Author's Note: Hello again! Thank you SO much to all who reviewed, I was incredibly flattered with your responses. Anyhow, this is the first chapter to what will be a (hopefully) long story. Don't worry, I have the first arc of it all planned out. Also, I'm overjoyed that you guys like Creed. Most of me was afraid he'd, I dunno...ruin the story. That didn't happen though! So yay on that. But enough of me talking, here's the first chapter of Call of Duty: ForeFront.

Disclaimer: I don't own Call of Duty, or any of its characters. Only my OC is mine.

CALL OF DUTY: ForeFront

Chapter 1: Awakened

Darkness.

Pain.

Agony.

Repeat...

...That was the way of the world now for one Logan Walker. A soldier, a fighter, fallen from grace. A soldier who was left to rot in a hell hole, only to be resurrected as a changed man.

At least, that was what Logan was sure they wanted.

The Federation, a group of meaningless pigs. A blot on the world of men, a nation that speaks noble virtues but is filled with cowering vices. Its stench could be smelled miles away. A stench Logan had to live with for God knows how long.

Yet, he'd survived. But he was sure they wanted him to. They didn't want him dead, he'd be of no use to them then. No, they wanted to turn him. Like how they turned Rorke.

Logan grimaced as he remembered the bastard who murdered his father. That man deserved to be rotting in the pit with him, but even then that'd be too good for such an evil.

And he's the reason I'm here...

It was true. Rorke should be dead, festering away at the bottom of the ocean, his corpse a meal for the fishes. But it appeared that the universe had different plans, and instead he was forcibly kidnapped by the former Ghost and taken away to this place.

If Logan had to guess where he was, he'd say the Amazon. He remembered his dad talking about the unique method of brainwashing the Federation used. Poisoning the body with exotic fruit, leaving them in a hole for days, before finally taking them out so that they could mold them to their own desires.

It was pure savagery.

But I'm still awake. I'm not gone yet. Just stay strong...for Hesh...

Each day Logan was constantly vomiting up his meals, the poison cutting knives through his insides. Whatever combination they used, it was horrific. Logan wouldn't wish this poison be used on his worst enemy, it was that ghastly.

The nights were the worst, when it would begin raining, drenching him from head to toe. Logan was sure he'd die of pneumonia before the process was complete, a part of him actually wished he would.

The last thing the young man wanted was to turn against his country, against his friends, against his brother. But as each agonizing day stretched on and on, it felt like the hope of being found was slowly draining from him.

It suited Logan fine for the most part. If he couldn't be rescued, better be dead than be used as a weapon. It was the honorable thing to do. He wasn't some self-preserving asshole who'd turn on his beliefs when offered a chance at freedom.

No.

No, he was stronger than that. He was better than that. He owed it to dad to keep fighting, and to never ever stop.

So Logan thought of what Hesh might be doing while he was locked away. What his older brother might be planning. He hoped Hesh wasn't letting his grief take the better of him, that he wasn't too emotionally compromised. Besides, he had Riley.

Logan swore that whenever that German Shepard entered the room, his brother lit up like a Christmas tree. It was beautiful to watch, since years of fighting off the Federation had extinguished the happiness on Hesh's features.

Riley was Hesh's salvation right now, just as Hesh was Logan's.

Logan couldn't remember a day when he was without his guardian angel. The two of them were always watching each other's backs, always sticking their necks out for one another. Dad had raised them to be a team, and they were a damn good one.

Which only meant that Hesh was hitting himself hard for not saving him. Logan wished he wouldn't be blaming himself. There was no way he could've stopped Rorke. It was just an incredibly unlucky situation.

Why couldn't the bastard stay dead?

Logan felt his fists clenching, though all the time in the hole was effecting his motor capabilities. He was having trouble speaking, and any words that did come out were incoherent babbles of nonsense.

It'd been awhile since he'd last been checked up on, which only made the young Ghost anxious.

Have they forgotten about me? Do they even know I'm still alive? Still here?

It was certainly a possibility. The Federation had suffered a massive defeat at the hands of the Ghosts, and there was probably hell to pay for it back in the capitol. Rorke was hopefully getting his ass chewed off by his superiors. Or even better...executed for his failures. That'd bring Logan some comfort.

Then there was the possibility that the Federation had been defeated already. Logan had no idea how much time had passed. It could've been two to seven years for all he knew. The Federation could be countering on every front, in a desperate defense to preserve themselves.

