AN: All reviews are welcome. I want to know what I'm doing well, and where I could use improvement. Thank you to the current reviews, I'll have the next chapter up by Friday night, (10/7/10). Also, I'll be updating my profile with a projects section, listing upcoming projects. Hope to hear from you, -OPL
LOCATED:
SERGEANT JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH
The Bering Strait
22nd S.A.S, Bravo Team
Soap stepped off the Blackhawk helicopter onto the icy ground. He stopped for a moment, and looked around interestedly at the barren land spread out before him. "How could someone live here?"
Bravo Team had two scheduled stops before they reached the Bering Strait and their primary objective, an Estonian Freighter ship. Their first stop had been at a small, temporary fueling station in Ontario, Canada. They now stopped at an even smaller S.A.S compound on an island near Toksook Bay, Alaska. Captain Price was going to brief his team at the compound, then they were off to intercept the ship.
Soap was interrupted from his thoughts by a hard shove from behind from Corporal Barton.
"Keep moving F.N.G."
Soap muttered an apology, slung his bag over his shoulder, and began walking to the small cement building that was going to serve as the team's briefing room. Private Arem caught up to him.
"You been in combat before Soap?"
"Just once" Soap replied, thinking back to the day.
Before he joined Bravo Team and the 22nd Regiment, Soap had been stationed with the Green Berets, in Ethiopia. He had been part of a small task force attempting to help out the near-starved civilians of a small village. The United States had just pushed a group of terrorists from the area, and many civilians were sick or injured, and the Berets were mopping up. Soap and a friend of his who enlisted with him had been standing guard, at a small supply dump.
"You hear something?" Mark Chadwell muttered to him.
"Nope, nothing. Why?"
Chadwell shrugged.
"Thought I heard a car or something… Shit! Get down!"
Mark tackled Soap to the ground as a large transport truck came crashing through the hut in front of them. Chadwell was immediately on his feet, with his MP5 trained on the hostile vehicle. Soap heard him open up on the enemy, and heard the chattering of their AK-47s returning fire. Soap rolled onto his knees and pulled his C8 carbine into firing position. Before he could get a shot off, the dirt around him was torn up from an enemy machine gunner.
"C'mon, we need to get outta here!" Chadwell grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him along, back towards their jeep.
"Get on the radio and call in for back up!" Mark screamed
Soap fumbled with the radio for a moment, while Mark covered him.
"Homebase, this is Unit 3-4, at the supply dump half a click east of your position. We are under heavy enemy fire, and are requesting reinforcements immediately!"
"Copy that 3-4, Units 5 and 6 are-"
The radio then took a direct hit from an enemy bullet, smashing through the main panel and sending an electric shock up Soap's arm. He fell back onto the ground at Chadwell's feet.
"Soap! Shit! C'mon, we're bugging out!" He pulled Soap roughly to his feet, and helped him into the back of the jeep. Mark passed out of Soap's line of vision. Behind him, he heard a gurgling sound along with several metallic "pings" of bullets hitting the side of the jeep. Soap rolled onto his side and saw Mark on the ground, clutching at his throat while it blood spewed into the air from between his fingers. Marks face was deathly white, and he reached out to Soap and took one last gasp before he stopped struggling and rolled onto his side. A large pool of dark blood formed around his head.
"No! Mark!"
Enraged, Soap jumped from the jeep, brought his carbine up, and squeezed the trigger, sending his whole clip towards the enemy within seconds. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and fell back, hitting his head on the side of the jeep.
"I woke up at the infirmary at the base." Soap finished, sighing.
"So, no confirmed kills?" Arem asked.
"Nope."
"Well, I'm sorry about your friend, mate."
"Don't worry about it, it was a long time ago" Soap said as he sat down at a small wooden table.
The lights in the room went off as the final team members sat down around the table, all looking up to the front of the room where Price was standing. The captain flicked a projector on, which shot a diagram of the cargo ship onto the wall behind him.
"Bravo Team, the Intel on this op comes from our informant in Russia. The package is aboard a medium sized freighter, Estonian registration number 52775."
Price paused to light a cigar. The glow of his match illuminated his face briefly, and then he waved it out and dropped it to the ground. He took a puff on the cigar before speaking.
"There is a small crew, and a security detail on board. Keep it simple, we get the package, and get out."
Gaz raised his hand.
"Rules of engagement, sir?"
Price smiled.
"Crew expendable."
"Alright lads, the birds filled up, let's do this." Price flicked off the projector.
"Leave everything here except weapons, ammo, and basic medical supplies. We'll stop here on the return trip. Make sure your silencers are attached."
The team walked back out into the cold, and climbed aboard the waiting helicopter, once again.
Soap checked over his equipment once more, and then looked up to see Price taking a puff on his cigar. The pilot had just pointed the freighter out to the team, but Soap could hardly see it through the heavy downpour.
