A/N: Finally! I've finally finished writing this chapter. It took longer than I thought, well...due to summer school, marching band, and AP assignments. Without further ado, enjoy and please leave reviews.
It was early noon; the sun was high in the sky, shining through the thick, icy layers of cloud. The temperature was at its lowest at this time, and it caused ice to stick to John's and Roach's five o' clock shadows and eyebrows.
The three men were positioned high up on the mountain; only a few meters separating them from the top of the cliff. Roach looked at the view from this altitude; it was breathtaking. He can see the sides of the surrounding mountains, and he even dared to peer over the ledge, hoping to see the bottom through the thick, icy fog bellow. The only thing that ruined this moment for Roach was the sweet, musky scent from John's and MacTavish's lit cigars.
Even though cigarettes and cigars are different, Roach still find them irritating. However, he can't stop the two men. It was their way to calm their nerves. Roach still finds this surprising: neither John nor MacTavish say anything that suggested that they smoke. MacTavish was a heavy smoker, a trait he got from his own Captain, Price. John, however, didn't really smoke as much. John only smokes to keep his insides warm; this event was an example. Roach checked his weapon to see if it was secured; it was a silenced ACR with a Red Dot Reflex sight and a Heartbeat sensor monitor on the left side of the weapon.
Roach then looked at John…and truth-be-told: John looked like John Rambo. John had the same rifle Roach had, but John had a different weapon slung over his shoulder. He had a XM25 air-burst grenade launcher, with four extra magazines for it. He also has a tactical knife and a USP .45 handgun. On his utility belt, John has four grenades and four flash-bangs. That's going to be useful…Roach thought. Roach then looked at MacTavish and saw his weapon of choice: a Red-Hot thermal scoped, silenced M21 ERB sniper rifle. What caught Roach's attention was the side-arm MacTavish has on his thigh holster: a WWII era M1911.45 handgun.
Why does he have that? Roach wondered.
The peaceful silence was shattered when a MiG-29 jet flew overhead. Roach looked up and saw the streaks the plane created were so close that it seems that he could touch them. The sound from the jet rattled their chests and shook some loose ice to fall off. Although seeing a jet this close can be irking, it was a good sign to the three. It meant that they were close to their target. They've been climbing for the past seven hours, so both Roach and John were enlightened by the scene.
After the jet had disappeared, MacTavish peered over his left shoulder, looking at Roach and John. John saw him and he nodded, took his cigar between his gloved fingers and flicking it over the edge. MacTavish did the same. Roach however, was still mesmerized by the view.
"Break's over, Roach, let's go," MacTavish stated flatly while rising from his crouched position. Roach looked at him and gave a professional nod. The two followed the Captain's orders and began to follow MacTavish with their backs against the mountain, while minding their distance from the edge as the ledge began to narrow. With their backs against the cold mountain surface, they worked their way sideways just like crabs.
Suddenly, MacTavish came to a halt and adjusted his M21 to a more comfortable position. He then reached for the ice-picks on his back and put his hands through the straps of the ice-picks and secured them tightly.
He then brought the ice-picks up and ordered the two, "Stay here and spot me, wait for my go." The two nodded and waited. With amazing flexibility, MacTavish swing the left side of his body 180 degrees after he dug his right pick into the ice. Once his stomach was against the Cliffside, MacTavish dug his left pick high above his head. He propelled himself up, using his spiked boots for extra support.
After climbing a few more feet, he kicked the ice with his spiked boots, checking if the ice was sturdy enough. "Alright, the ice is good. Follow me," MacTavish ordered as he continued his ascension.
John shimmied to where MacTavish was and started to climb. Roach then followed the two. They were making great progress; in a few minutes they would reach the top of the cliff. However, things changed to the bad when they reached halfway, as another MiG-29 flew over head. The sonic-boom the jet caused made the Cliffside to shake, causing ice to fall off and hit the men below. The Captain fared an even more perilous scenario: one of his ice-picks became loose and freed itself from the ice. MacTavish dangled dangerously as he struggled to regain control.
