Not Alone in the Dark

Allen unloaded his pistol at the sound of the voice.

"Ah, how predictable.." said the voice. "You Americans are so similar in your methods."

Allen caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was too late. The Russian had managed to pin him to the floor, and had a knife dangerously close to his jugular. A swift hit with the butt of his pistol caused the Russian to back-off, albeit briefly. Rolling to his feet, Allen drew his combat knife. Before he could assume a defensive stance the Russian had slashed him, checking his cheek with a gloved hand revealed fresh blood. Viktor responded by licking the blood off his knife blade. Bad enough he got stuck fighting a weird Russian in a dark basement, now he was fighting one who had a taste for blood.

With impressive speed for a man of his size, Viktor attacked. He led with a slide kick which left Allen looking at the ceiling and followed it with several quick strikes to the areas of Allen's torso unprotected by his Kevlar vest.

"I want you to die slowly," said the Russian coolly, methodically stabbing the soldier. "Your kind does not deserve a quick death…"

Satisfied he'd caused the soldier enough pain, he stood up and unholstered his Desert Eagle, "But alas, I have a schedule to keep. Have fun in hell, American."

And the sound of a solitary gunshot filled the basement.

Finally, MacTavish's shift had come to an end. He exited his chair and quietly stretched his muscles, strained from being hunched over a computer all day. Silently, he packed his things and walked out of the office complex and out into the cool afternoon air. Once more he looked down at the small slip of paper on which he had wrote the names of possible callers. He was still no closer to knowing who called him but he had a hunch, but it was impossible. The man had died five years earlier. True, stranger things had happened but as far as he knew the dead didn't rise and they sure as hell didn't call up people from their past lives. Even if Price had managed to survive the events on the bridge it didn't explain his being in Russia. A special assignment seemed unlikely. And why call now? As mulled over this he found himself standing in the middle of the road, he looked up just in time to see a blue pickup truck barreling down the hill.

"Get the fuck off the road, dumbass!" yelled the Driver.

MacTavish said nothing as he continued his trek back to the comfort of the 141 barracks, at least their he was surrounded by those who understood him.

It was movie night, Ghost always enjoyed movie night. Recently, he'd bought the Saw XIII and had been itching to watch it, partly because Roach always ended up screaming like a little girl at least once during any horror movie. Sure it was more of a brutally violent mental thriller but try explaining that to Roach. Currently, the ensemble were arguing over what film to watch.

"I wanna watch Bleach." said Roach, pouting on the floor in front of Ghost, trying to get things to go his way.

"I wish to watch this movie," said Nikolai, readying the popcorn. "I think they called it Twilight? I have heard rave reviews about it."

The entire group groaned at his request.

"What? Is it that bad of a film?" asked Nikolai.

"Look, you only watch those movies for one of two reasons. A) You're a fan-girl. Or B) you're the boyfriend of said fan-girl who's trying to get laid." said Royce, thinking back to his younger years when he was the one pulling reason B.

Apparently, that answer was good enough for Nikolai as he silently took his seat, his bowl of popcorn in his lap.

"How 'bout, we watch Saw XIII? Whoever pisses their pants first has to clean the latrine everyday for a week?" bet Ghost, knowing full well that Roach would lose before the opening credits.

The maid entered the room, noticed Ghost and plopped down on the couch next to him. "So Ghosty, watcha watching?" she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

"Saw.." he said quietly.

"Oooo.. That movies scary. How 'bout we watch a romantic comedy instead?" she said, rubbing his chest softly.

"Roach! We happen to have any romantic comedies on the shelf?" asked Ghost, sounding more like a direct order then a question.

After several minutes of digging fruitlessly through piles of pornography and other videos common to a base full of men who haven't seen a woman in quite a while, Roach found a battered copy of Titanic lying in the bottom of the stack.

"Will Titanic work? I don't think that Girls Gone Wild counts as a romantic comedy." said Roach, inserting the old DVD into the player.

The maid leaned her head on Ghost's shoulder, "This movie reminds me of us." she said.

Ghost gulped. A decently reliable source had informed him that if a woman says a movie during which the male half of the romance is killed is a reminder of you that you may find yourself dead by the end of the week. But, having the relationship skills of a toddler he was unable to voice his concern.

Allen raised himself off the floor and winced at the various open wounds that ran down his side. He turned to his left to see Ramirez, clutching a M9 in his bloody hand. Painfully, he crawled over to his friend. Applying field dressings from his small first aid kit, Allen said "Thought you never killed a man.."

"I haven't…Until now.." Ramirez said, his voice barely audible over the sound of someone trying to bash down the doors to the basement. "First time for everything, I guess…"

Finally, the door shattered and the room was bathed in light from outside.

"Allen! You down here?" shouted Dunn, his voice reverberating off the concrete block basement.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But we need an evac for Ramirez, he's not doing so good!" returned Allen, finding for every wound he patched two more would emerge.

"Shit. Alright. I'll tell Foley to get one called in." said Dunn, before he headed back outside to find their Sergeant.

"Com'on Ramirez. Stick with me, buddy." said Allen, trying to keep the rookie from passing out.

"Allen…t-tell my mom… Tell her I love her.." said Ramirez weakly.

"Tell yourself, Private." said Foley, while Allen was busy talking to himself Foley had snuck up behind him. "I figured something like this would happen.. Evac bird is waiting outside."

Turning to Ramirez, he added with a smile "You did good, you did damn good."

As Ramirez was being carried outside to the waiting Blackhawk, Dunn clamored down the old wooden steps and into the basement. "Whoa, Allen you okay?" he asked, noticing the blood that covered Allen's BDU shirt. Truth be told, Allen couldn't tell what blood had came from Ramirez and what had came from himself.

"Allen, get yourself checked out. These guys aren't going anywhere." said Foley, referring to the two corpses lying on the floor of the basement. Allen nodded in agreement and walked out of the basement into the sun.

Ramirez has been in this story since Chapter 2 and after this long, he finally decides to kill someone. But I think that this version was better written then my old way of explaining it. Also, the fight in the basement was going so poorly for Allen because the fact that his Kevlar vest is pretty heavy and hinders his movement. Viktor on the other hand didn't wear as much armor but was much faster, hence he took a 9MM and died. Rest in Peace, Viktor.

As always, Read and Review!