The Bullet's Whistle (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 20

    "That bastard has quite the safe haven," I mumbled in annoyance.
    "It ain't a safe haven any more," Ghost responded evenly. "Strike team go. Engage Makarov on sight."
    Two comrades, by the names of Scarecrow and Ozone, grunted in agreement. We banked left, heading down a hill for lower ground. Roach brought up my flank, weapon trained for any suspicious activity. 
    Birds flew up out of nearby bushes, causing my forefinger to snatch the tip of the trigger in defense. Ghost also paused to cautiously examine the commotion, his eyes betraying nothing but the need for Makarov's blood behind his sunglasses. Roach let out a relieved breath. 
    "I'm way too jumpy," I muttered to myself. 
    "Well, have you ever had a mission like this?" Roach asked quietly behind me. "A mission to kill a terrorist and a madman who started a war?"
    The last madman I'd gone after had started an internal war and had terrorized the group. He had not, however, exceeded past Marine affairs. Hell, the classified group was to be so secretive that no news station broadcasted the betrayal. 
    It succeeded. 
    "I guess I haven't," I whispered. "But what's the difference between this target and any other—"
    There were sudden, systematic clicking sounds as we pushed onto the flat ground. Ghost braced as the bouncing betties sprung up out of the grass to the height of most everyone's faces. I plopped to the ground on my stomach, dragging Roach with me.
    "Ambush!" Ghost shouted as my whole world went into a stinging sound of wailing. "Targets! Left side!" 
    "Arrghh," I rolled over, picking up my rifle and shaking my head. "Dammit! Get up Roach."
    Roach was slower to kneel and aim up at the attacking enemies up on the cliffside to our left. I took cover behind a tree, feeling the thwap thwap of bullets as they pelted the bark. 
    "They've got this area pre-sighted for mortar fire!" Scarecrow shouted as he reloaded. 
    A huge smoke cloud started billing out in our only pathway ahead. Ghost pressed towards it as he readied his rifle more. I followed, making sure Roach was hot on my heels. 
    "Counterattack into the smoke," Ghost ordered to those who were still alive. 
    I ran through the smoke, my right hand reaching for my combat knife. Just in time, I drew the blade and found the soft tissue of an enemy. He wailed, firing his gun up into the air as I plowed him down and tore my knife out. 
    "Push, push, push!" Ghost hollered as he became invisible in the smoke. 
    I continued forwards, righting my rifle and sheathing my blade, as the footsteps of others became fainter. Roach was appearing off to my left, shaking his right wrist out in aggravation. 
    From behind a stump, a Russian darted out for my legs. I faceplanted onto the hard ground and watched my gun slide away—out of reach and useless. The Russian man raised his pistol to shoot and I harshly smacked the gun, causing him to fire at an angle. 
    "Roach!" I huffed, holding off the strength of the soldier as much as I could. "A little help here? Roach?" 
    Not seeing the younger soldier in sight, panic rose in my throat; it wasn't for my sake, but his. Where had the damn soldier gone? He couldn't have fallen...
    There was a roar of pain from the Russian above me as bullets pummeled into his chest. He fell heavy and I pushed him backwards to slip away unscathed. My eyes shot to the where the savior was running up to me. 
    "That was too close, mate," Ghost huffed and helped me up.
    "We got two trucks leaving the target building," Archer, a sniper who'd stayed at the top of the hill reported. 
    Ghost snapped to the scene. "Don't let those trucks get away!" 
    I picked up my scratched up rifle and jogged forward with the rest of the group. Roach popped out from the far left side of the smoke, unaware of my past struggle. I let out a breath of relief upon knowing his whereabouts. 
    "Firing javelin, danger close," Archer came into the comms again. 
    "The damn things are bulletproof!" I announced after unloading an entire clip on the moving vehicles. 
    "Two away!" Archer reported and then, shortly after, two javelin missiles hammered each of the trucks. "Moving vehicles have been neutralized. Be advised, we have not, I repeat, we have not spotted Makarov, and no one else has left the house. Those trucks may have been decoys." 
    "I don't trust this," I hissed lowly. 
    "Roger that, we're advancing on the house now," Ghost pressed into a steady jog to decrease the distance from us and the house. "Clear the perimeter!"
    I crouched behind a boulder and fired at the scrambling guards. They shot out of order and sporadically, trying to hit those of us they could. Only a few of our men fell to their attempts. 
    "Last one down," Roach commented. 
    Ghost trudged forwards after he reloaded. "Breach and clear the safehouse."