He hoped that was the case, as Logan couldn't bare the thought of his brother being in the same condition he was in.

No, Hesh was alive. He could feel it.

Logan was stirred from his perpetual feet by hearing movement above.

Could it be? Am I saved? Hesh?!

His hopes were quickly dashed upon hearing a voice he didn't recognize. So they had remembered that he was still alive. Well good, cause they were about to be disappointed, for Logan felt an invigorating strength course through his spine.

They weren't getting anything from him. Not today.

A harsh sunlight cascaded itself upon Logan's miserable eyes, though the man didn't have enough energy to block the beam. He simply lay there, sunken, defeated. Any attempt to escape would be vain, so he just let himself go limp.

If they wanted him to come with them, they'd have to carry him.

And carry him they did.

Logan felt himself getting hoisted up atop a broad-shouldered frame, carried out bridal style into the South American wilderness. For what it was worth, the view was spectacular.

Birds of all shapes and colors came out from the shadings, their chirps of ignorance and glee lighting up the sky as they dashed to and fro. They looked like children just getting home from a long day at school, letting the weight of responsibility fall free so that they could enjoy each other.

Logan missed that feeling.

Then he felt pain, a feeling he did not miss.

His vision was being yanked up, or rather, his head was. A pain was coursing through the root of his head, and it took a moment for Logan to realize that someone was pulling his hair.

"...I want him cleaned up." The voice was sharp and commanding, having a rather resounding effect on Logan's eardrums.

This was the first voice he'd heard ever since his capture.

Logan didn't like the way it sounded, as if he was a lab rat that they needed groomed for testing.

He had a feeling that wasn't far from the truth.

The grip on his hair loosened as footsteps of an individual left his position, probably the man who had just spoken. Logan had already decided he was going to see more of him, and that he wasn't going to like him.

Probably also not too far from the truth.

He was moving again. This time it felt like he was going down, a dark chill running its way up his spine. Were they underground? Logan couldn't tell, it was too dark for him to see anything.

What he could tell was that it was futile to resist the pull of this man's arms. He was basically being dragged away now, feeling another pair of hands gripping his outstretched arm as his captors moved him into a kneeling position.

Logan felt his body get down on its knees, then everything went still. It was complete silence, disturbingly so.

Then there was icy cold. Logan's mouth opened to scream, though no sound came out. Only a frozen scream of bubbles escaped his lips, expanding beyond his field of view as they ascended to the surface.

Suddenly, it was over. Logan heard his gasps for air as he breathed in the stank atmosphere of this...bunker, he decided.

Cleaned up? More like water-boarding you sicko!

The cold water did more than its intent, however. Not only did it clean him up, but it also sent a jolt to Logan's nerves. He felt alive now. More alive than he'd been in a while. And it felt good.

Using his Ghost training, courtesy of dad, Logan launched an elbow out, catching his left captor's face. The muffled grunt, followed by the soft squish of bone meeting flesh, meant that his mark had hit its intended target.

A swift kick in the abdomen took any victory Logan was feeling at the moment. His body convulsed into a fetal position as he felt the boot kick him again. Hard. This time in the back.

And then another kick, and another, and another, and another.

By now, the wounded captor had joined his comrade in beating the shit out of their prisoner. It seemed like they were enjoying it. Logan felt his body going numb from the beating, and just when it felt like he couldn't handle it anymore...it stopped.

"Enough! I told you to clean him, not eviscerate him! We need him conscious!" The voice from the jungle interrupted the pounding. Logan stayed still, letting his breathing return to normal as he allowed his muscles to relax.

So what? Is this guy afraid I'll be damaged goods?

Logan scoffed in a smirk despite his weakened position, realizing that blood had flown from his mouth as he opened it.

I'll be feeling this in the morning...If I live till then.

Pain pulled him back to reality.

"But Sir, he was aggravating a lethal assault aga-Argh!" The gruff voice of the guard was cut short with the sound of an electric buzz, followed by a yelping of pain. Logan swore the man's vocal cords had raised a cord.

"And you thought this a risk? I'm surprised, soldier, that you let a half-dead, beaten, doe-eyed, malnourished, irrational prisoner get the jump on you. And on top of your lack of reflexes, you honesty surmised that this man was a lethal threat to you."

The Voice, as Logan was now calling him, paused. A slow sigh swallowed, and it sounded a lot like exasperation.

"Perplexing." The Voice finished.

