanka remarked. He had been the one that had shot the guard in the face with the Makarov. The perimeter guards hadn't been told of the rebellion, thus were the only ones eliminated. He had a sort of ridiculous lock- shaped beard, and blue eyes, much older than Vassov. He was a senior operative of the SVR, the foreign department of the KGB.
"American cowards! We can't hope to make them listen! I told you we had to hijack it, not ask for it, Shalashaska!" Steyanovich was a former Spetznaz, and had met Ocelot during the Afghanistan war. It was there that Ocelot had got his nickname. He and Ocelot were the only survivors of the Hind-D crash, victim of a lucky Stinger shot from an Afghan soldier. That had created a strong bond between them. Not as friends, but as Comrades at arms.
"Don't worry, my dear Dmitri!" Ocelot said confidently, looking at Steyanovich. "In case we have to flee the country, we still have Andrei Sobrietsky."
"Yes! While me and my men are roasted alive by the Americans!" Arbatov shouted, angrily at Ocelot.
"Listen, Major!" Ocelot snapped, raising his Colt Single Action Army and aimed it at Arbatov's heart. The Russian army man shrugged, and stood down. "We are here together. In order to bring Mother Russia back, we will have to make some sacrifices, understood, Major?"
"Yes, my General."
-- -- --
"Sergeant! The rappel equipment is set!" Slonoskvo shouted, while tying the synthetic rope to her hip.
"Let's move it, then!" The large Inuit grabbed his own rope and tied it hard to his pectoral region. Both of them grabbed their ropes, and walked over the edge of the Embassy's rooftop.
"Ok, Nadia, breathe, ok? Breathe . . ." Slonoskvo whispered to herself as she walked backwards, next to the white wall. She grabbed her rope, as she was hanging off her life. And she wasn't going to let go. The Embassy was twelve stories high, and they were rappelling down slowly, trying to not be seen though the windows. It was going to be a long way down.
-- -- --
"Clear!" Bogart announced. The stairs lead to the insides of the building, some old metal staircase, with cheap lamps. It wasn't likely that the guests were going to the rooftop, so it wasn't very glamorous. It was rather dark, so Bob's rifle's flashlight was on. He was sweeping the area, through the scope of the Heckler & Koch G36K.
He started walking down, followed by Dolph, also armed with a rifle. They walked slowly; the last thing they wanted was to get caught, and besides, there was no rush . . . Or was it? Only 38 minutes until the terrorist would get their communications back . . .
Dolph wasn't talking. His balaclava didn't allow much gesticulation, anyway. They both kept their rifles on position; the half second that took to raise the rifle to the height of the eyes allowed at least 8 bullets to pierce their bodies. They were absolutely alert, considering the poor illumination, and they couldn't give themselves the luxury of making a mistake; that was the rule in CQB (Close Quarters Battle) combat. If you are going to do something, be fucking sure it is the right thing.
Maybe that's why they noticed it. The stairway turned at the corner, to allow major use of the space given. Then, in the wall around the corner, Bogart noticed it; that small, diabolical red spot; the last thing many people saw, the mark of the sight of the enemy.
A laser sight.
He moved a bit towards the brick wall to the left, allowing Dolph to crouch and cover the corner. The laser sight moved slightly; common sense screamed that the enemy was indeed moving, probably in their direction. Dolph and Bogart were frozen; they wouldn't make a mistake, because if they did . . .
They did it; the Russian soldier, probably one of the Russian army battalion, with his AK (equipped with their laser sight) and a helmet, and a new balaclava. They doubted they were issued with the uniform, must have been a lovely gift from their terrorist friends.
The tango (Codename given to terrorists in the military jargon) turned around the second the ECLIPSE assault shooters pressed their triggers.
ECLIPSE committed one single mistake; they were so concentrated they didn't allow mobility in their arms, making a deadly accuracy, if aimed to the right spot. Unfortunately, the Russian were better trained than ECLIPSE first thought.
-- -- --
Boris heard the sound of the Nomex clad fingers smashing the triggers, and the sound of the G36K of ECLIPSE. It was like a metal drum, being hit 16 times per second, followed by the smell of gunpowder and of the brick being smashed by the FMJ type 5.56 x 45mm SS109 calibre bullets and spraying reddish particles and brick shards towards the Russians. Those Americans would pay.
Boris dodged the attack, he leaped backwards, as he saw the brick wall be shattered by the burst or bullets, which smashed in and released that red cloud, and he retreated, underneath the flight of stairs.
Josef, conveniently behind him, noticed the Americans, and wanted to get back at them; He pointed his AK-74 and pressed the trigger; a ball of fire erupted from the tip of the Kalashnikov, puking high-calibre rounds towards the Americans, and Boris joined the firing. The bullets dashed through the steps of the stairs, and going through the cheap metal, making inverse craters, which released the bullets like angry sharks swimming towards unsuspecting swimmers. The sparks lighted the scene, and panic invaded them. ECLIPSE walked back, trying to avoid the rain of ammunition, coming from below, walked backwards and upwards through the stairs. Both Bob and John knew that they wouldn't last another three seconds, so they decided to fire back.
They couldn't aim, because they didn't have time, because they were blocked by the metal steps, because if was useless . . . They lowered their weapons and fired back. A sudden firestorm, of AK and G36 rounds, going in all directions, making the situation oppressive, knowing that any of those hundreds of bullets flying around could kill them, and the feeling of the rounds going a few inches from their heads.
Suddenly, it stopped.
One of John R. Dolph's bullets pierced Josef's arm, making the Russian cry in pain, while the antiterrorist agents took the chance to retreat and reload their guns.
"Help me, Boris!" Josef cried, with the bullet stuck in his arm.
"Give me your Kalashnikov!" Boris shouted, slightly from above, seeing if he could get those fucking Yankees. "When they come back, they will be dead meat, I assure you!"