"30 seconds, going dark." came the pilot's voice over the radio.
The helicopter circled around to the back of the ship, where it stabilized. Price pulled his gas mask over his face. Soap looked to his left and saw Gaz tightening the straps of his helmet and Barton pulling a water repellent hood over his mask. Soap pulled his own mask down, and then pulled his hood up over it. Price threw the butt of his cigar into the stormy waters. Arem dropped the cable down to the deck of the ship. Price slid down it, followed by Arem. Soap grabbed a hold of it, and roped down to the deck of the ship. He raised his silenced MP5, and looked through the window into the ships control room.
"Weapons free."
Soap pulled the trigger and let loose a burst of fire through the window, into a crew member's chest, knocking him backward into the control panel of the ship where he collapsed and laid still, blood soaking the front of his green jacket.
"Bridge secured, hold your fire."
"Gaz, stay in the chopper with the rest of the team until we secure the deck" Price said over the radio.
"Roger that."
Price turned and kicked open the metal door to the control room.
Arem entered first, his MP5 raised and ready.
"Soap, take point" Price said.
Soap nodded and walked into the room, taking a quick right and descending a flight of metal stairs.
"Stairs clear."
He looked around the corner of the doorway, and watched as a man stumbled out into the dimly lit hallway, holding a bottle of some sort of alcohol, singing softly to himself.
"I got him" Arem said as he stepped forward and raised his gun.
The man was hit in the chest with a salvo of bullets and collapsed, dropping the bottle. Soap walked quickly down the hallway, weapon raised, still attempting to repress the look on the man's face up in the control room as he had the life snuffed out of him by Soap's bullets.
He took a quick right, and walked past a small kitchen into an even smaller room with bunk beds and a tiny television. Two men were fast asleep in the beds. Soap raised his gun, and then hesitated. Suddenly, the report of two pistol shots came from the doorway on his left, which led back into the hallway. The sleeping men both grunted as blood sprayed up from their head's, onto the mattress.
"Good night" came Price's voice over the radio.
Price spoke again.
"Crew quarters clear. Move up."
The three of them moved out onto the main deck, back into the torrent of rain. The voice of the pilot sounded again.
"Forward decks clear, green light on alpha, go."
The helicopter circled overhead, and the cable came down again. Gaz, Barton, Wallcroft, and Lovejoy dropped down onto the deck near the rest of the team.
"Good to see you again, mates." Lovejoy said in an overly happy voice.
"Can it Sarge. Team, fan out and move up. Three meter spread." was Price's curt reply.
Soap walked forward through the rain, weaving in and out of large metal crates that were strapped down to the deck of the ship. He looked to his left and saw Gaz, and on his right he saw Private Arem. Soap noticed the pinpoints of two flashlights up ahead of the team, going back and forth on a large, raised platform.
Gaz spoke.
"I got two on the platform."
"I see 'em, clear to engage." Price said.
Soap heard the quiet thumps of Gaz's suppressed MP5 and watched the two pinpoints of light disappear.
"Tango down" Gaz said in a monotone.
A few seconds silence…
"Target neutralized."
The team moved up to the other end of the ship. Soap looked up and saw movement in the windows of the tower above him. He spoke into the radio.
"We've got company."
He quickly crouched down behind a wooden crate and looked through the iron sights of his MP5 up at the windows. Before the team could get off a shot, Price called in backup.
"Hammer 2-4, we got tangos on the second floor."
"Copy that, engaging."
The Blackhawk stabilized in front of the windows. Soap watched in awe as the choppers minigun opened fire on the men inside. A loud clatter reached Soap's ears from the shell casings hitting the metal deck of the ship.
"All clear. Bravo six, Hammer's at bingo fuel, we're bugging out. Big Bird will be on station for evac in ten."
"Copy that Hammer."
The team moved up underneath the windows as Price gave his orders.
"Wallcroft, Arem, Lovejoy, cover our six, the rest of you, on me."
Lovejoy's voice crackled in Soap's ear.
"Solid copy Cap'n, coverin' the team's six."
Soap followed Price, Gaz and Barton up to another metal door.
"Gaz, do it."
Gaz slung his MP5 on his back and pulled a Winchester 1200 shotgun in one fluid motion. He turned back to Barton.
"I like to keep this for close encounters."
Barton chuckled.
"Too right, mate."
Gaz kicked the door down and entered cautiously, the rest of the team close behind.
Barton sounded off.
"Clear left."
Soap checked the right corner, and then spoke.
"Clear right."
Price nodded.
"Hallway clear."
Price quickly took stock of the situation. Seeming to make up his mind, he spoke.
"Down the stairs, go."
Soap took point, and quickly went down another flight of stairs, deeper into the belly of the cargo ship.