"Perhaps you'd like to join Mr. Walker down there as one of the biggest idiots I've ever seen. At least his only sin was arrogance, whereas you are utterly pathetic."

Logan felt himself getting lifted back up onto his knees, the sound of light footsteps behind him.

"Ahh!"

Logan shouted out through gritted teeth as he felt himself get electrocuted.

So that was what he used. A taser. I fucking hate tasers.

"Snap back up Walker, we've still got work to do." The Voice grounded out, as if listing the next item on the agenda in a conference meeting. "I need you bright and focused. If you feel like your eyelids are getting heavy, or your body starts to slack, bite your tongue to stay awake."

Logan refused to make eye contact with the man, and instead spit in his general direction. He had no idea if he hit his mark, or maybe just sprayed the man's face, but it definitely distanced himself from the Voice.

Until a backhand smacked him across the face, dazzling the stars out of Logan's eyes.

Damn it, he was wearing a ring! Fucking smarts!

Logan had been smacked a few times when he was a kid, either stealing from the cookie jar or refusing one of his dad's camp games, but not like this. This smack was intended to hurt, and hurt it did.

"Listen, you cocky shit. I was happy to let you rot in that pit until the icecaps melted ten times over, but yet I let you out. Even spared you further pain from those hooligans, and I don't give out charity often. So next time you think of more colorful ways to show your 'appreciation', just remember that everyone can be replaced. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to bring your brother into this. That'd just complicate the hell out of things and-"

"You leave my brother out of this!"

Logan was surprised that the words had managed to be spoken from his broken frame, yet he somehow mustered up the strength to shout them out.

The Voice stepped back now, moving into a dim overhead light that cast an eerie glow around his figure. Now that Logan was able to see his enemy, he allowed himself to soak the image in.

His stature was straight, as if a pole had been shoved up his ass and used as a spine. The weight which he carried himself definitely showed how superior the man thought he was. He looked like he was in his mid-forties, rough lines around his facial features. Logan took a guess that this guy had seen some things, some pretty bad things.

His attire was also intriguing. The man was wearing a crisp, white Italian suit it seemed. Logan would've laughed at the absurdity of it, but it hurt to move his lips.

Doesn't he know he's in the Amazon? Not some fancy Chevrolet auction, dumbass.

He was also tall, for starters. Logan estimated he stood no more than six feet. A crop of dark brown hair matted his head, combed back in a executive fashion, though the sweat of being in humidity had sunken the hair down. It stuck to his frame like a leech.

The next thing Logan noticed was the man's skin. It was a strange shade of brown sugar and cream, giving him an interesting contrast. His eyes were penetrating as Logan felt them searching him, the charcoal pupils containing a strong sense of...calm? Control? Domination? Logan couldn't decide, but it definitely made him uneasy. The man stared at him as if he knew him already, as if he'd stolen Logan's soul and was dawning the puppet strings.

As if he'd already won. But won what? The Federation was in shambles, there was no hope for them. Perhaps this man was just desperately clinging to any shreds of promise, like pieces of paper blowing in the wind.

Something told the Ghost otherwise though. He definitely had a plan.

"Well, that got something out of you." The man remarked with a tinkle of curiosity in his voice, as if jotting down a fascinating science experiment in a notebook.

"Take him down to the room for 'education'." The suit guy nodded his head at the guard, who saluted before trudging Logan along down the dark, dismal hallway.

It gave Logan time to reflect on whatever 'education' meant. He highly doubted he was about to be given a history lesson. That man seemed determined to win him over, Logan could see it in his eyes.

That man carried a lot of pride with him, that was for sure. The way he spoke, calm and unperturbed by any disturbances. Even when he was insulting him he spoke with a serenity, yet edged tone. He was sharp. Sharp as a blade.

But I'm sharp, too.

Logan smirked as he latched onto that thought as he let the bunker hallways blur together in a meaningless blob of time. He remembered the man's advice to bite his tongue if feeling lousy, and Logan promptly ignored said advice.

He didn't want anything to do with these people. He didn't care what plans they had for him, he didn't care that they wanted him alive, nor did he care how they treated him. Logan Walker was a patriot, an honorable member of the Ghosts, and above all: loyal.

He would never betray his country to his enemies, no matter how hard they pushed him. He'd endure the cruelest of tortures, the pure wrath of the Federation up front.

Ghosts don't break.