John held his breath and Roach started to sweat, nervously. If the Captain were to fall, he would collide into the two and they would all fall…and BAM…mission failed.
Thankfully, that didn't happen. MacTavish swung his right ice-pick back into the ice and continued to climb. Roach and John gave a sigh of relief and continued to climb. MacTavish soon reached the top, and waited for the others to join. Once John reached the ledge, MacTavish grabbed hold of one of John's hands and pulled him up. John got up and rolled his shoulders, and then he went to the ledge to pull Roach up. Once Roach was with them, he cracked his knuckles and saw where the Captain paced.
The Captain shuffled towards the two. He seemed too focus on the challenge that lied ahead. He then finally spoke, "Good luck, mates. I'll see you on the far side." He then spun on his heels and started to run.
John and Roach turned to each other, confused; whatever MacTavish meant by "the far side," it didn't sound good to both Roach and John.
Their suspicions were then realized when they saw the Captain sprinted towards the edge of the new cliff they got on and leaped off, right over a gorge, and slammed his ice-picks into the side of another cliff. Both Roach and John were too awe to join right away, as they hesitated, thinking how they can copy MacTavish with the extra gear they were both carrying. Roach then looked at John; he was worried that the added weight of the XM25 would cause John to fall off. Not only that, but they both worried that their approximately 180 pound mass would break the ice once they latch on.
MacTavish then waved at the two to hurry up and jump. John stepped forward; he was going next. His mind raced on with fear. He was used to gunfights, but nothing like this. One wrong move and I'm dead…John dreaded.
John took a deep breath and stepped back a bit. When he was ready, he sprinted towards the edge and jumped. His breath was caught in his throat as the wall of ice got closer. Once he was at the ice, he slammed both of his ice-picks into the ice. He looked up and saw that he made it perfectly. He was two feet below the Captain.
"Whew…" John sighed. He looked behind him and yelled, "Come on, Roach!"
Roach then took a few steps back, and then he gunned-it. He sprinted to the end and jumped. Unfortunately, the cliff siding he leapt off broke loose from under his weight as he pushed off, causing him to lose his sense of balance. Roach landed several feet below the Captain as he planted both picks into the ice. Unfortunately, he saw himself scrapping downwards. His weight and the awkward landing caused him to leave two deep scars into the Cliffside as he lid downwards.
"Hold on! Don't let go!" MacTavish yelled down at him.
John was struck with fear. He couldn't do anything. He just watched his friend continue to drag downwards.
Suddenly, Roach's descent was stopped when he reached a strong spot. However, his right ice-pick broke out of the ice and had him hanging, his feet dangling. Roach looked down and saw the fallen sheets of ice fall and shatter. His fear kicked in, his breathing becoming sporadic; he imagined if his bones would shatter if he fell. He then looked up and brought his right hand back up, grasping what was left of the handle. He thought he was going to make it, but that's when the ice started to crack.
Oh shit…not now…please don't…Roach panicked. Biting his lip, he tried to pull himself up. But the ice shattered…
Was this it for Roach? The lump in his throat prevented any air from exiting or entering as his ice-pick got free and he began to fall. However, by a strand of luck, someone got a firm grip on Roach's arm. He looked up and, as the icy dust settled, saw his savior. It was John Ramirez. Somehow, John risked his life to save Roach by releasing himself from his original holding and managed to catch himself and Roach after John got a firm grip on Roach's arm.
Roach's fear gradually washed away and he took a well-deserved breath. He then stared into John's clenched jaw and his milk-chocolate colored eyes and saw a diluted well of emotions.
Was it relief?
Anger?
Terror?
All of those emotions seemed appropriate at the time.
"Gah…no more donuts for you, Roach," John joked.
John then gestured his head upwards, telling Roach to follow MacTavish. With one-mighty heave, John used all of his God-given strength to throw Roach back up. With one arm, Roach swung one his ice-picks back into the ice. Roach panted into his other arm's sleeve, trying to calm his nerves while he watched both John and MacTavish resumed their climb. Once Roach was ready, he looked up and continued to climb.
