This is it, guys! The penultimate chapter! I'll post the last one a bit later on but for now enjoy this one and I'll put all my heartfelt messages in the next (and final!) installment!

Undisclosed MI6 safehouse, Al-Asad

"Time, Sharp?"

"1745 hours, sir."

"Good stuff. We're fifteen minutes early. Oh well, no point in hanging around. Get these OpFor fatigues on."

The nine men swapped their Multicam for olive green trousers and black shirts, but kept their weapons and equipments. They then used shemaghs and various scrim scarves to cover their faces. Before they opened the door, Buckle turned to all of them.

"Remember, keep weapons down. If someone speaks to you in Arabic, speak to them in Russian. If someone speaks to you in Russian, answer in Arabic. And for the love of God, don't get confrontational. We can't afford to fight an entire city. I'll take point. Now come on, the second safehouse is nearby."

With that he opened the door and the squad stepped out into Al-Asad.

Sharp stepped out and stopped in his tracks. The city looked like somebody's interpretation of hell. Many buildings had been levelled by US artillery and flyovers and those that were still standing were missing roofs and whole walls. Fires burnt throughout the city, forcing the patrol to choose their route carefully so as to avoid burning cars and pools of oil that had congealed under the vehicles.

As they ran, Sharp noticed that the population in the area was predominantly militia. Civvies were few and far between, many of them had taken shelter in basements.

I hope they get out of here before the Americans come along and level the entire city, Sharp thought grimly.

The militia on the other hand looked as if they had no intention of taking cover at all. There were lines of OpFor soldiers thirty men long who were being handed out magazines and weapons. Some were setting up heavy machine guns and some anti-aircraft guns that looked to be twenty years old. All the while officers in berets that looked to be from different countries (Sharp had to do a double take when he saw one in a green Royal Marine beret discussing tactics with another soldier wearing the tan beret of the US Rangers) stood around and shouted what sounded like either orders or propaganda, inciting their men to 'repel the Western invader'.

Buckle motioned down an alleyway; they were turning off the main roads and heading down winding paths with tall buildings either side. They passed all sorts of horrors that made their blood run cold. A corpse lay in a gutter filled with shit and piss. His face had been chewed off by dogs who fled when Buckle's patrol ran down the alley. His left leg was just hanging onto his body by a few red strands and his right leg was completely missing.

Possibly a robbery that went horribly wrong, Sharp thought, scared civilians looting while they had the opportunity.

He was wrong. Buckle put his hand up in the air in a closed fist. Stop. The whole patrol stopped and raised weapons, covering the entire alley ready for an ambush. Then they heard it. Screaming. Not just a single scream, but a long, drawn out cry of agonising pain. They threw themselves against the wall of a house, four people on one side of the door and five people on the other side of it. Weapons raised again, they listened out for the cries again. They were coming from inside the house they had 'stacked up' against.

"Sharp," Buckle whispered. He pointed at the windows either side of the door and motioned to Sharp to look through one.

"I'll take the other," he said.

They both peered through.

Inside the room was poorly lit. A bare lightbulb hang uselessly from the ceiling. The main illumination came from the fire on the other side of the house, which just made everything clearer. There were three Russians standing around an Arabic civilian. The Arab looked terrified; his clothes were filthy and ripped. His shoes had holes in and piss had pooled around the chair he had been tied to. One of the Russians, who Sharp assumed was the commander, took out a cigarette and lit it. He leaned over to the Arab and blew the smoke in his face. The Arab coughed and the three Russians laughed. The Arab started to cry. The Russians laughed even harder. The commander yelled something at his two men and then went over to the desk in the room. The other two Russians dragged the Arab over to the desk and slammed his right hand down onto it. All the while the man kept yelling at them in Arabic, shouting the same sentence over and over again. The Russians paid him no attention. The commander, still smoking, picked up a machete which had been leaning on the desk. He raised it above his head and slammed it on the Arab's right wrist. The blade cut clean through the wrist and the right hand flew off, leaving a bloody stump in its wake. The Arab screamed but couldn't move, the two Russians held him down firmly. They laughed as the commander took a pistol out from a holster and shot the Arab clean through the head. He flew back, crashing into the chair and sprawling in the puddle of piss. The commander pointed at the corpse and then at the door the SAS soldiers were on the other side of, all the while yelling in fast Russian.

Buckle pulled away from the window and grabbed Sharp's shoulder.

"When that Russian bastard opens the door, I want Watts on point with the shotgun. He blasts the fucker in the face and then steps back. At this point get someone to stand in the doorway and fire inside, everyone else fires through these windows. No time to check if everyone died; we have to keep moving. Clear?"