With his remaining arm, threw the assault rifle to Boris, who reloaded it, and took it with a single hand. Boris was an amazingly big man, almost as double as big as Robert Bogart, and could hold both AK rifles as if nothing, holding the butts with the back of his elbow, and ready to shoot, and walked upstairs, in the corner, where he could get those Americans and kill them like dogs.
Josef, below him, wouldn't stop fighting; He pulled out his Makarov, and held it with his remaining hand. "Let's get those capitalist pigs!" He shouted, franticly.
Meanwhile, both ECLIPSE agents had reloaded their G36K rifles, and ran downstairs, but suddenly, Boris jumped, covering the corner. It was an amazing sight; that huge man, holding two Kalashnikov's with his amazing arms, and screaming, resembling ancient war cries, and firing, spitting hell to the young Americans.
However, Boris didn't think, and that was his death; the recoil of both rifles would be so powerful he would miss for sure. He screamed the hell out, while shooting with both rifles simultaneously. Obviously, the guns were almost dancing, since no hand was holding the forward area, the tip seemed to move around.
The ECLIPSE solders ran forward, unafraid. The shots were poorly aimed and shot. The projectiles were bouncing off all around them, while they made controlled three round burst. Probably, Boris's body was just a huge can of adrenaline, since the 5.56mm bullets did hit his torso. He shook up violently, but kept shooting, with crazed, blank eyes, and a war cry, like that of a medieval soldier. Rounds kept hitting, him, his blood oozing, and small fragments of bone and organs flew from the holes.
Finally, Dolph knew that he wouldn't stop him like that, and started spraying with his own rifle, hitting Boris all over, until the pressure was too high and the Russian flew back, due to the kinetic power of the NATO rounds. He hit the destroyed wall behind him, and fell, leaving a trace of blood.
As he saw his gigantic friend drop dead, Josef started screaming and shooting with his Makarov. The bullet amazingly went through one of the metal steps and hit John in the chest. Thank god, the Kevlar vest stopped it, and allowed the Americans to shoot back, missing by inches. The Russian raised his gun, and at the same time did an effort to take out his radio with his wounded arm and start shouting.
"The fucking Americans! They shot Boris! Mother fuckers! Do you read me?" He was shouting, but no one was listening. The satellite was still far off. When he turned around his face, he noticed the two lasers pointed at his head, and the two Americans, a few inches from Boris's body, aiming.
The Russian started shouting, and firing his Makarov, forcing the Yankees to retreat, while threw himself downstairs, trying to still make an effort. He fell violently over the cold, metal stairs, and realised that the Americans were in his pursuit. This was the time.
Again, making a heroic effort, the communist managed to take a grenade from his pocket, and threw it upstairs, to Dolph and Bogart.
"See if you like that, Yankee swine!" He shouted in heavily accented English.
Dolph noticed the grenade, the green explosive artefact a few seconds away from detonation.
"Back off, John, it's going to blow!" Bogart shouted, trying to get away.
"Wait! I'll give the communist mother fucker his little toy back." The African American shouted, grabbing the grenade (two and a half seconds of fuse remaining) and threw it with strength down the stairs.
When Josef noticed, he saw his own grenade falling downstairs, towards his position! Luckily, the fuse gave up before what Josef expected, and it blew in the middle of the stairs, without killing him, but the combination of the pain of the bullet in his arm and the punch of the blast (equivalent to being tackled by a bear) was enough to make him lose consciousness.
The two Americans walked down, seeing the results of that four man battle; the walls were filled with holes, so were the steps, and two enemies down. When they reached Josef, Bogart crouched, and touched the zone of his head behind his ear.
"He's alive, but unconscious." The Corporal said.
"So? Let's kill him!"
"No! If we do that, we will be no better than they are. Handcuff him. We may find him as a useful source of Intel in the future." -- -- --
She was still tense. Walking down, holding her Rappel rope, through the night, and hopefully, under Nick and Elijah's cover, the best shooters she had ever known. The surface she was walking on was safe, considering she was moving vertically and without significant protection against failures.
"We are here!" Joshua, slightly below her, shouted, since they had arrived to the 3rd floor's windows. Nadia herself went down to the level of the windows, and stared at the squared, polarized (so no one could see what was going on outside) glass windows, almost black in the dark.
"Shit! I can't put the fucking explosives! Not like this!" She shouted, realizing she couldn't reach her pack of C4 in her backpack. "What are we going to do, man?"
The Inuit knew what to do; He didn't say a word, turned his head slowly to meet Nadia's, covered by her balaclava. Joshua removed his, to reveal his large bald head, and gave her a smile. Right then he jumped, using the surface of the wall as a thrust, then held the rope with all his strength, and by the time he was four feet away from the window, producing a "Hammock" effect, moving back towards the window with his legs pushed forward, and using his powerful legs to smash the glass.
-- -- --
Unfortunately, one of the terrorist was patrolling the third floor. He was having a high-quality cigarette, one of those luxuries you could only enjoy in the United States of America. Too bad he was now fighting for the end of that nation, along with other Capitalist nations, and that luxury would soon be over for everyone.
In a way, the relationship between the US and the Soviet Union was the same than Quality and Quantity. The Soviet Union (and communism in general) support quantity, a regular group of men, the Marxist dream. Yet, the US's individualist philosophy leads to the major appreciation of Quality of Quantity.
He kept his gun loaded, but no rounds were in the chamber, and the safety was on. He knew that if the antiterrorists either attacked by the ceiling or by the floor, or both, it would take a long time to reach his post, in the third floor.
He looked through the windows, yet not much was to be seen. The glass was polarized, a chemical process that blocked the view on one side and reduced it in the other, but . . . He saw a move that caught his attention, on the window he was now near from. The shadow seemed to move away, and suddenly grow . . .
-- -- --
Joshua destroyed the glass with his legs, only to realize that a terrorist was on his way! Without letting go of his Rappel cord, he also used the same impulse to kick with both legs the chest of the tango, sending him flying of, and hitting the wall, rendering him unconscious.
