#omar sulaman

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 5

Summary: Rory is contacted by Laswell, and her journey to Urzikstan begins

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - no major warnings for this chapter, character with trauma

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 1.8 k

[AO3]

October 28, 2019 - Fulham, London, UK

Her eyes opened slowly with the fluttering of lashes, her mouth dry with the acrid taste of hours-old whiskey sticking to her gums as sunlight streamed into the bedroom, burning with the intensity of the bright blue sky and the white clouds that blew past. The sounds of distant traffic carried in through her window, London had arisen from its grave – and it was about time she got up off her arse as well. Groaning feebly, Rory rolled over and slapped her hand around the surface of the bedside table in a half-hearted search for her phone, before finally finding it and checking the time. Bugger. 9 AM. Her hands dragged through her knotted, haphazard mess of hair as she opened the text notification she had received from Laswell: CC’d you as requested by John. Get back to me when you can. 

No rest for the wicked.

The crawl out of bed to head downstairs was painful. Drinking whiskey at three in the morning was hardly her most intelligent decision and despite not usually being a lightweight, she could feel it now – head banging, thoroughly dehydrated – rough was the best word to describe her. Her legs dragged as she set up her laptop at the kitchen island and peeled the wrapper off a blueberry muffin, biting into it as she opened her private email on a protected server. Clicking open the attached encrypted file, she was delivered the intel collected from Price and Garrick’s raid on the house in Camden Town. A plethora of gems that when dug through could take her in yet more directions, including possible leads into other terrorist cells across the west – but that would be better served for another time. 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she focused her attention on the packet regarding ‘The Wolf’ AKA Omar Sulaman, her enemy number one for the last two years, a former freedom fighter in Urzikstan who had since begun his own terrorist organization with Al-Qatala. Rory sipped her tea and searched for some semblance of normality, a return to form as she buried herself in work, keeping her head just above water. The flinching in her muscles was an all too acute reminder of the desire she felt to be found useful, an unsteady leg shaking as she bounced her foot under the island. The creak of her stool under the relentless assault of her jittery leg was a piercing sting in her ears. Sitting still only worked for so long before restlessness took hold. 

Quick to unwrap her newest pack of smokes, Rory slipped a cigarette between her lips and walked out onto the cramped, enclosed patch of grass some would call a garden. Bringing the lighter to the tip, she let the flame dance back and forth against it as she lost herself in the thought of the regrettable conversation she would have to hold soon with her father. Heading off into another war zone, fighting side by side with Price, doing exactly what she had promised she wouldn’t. Rebellion through following orders. She kicked off her slippers and stepped out into the blades of grass hardened by the frost that had formed overnight and had yet to melt under the heat of the sun. Little needles stabbing into the soft undersides of her feet like a poor man’s acupuncture, forcing her to face reality – Grounding as she recalled it being referred to by her therapist. The repeated calls of the robins and sparrows was a friendly sound of things being restored to their rightful place instead of the dead silence that had loomed over the city. Tilting her face up towards the sun, the warmth was a comfort against her skin even as the cold breeze chapped her cheeks turning them ruddy. Not too much longer and she would be missing the rain, returning to the heat of the desert she seemed unable to escape from. 

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, the smoke curled in her lungs, constricting the passageways. Slowly choking herself just to feel alive. She sighed and a heavy plume of smoke drifted over her lips as her eyes closed, letting the stress release fully with each breath. Focus was a hard thing to achieve when her mind was buzzing, and yet forcing herself to pay attention to every sense, maintaining control over her body and mind did have the desired effect. Her brain wasn’t a rat race of a thousand thoughts and feelings, clarity had once more settled in her skin and the nerves that inhabited the layers between like a web. A spider, resting on the thin filaments, waiting for that subtle vibration of its prey making a false move was hidden at the core of her, biding its time.  Venom pulsed in her veins, a neurotoxin set to immobilize and stun. The tingle up her spine, that itchy sensation like a million crawling ants on her skin warned her that time was coming soon. Her intuition for knowing when to pull the trigger was rarely ever wrong. As another cloud of smoke puffed free from her lips, inside her mobile rang, buzzing against the island countertop in a drone. Glancing over her shoulder, Rory tossed her cigarette into an old planter filled with rainwater, letting it fizzle out as she headed back into the kitchen and scooped the phone up to her ear.

“ Good morning, Sergeant .” DC was five hours behind London, Laswell – as always – was hard at work. Her call sign Watcher-01 seemed to hold fast. Ever at the ready, especially during these chaotic times. 

“Bloody hell, Kate. Up early or just never went to bed?”