Sharp nodded and relayed the order down the line.

"Watts!" Buckle said, "grab your shotgun and get to the door!"

Watts smiled and pulled out his Remington 870 shotgun. He stood in the front of the door and waited. The door swung open and there stood a Russian with the dead Arab in his hands. The Russian stared dumbly at Watts, who smiled and blasted the shotgun full in the Russian's face. The Arab fell to the floor and the Russian was knocked ten metres back into the room. Watts immediately stepped back and Sharp took his position in the door. He levelled his M4 at the Russian commander, who had dropped the cigarette from his mouth and was running for his weapon. Sharp fired at the same time the six other guys opened fire – Watts was now watching the alleyway.

The 5.56mm rounds smashed the glass and tore through the soft parts of the Russians, ruining the face, hands and legs. Wherever they found a plate of body armour they buried through and lodged themselves in the chest and stomach. The two Russians were dead before they hit the floor.

"Bug out!" Sharp gave the call. Buckle turned and ran, closely followed by the rest of the patrol. They kept on running, heading down alleyways, side streets and just running across main roads, dodging other OpFor patrols and keeping their heads down. After five more minutes of running, Buckle finally put a closed fist up in the air and the patrol flattened against the nearest wall, covering all other angles. He then pointed at a building across the street from them.

"Safehouse number two fellas!" He shouted out, "Sharp, when we get there I want Delta fireteam on point – you guys are to sweep bottom floor. I'll take Charlie upstairs and clear the top floor. Intel reports there are only two floors; no basement and no attic. There's also no garden, so we clear the two floors, check for intel and leave. Clear?"

Sharp turned and looked at Watts.

"You'll need your shotgun again." He said. Watts patted it.

"Ready and waiting, sarn't."

"Go!" Buckle yelled. Sharp immediately went first and ran across the street followed by the rest of Delta fireteam and then Charlie fireteam behind. About halfway across the street Watts sprinted in front of Sharp and took the lead. He ran at the door and planted his foot on it, knocking it off its hinges and sending it to the ground. He then raised his shotgun and fired at the surprised Russian in front on him. The Russian fell back, ball bearings pock-marking his face and torso. The rest of Delta fireteam ran in behind Watts and started to fan out, keeping their weapons high and watching all corners. Sharp stood in front of them and raised his hand above his head. Single file. The guys silently got into position behind him as Charlie fireteam ran into the house and headed up the stairs.

Delta started pushing forward into the house, keeping eyes and ears open. At the end of a short corridor was another door. Sharp motioned for the team to 'stack up' on one side of the door, which they did. Sharp then pulled a flashbang from his waistcoat, activated and threw it inside the dark room. He waited for a few seconds, then heard the reassuring bang and saw the flash of light from under the door frame. He threw the door open and put his left foot inside. His left foot found no floor to land on and Sharp collapsed as he rolled down a flight of stairs.

Groaning, he opened his eyes and saw two OpFor soldiers shaking their heads, recovering from the flashbang. One of them quickly clocked Sharp rolling around on the floor and bolted for his AK-47. He picked it up, cocked it and aimed it at Sharp's head. Sharp closed his eyes.

Fuck. I'm not meant to die at the barrel of a gun, he thought, waiting for the inevitable.

He heard two gunshots and then felt a splash of something fall on his face.

Is that it? Am I dead? Well, I've felt worse. Sharp opened his eyes. He looked around and saw both OpFor soldiers lying dead on the ground, each with a round between their eyes. Standing over him was Luke Freeman, M4 still smoking and looking proud with himself.

"Quality shooting, ain't that right, sarn't?" Freeman beamed and held out his hand. Sharp took it and Freeman pulled him up. Watts and Stewart were also in the basement and had had a look round but come up empty handed.

"Nothing, Sharp," Stewart spat onto the ground, "It looks like they had to leave in a hurry. There's a lot of ashes around and they're mildly warm. They must have bugged out 12 hours, max."

Sharp frowned. "I'll let Buckle know," he said, and pulled out his radio.

"Sir? It's Sharp here."

"Go ahead Sharp."

"We've had a dig round and turned up some warm ashes, sir. Recent. They've been here sir."

"Excellent, we're getting close. We're going to have to forgo that status report on the city – Six have detected movement round the Frog site and want us to get there as soon as we can. The Americans will have to invade the city unprepared. Oh, and we've found some keys to some vehicles. Let's go – we have less than twenty four hours to destroy the FROGS."