MacTavish was the first to reach the top of the edge, and helped pull John and Roach up. Once all three men were at the top, they've noticed the smell of jet fuel. They were close. After climbing over two, small inclines, they saw the runway of the airbase on their left.
After holstering his M21 ERB, MacTavish went into a crouching position and looked at his men. "Roach, Savior, check your heartbeat sensors," MacTavish ordered.
Roach and John nodded. Following his orders, they pull open the plastic flap attached to the left side of their weapons. The flap held a small screen, illuminating a light-blue glow and ticked almost unnoticeably after every few seconds. Two blue dots appeared on both Roach's and John's screens.
"You two should see each other and me on the monitor. The blue-dots are two of us," MacTavish informed, quietly. He flicked his hand forward, ordering the group to move forward while he added, "Any unrecognized contacts will appear as white dots."
They shuffled a few yards through the deep snow. After they rounded a wall of rock they saw two Russian soldiers walking back to camp.
"Roach, Savior, these muppets don't even know we're here. Let's take this nice and slow," MacTavish ordered as he brought his weapon back up. "You two get the one on the left. On three. One…two…three."
When "three" came, Roach and John fired four shots total at the man on the left; two in the chest, one at the arm, and one at the head. MacTavish fired a single shot from his M21 and the round exited from the front of the man's head. The men collapsed into the snow, a pool of crimson blood seeping into the snow—creating a gruesome slushy—while brain matter sprinkled the snow.
"Nicely done," MacTavish commented while reloading his M21. "Let's move."
Since the path ahead of them was cleared of sentries, they continued shuffling through the snow. According to their intel, the path of this hill connects to the barracks of the airbase. While they walked, guns raised and adrenaline pumping into their veins, the icy wind doubled in speed and more ice and snow cling onto their bodies.
"Oh damn…" John cringed as he pulled down his beanie-cap to cover his ears.
"Shit, I can barely see," Roach whispered.
"The storm's brewing up," MacTavish advised, seemingly unaffected by the decrease of temperature.
Since they were partially blinded by the storm, Roach and John had to rely on their heartbeat sensors. After traveling for some time—relying on their wrist-watch GPS's—they reached a small drop-off, flags implanted at the edge.
MacTavish then walked to his right to a small over-watch and said, "Let's split up. I'll use the thermal scope and provide over watch from this ridge. Use the cover of the storm to enter the base. You'll be ghosts in this blizzard, so the guards won't see you until you're very close. Keep an eye on your heartbeat sensors." He climbed to the top of the ridge and added, "Good luck." Then MacTavish's body faded away in a thick, icy cloak.
John patted Roach's right shoulder and whispered, "Let's go."
Roach nodded and replied, "I got your back."
The duo then slid down the drop-off and silently trekked through the growing snow. Roach and John walked side-by-side, Roach checking the right while John checking the left, keeping eyes on their monitors and the path in front of them. Eventually, they reached a recently shoveled road.
After walking besides the road, they saw a truck parked in front of a small Quonset hut. Their heart-rates spiked; they heard faint beeps from their sensors. They looked at their monitors and saw two white dots. Then they looked through the snow and saw two sentries patrolling besides the Quonset hut; one was in front of the parked truck and the other was besides the hut.
If they hadn't checked their monitors, they would have blown their cover.
In an instant, Roach fired at the man besides the truck—blood misted in front of the man's skull—and John fired at the man besides the hut—one bullet at the jugular and one at the femoral artery.
"Nice shots," MacTavish commented on the radio, "Alright, I've tapped into their comms. Head southeast and plant your C4 at the fueling station."
The duo then stood on either side of the door of the hut. John peered through the door and saw a Russian sleeping in a chair. With one quick shot to the head, the Russian went into an eternal slumber. John and Roach went inside and saw that they were in the kitchen…
…and sitting on top of the counter was a mug of hut cocoa.
They couldn't resist; John quickly grabbed the mug and drank half of the hot, chocolate liquid. He then gave a small sigh of relief as he felt the warm content went down his throat. John then passed the remaining cocoa to Roach, and he too drank it and felt relief.