Logan set a hard face as he was strapped down into a chair, his arms and legs bound down on the cold metal surface. He felt his neck being pushed back into a hold, locking his head forward. He couldn't turn, he could only stare straight ahead at the blackness that surrounded him.

It was silent again.

Logan had no idea if the guard had left him or if he was still there, just standing patiently behind him in a creepy manner. Maybe this was part of the torture, not being able to glance around. Therefore he had no way of knowing what was going on around him.

Smart.

The silence dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Logan just sat there, unable to move, unable to do anything but wait. Wait for someone to eventually enter and begin the procedure of breaking him down, piece by piece.

Logan didn't care if it killed him, he wasn't going to make it easy on the interrogator. Whoever that man was he talked to outside, they'd be in for a rough disappointment. Cause this kid wasn't quitting. Not quite yet.

BLAM!

A loud screeching sound blast its way into the speaker system in the room, creating a sharp pierce of static that caused Logan to wince in pain. Rough hands wrapped themselves around his eyeballs at that moment, forcing them open as two clips were placed along the eyelids. Logan struggled as best he could, but he was at a major disadvantage with his hands bound.

"Stay still, it'll hurt less." The Voice quipped out in an annoyed puff, causing Logan to inwardly smile. His new mission was to make things as difficult as possible for this person, no matter the personal expense.

The Voice won over though, as the clips were inserted, preventing Logan from blinking. As soon as they were over his eyes, an insanely bright white light broke through the darkness on the other side of the room. Logan groaned at the blinding spectra, trying his best to tear his face away.

The light faded briefly, only to be replaced by images of smiling people, happy meadows, planes flying overhead, cloudless skies, busy traffic, and other such harmless things.

Logan was forced to take it all in, his body rigid as he found himself glued to the screen in a hypnotic way. A voice resonated from the speakers, a feminine quality to it as the sound echoed off the walls.

"The Federation is a glamorous union of all South America's major powers, dedicated and committed to one act; bring peace to the world. We've grown, as our noble conquest to civilize less fortunate cultures has brought many allies into the fray of our beloved crusade. Our unity and bravery in the face of those who oppose us makes our civilians feel safe, brings virtuous triumph in the face of our people, and shows our enemies that we will not be driven away be greed and corruption."

The voice continued drawling on, like a narrator for a cheesy documentary.

Logan felt himself getting jumbled up, his mind in a frenzy as all the images started to pass in at an alarmingly fast rate. The voice did not match the speed at which they were presented, and once or twice the image of a dead, twisted corpse replaced one of the happier pictures.

The whole construct was disturbing to him, and Logan had no way of stopping it.

The video continued, image after image passing by, the female voice chirping up all the virtues the Federation stood for. It was like a freaky movie meant to brainwash children.

Logan wanted desperately to close his eyes, to stop looking at the screen, to just faint and make it stop...

...and then it did.

The movie stopped and he was back in darkness. Isolated and quiet.

The sound of a door opening was lost to Logan's ears, as the voice of the narrator kept playing in his mind.

Snap! Snap!

The sound of someone snapping there fingers around his ears zipped Logan upright, his body tense.

"Whoa! Easy, easy." A voice sounded out from the side of him, a hand reaching around to take out the clips. "Good, you can hear." The man cleared his throat as he came into view, the same Italian suit guy from before. He pulled out a chair, slowly sitting down across from Logan, his hands firmly clasped together.

"What's your name?" The man asked, tilting his head to the side.

Logan blinked a few times, his eyes watering due to the inability to close them. "Uh, L-Logan. Logan Walker."

The man smiled. "Good. Do you know where you are?"

Logan blinked a couple more times, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He knew he knew where he was, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

This is strange.

"Yeah, yeah. No, I-I know where I am...I'm uh..." Logan cursed himself for being forgetful, especially since the whole situation felt off.

I was in a cage, no, pit. Yes, pit. And I, uh, I was being held there...Why? Why was I being held there? I was part of an elite team, Ghosts. Ghosts! Wait, I'm in a Federation prison camp!

Logan snapped his eyes back to the man sitting across from him, who had been patiently waiting. "I'm-I'm in your little shit-hole. You sick piece of Federation-mmmff!"

"Again." The man abruptly interrupted Logan's sentence, his head glancing to the side as he stuffed a piece of gauze in Logan's mouth. With a firm hand, he replaced the clips and walked back out of sight.