“ Still burning the midnight oil, I’m afraid .” The lack of sleep rasped at Kate’s voice. It was likely she was surviving on caffeine and cigarettes. “Best have some vacation days coming for you soon then.” Rory absent-mindedly scrolled through the downloaded files on her computer, her finger dragging back and forth against the touchpad. “What can I do for you?” “ Giving you the heads up, transfer’s gone through for you. Had a chat with the colonel, and as of… 26 minutes ago, you are no longer on personal leave. Need you to pack up and head out from Vauxhall Cross .” “MI6 building?” Rory hummed, “You really did go through the proper channels for this, eh?” “ Can’t use the back doors all the time. You’ve read the materials I sent ?”

“Glanced through some of it over breakfast, yeah.”

“ I need you to be well informed before you hit the ground in Urzikstan. Your flight’s set to depart at 1300 hours .” A heavy pause lay thick over the line before Laswell spoke once more, “ You deserve to be a part of this fight as much as anyone else, Rory. The hours you’ve put into all this… If anyone should be there, it’s you .” Sentiment wasn’t something often shared in their line of work, a testament to the working relationship they had built up together over the last two years. There was a certain allegiance there and while neither tried to let their business and personal lives collide, a blurring of lines came to pass against their wills. 

“Understood.” With a silent nod, she combed her fingers through the short waves of chestnut hair that framed her face, settling in for her assignment. “Right then, I suppose I’ve got several hours of reading ahead of me.” “ If everything goes according to plan, you should be there in time to speak with Sulaman yourself. Special Operations Force and Marines are in the process of collecting him from his last known position as we speak, taking him to the US Embassy for transfer afterwards .” “Look forward to it.” The darkness in Rory’s voice bled through like ink on cloth. She knew better than to make this a personal war, but she couldn’t deny the bitterness that controlled her. The need for revenge was an all too powerful weapon and one she was willing to keep in her arsenal.

October 28, 2019 17:45 - Turkish airspace

The ten and a half hour flight from London to Urzikstan was turbulent, an ill omen of what lay ahead for her. The lone passenger for much of her journey once transferred to a US military cargo plane in Germany, it was her one stop before she would reach the desert. Riding in style was never something she expected as a member of the military, comfort was a luxury rarely afforded, and one she was used to lacking in her years as an enlisted soldier. 

No longer in her civvies, packed and ready for a warzone, she sat on one of the benches, belted in. The engine roar around her was near deafening even with headphones in, barely able to make out the upbeat croon of Blondie in her ears as she leaned back against the hard metal of the cabin. Rivets protruded from the plates into her neck and shoulders, netting above her head rattled on its carabiners. With her mobile held in her hands, Rory stared at the contacts on the screen, her thumb hovering over her father’s number. Assessing the hazards ahead, listing pros and cons, she gritted her teeth. She could call him, but what would she say? 

You were right all along, dad. I feel more comfortable with blood on my hands than in the quiet, doing nothing. I believe it’s my right to go to war having been given the authority to make the enemy pay for their misdeeds. John Lennon was a lying fuck when he said “give peace a chance”.

That wasn’t her, not in her heart at least. Her head would tell her otherwise, doing what needed to be done to keep the rest of the world safe was a burden she had been cursed with to bear and it was one she took seriously. Her Sisyphean task, the weight of it crushing down upon her shoulders. Spurred on by a relationship with a man who had taken this form of thinking to heart, brainwashed to believe this was the only way of life for them both, the one that suited them best. 

Rory decided to text her father instead, a brief message, one that didn’t need a response. The safer option, really. She would be unable to be reached once she was in the thick of it anyway. This was the grenade, and she was pulling the pin, about to lob it away to deal with the explosive aftermath later, putting off the pain of an uncomfortable situation. Her father wouldn’t push, he never did, he simply swallowed it down and perhaps might snipe about it passive aggressively in the future – she could live with that. Leave canceled. Flying over Turkey now. Duty calls. Sorry dad xx

Straightforward, to the point, no beating around the bush. Her father preferred the direct approach when breaking bad news and that was one thing she was more than capable of doing – blunt just like the army had taught her, there was no time for wasted breath. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, and what she was doing was screaming from the rooftops about where her loyalties lay. 