MacTavish somehow knew because he growled through the radio, "You lucky bastards…"
After getting their morale up, the two went through the back entrance of the kitchen Quonset hut. Behind the Quonset hut was a small building; a supply building. Roach took cover besides the door and peered inside. There was another Russian sleeping on a chair, his legs resting on top of a table in front of him, and another soldier smoking a cigarette at the doorway on the left. Roach raised his rifle, aimed at the sleeping soldier's head and pulled the trigger. John raised his and fired at the smoking Russian in the throat.
Roach and John entered the building when they heard some truck tires.
"There's a truck coming! Stay out of sight," MacTavish warned through the radio.
John then looked at the Russian he shot and panicked. The Russian's body was showing through the doorway. John ran to the body and dragged it to the center of the room. They hugged the walls and stayed away from the windows and scanned their monitors. They saw a quarter size white dot coming their way. They held their breath as the dot got closer…
And closer…
And closer…
Thankfully, the dot took a turn to the left on the monitor. Outside, the truck took a right turn on the road. As soon as the sound of the engine disappeared, Roach and John let out their held in breath. John peered through the door on the left and saw the road was clear. He held his hand up—his first two fingers pointed upward—and swirled his hand in a circular motion, telling Roach to form up. Once Roach formed up behind John, John then flicked his hand forward.
"Let's move out," John ordered.
They quietly walked outside, guns raised. They took the road on the right, as it leads to the airstrip. As they trekked through the snow, their monitors detected another soldier on their right. On their right was a small incline, and a sentry was patrolling near the edge.
Before either John or Roach can fire, MacTavish's voice came through the radio, haltering them in the eager tracks.
"He's mine."
And just like that, MacTavish fired a precise shot from his position. The slug entered the back of the Russian's neck, severing the skull from the spinal cord. The man collapse to the snow, his head barely attached to the remaining neck. Roach and John pondered on the Captain's position; they have no idea where the Captain was.
Eventually, they've reached the tarmac of the runway.
"Roach, Savior, the fueling station is near the northeast corner of the runway," MacTavish informed them.
Together, they vaulted over a railing and ran onto the tarmac.
"Hold up. I'm seeing some activity on the runway. Looks like twenty plus foot-mobiles heading your way," MacTavish warned, "Oh damn…that truck's coming back."
After hearing that, they were filled with madness. They all knew that they were in allotted time. Especially when they heard the truck tires squealed to a stop.
"Shit…roger that," Roach replied. He then turned to John and whispered, "We gotta hurry."
They ran past a refueling MiG-29, and they noticed that they can see through the snow storm clearer.
It wasn't a good sign…
"Oh crap; the storm's lulling off!" John panicked.
They've swiftly ran past the MiG, while minding their surroundings. Although they can't visibly see any sentries, their monitors showed a fine white line near the hangars beside them. John was scanning his surroundings so fast that he ran into the pumping station. He bumped into the pump and fell on his butt.
"That's the fueling station. You found it," MacTavish stated flatly.
Roach got to one knee and searched through his pack for the C4. John got up and watched Roach's back as he looked for the explosives. Roach then felt what seems to be a bundle of bricks taped together. He took it out and removed the cover of the adhesive tape and placed the C4 onto the fueling pump.
"Captain, the C4 is planted, 'Plan B' is a go," Roach whispered into the radio.
"Good. Hold on, I'm picking up more radio traffic about the satellite. Standby," MacTavish informed, "Got it. Sounds like the satellite's in the far hangar to the southwest of your location." The Captain let out a small snicker. "Race you there. Oscar Mike. Out."
"Roger that," both John and Roach replied, smiling.
Once again, the two men found themselves crossing the tarmac. Luckily for them, the storm brewed up again, rendering them invisible to nearby patrols. Although they tried to avoid most of the patrols, they had to kill one more set of guards. They both realized that the bodies will be discovered eventually, the constant radio checks guarantee it. It won't be long now before the whole base will know of their presence.
After crossing another tarmac and went back into the snow covered ground, they saw two hangars side-by-side. After scanning the surrounding area to make sure that their path was safe, they ran down the middle gap between the two hangers and jumped down into an alley behind the buildings.