The room was once again filled with bright images of children playing, the Federation flag blowing in the wind, and jovial parties of celebration followed by the same female voice.

Logan braced himself for the barrage as he had no choice but to watch it again, losing focus quickly in the chaotic haze of it all. This was a whole new form of torture.

It wasn't physical at all.

It was purely a battle of the mind and soul.

David "Hesh" Walker really wished it didn't have to be Venezuela. Especially Caracas. The hot, arid waves of heat were nothing short of blazing. The air condition didn't help, and Kick had downed the last two water bottles while on morning reconnaissance.

It was a trying experience, to say the least. But Hesh didn't let the insane heat dampen his spirits. He couldn't afford to be distracted now, not when he was so close to the end. After seven months of searching, the trail had led him here.

To Caracas, Venezuela.

Hesh remembered the last time he was in this city. He'd been scaling skyscrapers with Keegan and Logan. It was also the first time he'd had the chance of speak to Rorke, albeit the man was hiding behind a television screen. Normally, Hesh would have loved to visit the beautiful city under less dire circumstances. To soak in the scenery and just enjoy sitting back, drinking some exotic sparkling fruit juice.

This wasn't a vacation though.

This was a rescue mission.

Hesh's baby brother was somewhere in the city, or had been at least. He hoped beyond hope that they hadn't missed him again. Each time they closed in on his location, it seemed that the Federation had dodged them by seconds. It was aggravating.

It was above aggravating, it was maddening.

Hesh had put Logan's responsibility on his shoulders. His shoulders. After dad died, they were all the family they had. Rorke had taken their father from them, so they were gonna take his life. Sounded just.

But Rorke was much tougher than either of them expected. He'd been shot and drowned, but the man rose up from the dead like...well, a ghost.

It was scary, intimidating, to be up against such a brutal enemy. Hesh didn't allow himself to be frightened though. Not when Logan was out there somewhere, dead or dying at the hands of the Ghost Killer.

Now Rorke had taken two of Hesh's blood, and it was enough for the older brother of the Walker family to snap a little. He'd been helpless, helpless, to do anything as he watched his brother get taken from him.

Had Merrick arrived not two minutes sooner, that wouldn't have happened. Rorke would've been taken into custody, and the Federation would be crumbling right now. But Hesh couldn't let himself blame Merrick, for it wasn't the man's fault.

No, it was his fault for not being there when Logan needed him the most. For not fighting to his last breath for his brother's safety.

Now, Rorke had run back behind enemy lines to hide like the coward he was. God knew how many allies he'd called upon, because for some reason the Federation had maintained a good defensive. They'd held their ground at the border of South America, stopping American forces from advancing.

It was another stand-off.

Hesh found it ironic that the Federation was now on the defensive, the United States on the offensive. It was a complete role-reversal. A game changer.

In spite of how thick the Federation checkpoints were, the Ghosts always found a way inside. There'd been news of a special "package" to be transported every three days around the continent. They'd tracked it from Cuba, to Guatemala, to Puerto Rico, and finally here.

It took months of following, picking up the trail, but they'd done it. They'd found him.

It seemed fitting that they were holding Logan in the Federation capital, in some strange inexplicable way.

This was where it all began, and this was where Hesh would finish it.

"Bravo Team, check in." Hesh spoke into his mic, resting a finger on his ear for relay. "This is Bravo Team, all clear." Merrick's voice broke through the static, causing a brief flood of relief to course through Hesh's veins.

"Thought you'd gone dark, had me worried there for a second." Hesh mused, a sly smile spreading across his face as he adjusted the straps on his guns.

"Ah, I'm insulted. What do you take me for? Kick?"

Hesh heard a scoff in the background, probably from the second youngest member of the Ghosts, Kick.

Hesh chuckled as he moved his head towards the west of his position. "Charlie? You there?"

"Would't miss it for the world, boss." Came the crisp reply from Keegan, the Ghost's residential sniper.

After Logan had been taken, Hesh was promoted to command for the mission to find him. It seemed right, he was his brother after all.

Clamping the clip into his FN SCAR, Hesh prepped himself for breaching.

"We breach on my mark...

3..."

"Eyes tight inside, we don't know how many are in there."

"I count three at the front. Two on the right of you Merrick, Kick take the guy on the left."

"2..."

"Stay frosty, I got your back Kick."

"I know how to handle myself, thank you very much."

"1..."

"Let's go get our Ghost back."

"Mark!"