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 2

Chapter Summary: As Roach's return to the military continues, he learns he isn't as alone as he thought. Time passes, and he gets closer to the 141.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, sorta graphic depictions of violence

Note: This fic is also being posted to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 7k

"Hold on don't let go

It's worth the climb

These mountains become

Hills over time

And when the what if's

Outweigh all the knowns

You're right where you wanted"

"Hold On" - Cawlings

Getting his name back was the shock that Roach needed to pull that uncertainty that realizing Griggs didn’t remember had brought to him. All at once he felt filled with hope, hope that he didn’t think he’d truly had until that moment. He was one step closer to being himself again, and it felt good. 

As the years went on, Roach’s name stuck, and along with his actual name, he and Jackson made names for themselves within their unit. In fact, they were considered good enough that when Griggs was placed in charge of the Demon Dogs, he requested that Roach and Jackson be transferred to the unit with him. It was a step in the right direction for Roach and he couldn’t help but be pleased. He felt closer than ever to the 141, he just didn’t quite know how close he was.

“I don’t feel good about this.”

Roach turned to raise an eyebrow at Jackson. “Nervous?”

Jackson snorted, “When am I ever nervous?”

Roach gave a chuckle, “Fair point, but hey,” he nudge his side, “You know if you are you can talk to me about it.” Roach pushed himself up further in the back of their transport. He and Jackson sat side by side, whispering to one another to avoid being heard by their teammates across from them. They were being transported to meet up with a soldier by the name of Alex and some resistance fighters. They were supposed to aid them in capturing the elusive Omar Sulaman, also known as the Wolf. “Even if you’re not nervous if you want to talk to me about anything, you can.”

Jackson had been seemingly lost in thought the whole journey to the meetup area. Roach had never seen him like that before, the man almost always seemed to have a rather cool and collected air surrounding him. 

Roach watched with a raised eyebrow as Jackson glanced around the transport almost skittishly before his eyes found Roach’s again. “Okay, but listen, you’re not allowed to say I’m crazy.”

Taken aback, Roach responded, “Of course, what’s up?”

Jackson leaned towards him, “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

Roach shook his head, “I mean, Jackson we’ve been in this area before-”

“No! Not like that, I mean,” Jackson shook his head, “This all feels so familiar to me. The location, the situation, Griggs, being Sergeant Paul Jackson. Hell even the hunt for the Wolf,” he stopped then and muttered something to himself that Roach only just barely caught but was enough to send a shiver down his spine: “at least it isn’t Al-Asad again.”

“Al-Asad?” Roach questioned, “Khaled Al-Asad?”

Jackson stared at him in surprise and disbelief, “Roach? How do you know that name?”

Roach sat up fully then, staring Jackson down, “Al-Asad was a puppet in the middle east, he was being used by Imran Zakhaev. Marines were sent to hunt him down in the middle east but nearly thirty thousand of them died because of a-”

“Nuclear bomb,” Jackson finished for him. The two stared at each other in shock for a moment, understanding slowly filling both of them. “I died when the nuke went off,” Jackson admitted. 

Roach sucked in a breath, no wonder he hadn’t ever heard of Jackson in his old life. There were so many names on that list, and Jackson had never been mentioned in any of the lists of important people who’d died. “I was killed too,” Roach admitted, “Betrayed and shot years later while trying to hunt down Imran Zakhev’s successor.”

“Holy shit,” Jackson muttered, “But you remember. Like me, you remember?”

Roach nodded and the two sat with the new information for several seconds, trying to take in the fact that they’d finally met someone else like them, that they’d been sitting beside each other as friends for years, never knowing that the other had suffered an eerily similar fate to them. 

Just as Roach opened his mouth to ask a question, their transport stopped, the other members of their team climbing out of the truck with no knowledge of the discovery their teammates had just made. Knowing that the two needed to move, Roach settled on, “We’ll talk more later, and hey,” he made sure to look Jackson in the eyes, “I swear this won’t be the same as last time.”

The beginning of the raid was fairly easy thanks to the tanks and air support that followed the ground crew. Alex or Echo 3-1 proved to be useful when the group came to several booby traps set up. Roach made sure to watch Alex disarm them, trying his best to learn the process just in case they needed it later. 

Once they’d made it through the alleys, they were able to meet back up with the tanks, one look at Jackson let Roach know how nervous the other man was becoming, even more so when the tanks were taken out by an IED and they were forced to find cover as they were faced with an onslaught of enemies. 

Very quickly, both Roach and Jackson realized that the onslaught would be too much for the group if they kept on how they were. “Demon 1-2, this is Roach, we need to move now. If we stay here we’ll get pinned down.”

“I’m with Roach, we’ve got to move!” Jackson replied as well, popping up to take out a group of four enemies who had gotten dangerously close to their position. Roach did the same a moment later.

