Remembering the Rook
Ramirez awoke to find himself tied to a chair in the dark, damp, abyss of a basement. Painfully, he opened his eyes. Standing over him was a man dressed similarly to Raptor and another dressed in the uniform of a Russian Paratrooper.
"Ah, you are finally awake, American." said the Paratrooper, in surprisingly good English.
"Dammit, Viktor! Stop toying with him and kill him!" shouted the suited man, "You remember what Shepherd said, no witnesses!"
"Do you think me a fool? I know what he said. But do you?" responded Viktor, pointing his Desert Eagle at the man in the suit.
Ramirez watched with rising interest, especially when Viktor continued "He appears to have forgotten to tell you that he wants you dead. Why else would he send elite troops to your home?" Referring to Ramirez.
"Shepherd would never do that to me! He knows what I know about his operations!" said the man, his voice rising along with his terror.
"Exactly, that's why you're a loose end." said Viktor, leveling his Desert Eagle on the man. The heavy bullet torn into the man's shoulder and flung him against the wall, slowly he slid to the floor leaving a smear of blood.
"Now that our friend is dead, I can have you all to myself." purred Viktor, holstering his massive handgun he turned towards Ramirez.
"I can't believe the bastards took Ramirez." muttered Dunn, "I'll kill every last one of them myself if I have to. I'm not leaving him behind."
"Didn't think you cared that much about him, but you heard the General. We're not allowed to go looking for him, the mission comes first." said Foley, a part of him hurting that his squad had been in combat for a total of three hours and he'd already lost one.
"I'll miss the kid. He may have been more trouble than he was worth, but.. dunno. He sorta rounded out the team you know?" said Dunn.
"Too right." said Foley. "There's Honey Badger, everybody out!"
"It's ok, you can scream. I know you want to." purred the Russian, running his knife down the side of the American's face. "I see. You think if you say nothing that the torture will stop? Well, you are quite mistaken."
Ramirez had decided that his life was worth less then the hundreds of civilians being evacuated, and had such planned to tell the Russian nothing. Besides, Shepherd would never authorize a rescue op for a single Private. He knew his time would soon be up.
While the rest of the Rangers were crawling over the roadblock which separated the Russian occupied neighborhood from the rest of the Virginian countryside, Sergeant Foley was in a bit of a dilemma. Dunn had decided to ignore orders and head out to find Ramirez. Allen, deciding that Ramirez's capture was his fault also joined Dunn. Foley thus was either going to go without his team or follow his team and risk court-martial.
"Give me your IFF transponders." he said, holding out his hand.
"Why?" asked Dunn, while Allen unclipped his from his helmet.
"If Shepherd can't track you he can't prove you've done anything wrong." said Foley, taking Dunn and Allen's tags and attaching them to his web gear. "Now, go get him back."
"You got it, Sarge." said Allen, slipping around the edge of one of the buildings.
Dunn followed behind and added "Thanks, Sarge. Knew you wouldn't rat us out."
"You know, I'm not really that violent. You should meet Makarov, he'd love to test your determination." continued the Russian, "However, you should know he has a preference of power tools. Something he passed onto me."
Ramirez gulped as he saw the Russian grab a cordless power drill off one of the dusty workbenches that cluttered the basement.
"Not much farther, as long as he still has his tag he should be in that building up ahead." said Allen, leading Dunn across a golf course in an effort to cut time off their trip and reach Ramirez faster. "Shh.. get down. Russian anti-air. Think we should take it out?"
Dunn peered out from behind the tree he dove behind, towards the edge of the golf course was a ZPU and a BMP. "Roger, that. It is our primary objective, after all."
"Alright, lazing the target." said Allen, activating the laser attached to his M4A1.
Soon enough a laser guided artillery shell flew in and destroyed the anti-aircraft battery.
"Alright, enough dawdling. We gotta find Ramirez, and quick!" said Dunn.
"Roger that. Hope he's still okay." said Allen, covering the rear.
"Allen, take the basement. I'll take the upstairs." said Dunn.
"Got it." said Allen, heading down into the abyss.
Allen removed his flashlight from his vest and welded it along with his M9. The beam bounced off the various piles of punk lying in the basement.
"Ramirez? You down here?" asked Allen, listening for Ramirez's reply.
A hoarse and weak voice returned, "Allen? Get..get out of here!"
Allen slowly made his way past the piles towards the source of the voice. The beam passed over a body lying hunched in the corner. Sweeping the beam along Allen found Ramirez huddled on the concrete floor lying in a puddle of blood.
"Ramirez!" shouted Allen, rushing to his wounded friends side. Rolling the Private over he realized the extent of the man's injuries. His face was sliced in numerous places, along with an array of bruises over the entirety of his face and torso. Blood oozed down the front of his t-shirt, Allen pulled the shirt up to reveal a multitude of knife injuries.
"Allen," said Ramirez, struggling to keep his voice audible, "Get out, he'll kill you…"
"No way, I'm not leaving you behind. Com'on, get up." said Allen.
Ramirez grabbed onto his vest in a pitiful attempt to keep Allen from carrying him out, "No..Save yourself…"
"It appears you are too late to save your friend and too late to even save yourself." came a rough Russian voice.
This chapter is dedicated to my editor, who was unable to help me due to him being on vacation. Also, IFF means Identification Friend or Foe. Whether the individual soldier has one, is another matter entirely. But when using a thermal scope a blinking strobe can be seen which implies that they do. Enough babble from me, please Review!