Joshua checked if his enemy was even alive, and he was. Nadia did also arrive through the same operation, and both let go of their Rappel equipment, and secured their enemy.
"Commander, this is Joshua. We have arrived at the third floor."
"Roger that, Bravo leader. The hostages are currently in the Ambassador's office. I suggest you hurry."
"Sir, yes, sir!"
-- -- --
Author's note: That's the end of this chapter. Well, I guess you might have noticed, but the first part of this chapter has been written by a friend, DJ Wolf-Goth (not his real name). Then, NoƩ Ayala, who gave much emotional support and everyone that, reviewed me, since they are the ones that make me keep going. Thanks!
Elijah, awaiting confirmation on video feed, assessed his options. He could attempt to hold up the guard, make him say that he was going to the toilet, and then kill him, but that in itself led to complications.
The guard could yell into the radio that they were under attack. Sure that would get rid of the guard, but it would add extra blood to his hands, namely the blood of the hostages.
Another point was that maybe these guards realised their lives were forfeit now, and that the guard might try to kill Elijah in a suicidal counter attack. And knowing terrorists, this option wasn't too unlikely.
He put that option on the backburner, and tried to find more ways of dealing with this. Distraction? He could make the guard move off in a different direction, opening the way for his escape.
Impersonation was out of the question; he could pull out a Russian accent, after all, Kurds had lived within the Soviet Union for at least 40 years, but the enemy were wearing uniforms, and besides, these men probably knew each other for years.
So, what course of action to take? All that was left was to wait for a reply from Snake and Otacon on whether he would get that live feed or not.
-- -- --
Nick scoped the area with through his rifle sights, trying to find the targets he had seen on the satellite image- the RPG-7 SAM and crew. However, he couldn't open fire until Elijah gave the go word, so he was stuck waiting for a while.
It took him ages to find the crew; one reason why having a spotter was always handy when sniping. The crew appeared to be having a smoke- one of the most idiotic things you could do at night.
It was the first strike of the match that caught his eyes to them. The match remained lit, and it was passed on to another troop. That got Nicks aim adjusted to where he should shoot. Through sheer ignorance, or lack of foresight, the match was kept lit. Nick pressed his finger to the trigger. Another cigarette was lighted. And . . .
Nick released his hold on the trigger. That there was the time he would have blasted the bastards brain all over the ground. But Elijah had yet to say that is was good to go, so until then, he had to wait and be tortured by the easy targets, like a starving dog without his fangs...
-- -- --
Elijah got a call from Otacon on the CODEC. "This is Elijah. What you got for me, Dr. Emmerich?"
"Got you the feed. Patching it in... now."
Sure enough, a view of the guard came through on his CODEC screen. Although slightly fuzz, he could see well enough. The guard had the radio at his side currently, his hand gripped onto the AK-74 hanging from his shoulder.
Elijah thanked Otacon, then closed the connection. He watched as the guard raised the radio to his mouth and gave the usual "all is well," line. From what Elijah saw, there was a three-minute rotation to the message giving. That left him little time to put his plan in action.
Pulling the combat knife out from the waist sheath, he pulled out from the wall he was hiding behind, took a step forward and grabbed the Russians radio arm, pulling it back and holding it behind his back. In the same motion, Elijah slashed the strap of the guards AK-74, sending it to the floor. Elijah then kicked away the gun, and pressed the knife to the Russians neck.
Elijah then, in a very sharp voice, said into the ear of his captive, "Here's the deal. You call into your boss and say you have to use the toilet. You say anything about me, I'll slit your fucking throat."
However, the guard was tougher then he looked. He managed to pull out of Elijah's grip, knock the latter back and pull up his radio to issue an alarm. Unfortunately for the Russian, sticking out of the radio was four inches of knife handle, the blade embedded in the radio and the man's hand.
Elijah ducked under the flailing arms of the guard, strafed behind him and with all of his strength snapped the guard's neck. The body slumped to the floor, and Elijah pulled out his knife, wiped it on the guard's balaclava, then wrapped the balaclava around the corpses still bleeding hand wound. Elijah dragged the body into a dark corner, hiding it in the shadows as best he could. He then called into Eclipse 6.
"This is Snake. How's the guard situation?"
"He's dead."
"What?"
"I was trying to force him to co-operate. He didn't go along with it."
"Of course he didn't fucking go with it! He's ex-Spetznaz, for fucks sake!"
"Sir, most people shit their pants when a knife is pressed to their throat."
"You should've used another option!"
"All I know is, sir, we've got a dead guard on our hands. That leaves us only a few minutes to execute the RPG-7 crew and rescue the hostages before the terrorists understand what has happened and execute the hostages. If I were in your position, I'd waste less time lecturing me on what I should have done, and more time on what the fuck we're supposed to do now. I'm moving out to my sniper position, so you and your tactical advisors better come up with a damn good plan." There was silence for a few moments, then Snake replied with, "Alright, move into position. Snake out."
-- -- --
Nick finally received the word from Elijah, and the word was go. After a quick check over, he called in that he would take out the radio man, Elijah responded that he would take the primary gunner. Nick slid the bolt lock of his rifle back, then looked through the scope, eyeing his target, all while breathing steadily, dropping his heart rate down.
He exhaled, relaxing all the muscles he could, but keeping the steady aim he had to have. He looked through the sights, and saw his targets. The three terrorists all wore urban camouflage, level II Kevlar vests and woollen ski masks. Two of them had AKs, the other one (assumedly the RPG-7 shooter) carried a submachine gun, a Skorpion if he wasn't mistaken.
And then, he pulled the trigger. The bullet punctured the radio mans neck, blood blasted out of the resulting wound like a spray can never before used. However, there was a problem. The shot hadn't killed the man, merely blowing out a huge chunk of his neck. The Russian was currently about to breathe his dying word into the radio- the word of alarm.