“I agree,” Griggs responded in their ears, suddenly they heard him shout, “Pop smoke and flank, up the high side!”

“Popping smoke!” Alex called. As soon as the grenade popped and smoke began filling the air the group pushed up and engaged the enemies that had been holding them back. They took them down fairly easily, but things could never truly be that simple, a mounted machine gunner coming through on a truck made sure of that. Only a second later and Alex had thrown smoke again, allowing the group to take down the gunner and push further up to flank the retreating enemies. 

The next area came with a machine gunner hidden away in a nest in one of the buildings, his near-constant fire forcing the group to hide until smoke was thrown yet again. “Jackson, Roach, you two stay out here and cover us,” Griggs told them as he and Alex were able to push up to the building with the machine gunner’s nest. 

Roach did as he was told, moving up a bit further to begin mowing down enemies in a way that he’d often been told left “no enemies for everyone else to take down.” Jackson joined him a moment later, their gunfire allowing them to continue to push up further until they’d pushed the enemies back past the building and closer to the hospital that they were aiming for. 

Another moment later and they were joined once again by Griggs, Alex, and the rest of the squad as they continued to push towards the hospital, jumping from cover to cover and doing their best to thin the enemy forces out. As they grew closer, Griggs decided it would be best to call in one of the gunships to aid them, “Demon 1-2 to Red Hammer 7 - We're taking fire from troops defending the south entrance of the hospital - Request immediate suppression, over.” Then, moments later, “Marines! Hold up! We have overhead ordnance comin' hot on this grid!”

Sure enough, moments later and the group were all watching, some cheering as the building lit up with gunfire and missiles. The small break couldn’t last long though and once again the group was on the move up to the hospital, still having to fight their way in. It was once they’d cleared the lobby that Griggs stopped and made his way over to Roach and Jackson. “Jackson, you take three demons and make your way up the back, Roach, you stick with me.” Roach wanted to complain, but Griggs didn’t give any room for that, turning back to rejoin Alex.

“You gonna be okay?” He asked, turning towards Jackson who was looking rather uncomfortable with his marching orders. Roach couldn’t blame him, he was sure that if this mission had been similar in the slightest to the one he’d died on, he’d be nervous as well. 

Jackson nodded to him after a moment, “I’ll make it.” He held a fist out to Roach, “See you on the other side.” Roach gave him a soft smile before bumping their fists together. They both gave each other one last nod before Jackson and his three men were taking off to the other side of the hospital and Roach was rushing to catch up with Griggs and the others. 

The group pushed further into the hospital, suddenly coming face to face with several civilians and Al-Quatala fighters, Roach was quick to call, “Civies ahead!”

“Civilians,” Griggs mimicked, “Check fire! Check fire!”

Very slowly the group progressed, making sure to avoid hitting any of the civilians trying to escape the hospital as they pushed on. Eventually, they made it to the stairs of the second floor, “All stations, Demons are moving up to the second deck. No sign of the Wolf.” Roach could hear Griggs and Alex exchange some words after that, but he ignored them as the group came up to the second floor where they were faced with rooms of wounded and dead civilians. 

“Shit,” Roach breathed out.

“Just… check ‘em,” Roach heard Griggs say, “Check all of ‘em.”

Roach watched carefully as the group made their way into the room, his eyes locking on to one of the civilians ahead who seemed to be more alert than the others. Sure enough, moments later and the “civilian” was jumping for a gun sitting next to him. Roach raised his gun to take out the target, but it seemed that Alex had been paying attention just the same and was quick to send the man to the ground. 

Roach felt relief flood his system as Griggs called that the room was clear, but that relief was quick to fade as he heard Griggs ask into the comms, “1-2 to Demon 3, how copy?” That was Jackson’s group. 

“Demon 3 dropped off, sergeant,” Another member of the team mentioned.

“Shit,” Griggs said, “Find them!” he called to the team. Roach felt like his heart was in his throat. He nearly wished he had a cross around his neck then, some form of comfort that would help him feel as though his prayer for his friend's safety would actually work.

The group continued pushing up into the building only to be met with a long hallway where Al-Quatala had set up another machine gunner at the end of the hallway. The rest of the team held back, but Roach, determined to get to his friend quicker, and Alex alternated throwing out smoke grenades that allowed them to slowly move up, taking out enemies along their way to the gunner’s nest where eventually Alex dropped the man and the rest of the team was able to move up behind them. 

Finally, the group pushed up to the room that held the man they’d come for, the Wolf. Griggs and Alex used the snake cam to see what was going on inside and after a moment Alex pulled back to report, “Positive ID on the Wolf, three marine hostages. He’s gonna kill them, we’ve got to breach.”