    Roach and I took up the same position at a door. He placed the charge quickly and then nodded to me. I gripped my rifle as he dove into the exploding wood door and shot at a Russian coming down a set of stairs. 
    I aimed right, firing at two more oncoming pressures. Ghost swept through our door and shot straight ahead to cover the two of our flanks. He then proceeded for the office to my right, clearing the room. 
    "Office clear!" he then returned to the main room. "Ozone make sure no one leaves through the kitchen." 
    "Roger." 
    "Scarecrow, gimme a sitrep," Ghost checked a hallway as I headed upstairs with Roach to clear the three rooms. 
    "No one's leaving through the front of the basement." 
    Roach breached the first two rooms while I spun into a secondary open one. One Russian tried to fire as I lit him up. 
    "Go check the basement," I looked at Roach. "This area is clear." 
    "You got it," he bounded down the steps to follow orders. 
     I double- and triple-checked the rooms as I headed back down to the beginning room. Ghost was coming back around a corner as he listened to the shouts of "clear" into the radio system. Upon seeing me he nodded in approval. 
    "All clear. Squad, regroup on me," as he spoke, the group was already working on it. "Scarecrow, photographs." 
    The soldier started taking photos as I stepped up to a desk with a boatload of technological goodies. Roach examined the whole area as well. 
    "Shepherd, this is Ghost. No sign of Makarov," Ghost reported, glancing around at the area. "Captain Price, any luck in Afghanistan?" 
    I perked up to that particular question. 
    "Plenty," came the throaty and dangerous response, "...at least fifty hired guns here, but no sign of Makarov. Perhaps our intel was off." 
    I let out a huff. "That's about to change." 
    Ghost nodded in agreement. "This safehouse is a bloody goldmine." 
    "Copy all," Shepherd came into our ears and I flinched in slight pain. "Ghost, have your team collect everything you can for an operations playbook. Names, contacts, places...everything."
    "We're already on it, sir," Ghost met my gleaming gaze and determined smirk. "Makarov will have nowhere to run." 
    "That's the idea. I'm bringing up an extraction force, E.T.A. five minutes," Shepherd explained. "Get that intel. Shepherd out." 
    "Roach, get on Makarov's computer and start the transfer. Ozone, you're on rear security. I've got the front," Ghost concluded and then headed out the front door. 
    "Task Force, this is Price. More of Makarov's men just arrived at the boneyard," there was an eerie pause. "Soap, cover me. I'm gonna slot that guy over there and use his radio to tap into their comms. Ghost, we're going silent for a few minutes. Good luck up there in Russia. Price out." 
    I couldn't help but smirk to the image of the two good comrades working together. I hated being away from the pair, but I knew they'd get the job done just as my squad would. 
    I stepped forwards as Roach finished connecting the DSM, a nifty little hard drive to transfer files. My gloved fingers spread out over a stack of papers. My eyes narrowed to the title in bold, on the right-hand header: Shadow Company. 
    "Makarov's men are going to do whatever it takes to keep us from leaving with this intel," Ghost pointed out in the comms. "We need to protect the DSM until the transfer's done."
    I lifted the packet and indulged in reading. Makarov had been setting up a decent amount of information with the company. Military based, Shadow Company was an enemy to him by the highlighted areas about strategy and weaponry. 
    SC is just a company interested in investing...
    My fingers allowed the papers to slide out of my grasp to the floor. 
    SC- Strategy...SC- Weaponry...
    Was it the same people? The same company? My eyes scanned over an image of a hidden base in Afghanistan and I peered closer. The men in the hidden footage weren't wearing business suits, but uniforms. They were wearing uniforms I didn't recognize. 
    "Defensive positions. Let's go!" 
    "No," I whispered, shaking my head. 
    SC wasn't an investment company. No, the letters stood for their whole name: Shadow Company. Shadow Company was an enemy of Makarov and a group Shepherd had information on. How was it possible for them to have similar intel? 
    Shepherd was good at his tactics and his wording. He could get the information he needed, whenever he needed it. There was a possibility he'd gotten the intel before Makarov and hadn't yet gotten a chance to explain it to the One-Four-One for significance. 
    "Fox?" Roach poked his head in from where he'd been setting up claymores. "Are you in position?" 
    I took one last look at the stack of papers, deciding that if Shepherd had them, they weren't any bother for further reading. I backed away and gripped my rifle steadier. 
    "How many of us are left?" 
    "Four," Roach held up fingers. 
    "Let's make every damn bullet count then."