And so Nick ignored the main rule of sniping- never fire twice from the same spot. He knew he had to move then shoot, but there was no time. He slid the bolt back, took the shot and blew open the guards head, the pink brain-matter flying out of the exit wound like a shotgun blast of gore.
A bullet flew from the night towards Nick. It tore a hole in his BDU, grazed the skin across his left arm and then kept on going into the night. Nick hit the ground, checking the hole to see if any major damage had been done. It good luck (or a sheer fluke) that he had not been injured. However, he would never make that mistake again, seeing as the next shot might be aimed better.
He called Elijah on the CODEC. "Elijah here."
"Elijah, someone just shot at me."
"Wasn't a shot from one of the two men we just killed?"
"No, think it was a sniper."
"These guys have a sniper of their own?"
"Evidently."
"Hold on."
Nick looked over at Elijah's position, and saw a discreet flash clean up the last of the RPG-7 operators. Another flash fired, and in an instant Elijah, over CODEC, said, "Fucking hell."
Nick quickly responded with, "What?"
"A chunk of the wall opposite me just shattered. We've got one hell of a capable sniper on our hands."
"And this means?"
"This operation just got a whole lot more interesting."
"Any plan of countering?"
"You let off two shots. I'll watch for a muzzle flash. Elijah out."
The connection closed, and Nick let out a fuck, under his breath. He kept himself on the rooftop, hidden behind the wall keeping people from falling off if they went up there and raised his arm with the rifle. He didn't aim- Elijah said he wanted two shots, and Nick would give Elijah his two shots.
He pulled the trigger, then pulled back the bolt and let off the second shot. As soon as he had done it, a bullet smashed a couple of the bricks above him, sending shards of concrete and stone over him.
The CODEC rang, and Elijah's distinctive voice came over. "Got the position."
"Where?"
"Look over your ledge. In the distance you should see a large oak tree. I saw the muzzle flash near the top of the trunk."
"We've got one sneaky bastard on our hands."
"Rain hell down on him?"
"That we will."
"Who'll be the patsy who has to fire the aiming shots?"
"I did it last time."
"Fine. Zero in on the tree, now."
Nick assumed a stable firing position and began standard aimed shot procedures. Breathe slowly, zero on the spot, and wait for the right moment. The tree was hard to see in the darkness, through the scope, but he could make out the faint outline of the branches. The crack of a suppressed rifle went off twice, and Nick saw the jackpot. A muzzle flash right where he was aiming. He pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a dark shape fell from the tree and hit the dirt. He pulled back the bolt lock again, placed his finger on the trigger and put another bullet into the shape.
Nick flipped on the CODEC, calling Elijah. He started off with, "I think I nailed him."
Elijah quickly came back with, "Or you just wounded him, and he's calling to the leaders and alerting them, so they'll kill the hostages."
"Good point. Hey, if we hear gun shots and screaming, I owe you a beer. Nick out."
Elijah moved his head away for the Heckler & Koch rifle's scope, and gave a quick look at the building. Nothing was moving, but that didn't say it was cleared. However, he had to take the chance. He reached for his CODEC, without moving from his position.
"This is Master Sergeant Elijah Slervansk. Rooftop cleared. Requesting reinforcements." He said.
"Negative, Sergeant," Charlie's frantic, energetic and quick voice sounded, almost drowned by the roar of the Blackhawk's engines.. "We still need confirmation from Mr. Rodriguez . . . Apparently, if we don't know where the hostages are, we don't go anywhere" He cut off.
The Kurd lowered his head in disappointment. "Sean, hurry up, god damn it."
-- -- --
Sean had finally made it to the end of the Service passage. He moved slowly, always "Stalking" that was, balancing his knees and stepping with the back of his feet so that his steps didn't make a sound, and breathing slowly.
The Latin kept his ears open, and his heart stopped suddenly.
"Let me remind you, Tovarish Sobrietsky, that our country has over 27.000 nuclear warheads, and that should the situation require it, the Kremlin will use them." The voice didn't have a remarkable Russian Accent, rather an Old American Western accent, like those of the Spaghetti Western cowboys. It reminded him of a FOX-HOUND agent, but he didn't remember his name. Like. Revolver Lynx, or something. It was a cat, for sure.
Could it be? He removed the Optic Camera from his chest pocket; it was a PDA, connected to a fibre optic cable linked to a small camera. The voice seemed to come from upwards, and he looked up.
It seemed his luck day, since there was a small lamp, but to reduce costs the builders just let it hanging from a hole, that lead to the cable pipe, which was conveniently under the Ambassador's office. He raised himself, and checked the cable pipe.
It was broken in the lower area, thing that allowed the lamp to be there in the first place. Sean pulled out his SEAL knife, and got it inside the pipe. It had high quality metal, in case they had to stab someone with Kevlar protection. He pressed strongly, and the knife went through the pipe's metal wall and the wooden floor. He then twisted the knife, to make the hole bigger.
It was just barely big enough to let his Fibre Optic camera through. He took a peek to the PDA: The camera was equipped with Night Vision, so green was the predominant colour in screen, but it was clear. Six hostages. The rest would probably be somewhere else, but it was clear that a group of terrorists with AK 's were hanging around there, and the group of hostages, next to the Ambassador's desk, and all seemed scared.
The point was that they were dressed in tuxedos (The hostages, obviously) and that Sean recognised one of them. With a large, round face, a prominent nose, black hair. It was Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky, Russian Ambassador in Washington.
"Command, this is Private Sean Rodriguez. I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's Office. Repeat, I have spotted the precious cargo in the Ambassador's office. Proceed with assault."
"This is Eclipse Six" Snake responded. "Ok, Charlie, drop those guys. Machuttes, Bogart, status."
The Caucasian gave a nod, while the Inuit was far more enthusiastic.
"Cocked, locked, and ready to rock, sir!"