They peered down the left side of the ally and they saw MacTavish standing beside a dumpster. He had an irritated or annoyed look on his face.
"Took the scenic route, eh?" MacTavish asked irritated.
John rolled his eyes. "Oh yeaah…we love to observe the MiGs and the majestic mountain peaks in this snowy weather," John replied, sarcastically.
MacTavish just shook his head before he made a full turn towards the back door of the hangar.
"Be ready for anything." MacTavish then reached for the door knob with his hand. He cautiously opened the door and entered. Once inside, MacTavish saw an enemy trooper at the end of the dark, narrow hallway, standing in front of his locker. He sprinted to the oblivious man, and tackled him to the array of lockers. MacTavish then forced the man down to the ground with his monstrous strength.
Roach and John entered the hallway and kept their distance. The man—now obviously knowing what was happening—was about to scream until MacTavish unsheathed his combat knife and drove it deep and ruthlessly into the man's neck. There was a blood-filled gargle that came from the dying soldier, then his feet twitched for the last time and he became still, a pool of crimson surrounding the wound; blood spurting out.
MacTavish then pulled out his blade from the man's neck and flicked the gore off. Once Roach and John formed up with the Captain, they entered an adjoining room, dimly lighted by dying fluorescent lights and the windows that covered the walls. In the middle of the room was the remaining wreckage of the satellite.
"Go upstairs and look for the ACS module," MacTavish ordered as he went to the wreckage, picked up one of the power-tools, and started to dismantle the satellite.
Roach and John went to the staircase the opposite direction of the satellite. Once they reachd the upstairs room—which resembles an office room—they scanned the desks for anything that looked important. John went to the table in the middle of the room and scanned the blue-prints and held up some devices in front of the helmet cam. Roach looked around the room and saw what they came here for, sitting right besides a computer. Roach walked up to the computer and snatched the ACS module and put it in his pack.
"Savior, I found what we came here for," Roach stated, "Let's regroup with the Captain."
John nodded and put down a device back onto the table. Together, they've moved towards the exit. But then, they heard the garage doors of the hangar opening. They looked at each other, confused and thinking the same thing. Did MacTavish do that? No, it was too risky; it was out of the Captain's character. Something was wrong.
"Roach, Savior, I've been compromised," MacTavish warned, softly. The two crouched and looked around the corner. There stood MacTavish—hands up—and right in front of him was a large group of heavily armed Russians. "Keep a low profile and hold your fire…"
Roach swallowed nervously as he gripped the ACR tighter. John quickly switched his ACR for the XM25 grenade launcher on his back. The Captain was tough, but this was out of his league. They all knew that they were going to be discovered, but not like this, this was bad.
Then a Russian officer yelled from a speaker phone.
"This is Major Petrov! Come out with your hands up! You have five seconds to comply!" Roach and John translated in their mind.
MacTavish blinked slowly and grind his teeth. Softly, MacTavish ordered, "Roach, go to 'Plan B'."
Suddenly realizing that he had the switch, Roach rummaged for the detonation switch as the death count began.
"5…"
Roach found the switch.
"4…"
He turned it on, a green light illuminating from a small bulb on the front.
"3…"
He squeezed the remote.
An eruption of fire, gas, smoke, and shrapnel filled the airbase. The explosion was massive; it shook the entire hanger and knocked most of the Russian troops on their butts. The explosion caused a chain-reaction as the refueling MiGs started to explode. The Russians turned around to see the explosion.
MacTavish turned to where his two men were positioned and saw John standing up with the XM25 grenade launcher ready.
"Captain, get down!" John screamed. MacTavish then jumped out of the blast radius as John fired two grenades. The grenades exploded in the group of troopers. The shrapnel left the Russian troops in bloody ribbons.
MacTavish raised his rifle and shot any enemy troopers that were outside. Roach and John ran to the stairs. Roach shot any enemy troopers MacTavish hadn't already taken out while John continued to fire grenades at troopers that were behind cover.