Hesh heard the sound of Merrick and Kick blasting open the front door, followed by what seemed like a bunch of Spanish obscenities. Hesh didn't let himself think about it as he let go of the railing he was gripping, falling backwards through the air as the rappel rope eased his way down.

With a splintering crash of glass, Hesh broke through the skylight above his fellow Ghosts, firing down on the Federation soldiers as soon as he got his bearings.

"Down the hall!"

He heard Keegan in his earpiece, meaning the sniper was zip-lining in. The sound of a window breaking, followed by more gunfire, meant that his assumption was right.

"Tango down! All clear!" Hesh shouted out as the foyer of the safe-house had been purged. Broken potted plants lay to and fro, dirt matted the stone floor and carpets. Unbuckling himself from the rope, Hesh fell in with Merrick and Kick as the two of them swerved down the hall.

Keegan was waiting by a freight elevator. "I hear movement down there, probably spooked as hell by the commotion we caused. How about we put their minds at ease."

Kick smirked as he placed his back against the wall, tapping Keegan's shoulder. "Hell yeah, man."

Hesh raised his weapon as he nodded for Merrick to call the elevator.

Ding!

All four Ghosts immediately raised their guns in the metal box, finding it empty. "Clear." Hesh whispered, motioning with two fingers to go forward. Keegan and Kick entered first, remembering the plan as they got to work planting C4 on the walls of the elevator.

As they did so, Merrick turned to face Hesh, his eyes stormy behind the mask. "You sure you're ready for this? It's hella risky, and that's an understatement. The explosion could kill everyone down there..."

"That's kinda the point." Kick jumped in from inside the small box.

"...including our boy." Merrick continued, ignoring the young Ghost.

Hesh kept looking on, his eyes vacant.

He's down there. I know it. He's gonna be fine, he's tough. He's a Walker, and they don't break.

"I've thought about that, believe me." Hesh finally answered. "But if I know anything about my brother, it's that he's one tough son of a bitch. And if he's down there, he knows we're coming. He's ready. I'm ready. We're ready." Hesh looked at his fellow soldiers, fellow friends, fellow brothers.

"So I say let's blow these Feds to hell, am I right?"

Merrick let out a court grunt as he raised his assault rifle, giving Hesh a small nod. He could also see Keegan pumping his chest while Kick did a small fist pump. "Fuck yeah, man!"

Hesh smiled at his group, thankful for all the loyalty they'd shown him. Whenever he needed them, they were there. He didn't have to ask, they just showed up. It was kind of annoying sometimes, especially when Kick pulled pranks, but Hesh knew they were only trying to help him get through this rough patch.

"Stand back guys, things are about to get loud." Hesh pulled out the C4 detonator, flicking the switch as he braced himself for the explosion. "Send it down." Keegan pushed the button as he quickly exited the freight lift, Kick hot on his heels.

The moments that passed as it descended only invigorated Hesh to his full potential. He was about to steal back what was rightfully his. His bloodline was not something the Federation could play with, something Rorke could constantly muse himself with.

He'd already lost one family member. Hesh wasn't ready to lose two.

Ding!

"Boom."

The resounded explosion shook the ground underneath them, screams of surprise and horror as the Federation soldiers below were met with fire as the elevator doors opened.

"Hook up!" Hesh ordered as his squad moved forward, Keegan and Merrick unzipping their backpacks. Rappel wire and harness clips were presented in front of Hesh, who quickly got to work strapping himself in.

Once everyone had done so, they began lowering themselves down the elevator shaft. The flames licked the walls on the bottom floor, casting a mysterious glow around the dark shadows. It was almost supernatural.

Please be alive. Please be alive.

Hesh kept repeating the phrase over and over again like a mantra, even as his boots hit the ground and he strapped off the harness. The Ghosts moved through the fire like a majestic stallion, stepping over the flaming debris.

Hesh heard the sharp grunts of pain as any Federation soldier who was still alive was promptly executed by bullet.

The whole room was clear, the only thing untouched was a small hatch on the far side of the east wall.

"This must be it." Kick commented as they surrounded the metal door, each Ghost examining it over for anything suspicious.

Hesh instantly realized that Logan could very well be on the other side of that door, and the thought of his long-lost brother being so close was unbearable. The only thing that separated them now was iron and steel. Not wasting anytime, Hesh found himself subconsciously walking up to the door and wrapping his hand around the latch.

