This is probably the most OMG chapter of the entire story so far. Just letting you know. You are GUARANTEED to go "OMG!"
Just letting you all know that my email for this story is on my profile (IDK why it wasn't showing up in the last chapter) Please email me with ideas and such! XD
Question of the Chapter: How has this story affected your life? I mean, how much do you read it? How much do you wish you were Queen? (I know all the Ghost fangirls do that XD) How much do you check for an update? Just curious... I'll use this information for the sequel... ^_^
Oh, and I wrote a One-Shot for Ghost called Dream Warriors. Go check it out, please!
R&E&R!
Love you guys! :D
-ecto1B
WARNING: STRONG LANGUAGE USED (F-WORD... yeah...)
Chapter 27:
"Contingency"
Day 6 – 11:22:35
Pfc. Mckinley 'Queen' Front
Task Force 141
14 miles SSE of Petropavlovsk, Russia
Like Mckinley had known all along, her landing had been far from agreeable. Everything else about the descent had gone well. Her parachute had deployed smoothly… she'd approached the ground at a rather even speed. So what had made her landing so rough?
Trees.
A long row of them had obstructed her landing. It was if they'd seen her coming. Their spindly branches knotted together to form a great big tree branch wall. And she'd plowed straight into them. So not only was she covered in snow, Mckinley's hair was snarled with frail wood sticks that poked ceaselessly into her scalp. Wrenching herself from the clutch of trees, she'd tumbled downward and landed on her ass, right in the snow. Cold, in pain, livid… and alone.
"Uh, guys?" She remained on the ground, unclipping her chute from her back. The radio on her shoulder was still working, and she was going to use it. Price was supposed to be running down the hill towards her about then. He wasn't anywhere in sight. "Where the hell are you all?"
Static from the radio was her answer.
"Shit." Mckinley hauled herself up from the frigid snow and dusted herself off. "They're not responding. Just wonderful."
But suddenly, a familiar voice came onto the radio.
"Price, I can barely see Queen's chute in my satellite feed. Too much interference. Do you see her, over?"
You know what, 'Tavish? Fuck you.
From up the hill, a man decked in slinky white camouflage and a disfigured army cap dashed towards her. In his hand, he carried a slender sniper rifle, donned with a silencer. When he spotted Mckinley, his eyes grew wide.
"Roger that, Soap," said Price, kneeling down in the snow a few feet away from where Mckinley stood. "I found Queen. She appears to be intact." Overhead, a group of helicopters lugging jeeps and equipment soared past them through the blue-white sky. "We're gonna head northwest to the sub base, over."
"Copy that," replied MacTavish. "The rest of the team landed near Ghost, pretty far to the east."
A chord in her heart strung deliriously, sending an anguished note echoing through her insides. Ghost. She'd have to wait a while before she saw him. He'd meet up with her at the base. This specific part of the mission was only for her and Price, since the others had landed so far away. But she did wonder if she could find the radio frequency he was on and drop him a line…
"Tell them to proceed with the mission. We'll regroup if possible."
"If?" Mckinley echoed in disbelief. He didn't sound too sure… then again, she knew they would run into the others eventually, so she didn't worry too much.
Price ignored her. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, and then met her gaze. "Queen, follow me and stay out of sight." Mckinley did a double take when his voice came from her earpiece. She quickly realized that he was speaking through the radio in order to stay undetected. Shrugging, she stood from her place in the snow, pulled the M14 Rifle from her back, and trailed after Price up the hill.
At the moment, everything was peaceful and fairly beautiful. Mckinley glanced up and around at the scenery, trying to recall the last time she'd seen so much snow. Lining the path they were taking, trees shined with snow-covered leaves; the bushes and shrubs along the earth remained stock-solid in their coating of winter white. She took in a breath of the frosty air and then exhaled. The air was so cold, a puff of white expanded from between her teeth. And as she inhaled, she noticed that the atmosphere smelled of pine, with faint traces of smoke from the nearby Russian base. Every so often, sticky snowflakes drifted down through the cold midday air, adhering to Mckinley's jacket and already-messy locks. She groaned and swiped at an incoming flake, only to have Price spin around and shush her. He frowned for a single second before continuing up the hill.
"Party pooper," she muttered under her breath.
Out of nowhere, Price began speed-walking over to a nearby tree, ducking behind it. Mckinley mimicked him and found another tree to take cover behind.
"Contact," he said simply. "Enemy patrol 30 meters to our front."
A small group of Russian soldiers were marching on the road ahead. They looked almost identical to the guys they'd fought on the oilrig and in the gulag. The only difference was that there was a gaunt-looking German Shepherd shadowed them at their heels.
"Five men," Price murmured. "Automatic rifles, frag grenades. One German Shepherd."