"Good. Green light for assault then. Good luck, people." med scared.mewhere else, but it was clear that a group of a terrorists with AK color in screen, but, that lea
-- -- --
Charlie nodded, from the cockpit of his UH-60K Blackhawk chopper. The lights were blue toned, and the atmosphere was dense. That meant they had to be ready to be deployed. Inside, teams Bravo and Epsilon were loading their guns.
"OK, people, the precious cargo is in the Ambassador's office, in the third floor. Repeat, Ambassador's office, third floor"
The Bravo leader, Joshua Machuttes, nodded back as he inserted the 5.56 x 45mm SS109 magazine into his G36K and released the safety. Epsilon leader, Bob Bogart, pulled back the slide of his Beretta M9, and nodded too. Both teams were good to go.
Everyone was silent, each with a grim look. For some, it might be just another mission, but for most of them it was their first, so nerves were there and eating off the team's brains. Some people said horror was the best weapon. And against ECLIPSE, blood relatives of the best soldiers who ever lived, it was lethal. None of them admitted that, they just didn't say anything, in contrast to their friendly nature.
The chopper's door suddenly opened. The frozen eyes scoped the area, with the look of a corpse. Everyone stood up. All guns loaded to the max, everyone fully armed. It wasn't going to be easy to fast-rope with the tactical helmets and the 3 kilograms Kevlar vests, with ceramic reinforcements, but didn't have much of a choice. It was either that or feeling guilty and cowardly the rest of their lives. They wouldn't allow that, and if they had to risk their lives, so be it.
The marker (still in red colour) told the team to stand down, while the other marker (greenish) told them to go. Thank god, the green light was off.
Private Slonovsko was the first one to go. The Russian lady swallowed saliva, grabbed to the rope like the Teddy Bear she had as a child, like it was the last thing she was going to see. How the fuck did she got there? Was it fair? She remembered the reason why she was there, something that had to do with her uncle.
But damn, what the fuck did she do? Apparently, her Uncle had some sort of NATO special forces thing going and, whatever screwy shit he had got into, was dead and she was dragged as a replacement. And what the fuck was the whole psychic power shit? Why was she held responsible for whatever her uncle had done?
The green marker suddenly turned on; she knew it was now or never, and she chose now, and jumped.
-- -- --
Nikolai Amerstraus was now certain; the man he had shot was not moving, not breathing, but at the point he regretted not asking for Night Vision Goggles. The Russian sniper's head was split in half, one of the halves impressively away from the body, a testimony to the .300 Winchester round's deadliness. The fucking idiots operating the SAM were not moving either. All shots had been clean, except the guy who almost lost his neck. The guy Elijah shot didn't seem so deformed, thanks to the 7.62 x 51mm NATO's lower punch.
The Romanian raised his head.
The Blackhawk flew over the building, and stopped over the rooftops: It just stood there, as if it was floating, and the team members started dropping. The team was sliding down, one after another, in two second intervals. The team was being deployed. And that meant those Communist sons of bitch were going down.
However, he remembered the second part of his mission: Make sure nothing gets in or out of the facility. He took a glimpse of his partner's location; Elijah was also watching the show: The team landing from the helicopter with maximal precision, result of weeks of training, before Snake arrived of course.
That meant that the mission was still going, despite of everything.
-- -- --
"Raiden. I mean, Jack, where the fuck have you been?" Asked Eclipse Six, watching his Tactical advisor walk in, almost casually, drinking his coffee, while Snake and Hal were eating their nails off.
"I was checking the Satellite Images. The thermal recon showed an exaggerated concentration of heat in the dining room."
"What was the temperature of the mass?"
"Almost 38 degrees in the Celsius scale"
"It might be the hostages. . ." Hal reasoned, in an optimistic tone.
"Or just a sort of Barrack the terrorist gathered" Snake responded.
"Snake, Sean detected only six hostages in the Ambassador's office. They are at least 20 hostages, remember? It has to be!" Otacon said, trying to get Snake's spirit up.
"OK. We'll make sure Epsilon team goes through there. anyway, remember, Sobrietsky is the precious cargo. If someone is vital, it's him."
"All right."
"What's the status on the blood sucking freak's cousin and your brother-in- law?" Snake asked, while turning his chair around to face Otacon.
"The snipers have cleared the rooftop, they are unharmed and as far as we know, undetected."
"Great work." Sears remarked.
"Any luck hacking into the terrorist's communications?"
"No luck . . ." Otacon shook his head slowly, showing his lack of hope on the subject.
"But the Recon showed Satellite radios, which means that they are using a military satellite, right over Washington at the moment." Snake said, taking a peek at the picture of the RPG7 crew. "Taking the offensive is one heroic decision."
"We are in luck, then!" Jack Sears, AKA Raiden shouted confidently.
"Explain" Eclipse Six asked, seriously, in an almost dark tone.
"Right now, there's a Russian military satellite going right over the U.S., right? It is likely that they have hacked into the Soviet Union's Tactical Network to use their satellites for communication. Anyways, the Satellite will be off American airspace in two minutes. It will be another 40 minutes until another Russian satellite passes through. Without any Satellites, the terrorists won't be able to communicate using their radios. That gives us exactly 40 minutes to execute the assault without risking a coordinated counter-attack! "
Otacon and Snake stared blankly at Raiden. How could he, a few months ago a rookie, become the tactical mastermind he was now?
"Jack, I could kiss you. . ."
-- -- --
"This is Bravo leader, we are here!" Joshua shouted, his voice a blur, shrouded in the noise of the helicopter above him. The ECLIPSE troops landed in a coordinated way and got into a circular formation; making a circle, defending the landing zone. They were crouched, in order to maximize accuracy, and with their rifles raised.
"This is Epsilon leader, sir, we are good to go." Bogart announced, crouched, in the perfect circular formation.
"Squad, listen, this is Snake. I want to you to hold that position until . . ." He checked his watch "Within one minute and thirty eight seconds. The enemy will be uncommunicated during the following 40 minutes."