Roach felt his heart drop when he learned that there were only three in the room. He could only hope that one of them was Jackson. As Alex moved around the back of the room to flank them, Roach moved in position to breach. 

When the go was called the group bust into the room and took about the Al-Quatala fighters that were left standing, Alex already pinning the Wolf to the ground. 

Roach was quick to move around and help untie each of the Marines, noting with dread that Jackson wasn’t among them. “Sergeant, Jackson’s not here.”

Griggs turned from where he’d been speaking to Alex and after taking in the three marines he let out a curse. He walked over to one of the Marines who was a bit more present, “Hey, brother, where’s Jackson?”

The man took a moment to respond before, “Trip mine on the way up, the Al-Quatala fighters set it off while we were close to it. Jackson took the brunt of it so they left him behind.

Griggs was quick to look over to Roach, “Roach.”

That was all Roach needed and soon he was darting out of the room and heading as quickly as he could down the winding hallways of the path that the marines would have taken. He could feel his heart in his throat and he knew that a few other Marines were racing after him, but he wouldn’t dare stop to wait for them, not when Jackson could be dead on the ground at that point. 

“Jackson? Paul!” Roach turned down one of the hallways and immediately spotted where the trip wire had been set off. It took him only a moment later to spot his friend. Sergeant Paul Jackson was laying in a pool of his own blood, one of his legs mangled beyond anything Roach had seen on anyone living. 

Roach slid to his knees next to his friend, checking his pulse and finding a weak one fairly quickly. He moved as fast as he could then, kneeling just above Jackson’s bleeding leg, where he guessed the artery was, and placing his full body weight there. He was quick to pull his scarf out from around his neck then a carabiner from his belt. He wrapped the scarf around Jackson’s leg did his first loop and tightened it as much as he could. He looped the scarf through the carabiner next tying that as tight as he could. Immediately after he started to twist the thing around. Just as he continued twisting it two of the other marines ran around the corner, both stopping short at the sight of Jackson.

Roach continued twisting but quickly barked out, “Left, you call medics, right, see if you can find an actual tourniquet, NOW!”

As the two marines lept into action Roach turned his attention back to the task at hand and finished turning the carabiner to the best of his ability. Holding it as tight as he could, he pulled a rubber band off of his wrist and used it to secure the makeshift tourniquet before using the ends of his scarf to add another layer of security and ensure it stayed tightened.

He kept pressure on Jackson’s leg with his own body weight as well, hoping that it would help keep his friend from tipping over into death's arms. It wasn’t even ten minutes later and the medical evac team was swarming the hallway. One of the medics took over holding the pressure the same as Roach had and within a few seconds Jackson was being attached to a cot and moved outside to be airlifted to the nearest working hospital. 

Roach followed the medics the whole way out, watching as Jackson was lifted up into the air and carried off. It wasn’t until a medic approached him that he pulled his gaze away from the chopper.

“Are you hurt?”

Roach looked down at himself, finally noticing the blood that soaked his hands and his clothes. “No,” he spoke quietly, “It’s not my blood.”

Roach didn’t get to visit Jackson until a few weeks later when he finally had a bit of leave that he immediately used up to rush to the hospital where his friend had found himself a resident for the time being. 

The nurse was kind enough to point him in the direction of Jackson’s room. Roach walked as fast as he could to the room without running down the hallway, quite a feat in his opinion. 

He stopped dead outside of the room when he arrived, finding that Jackson's room was nearly filled to the brim with people that he could only assume were the man’s family. Roach watched silently from the door, observing the way that Jackson laughed at something one of his family members said. It made the heaviness that had settled on his chest over the past few weeks disappear. Seeing his friend with color back in his cheeks and so full of life was enough for Roach.

Just as Roach turned to leave he heard a call, “Sanderson?”

He turned back abruptly to find the eyes of every person in the room looking at him. His nerves shot up, but he did his best to focus his gaze on Jackson who was giving him a wide grin. “You’ve not called me that in a while.”

Jackson shrugged, “I figured it would seem less rude to my family if I called you Sanderson, you know some people probably wouldn’t take too kindly to being called Roach.” Jackson turned to his family then, “Guys, this is Gary Sanderson, we call him Roach. He’s the one who applied the tourniquet to my leg.”

In a flash, Roach was being dragged into the hospital room with numerous people crying and pulling him into hugs. All he could do was look to Jackson for help, but the man seemed to find his awkwardness amusing as he just gave a shrug and a grin to his friend. Eventually, after hearing nearly everyone’s thanks for saving Jackson, the group decided to leave the two alone for a few minutes. 

