The wind continued to howl, unrelenting in its snowy barrage. The bitter cold was unforgiving, but Makarov paid it no notice. He was too focused on more important things. He sat silently, staring at the detonator in his grasp, waiting patiently like a snake about to strike.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "Yes."

"We have visual on thermal," Viktor annouced. "20 seconds."

"Understood, standing by." Makarov replied, flipping the arm on the detonator switch. One press, and nearly a hundred pounds of plastic explosives would detonate.

"15 seconds..."

Makarov glanced at over at Yuri, who was silenltly observing him, watching his actions.

"10 seconds..."

"...The train will derail...Finding the exact car will take some time..."

"5 seconds..."

"...Increase difficulty due the storm...Given Sergei and his men however, there will be more then enough time...No problems..."

"Fire when ready."

"On the way!" Makarov shouted, pressing the detonator.

An eerie silence filled the valley as they waited for the detonation. Then, off in the distance, the muffled sounds of explosions echoed through the wind, the bright flashes of light pulsating off in the white unknown.

The twisting and screaming of metal could be heard, like a large structure collapsing. Even through the dense storm, Makarov and Yuri could hear it clearly.

Then, as soon as it had happened, the same errie silence took over once again. Only soon to be replaced by the distant patter of gunfire.

Makarov flipped open his cell phone. "Viktor."

"It worked!" Viktor yelled, gunfire in the background. "Were engaging the security detail!"

"Of course it worked..." "Understood." Makarov answered. "Remember, the cargo is the top priority." He flipped closed and turned over to Yuri. "Well then, Shall we?"

Yuri nodded, and the two quickly made their way back to the horses. Within minutes, they were riding through the snow and wind, quickly moving to the valley below.

They had ridden for nearly half an hour before Makarov spotted the first train car. Its figure completely unrecognizable due to the wreak. It was like someone had smashed it with a giant mallet.

Flames were also visible around the wreak as well, and soon bodies began to appear, some just as recognizable as the train wreak itself.

Yuri gave a sickly look at one of the bodies. "Poor souls..."

"Should have picked a better life." Makarov said, guiding his horse around the scraps of debris. "Come on, Sergei is waiting, and hopefully with my weapon..."

The two rode on through the wreak, the sound of gunfire quietly fading. Makarov had counted on being opposition, but he had also counted on the initial explosion to disable any hostile forces. Fortunately, it had gone so perfectly, but it wouldn't be long before more Russian troops came to the distress call. Ones much more armed.

And that was a battle Makarov had no intention of fighting.

Yuri squinted ahead, making out a figure in the distance.

"Sergei." Yuri declared, riding ahead. The two quickly approached and the large man stood before them, his great beard filled with snow and ice.

"Have you located it yet?" Makarov demanded as he dismounted his horse.

Sergei nodded. "Aye, that we have. Easy to find too. Take a look."

Sergei wasn't lying when he said it had been easy to find. The car was almost entirely made of reinforced steel, and the explosion hadn't made a dent to it. Sergei's soldiers were already busy tying cargo straps, and Makarov could already hear the sound approaching transport helicopters.

"Very efficient work." Makarov observed, almost impressed. "I shall make sure to inform Zakhaev of your excellence as a commander."

"That is not all." Sergei said, stopping Makarov. "This was found on two of the officers guarding the car."

Makarov looked as Sergei held out two silver keys in his leather glove. They were larger they normal keys, but they retained the same shape.

"Launch keys..." Yuri said as Makarov held one in his hand.

"The power to destroy with the twist of a key..." Makarov mused, staring at the key with silent amazement. "...Just imagine..." The silver key glistened as he held it.

"There were only two?" Yuri asked.

Sergei nodded in reply. "You need both to activate the bomb. It's absolutely useless with out them."

"Perfect." Makarov through to himself, already hatching a plan. "Al-Asad can have his precious nuclear weapon...So long as I control the means of activating it..."

"Hold on to one, I'll take the other." Makarov ordered, pocketing the key. "Have your men transport the device separately."

"Understood." Sergei replied, pocketing his launch key. "I will keep it safe."

Makarov nodded. "You have serve me well this far. I trust you will maintain that reputation."

The distant sound of gunfire in the distance quickly alerted the men, and Makarov was once reminded that time was not on their side.

"Have the weapon airlifted and the keys separate." Makarov ordered to the grizzled man. "Yuri, with me. Anatoly and Viktor will be waiting..."

"See you when we get back then!" Sergei called as they mounted their horses. "Perhaps we can have a drink?"

"Not with the likes of you..." Makarov muttered under his cold breath. He kicked his horse and quickly galloped into the blizzard, Yuri close behind.

They made good time through the blizzard, and Makarov felt much safer and warmer sitting in the passenger seat of vehicle then on the back of a feral horse. He detested riding such beasts.

Despite the intented challenge, It had been quite easy. Too easy some would say, but Makarov knew that with careful planning and masterful strategy, no problem could be to great, given the circumstances. By tomorrow, Al-Asad would have his weapon, and Makarov would give Zakhaev the means to control it.

Thus in turn controlling Al-Asad. Lets see the great Victor Zakhaev best that.

Makarov allowed himself a small smile. "When the next time we meet Victor, I'll be treated as a son and you a failure..." He continued to daydream, all while holding the launch key tightly in his pocket.

Anatoly muttered curses as he strained to see out the window as he drove through the storm. Viktor and Yuri sat in the back, conversing quietly with one another, talking about days long past.

Makarov paid them little attention, his mind still daydreaming about getting the respect he finally deserved from Zakhaev, and his son getting the rightful treatment in return.

His eyes began to drift, the heater causing him to become drowsy. His eyelids became heavy as he finally gave into sleep.

Makarov didn't remember dreaming much, but he did remember waking up to the cell phone vibrating in his pocket. As well as the message that came with it.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, realizing he was getting a message. He reached for the cell phone that sat deep in his pocket. As he flipped it open, he read who was calling.

One new text message: Unknown

"Who would be texting me..." Makarov thought, staring at the screen with suspicion. "Only few have my number, and fewer use it..."

He pressed the button and opened the message.

"Boom."

~M.

"...What the-

A bright flash of light suddenly appeared in front of them, a violent explosion destroying part of the convoy in front of them.

"What the hell?" Anatoly shouted as more explosions soon erupted. "Whats going-

He didn't have time to finish before another explosion rocked the vehicle, shattering the glass and shaking everyone inside. The force was enough to send them off the road.

"Hold on!" Anatoly yelled, tightly gripping the wheel. He tried to steer the jeep back on the snowy trail, but it was a vain attempt. The jeep quickly lost traction and they spun out of control. Once they left the road, the jeep had no problem rolling over, barreling down the snowy cliffside.

Rolling and tumbling through his seat, Makarov tried to brace himself to the crash, but the force shook him so violently it made any attempt impossible. His body was trashed against the ceiling and door, brusing and battering his side. It seemed like an eternity before they stopped.

Cold wind poured through the broken windshield, hitting Makarov with a bitter gust of snow. His head was throbbing in pain from the crash, and he struggled to stay conscious. He glanced over at Anatoly, head resting on the steering wheel, knockout cold from the crash.

He tried to resist blacking out himself, but it was too much effort to resist. Finally, he gave in to the pain, only before asking himself one question.

"How?..."