"Roger that, sir!" Joshua responded, while setting that time in his chronometer and decided to be in charge. "Slonovsko! Recon!"
"Two hostiles down, sir!" The woman responded.
The bodies were lying there, not moving, but they still had one minute to pass, and they would use it. Epsilon leader was gave the next order.
"Dolph! Check the hostiles!"
The African American nodded, and took a run for it. He stood up, and ran out of formation, towards the RPG7 Launcher and its crew. What he saw there would stay in his mind for ever.
"Oh shit!" He shouted through the radio. "His fucking neck was blown off! Holy mother of god."
"Are they dead, John?" Bob asked, in a far more natural way than Joshua.
"Yes sir! Dear god, not even their mother would recognise them!" He was panicking, after all, this was his first antiterrorist mission, and hell, it was way tougher than the regular battlefield.
"Ok, retreat to formation."
John R. run towards the circle, and crouched in the circle, between Bogart and Slonovsko. He tried to push the destroyed heads of those terrorists in the back of his head, took a breather, and focused in his duty; to save those hostages.
"Squad! Time's up! Move out!" The circle broke after the order; The two teams ran in their own directions, with absolute determination and showing the results of those moths of training, running in military manner; almost crouched, with the G36K always raised, ready to shoot.
Team Epsilon reached the door way that lead to the stairs. Bogart, checked it quickly. "Ok, it's locked."
"What are you planning?" John asked when he saw Bogart retracting the G36K's butt and hanging the 5.56mm rifle from his shoulder, and pulled out a small package of his back pack. He placed in the door, and pulled out his detonator.
"Retreat, Johnny, this is gonna blow big!" He said, while walking backwards. John R. Dolph crouched behind him, covering his back. Then the explosives expert triggered the detonator.
The door was consumed by a ball of fire, which tore it apart; it became a rain of small wooden stakes flying in all directions, followed by a thunder noise. By the end of the detonation, the door was nothing but some ashes in the door step.
-- -- --
"Iosef, did you hear that?" One of the terrorists asked to his partner, both clad in their Gray BDU. Both wore balaclavas, but Iosef 's was pulled upwards, only covering his hair, revealing a thin face, and cold blue eyes.
"Yeah, Boris, sounded like an explosion."
"Do you think the others heard it?"
"C'mon! This place is huge! We may be the only ones."
"I'll radio HQ." He said, pulling out his radio. However, the Russian satellite was now out of range, orbiting right over Nicaragua. "HQ, this post #2. We heard an explosion near the stairway leading to the rooftop. Send an investigation team . . . Over . . ."
The satellite was too away, and it seemed Raiden's plan had worked; only static. The next Satellite would arrive in 39 minutes and ten seconds, but it was currently in the north western Pacific Ocean, also out of range.
"Shit!" Iosef shouted.
"Did they say anything?" Boris asked.
"Nichievo, comrade" Iosef shook his head.
"Let's go and check out ourselves . . ." Boris said, smirking and inserting a fresh magazine into his AK.
-- -- --
Sean stopped, and took a breather. He had got out of the hostage zone undetected, and besides, the Russians didn't even know he was there in the first place. He had not gone far; he was now near a command post, the place where terrorists gathered. Would not it be nice if he knew exactly what the terrorists were up to? He prepared his Directional Microphone.
"Major Arbatov, are your men in position?" The western accented voice asked, in a relaxed tone.
"Yes sir. They have re taken their patrol routes prior to the assault." It didn't take many brains to realize that Arbatov was the Major in charge of the Russian Army battalion stationed in the Embassy.
"Good. Captain Steyanovich?"
"My men have been stationed in the lower area of the Embassy. In case that any of Arbatov's men ask for reinforcements, my men will act as a backup team. It suits their training better than patrolling, comrade." Steyanovich was the Alpha commander, no doubt about that.
"Excellent. Colonel Vereyanka, Colonel Vassov, how are the negotiations going?"
"No use. Those Americans are stubborn and idiotic. They firmly believe we will use REX against them."
Sean blinked, and prepared his CODEC.
"Sir, I got something. The data at the Ambassador's apartment, it's worth gold. "
"Roger, this is Snake. Otacon, I mean, Dr. Emmerich has hacked into their security camera. I'm checking that out . . ."
Snake turned his attention to the monitor, currently showing the Ambassador's apartment. The apartment wasn't large, it had brown walls, pretty comfortable, and allowed the Ambassador to relax; Nice TV set, VCR, DVD, it seemed as if Mr. Sobrietsky could live a full life without walking out of the Embassy.
One of the men had a Russian military outfit. The greyish pattern in his pants, and a Kevlar vest. It wasn't likely that he was going to be shot, it was plain image. Other two, with Officer Clothes, brown suits that showed lack of imagination, and, not to Snake's surprise, a couple of KGB berets.
However, Snake's heart stopped when he finished sweeping the room with his eyes, and saw him; General Ivan, Shalashaska, the only terrorist survivor of Shadow Moses. But Snake preferred his codename . . . Revolver Ocelot.
"That's no surprise, comrade" Ocelot smiled to Vassov, a young KGB Colonel. He had a thin face, and a cold look; He and Vereyanka were the ones that had reached the site in the car, under cover.
"General Ivan, I'm afraid that the negotiations are going nowhere." Vereyanka remarked. He had been the one that had shot the guard in the face with the Makarov. The perimeter guards hadn't been told of the rebellion, thus were the only ones eliminated. He had a sort of ridiculous lock- shaped beard, and blue eyes, much older than Vassov. He was a senior operative of the SVR, the foreign department of the KGB.
"American cowards! We can't hope to make them listen! I told you we had to hijack it, not ask for it, Shalashaska!" Steyanovich was a former Spetznaz, and had met Ocelot during the Afghanistan war. It was there that Ocelot had got his nickname. He and Ocelot were the only survivors of the Hind-D crash, victim of a lucky Stinger shot from an Afghan soldier. That had created a strong bond between them. Not as friends, but as Comrades at arms.