"Stay close and hug the wall!" MacTavish yelled as he continued to fire bullets, "We'll use the MiGs for cover and cross the tarmac to the southeast!"
Roach ran down the rest of the stairs while John vaulted over the hand rails and fell four feet. The three rushed to the side of the hangar, firing at troops that dared to aim at them. The tables have turned: in the beginning, it was a stealth mission…now it was a full out war. MacTavish took a quick peek through the opening and saw a path of opportunity.
"Roach, Savior! Follow me! Let's go!" MacTavish barked through the screaming of the attacking troops and the gunfire.
They began to sprint, blind firing at enemy troops and ducking their heads so they won't get hit.
"Son of a bitch!" Roach cursed as he felt a bullet flew over his head.
They eventually took cover behind a row of concrete road blocks.
"Roach, Savior, head for that MiG, I'll cover you!"
At first, the two hesitated, after seeing many enemy troopers near the MiG. They took a deep breath while the Captain killed some of the enemy stationed at the MiG. They closed their eyes, and let the adrenaline flow through their veins. Together, the two vaulted over the concrete obstacles and ran towards the MiG at unnatural speeds and let loose blind fire. The plane that the two were heading exploded, killing any enemy troopers around it. Once by the wreckage, they reloaded their rifles and waited for the Captain to join them.
The Captain sprinted to the two's location, while they kill attacking troops. Eventually, the Captain reached their location.
"Alright, my turn: cover me!" The Captain got out of cover and sprinted to the next MiG that was in front of a barracks positioned on top of a hill. John and Roach stood up and fired at the troops at the barracks. Soon, the guards were eliminated and MacTavish reached the MiG. "Roach, Savior, get over here!" MacTavish beckoned. Then, they heard some engines revving.
"What the hell?" Roach cringed.
John narrowed his eyes, looking where the noise was coming from. Then, he saw a pair of snowmobiles with troopers on them. "Damn…they're on snowmobiles, too," John informed, "Roach, meet up with the Captain, I'll take care of the snowmobiles."
Roach then ran out of cover and sprinted towards the Captain's location. John focused on firing at the snowmobiles. If he was lucky, the driver-less snowmobiles would either collide into enemy troops that were on the runway or collide into other snowmobiles. Suddenly, John felt something hit his vest and knocked the wind out of him. He panted, but he regained his composure.
Roach then made it to MacTavish, unharmed. Soon, it was John's turn to make his run; he sprinted and blind-fired at the enemy troops. He, too, managed to reach MacTavish and Roach.
After reloading his M21 ERB, MacTavish barked, "Alright, we're going to that drop-off at the East! I'll go first, cover me!"
"Yes, sir!" both Roach and John replied.
MacTavish then ran out of cover for the third time and ran towards the edge of the small hill. Soon, Roach ran towards the edge of the hill, followed by John. Now that the men were regrouped at the edge, they slid down the snowy hill. At the bottom were a wooden shack and some spruces. Once at the bottom, the three men turned around and fired at any attackers that appeared at the top of the hill. Their dead bodies rolled down the hill, leaving trails of blood in the snow.
Soon after the troopers were taken care of, a snowmobile with two passengers was perched at the top of the hill. John quickly took care of the enemy troops on the snowmobile. Then a pair of snowmobiles caught up and soared over the hillside, avoiding the men's line of fire.
"Dammit, they're going around the shack," John growled as MacTavish ran for cover besides the shack.
The other men joined the Captain just in time to see MacTavish slam the ice-pick into the chest of the driver of the first snowmobile. The vehicle glided to a stop in front of the shack. The last snowmobile zoomed past and stopped in the center. The two enemy troops got off the vehicle, but they wouldn't shoot a single round, as the team finished them off.
The two snowmobiles were now left unattended…and up for grabs.
"Roach, Savior, take that snowmobile! Let's get the hell out of here!" MacTavish ordered as he ran to one of the snowmobiles.
Roach got into the driver's seat of the other snowmobile while John sat behind him. Roach turned on the engine, and then he saw John handing a G18 machine pistol, butt-first, to him.