Another hand met his, and Hesh looked up to find Merrick locking eyes with him. "You sure you're ready? You might not like what you find, Hesh."

Hesh grimaced at the words, even though he knew the truth behind them. It was possible that they were too late, and that Logan was already gone. Or worse, his mangled body was waiting behind that door. But either way, Hesh had to find out.

He had to know.

Hesh's answer was a firm yank on the latch, causing the door to creak open with a hiss. The silence that followed was palpable. Raising his SCAR, Hesh slowly strode into the dark room, eyes searching for something familiar.

The Ghosts flowed in, single file. Each one ready for a straggler they might have missed in the initial sweep.

Hiss!

The sound of a flare lighting up made Hesh inwardly flinch. The red glare shone around the room, revealing old bandages and gauze strewn about on the floor. A lone chair was in the room, a bench behind it.

Reaching the bench, Hesh saw Keegan fumble around with something. A moment later a dim fluorescent light flickered on overhead.

The room was bare, save for some dried blood stains were on the chair and floor.

"Clear, he's not here." Merrick voice out the obvious, as someone had to.

No. NO! We were so damn close!

"Son of a bitch!" Hesh didn't hide his disappointment, slamming his fist down on the bench in fury. All this way for an empty room with a chair. It was cruel, how Rorke taunted him. Making sure to move Logan about just ahead of them. The sadist.

"Judging by these blood stains, I'm guessing we missed him by no less than two days. Looks like they left in a hurry." Keegan bent down, rubbing his fingers along the red trails.

"That's another two days they've had him." Hesh spoke through gritted teeth, lowering his head so that it rested on the metal.

He'd failed again. This was the fourth safe-house they'd cleared, and each time the gap they missed him by was diminishing. But it still wasn't enough. They had to do better.

"Don't worry, boss. We're close, they must know it too. I'm bettin' they're all pissing their pants right now, hoping we don't find 'em again." Kick chirped up. Hesh appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, but he could still hear it in his voice. He could feel the mood of the room.

They'd failed Logan...but not for good. There was still hope.

"Hey, check this out." Hesh looked up to see Merrick facing the wall, his eyes scanning the area. Hesh hand't noticed it at first, but on the wall were a series of pictures, all of a man strapped down on a chair, a hood pulled over his their head.

Oh my God...

Even though he couldn't see his face, Hesh just knew it was him. It had to be.

Logan.

Damn you, Rorke.

The man was definitely toying with them. Leaving the pictures was just as good as a punch to the gut, a jaunt on how close they were. There were other pictures too, of torture instruments, bloodied bandages, and other nasty items.

There were also pictures of Rorke talking to another man, a tall guy in a suit. The man had sunglasses over his eyes, his demeanor steady. The guy looked multi-racial, as if a cross from Hispanic and some other nationality. Hesh had never seen this man before, nor did he care who he was.

If he was a friend of Rorke's, he was going down.

"Look at this." Merrick lifted up a clipboard, attached to it a ripped piece of paper with numbers and dates. "I know where he's going."

Hesh definitely felt his spirits lift at this, his body standing upright as he faced the Ghost.

"Where." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"Lima, Peru."

Hesh let the location sink in, his breathing slowing down as he felt the weight of the gun in his hands.

Peru, Logan was on his way to Peru.

Hold on, Logan. Just stay strong. We're coming for you.

Creed was surprised by the prisoner's durability. You'd think spending six months in a small hole in the earth would've broken some people's spirits, but not his. Not even Rorke took this long to crack, but then again Rorke didn't have anything to lose.

This young Ghost was clinging to the hope, the mere idea, that his good ol' brother would come barging in to rescue him.

It was wishful thinking, plain and simple.

He'll break. They always break under me.

Creed inwardly smiled as he watched the seventh play-through of the Federation video, Logan's eyeballs glued to the screen in front of him. Even if the kid couldn't tell, it was beginning to turn him.

Each time Creed entered the room and began asking questions, his responses were less sure. They were doubtful, which was music to Creed's ears.

The symphony of lies was always the universe's greatest masterpiece.

One could think themselves unstoppable, a mountain of courage, sturdy as a wall. Well, throw them in a ditch for half a year, then take them out and subjugate them to exaggerated propaganda.

Phase Three, mental deterioration of the subject through brainwashing. All you had to do was weaken their body enough so they couldn't resist, hence the Amazon pit. It was almost too easy to enjoy.

Almost.