"Don't worry, my dear Dmitri!" Ocelot said confidently, looking at Steyanovich. "In case we have to flee the country, we still have Andrei Sobrietsky."
"Yes! While me and my men are roasted alive by the Americans!" Arbatov shouted, angrily at Ocelot.
"Listen, Major!" Ocelot snapped, raising his Colt Single Action Army and aimed it at Arbatov's heart. The Russian army man shrugged, and stood down. "We are here together. In order to bring Mother Russia back, we will have to make some sacrifices, understood, Major?"
"Yes, my General."
-- -- --
"Sergeant! The rappel equipment is set!" Slonoskvo shouted, while tying the synthetic rope to her hip.
"Let's move it, then!" The large Inuit grabbed his own rope and tied it hard to his pectoral region. Both of them grabbed their ropes, and walked over the edge of the Embassy's rooftop.
"Ok, Nadia, breathe, ok? Breathe . . ." Slonoskvo whispered to herself as she walked backwards, next to the white wall. She grabbed her rope, as she was hanging off her life. And she wasn't going to let go. The Embassy was twelve stories high, and they were rappelling down slowly, trying to not be seen though the windows. It was going to be a long way down.
-- -- --
"Clear!" Bogart announced. The stairs lead to the insides of the building, some old metal staircase, with cheap lamps. It wasn't likely that the guests were going to the rooftop, so it wasn't very glamorous. It was rather dark, so Bob's rifle's flashlight was on. He was sweeping the area, through the scope of the Heckler & Koch G36K.
He started walking down, followed by Dolph, also armed with a rifle. They walked slowly; the last thing they wanted was to get caught, and besides, there was no rush . . . Or was it? Only 38 minutes until the terrorist would get their communications back . . .
Dolph wasn't talking. His balaclava didn't allow much gesticulation, anyway. They both kept their rifles on position; the half second that took to raise the rifle to the height of the eyes allowed at least 8 bullets to pierce their bodies. They were absolutely alert, considering the poor illumination, and they couldn't give themselves the luxury of making a mistake; that was the rule in CQB (Close Quarters Battle) combat. If you are going to do something, be fucking sure it is the right thing.
Maybe that's why they noticed it. The stairway turned at the corner, to allow major use of the space given. Then, in the wall around the corner, Bogart noticed it; that small, diabolical red spot; the last thing many people saw, the mark of the sight of the enemy.
A laser sight.
He moved a bit towards the brick wall to the left, allowing Dolph to crouch and cover the corner. The laser sight moved slightly; common sense screamed that the enemy was indeed moving, probably in their direction. Dolph and Bogart were frozen; they wouldn't make a mistake, because if they did . . .
They did it; the Russian soldier, probably one of the Russian army battalion, with his AK (equipped with their laser sight) and a helmet, and a new balaclava. They doubted they were issued with the uniform, must have been a lovely gift from their terrorist friends.
The tango (Codename given to terrorists in the military jargon) turned around the second the ECLIPSE assault shooters pressed their triggers.
ECLIPSE committed one single mistake; they were so concentrated they didn't allow mobility in their arms, making a deadly accuracy, if aimed to the right spot. Unfortunately, the Russian were better trained than ECLIPSE first thought.
-- -- --
Boris heard the sound of the Nomex clad fingers smashing the triggers, and the sound of the G36K of ECLIPSE. It was like a metal drum, being hit 16 times per second, followed by the smell of gunpowder and of the brick being smashed by the FMJ type 5.56 x 45mm SS109 calibre bullets and spraying reddish particles and brick shards towards the Russians. Those Americans would pay.
Boris dodged the attack, he leaped backwards, as he saw the brick wall be shattered by the burst or bullets, which smashed in and released that red cloud, and he retreated, underneath the flight of stairs.
Josef, conveniently behind him, noticed the Americans, and wanted to get back at them; He pointed his AK-74 and pressed the trigger; a ball of fire erupted from the tip of the Kalashnikov, puking high-calibre rounds towards the Americans, and Boris joined the firing. The bullets dashed through the steps of the stairs, and going through the cheap metal, making inverse craters, which released the bullets like angry sharks swimming towards unsuspecting swimmers. The sparks lighted the scene, and panic invaded them. ECLIPSE walked back, trying to avoid the rain of ammunition, coming from below, walked backwards and upwards through the stairs. Both Bob and John knew that they wouldn't last another three seconds, so they decided to fire back.
They couldn't aim, because they didn't have time, because they were blocked by the metal steps, because if was useless . . . They lowered their weapons and fired back. A sudden firestorm, of AK and G36 rounds, going in all directions, making the situation oppressive, knowing that any of those hundreds of bullets flying around could kill them, and the feeling of the rounds going a few inches from their heads.
Suddenly, it stopped.
One of John R. Dolph's bullets pierced Josef's arm, making the Russian cry in pain, while the antiterrorist agents took the chance to retreat and reload their guns.
"Help me, Boris!" Josef cried, with the bullet stuck in his arm.
"Give me your Kalashnikov!" Boris shouted, slightly from above, seeing if he could get those fucking Yankees. "When they come back, they will be dead meat, I assure you!"
With his remaining arm, threw the assault rifle to Boris, who reloaded it, and took it with a single hand. Boris was an amazingly big man, almost as double as big as Robert Bogart, and could hold both AK rifles as if nothing, holding the butts with the back of his elbow, and ready to shoot, and walked upstairs, in the corner, where he could get those Americans and kill them like dogs.
Josef, below him, wouldn't stop fighting; He pulled out his Makarov, and held it with his remaining hand. "Let's get those capitalist pigs!" He shouted, franticly.
Meanwhile, both ECLIPSE agents had reloaded their G36K rifles, and ran downstairs, but suddenly, Boris jumped, covering the corner. It was an amazing sight; that huge man, holding two Kalashnikov's with his amazing arms, and screaming, resembling ancient war cries, and firing, spitting hell to the young Americans.