As Roach took the G18, John pointed to the magazine bag slung over his shoulder and said, "If you need a new mag, tell me." John then slammed a new magazine into his ACR's receiver.
Roach nodded as he placed the new gun into his thigh holster. He squeezed the gas and they began to glide towards the edge of the next hill.
John's heart thumped through his chest. The hill was steep. Oh shit…John thought.
Then the team skid down the hill, the wind whipping against their faces.
"Kilo Six-One, the primary exfil point is compromised! We're en route to the backup LZ using enemy transport! Meet us there! Over!" MacTavish yelled into his radio.
Before the pilot's reassuring voice could reply, John saw a patrol of enemy snowmobiles chasing them. John raised his rifle and steadied his aim. With all the accuracy he could muster, John fired at the enemy snowmobiles. He managed to pick some of them off.
"Guys, we have to drive faster!" John yelled as he continued to fire.
Some of the snowmobiles got in front of John's and Roaches snowmobile. Roach took hold of the G18 and fired at the enemy snowmobiles, while steering with one hand. Soon, he ran out of ammo in the submachine pistol.
"Mag!" Roach yelled as he passed the empty G18 to John. John quickly took it, took a new magazine from the bag, inserted it into the gun, and loaded up the chamber. He then passed the gun back to Roach.
As the men continued to fire and kill enemy troops, they finally got a reply from the pilot.
"Bravo Six, this is Kilo Six-One, roger that, out."
"Thank God…" John murmured.
MacTavish then looked over his shoulder and swore under his breath. "More tangos to the rear! Just outrun them! Go! Go!"
Roach nodded, as if the Captain could see him. He continued to fire at the enemy transports that got in front of him, managing to kill at least two before he had to use both hands to make a sharp turn. Behind him, John didn't anticipate the sharp turn as he nearly flew out of the snowmobile and yelled, "HOLY SHIT!"
MacTavish was filled with distraught when he heard John yelling. He looked beside him and saw John was okay. "Don't slow down! Keep moving or your dead!" the Captain yelled.
They continued to make sharp turns, swerving between trees and their exposed roots. They ramped up a hill and flew over the top. They made a rough landing on top of a frozen lake. The rough landing caused some bad luck to John: upon impact, John lost his grip on his ACR and it dropped onto the ice.
"Shit!" John swore. He thought of borrowing Roach's ACR, but they don't have the time to un-sling the gun from his shoulder. So…John had to use the USP handgun. He didn't have a lot of magazines for it, so every shot had to count.
To make matters worse: an attack helicopter appeared and fired missiles at the team. The missiles missed, but it was close. John took his XM25 and loaded a magazine into the receiver. What he planned was nearly impossible, but he was willing to try it. The attack 'copter turned around and flew towards Roach's and John's snowmobile head on. John armed it and aimed at the cockpit.
Please, let it work…John hoped. He didn't bother to adjust the detonating distance. Once the 'copter was close, John fired a full magazine of grenades at the cockpit. The first two grenades cracked the cockpit's window, the third one shattered the glass, and the fourth and final grenade killed the pilot, raining deadly shards of shrapnel. The series of explosions also ruined the helicopter's rotor blades. The helicopter spun out of control, a veil of black smoke surrounding the vehicle. Roach accelerated and the helicopter crashed far behind them.
"Hell of a shot, Savior!" both MacTavish and Roach praised John.
The team looked behind them and they saw that they were still chased by three snowmobiles.
"Roach, hand me your G18! I'm almost out of ammo!" John barked.
Roach nodded, took the G18 from the holster and handed it to John. John took it and fired at the snowmobiles as the team began to drive up the slope of a hill.
"Bravo Six, we're at bingo fuel. What's your status, over?" the pilot informed via radio.
Even though that Roach and John were behind MacTavish, they can sense the man's irritation.
"Kilo Six-One, we're taking heavy fire but we're almost there! Standby!" MacTavish replied as the team began to soar down a steep hill. Spruces populated the hillside, creating a deadly array of obstacles. "Pin the throttle! Keep going!" the Captain yelled at Roach and John.