"Dogs, I hate dogs," MacTavish gritted through the radio, paying homage to the famous Indiana Jones line, "Snakes. I hate snakes." Mckinley chuckled to herself, and then glanced down her sights at the men down the way, watching as they strolled on without noticing anything peculiar.
"These Russian dogs are like pussycats compared to the ones in Pripyat," Price spat, choosing that moment to reflect on one of his darker moments in the past. Since Mckinley hadn't played the first Modern Warfare and had only read his bio on Wikipedia, she knew he'd faced some ill-tempered dogs before getting himself locked in the gulag. She wondered how bad they'd been…
"It's good to have you back, old man," MacTavish chortled.
"Roger that." Price stepped from behind the tree and steadily treaded closer to the road. "Let's follow them quietly and pick off any stragglers."
Mckinley nodded and walked behind him, racking her brain to remember how many Russian soldiers she'd have to kill before the two of them reached the submarine base. She also thought back to how many times she'd come close to death at Price led her through the snow-blanketed woodlands in the distance, and hoped the mission would pass by quickly.
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While her lungs screamed to be given a rest and her legs threatened to give out underneath her, Mckinley plodded up the hill after Price. She continued to curse under her breath at Price, who seemed energetic and raring to go. They'd just survived a legion of patrolling Russian troops, packs of savage dogs and two huge BTRs that nearly plowed into her. And Price was acting as if none of that had ever happened. How did he do it? She sighed and clutched her stomach, considering going back to the base once the mission was over and running the course a bazillion times. She needed to get more active if she was to keep accompanying the unstoppable Price machine…
"Soap, what's the status of our air support, over?"
Heh, he said "stay-tus." British people are so fricken' amazing.
MacTavish's reply was prompt. "A UAV loaded with AGMs is en route to your position."
"Roger that." The two soldiers reached the top of the hill and stopped. Below, a gorgeous view greeted them. With frosty-white mountains peaking into the pure blue sky in the distance and the cobalt ocean skimming the edges of the land, the dipping landscape would've made the perfect Christmas card, had it not been for the huge SAM sights and the crane poking from the village. Mckinley snapped a quick mental image and released a breath. The muscles in her cheeks were unable to conceal a satisfied smile while the spectacle was in view.
To her left, Price laid on his stomach.
"This ridge is perfect," he remarked. "Queen, take control of the Predator drone."
It was then that Mckinley noticed the UAV control box strapped on her backpack. She reached behind her and unclipped it, bringing it to her chest and opening the top. From the screen, the UAV was transmitting the images it was receiving overhead of the base. Quickly, she targeted in on the closest SAM site, but just as she did, it fired on the UAV. The screen fizzed and blacked out.
"Bollocks!" Price fumed, slamming a fist down on the snow.
"What just happened?" MacTavish inquired swiftly.
"There's a mobile SAM site in the village," Price informed him.
"It just shot down our Predator," Mckinley added dismally.
"Soap, we need another Predator!" Price stood and looked in Mckinley's direction briefly. "Queen, let's go." Instantly, the scruffy-looking captain slid feet-first down the hill, leaving Mckinley to watch him and laugh. Once he was near the bottom, she put her gun on her belt and followed right behind him.
At the base of the hill, a crate with numerous guns caught Mckinley's eye. She dropped her M14 in the snow and snatched up a shiny M240 with a Heartbeat Sensor attachment.
"STAND BACK!" came a voice suddenly to the north of their position. "GET BACK!"
The SAM sight blew apart on cue, sending debris scattering across a large radius. Mckinley ducked behind the crate of weapons and fiddled with the M240 in her hand. Had Price blown it up? Who had—
A squad of soldiers dashed from over a snow-covered peak near the north. Mckinley, assuming they were Russian, aimed the Red Dot sight at the nearest man and began pulling the trigger. But something didn't seem right.
"Check your fire! Check your fire!" said the front man, sprinting towards Price and Mckinley. "Friendlies coming in at your twelve!"
She lowered the gun when the skull-adorned balaclava came into view. Ghost?
The entire team huddled behind one of the village buildings, while the mad cries of the Russians echoed nearby, and the rabid sound of gunfire followed suit. Smoke still billowed from the destroyed SAM, turning the snow around it to a charred black. Mckinley backed against the wooden cottage with her newly-reunited comrades, smiling and greeting each one. Bearcat, Cyclops, Taco and Whiskey now joined their group, along with Ghost, of course.
"Nice work on that SAM site," Price commented.
Ghost slammed against the cottage wall next to Price.
"Thanks, but we better get moving—those explosions are gonna attract a lot of attention."
"Glad you could make it," Mckinley grinned wryly at the men. "I thought Price and I would have to do this mission all by ourselves." She paused. "'Cause it's not like we need help from Lieutenant Facemask over there…" she jabbed a thumb in Ghost's direction. In response, Ghost laughed, walked over and mussed up her hair with his knuckles.