However, Boris didn't think, and that was his death; the recoil of both rifles would be so powerful he would miss for sure. He screamed the hell out, while shooting with both rifles simultaneously. Obviously, the guns were almost dancing, since no hand was holding the forward area, the tip seemed to move around.
The ECLIPSE solders ran forward, unafraid. The shots were poorly aimed and shot. The projectiles were bouncing off all around them, while they made controlled three round burst. Probably, Boris's body was just a huge can of adrenaline, since the 5.56mm bullets did hit his torso. He shook up violently, but kept shooting, with crazed, blank eyes, and a war cry, like that of a medieval soldier. Rounds kept hitting, him, his blood oozing, and small fragments of bone and organs flew from the holes.
Finally, Dolph knew that he wouldn't stop him like that, and started spraying with his own rifle, hitting Boris all over, until the pressure was too high and the Russian flew back, due to the kinetic power of the NATO rounds. He hit the destroyed wall behind him, and fell, leaving a trace of blood.
As he saw his gigantic friend drop dead, Josef started screaming and shooting with his Makarov. The bullet amazingly went through one of the metal steps and hit John in the chest. Thank god, the Kevlar vest stopped it, and allowed the Americans to shoot back, missing by inches. The Russian raised his gun, and at the same time did an effort to take out his radio with his wounded arm and start shouting.
"The fucking Americans! They shot Boris! Mother fuckers! Do you read me?" He was shouting, but no one was listening. The satellite was still far off. When he turned around his face, he noticed the two lasers pointed at his head, and the two Americans, a few inches from Boris's body, aiming.
The Russian started shouting, and firing his Makarov, forcing the Yankees to retreat, while threw himself downstairs, trying to still make an effort. He fell violently over the cold, metal stairs, and realised that the Americans were in his pursuit. This was the time.
Again, making a heroic effort, the communist managed to take a grenade from his pocket, and threw it upstairs, to Dolph and Bogart.
"See if you like that, Yankee swine!" He shouted in heavily accented English.
Dolph noticed the grenade, the green explosive artefact a few seconds away from detonation.
"Back off, John, it's going to blow!" Bogart shouted, trying to get away.
"Wait! I'll give the communist mother fucker his little toy back." The African American shouted, grabbing the grenade (two and a half seconds of fuse remaining) and threw it with strength down the stairs.
When Josef noticed, he saw his own grenade falling downstairs, towards his position! Luckily, the fuse gave up before what Josef expected, and it blew in the middle of the stairs, without killing him, but the combination of the pain of the bullet in his arm and the punch of the blast (equivalent to being tackled by a bear) was enough to make him lose consciousness.
The two Americans walked down, seeing the results of that four man battle; the walls were filled with holes, so were the steps, and two enemies down. When they reached Josef, Bogart crouched, and touched the zone of his head behind his ear.
"He's alive, but unconscious." The Corporal said.
"So? Let's kill him!"
"No! If we do that, we will be no better than they are. Handcuff him. We may find him as a useful source of Intel in the future." -- -- --
She was still tense. Walking down, holding her Rappel rope, through the night, and hopefully, under Nick and Elijah's cover, the best shooters she had ever known. The surface she was walking on was safe, considering she was moving vertically and without significant protection against failures.
"We are here!" Joshua, slightly below her, shouted, since they had arrived to the 3rd floor's windows. Nadia herself went down to the level of the windows, and stared at the squared, polarized (so no one could see what was going on outside) glass windows, almost black in the dark.
"Shit! I can't put the fucking explosives! Not like this!" She shouted, realizing she couldn't reach her pack of C4 in her backpack. "What are we going to do, man?"
The Inuit knew what to do; He didn't say a word, turned his head slowly to meet Nadia's, covered by her balaclava. Joshua removed his, to reveal his large bald head, and gave her a smile. Right then he jumped, using the surface of the wall as a thrust, then held the rope with all his strength, and by the time he was four feet away from the window, producing a "Hammock" effect, moving back towards the window with his legs pushed forward, and using his powerful legs to smash the glass.
-- -- --
Unfortunately, one of the terrorist was patrolling the third floor. He was having a high-quality cigarette, one of those luxuries you could only enjoy in the United States of America. Too bad he was now fighting for the end of that nation, along with other Capitalist nations, and that luxury would soon be over for everyone.
In a way, the relationship between the US and the Soviet Union was the same than Quality and Quantity. The Soviet Union (and communism in general) support quantity, a regular group of men, the Marxist dream. Yet, the US's individualist philosophy leads to the major appreciation of Quality of Quantity.
He kept his gun loaded, but no rounds were in the chamber, and the safety was on. He knew that if the antiterrorists either attacked by the ceiling or by the floor, or both, it would take a long time to reach his post, in the third floor.
He looked through the windows, yet not much was to be seen. The glass was polarized, a chemical process that blocked the view on one side and reduced it in the other, but . . . He saw a move that caught his attention, on the window he was now near from. The shadow seemed to move away, and suddenly grow . . .
-- -- --
Joshua destroyed the glass with his legs, only to realize that a terrorist was on his way! Without letting go of his Rappel cord, he also used the same impulse to kick with both legs the chest of the tango, sending him flying of, and hitting the wall, rendering him unconscious.
Joshua checked if his enemy was even alive, and he was. Nadia did also arrive through the same operation, and both let go of their Rappel equipment, and secured their enemy.
"Commander, this is Joshua. We have arrived at the third floor."
"Roger that, Bravo leader. The hostages are currently in the Ambassador's office. I suggest you hurry."
"Sir, yes, sir!"
-- -- --
Author's note: That's the end of this chapter. Well, I guess you might have noticed, but the first part of this chapter has been written by a friend, DJ Wolf-Goth (not his real name). Then, NoƩ Ayala, who gave much emotional support and everyone that, reviewed me, since they are the ones that make me keep going. Thanks!