Roach did just that; he squeezed the acceleration and let gravity increase their speed. As they soared down the hillside, John managed to kill two of the pursuing snowmobiles while the last one crashed into a tree. John gave out a small relief; he was almost out of ammo. A few rounds were left in the G18 and he ran out of mags for the USP and XM25.
"We're clear!" John informed the team.
Roach then felt a sudden wave of relief as they were no longer chased. He looked up from the dashboard, his eyes trailed down to the end of the hill. He swore he felt his heart skipped a beat when he saw what was at the bottom…
Or maybe what wasn't at the bottom…
At the bottom of the hill there was a large gap that lies between them and the exfil point.
"G-Guys…?" Roach stuttered into the radio.
John turned around to see what Roach was stuttering about. When he saw the gap, the color in his face faded away.
"Oh *#~$..." John swore.
Then MacTavish then looked what the commotion was all about. He followed their stares and felt a sudden pang of fear. "Oh hell…hold on!"
Both Roach and MacTavish gripped the handles tightly as John wrapped his arms around Roach's waist; they all braced for the eagle-like jump. Roach and John couldn't breathe as a lump formed in their throats as they felt their vehicles ramped off the edge.
Their hearts fluttered and they can feel gravity trying to pull them down as they were still mid-air. Falling would have been disastrous, but that didn't happen.
The landing was rough; broke most of the underside of the snowmobiles. They glided past a few spruces, and then they finally saw the CH-46 Sea Knight, their ticket out of there.
"There's the chopper, let's go!"
"Bravo Six we have you on visual. Get your asses on board! We're running on fumes here!"
Roach rested his head against the wall of the chopper and panted. They left the area a while ago, and the battle was still in Roach's mind. Roach turned to John and saw that he was equally tired. Then he saw John wincing and snarling in pain.
MacTavish reached out to him. "John, you alright?" MacTavish asked, worried.
"Gah…my chest…it hurts…" John panted.
"Are you sure it's just your chest?" Roach asked. John nodded.
Roach and MacTavish then proceeded to remove John's body armor. Once the vest was off, they saw that there was no blood. John turned off the helmet's camera, removed the helmet, and painfully raised his arms over his head as MacTavish pulled his shirt off, seeing what was causing the problem.
"Phwoar," MacTavish said, "That's going to be a monster of a bruise." There was a livid patch on John's sternum. However, that wasn't what caught both Roach's and MacTavish's attention. Throughout John's chest, there were a series of healed scars. They were linear, but jagged as if John was cut with a dull and rusted blade. "You collecting distinguishing features or something?"
John realized that he was hit by a round earlier. He didn't feel the pain because of the adrenaline that was in his veins. "Hit me square on," John replied, panting. "Armor works though, eh?"
MacTavish removed his beanie-cap and listened to John's breathing with his ear pressed to his chest.
"Ow."
"Shut up and breathe."
John took shallow breaths, wincing. MacTavish straightened up and nodded. "Can't hear any pneumothorax," he said, "But let's keep an eye on him. The air trapped inside can build up. Might be fractured ribs, might just be a bad bruise."
As John slowly put his shirt back on, Roach asked him, "What's with all the scars, John?"
John looked at him and replied, "Let's just say that it's not a good idea to keep a Marine as a hostage."
Roach nodded and stared at the floor for a few brief moments. "Hey John…thanks for saving my life."
John gave a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, Gary. That's what Marines do; we watch each other's backs and we don't leave any one behind," John said.
"Yeah…but still…my daughter almost became fatherless."
John solemnly nodded. After all…it was bitterly true.
"You're both just living up to your name," MacTavish announced. John nodded, immediately understanding what the Captain said. However, Roach was the only one confused. MacTavish saw the confusing in Roach's eyes and added, "Just like a roach…you're hard to kill, Gary."
He then immediately thought about the day he earned his title. He let the captured roach go, instead of killing it. Neither John nor Gary thought about this new reason. It was strange, but it was becoming to make sense. Gary—or Roach—looked at John and mouthed the words "thank you," for not suggesting a name inadequate, like Pest or Rat.