"You sure like to mess with me, Queen," he observed.
A lone bullet skimmed the edge of the house, signaling the team to get a move on. The enemy was closing in on their position, and just standing there wasn't doing any good.
"Frag out!" cried Taco, flinging a frag grenade over their heads that landed near a cluster of Russian men. The frag detonated, creating a blinding flash of white light that caused the soldiers to stumble about in the snow, covering their eyes.
"Go! Go! Go!" Ghost hollered, leading the swarm up the hill and opening fire at the stunned enemy.
On Mckinley's Heart Beat sensor, a clump of white dots were huddled to the team's left, hiding behind one of the houses and preparing to ambush them. Quickly, she rushed to the head of the group and unleashed a wild mass of gunfire from her M240 on the hidden men. Going through her entire clip on that assault, the seven Russian soldiers fell to the ground and remained unmoving. She smirked proudly and took shelter behind a tree to reload the extensively difficult weapon. Her frostbitten fingers struggled to lay the new rack of bullets in the holster, so it was taking some time to—
"Queen, watch your back!" Bearcat yelled from behind, and Mckinley spun around to see an angry Russian soldier carrying his AK-47 like a club. He raised it over his head and jabbed at her. Instinctively, Mckinley dove from his attack and landed in the snow. From her belt, she unsheathed her tactical knife and gripped it in a Harries position with the blade facing away from her. Wait, how the hell am I doing this? Again, the man came after her with the butt of the gun; a deranged Russian battle cry accompanying his attack. Dodging the blow by moving her shoulder, Mckinley shut her eyes stabbed the knife into the man's chest.
"QUEEN!" her team cried in unison, watching the limp man—soaked in newly spurting blood—topple onto her. Mckinley yelped in alarm, attempting to pull herself from underneath the dying man. Her face contorted into a look of nausea at the sight of the blood spilling from his wound and onto her white cameo jacket. She wanted to scream. Hand-to-hand combat terrorized her, and she'd just endured it. Why hadn't she just wrenched the gun from him, or used her USP pistol, or even fled before he hit her? Why had her hands jumped to using her knife? Tears began to form at her eyes. Another man was dead at her hands. She glanced down warily at the man who was keeping her on the snow; through his goggles, she watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. Mckinley choked back another scream and looked away.
"Queen, you all right?" Ghost and Whiskey ran over and yanked the dead soldier off of her to reveal the poor, cowering girl, her chest covered in an unholy red. Whiskey went to extract Mckinley's knife, while Ghost helped her to her feet and cradled her for a moment in his arms.
"I h-h-hate hand-to-hand combat," she stuttered into Ghost's scarf. "I hate k-killing a man like th-that. I'm not a b-bad person…"
"Shh… I know you're not a bad person," the masked man replied soothingly. The rest of the team continued to take down the oncoming Russians around them as Ghost helped Mckinley recover. "He would've killed you, though. You did the right thing. It's over now."
From nearby, Price watched the embracing pair with a vaguely suspicious glint in his eyes. It went unnoticed by everyone but Mckinley, and by the look on his face, Price had fathomed something irregular in Mckinley's actions. Gulping, she stepped away from Ghost's hug and finished loading her gun. His eyes were still locked on her. Did he know she wasn't Queen? Would the real Queen have made such a big deal over stabbing a man? Her heart pounded adrenaline inconsistently through her veins at the thought. Was she done for?
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"I'm going for the sub!" Price hollered, making a break for the docking bay where the grey submarine waited. "Cover me from that guardhouse by the west gate!"
"Roger that!" Ghost bent down behind a crate to reload and met Mckinley's gaze. "Queen, we have to get to that guardhouse by the west gate to cover Price! Follow me!"
"Is there an echo out here?" she retorted loudly, sidestepping a barrage of badly-aimed gunfire. "I mean, I did here Price say something similar…"
"You can tease me later, Private," Ghost said in an unusually stern tone, sending a chill down her spine. "Right now we need to focus on keeping Price outta harm's way."
She sucked in a breath. "O…kay then."
When the group reached the roof of the guardhouse, Mckinley ducked behind the railing and used the controller to direct an AGM at a pair of incoming Russian trucks. Once they went up in smoke, she stood again and began tearing through the enemy defenses lining the dock.
"All right, I'm inside the sub!" came Price's enthusiastic voice through the radio. "Cover me, I need a few minutes!"
To arm and launch the nuclear missile Mckinley added in her head. Even though the rest of us think that you're disabling it.
"Contact to the north, on the dock next to the sub!"
"Roger that, Ghost," Taco said, grabbing an RPG-7 that was leaning on the railing and firing upon the soldiers Ghost had mentioned. Mckinley patted him on the back kindly and grinned.