Roach sat down shakily next to Jackson’s bedside. There was a comfortable silence that filled the air for a moment, neither quite sure where to start. Finally, Jackson broke the silence. “What have you heard?”

Roach shook his head, “Griggs just gave us the basics. You were alive, stable, they had to amputate your leg.”

Jackson nodded, taking in Roach’s words for a moment, “The doctors said if it hadn’t been for your tourniquet I would have been a goner.” Roach felt nauseous at those words. If he’d been any later or hadn’t been able to stem the bleeding…the thought of what could have happened sent a shiver down his spine. “I’ve been honorably discharged, of course.”

“How do you feel about that?” Roach asked after a minute. Jackson took a second to answer, considering his words carefully.

“Honestly?” He asked after a moment, Roach encouraging him with a nod, “Honestly, it's a bit of a relief.” Jackson turned to look fully at Roach, “I joined the military again because, well, I thought it would be the only way I could get back to normal.” He shook his head, “Then when I got back into it, I just felt…afraid. Afraid and sad I guess.” He let out a sigh, “I think I’m ready to live a life outside of the military, to really use my second chance.”

Roach nodded, fiddling with his hands for a moment, “I’m gonna miss you in the squad.” He paused, “I know that’s a bit selfish, but it’s the truth.”

Jackson let out a barked laugh, “It’s not selfish, I’ll miss seeing your dumb ass on the daily too.” Roach let out a chuckle at that, “And hey, I expect some phone calls, and maybe even some visits from time to time.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roach threw out playfully. There was another bout of silence for a moment before suddenly Jackson was fixing Roach with a hard and serious look that took most of the air out of his lungs in an instant. 

“Listen to me Roach, I know what it feels like to be you, desperately reaching for the normalcy of a life that's gone. Do not let it consume you.” Roach looked away, “I’m serious Roach. I know that you think getting back to some semblance of your old life will help, but that may not be an option. If you let your old life control you, you’ll get yourself killed.” There was a pause, “Tell me you understand.”

Roach gave a hesitant nod, but it wasn’t until he gave a fully confident one that Jackson leaned back in his bed, tiredness in his eyes but satisfaction clear on his face. After a moment Roach stood, “I’ve got to get back to base. Get some rest, Paul.” 

He moved to leave the room only to be stopped by a call of his name from Jackson. He turned only to be forced to catch a box the man threw at him. “A replacement,” was all Jackson said in response to his look of confusion, “Stay safe, Roach.”

Roach didn’t open the box until he was back on base and in the safety of his bunk. It was a nice little red box, nothing fancy aside from the ribbon that kept it closed. He carefully pulled the ribbon to the side, setting it down beside him before lifting the lid off the box. A small smile crossed his face as he took in the contents. 

Folded neatly in the box was a scarf, meant to replace the one he’d used to make the tourniquet for Jackson’s leg. It was a similar beige to his last one, though this one had a few more embellishments, particularly a few embroidered bugs that decorated the edges of the scarf. 

He pulled it delicately from the box and saw that one corner of the scarf had also been embroidered with “Roach” in black. 

Roach set the scarf out on his lap, observing it for a moment longer with a smile on his face before his eyes trailed up and locked on to the bunk next to his, where Jackson had slept for the past several years. He felt the smile fall from his face as, for the first time in years, a feeling of loneliness settled onto his shoulders. 

The next three years were rather lonely for Roach. He continued to make visits with Jackson, his friend having been released from the hospital a few months after the hunting party for the Wolf. Roach couldn’t spend all of his time with Jackson though, so he decided it was time to refocus himself and return to the reason he’d come back to the military in the first place. 

Soon after the end of the operation to capture the Wolf, Roach decided he needed to leave the Demon Dogs. While he appreciated being brought onto a specialized team with Griggs, Roach also recognized that he was unlikely to be scouted out of the group. Military respect went a long way and almost no one would be willing to swipe up a member of another team. So, he returned to a regular squad with glowing reviews from Griggs added to his file. 

While Roach couldn’t exactly check to see if the 141 had already formed, he could keep an ear to the ground and piece things together with his own knowledge, which is exactly how he learned that this world had its own Shepherd, and the man had already betrayed his country. 

“...officials are saying a power surge is to blame for an explosion over downtown Chicago last night due to severe winds leaving thousands of residents in the dark.”