Creed personally thought the video was horrendous. Who even did half the stuff in that? Nobody! It was ridiculous gag, a laughing stock in the Federation economy. But, somehow it worked. Somehow the Director had made this video work. It must trigger some mental neuron strain in the physique, Creed didn't know.

He honestly didn't care. He'd never had to watch it before, and the earplugs helped block the noise.

From the room behind the mirror, Creed analyzed the situation with earnestly. Time was a luxury that they couldn't afford at the moment. It was only a matter of time before the Ghosts figured out the trail they were following was a fake.

And then they would find him, and shut down the plan before it even began.

Rorke wasn't kidding when he said the Walker family would be a pain in the ass. For once the lug was actually right. Huh, go figure.

As if on cue, the man of the hour popped up on the video conference Creed had opened. "You wanted to talk to me."

Creed noticed the obvious lack of "Sir" in the sentence, no doubt a minimal insult.

Well fuck you, too.

"I wanted a run-down of your situation. Have you reached Lima yet?"

Rorke grunted, leaning forward while running a hand across his scar. "We touch down tomorrow morning."

"Good. I think it's time we wrapped up this loose end, however. I don't want this situation spiraling out of control."

Rorke seemed annoyed by that remark.

Good.

"What? You don't trust me?" Creed almost rolled his eyes. Like he'd trust that man with a toaster oven. "I think we should keep baiting 'em. Let them soak in their small victory before pulling the rug out from under, n' feed 'em to the sharks." Rorke grinned, and Creed had no doubt in his mind that the former Ghost was imagining such an image.

"No, I want this dealt with while we still have the upper hand. You are to spring the trap in Peru, then return to Castle for debrief. I want this tight. The invasion force needs to be swift and brutal, and I need everyone focused while we plot it out. There's no room for error." Creed could tell Rorke was uncomfortable with the idea. The brute probably wanted to pull a few more strings with Hesh, but Creed had other concerns than his agent's feelings.

If the Ghosts caught wind that they were being set up, they'd bolt, and then he'd lose his only chance of striking. The only reason they hadn't was because Hesh was driven to finding his brother.

Yet again, his mother's quote rang true. Hesh's greatest strength was his family, yet it was also his greatest weakness. The older brother was so blinded by the thought of rescuing Logan that he failed to see what was right in front of him.

It was like taking candy from a baby.

But Creed knew he had to end it now, before the Ghost grew a brain and realized what was really going on.

"Rorke, am I clear?" Creed raised his voice, his face taking a more sour expression.

Rorke seemed to be amused by that. "Last I checked, I didn't take orders from you."

Creed felt his blood rise.

You son of a...

"Let us not forget that it was you who failed the Federation in the first place. You're the reason the Director called me in to clean up your mess, a mess that almost cost us this war! And if you have a problem with that, go and call the Director. I'm sure she'd be happy to take your complaint before promptly having you executed for insubordination."

Creed leaned into the screen now.

"So just shut up and do your fucking job. I'm calling the shots now, get used to it."

Rorke just snarled. "I ain't afraid of you Creed, you better watch your tongue. The Ghosts will meet their end in Peru, count on it, but I do things my way. I'll be in touch."

"Rorke! You will not back talk your commanding-"

The video feed cut out, signaling that Rorke had ceased communication. Creed let a grimace spread across his face.

Ungracious fucker.

It was no secret that the two of them had their arguments, even having tried to kill each other on two separate occasions. But they were both the best of what they did. Creed, giving orders, and Rorke, following them.

Creed knew the Director was probably pairing him up with the agent just to spite him. They were most likely laughing in their socks, despite the fact the Federation was weakening.

Pig-headed, ungracious fucker.

Venting his frustration through his thoughts, Creed turned back to look out the one-way mirror. Logan was resting, having just finished the video segment.

Time to up the ante.

"Again."

The bright light must've startled the Ghost, as his body jerked back once the images reappeared.

Creed smiled behind the tainted glass, his face twisting into a devious grin as the narrator explained how the Federation founded itself on honest principles of trust and dignity.

Trust and dignity. What a load of bullshit.

Author's Note: Whew! So that was fun to write, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Sorry if it isn't entirely grammar error free, as I got this out in a hurry. I'll be going back over it with a fine comb, but for now it is what it is.

Creed's breaking Logan, Rorke's planning a trap, and Hesh is on a quest.

Please leave a favorite or review, thanks. Until next time!