"Nice work, dude."
The huge siren wailed from the bowels of the base, alerting everyone that the sub was near its departure. And still, throngs of men slithered from every corner towards the small guardhouse. Bearcat, Cyclops, Taco, Whiskey and Ghost carried on with their incessant battering of the enemy, and Mckinley paused only once to see parts of the submarine moving…
"Price, are you there?" Ghost asked. He'd picked up on the movement as well. "The silo doors are opening on the sub, I repeat, the silo doors are opening on the sub!"
No answer.
"Price, come in! They're opening the silo doors on the sub! Hurry!"
Silence. Mckinley facepalmed.
"PRICE, DO YOU COPY? THE SILO DOORS ARE OPEN, I REPEAT, THE SILO DOORS ARE OPEN!"
Man, Ghost's accent is so hot when he's yelling…
Finally, Price replied.
"Good."
Like the sound of a volcano erupting and spewing out immense amounts of red hot lava, a thin black nuclear missile lifted off from the submarine and straight into the blue sky.
"Wait, wait! WAIT! PRICE! NO!" Ghost screamed as everyone else—with jaws dropped—watched the slender missile ascend into the sky with fire at its tail. Mckinley glanced at it once with her eyes, but was uninterested. She already knew what Price's intentions were, and that this missile, when acting as an EMP, would save America. No need to get mental about it. Instead, she honed in on Ghost's unlawfully sexy accent as he spoke hysterically into the radio.
"We have a nuclear missile launch! Missile in the air! Missile in the air!" Ghost met Mckinley's gaze briefly, and she noticed that behind his sunglasses, his blue eyes were fully open and dilated in anxiety. "CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK!"
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Aboard the Pave Low, all was silent. Either no one could speak, or no one wanted to break the peace. There were spaces between each soldier on the benches; each was huddled alone in their seat. Everyone's faces revealed shock, distress, disbelief, or a mixture of all three. Since Price had sent the Russian missile into orbit, and since Ghost had shouted franticly, no one had said a word. Not even Mckinley wanted to talk. She faked distress on her face and took one of the numerous unoccupied seats around Price.
At that second, MacTavish exited the cockpit and came into the belly of the helicopter with a grim, humorless facial expression behind his unshaven face.
"Well…" he began, clearing his throat. Heads turned to look at him. "All I can really say is that there are positives and negatives to what occurred today."
"Positives?" Ghost repeated angrily, standing from his place on the bench. "How can their be positives to a spontaneous nuclear ICBM launch?" He pointed a finger at Price. "This man lied to us, 'Tavish. He told us we were goin' there to disarm the bloody missile. Not fucking launch it!"
"Ghost, please," MacTavish implored him, sensing the hostility of his lieutenant radiating off him. "Price knew what he was doing. He saved Washington D.C. from the invading Russians. The missile acted as an EMP in the upper atmosphere, giving the U.S. Army Rangers enough time to collect their bearings and push back the enemy."
"But he lied to us, 'Tavish!" Ghost countered. "He could'a told us what he was planning on doing! We could'a been in on it!" He gnashed his teeth and turned his head away. "Instead, the bloody prat decides to give us all heart attacks."
At this, Price also stood. "Ghost, I fully understand where you're coming with this. But I had a feeling that if I told you, there would be complications. Keeping it a secret was necessary for a successful mission."
"Complications?" Ghost snarled. He stomped across the floor and got right in Price's face. "There were—"
"Enough!" MacTavish and Mckinley yelled at the same time. Everyone's attention whipped to Mckinley, who shrunk back in her seat and turned beet red.
MacTavish put a hand on Ghost's shoulder. "Ghost, what's done is done. The past is the past, and we can't change it." He paused. "When we get to Encounter, Shepherd would like to speak to all three of us. He has another mission for us to complete that could end the war once and for all." His eyes darted to Price, to Ghost, and back again. "I will not tolerate my men fighting."
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"Queen, may I speak to you for a moment?" asked Price, calling to Mckinley as she exited the Pave Low. She nodded unsurely, waved goodbye to Bearcat and the others, and crunched through the snow towards Captain Price. Ghost and MacTavish had already set off for the briefing tent, where Shepherd was waiting on the radio for them.
"What is it, Price?"
He tilted his head to the right, studying her. His lips pursed and his beard scrunched up. She gulped.
"Uhm… Price?" Mckinley waved a hand in front of his face. "You okay?"
Finally, the man spoke. "You're not Queen, are you?"
Dunn: O_O
Foley: O_O
Ramirez: O_O
ecto1B: (snickers) Heheh...
Dunn: This definitely deserves a Dunn Dunn Dunn.
DUNN DUNN DUNN
Foley: OMG. That's all I'll say. OMG.