Roach found that listening to the radio in between missions wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t the real reason he’d taken to sitting at the second level of the training complex. No, the real reason was quite simple. Roach found that the second level of the training complex was the perfect area to listen in on others' conversations. Particularly some of the higher-ups on the base, as well as the soldiers who liked to use an area nearby for their breaks. 

At first, he’d felt bad about the practice, eavesdropping wasn’t exactly something he liked to do. Soon that guilt disappeared. He found that people on base knew that he would frequently sit and rest at the training area, but none of them thought it wise to move to different locations for their conversation. If his fellow soldiers weren’t bothered, then Roach wasn’t either. 

“Yeah sure, power surge.”

“What? You think something else was going on?”

“I don’t think, I know.” Roach perked up a bit at the voice. Private Smith, a rather chatty and egotistical newcomer to the unit, but a newcomer with a lot of good information on things going on outside of the base. He was behind the training center nearly every night to smoke and chat shit with one of his friends on base. “You know my brother works at the pentagon?”

“Course, he’s pretty up there in rank.”

“Well, he told me that the explosion was actually from a missile.”

“No fucking way dude.”

“No seriously! Apparently, General Shepherd was illegally sending missiles to some guys in Russia, but Al-Quatala got a hold of them. They launched one at the Pentagon.”

Roach could feel his heart start beating faster at the mention of Shepherd, he’d hoped that Shepherd of all people wouldn’t have made it over to this new world. Or, that this world's Shepherd would be dead before he’d had a chance to come across him. 

“Shit dude, tell me they brought the asshole in?”

“Nah, coward dipped before the guys could grab him.”

Roach felt his stomach churn at the news. He brought a hand up to his throat, hoping somehow the pressure would keep him from puking his guts up. Not only was Shepherd still alive, but he was missing. Out, somewhere in the world, was the man who’d killed Roach and the man he loved. 

“Man, I wonder what squad got caught cleaning that mess up.”

“It was a multinational group,” Roach snapped back to the men’s conversation then, his entire world came to a stop as he froze completely, “My brother called them Taskforce 141.”

That day couldn’t really let Roach’s emotions rest. His luck had never been good enough for that. 

With the hit that learning Shepherd was alive, came the warring feeling of joy in learning that Taskforce 141 was still around and already in action. Those two things alone would have kept Roach up all night, but the world decided that it wasn’t quite enough. That night, on a Russian plane, a terrorist attack occurred, with only one of the attackers left behind to be found, an American.

Luckily the attack hadn’t been enough to bring about WW3, something Roach was grateful to learn after weeks of anxiety after Makarov’s terrorist attack. No one but him and, maybe, Taskforce 141 knew it was Makarov, but Russia and the US were much more willing to try to avoid war in this life, something Roach was endlessly thankful for. 

Over those weeks Roach had found himself clutching the cross necklace he’d made a point to get after that fateful mission with Jackson. He didn’t find himself returning to the religion that he’d abandoned before joining the military in his first life, he didn’t think he could ever do that. But, he found that the weight of the cross provided him with comfort and reminded him of the home and family that he had in this life. He was sure he’d switch it out eventually, but for now, it did the job he needed it to. 

It was while fiddling with his cross and trying not to let his mind spiral during dinner that Roach overheard two of the cadets at one of the nearby tables discussing the new arrivals at the base. He didn’t pay any mind to them at first, knowing that people were constantly coming on and off of the base, and with that the soldiers were constantly gossiping. So it wasn’t the discussion of the new arrivals that caught Roach’s attention, but rather what they were saying about the new arrivals. 

“You see those guys that touched down today?”

“The Europeans?”

“Yeah!”

Roach was already tuned in to the conversation at the mention of Europeans, it wasn’t every day that the base hosted SAS or other European forces. Still, he was only loosely paying attention. 

“Yeah dude, those guys were weird as hell. And talk about breaking regulation?”

“I know! The guy with the mohawk? Like seriously?”

“The mohawk guy? I was talking more about the dude with the creepy skull mask. He caught me looking at him and I really thought he was going to shoot me.”

Standing from the table abruptly caught the attention of a good few people, but Roach paid them no mind, shooting out an excuse about feeling tired before oh so quickly leaving the cafeteria and rushing to the outside of the base. It was already late, so he did his best to quickly pinpoint where exactly the Taskforce would have gone. 

There was no doubt that the team would end up speaking with the Platoon Sergeant of the unit Roach was on, and, knowing his SFC, the discussion would be likely to pass by Roach’s usual perch at the training area. So, taking a chance, Roach took off towards the training area, hoping above all hope that he wasn’t too late and would be able to catch sight of the people he’d spent his entire life trying to find again. 

The rush up to the second story of the training area was nothing new, and nothing that had to be rushed as nearly an hour passed with nothing happening. Roach tried not to be impatient as he waited, but after waiting almost an entire life again to see them, he felt he had a right to be impatient. Luckily he didn’t have to wait much longer than an hour. 

Just as he started to believe that he’d been too late, his straining ears could hear a number of people approaching, being led by his Sergeant. 

“...up there is our training area.”

“We’ll want to see your men run it. Along with a few other tests.” Roach easily identified the voice as belonging to Captain Price. He felt his heart skip a beat, knowing that just below him were the members of Taskforce 141. 

“Right. Listen, Price, I have to ask. What is this about?” Roach could hear the group stop just below where he sat. “You know you’re welcome here, but why exactly do you need to see my men run the training area? And you asked for their files? I’d like to not be kept in the dark on my own base.”

Roach could hear a bit of shuffling around below, his mind racing as he took in the information. Could Price be scouting for new members of the 141?

Finally, there was a sigh before, “You know about the terrorist attack right?”

“The one on the plane in Russia? What about it?”

“It was organized by a man named Makarov, he’d hoped to start a war between the US and Russia. It failed. For now.”

“...you’re going after him?”

Roach tried to ignore the way that his nerves had been set alight at the confirmation of Makarov's existence in this world. Needing a distraction, he began slowly peeking over the edge of the training area, hoping that if he moved slowly enough, he would go unnoticed. It seemed to work as soon he was looking over the edge of the training area and down at the group below him. 

The first person his eyes locked onto was Captain Price. The man looked exactly the same as Roach remembered, though maybe a bit younger than he’d been when Roach had met him in his first life. Still, he was eerily similar to the way he’d been when Roach had last seen him, all the way down to the facial hair and hat that Roach had always secretly thought was a bit silly. It was, oddly enough, nice to see the man. Even though Roach hadn’t spent much time with the Captain, he was a friendly face from the 141 and a man that Soap had trusted more than anyone else. 

The darker-skinned man next to him was unfamiliar to Roach, so his eyes skipped over to the next person who happened to be none other than Soap. Soap also looked extremely similar to how Roach remembered him, though he had to admit, far younger. The most notable difference was that his beard wasn’t fully grown in, instead being nothing more than what Roach would call a bit of scruff. The sight of Soap had a happy feeling fluttering through Roach’s chest. The two had become close friends during Roach’s time on the 141, and the man had been one of the few people that Roach worked with who had never abandoned him during a scenario where lady luck tried to take him out. 

Soap was standing quite close to another person, and it wasn’t until Roach locked his eyes onto the different, yet easily recognizable, skeleton mask that he realized exactly who it was. Ghost. 

Roach couldn’t see his face, but that didn’t matter, this was how Roach knew him to be a majority of the time. He felt his heart pick up the pace and his cheeks flush. After all the years Roach had spent trying to hold on to the memory of the man he loved, he’d been terribly worried that when he finally saw Ghost again, things would be too different. Seeing Ghost and feeling that rush of affection through his body was one of the best feelings in the world. 

Roach couldn’t pull his eyes away from the man, trying desperately to commit the sight of him to memory as Captain Price continued to speak. 

“Aye, we’re going after him. It’s an assassination mission at its core, but the unfortunate fact is that we need another person.”

“Why?” 

Price glanced back at his team, “We’re only four. While we’re experienced, we don’t know the area and Makarov is clever. We want one of your men to be our guide.”

“If they’re just a guide, then why the pickiness on who you choose?”

“They’ve got to be able to hold their own,” The darker-skinned individual chimed in. Based on his voice, Roach connected that he was British and started to run through the names of possible people who he could be. The closeness to Price rang in his mind. He remembered Soap mentioning an old teammate who’d died in the hunt for Zhakaev. Was it Gaz?

“This is a very dangerous op, if they aren’t good, it might be that none of us make it out alive.”

This was Roach’s opportunity. Though it was supposed to be temporary, perhaps if he proved himself it would turn into something a bit more permanent. It was exactly what he’d been waiting for. The conversation continued between the group, but Roach’s eyes moved back to Ghost, once again taking time to just watch. 

Ghost’s mask looked different, though Roach was sure it was something that the Ghost from his past life would have loved to have. He couldn’t help but wonder how this Ghost had made the mask.

It was while Roach was absentmindedly following this line of thought that Ghost began looking around the area, as though alerted to a pair of eyes baring down on him. It didn’t take very long for his eyes to drift up to where Roach was peeking out from the training area. 

When their eyes met, Roach was quick to drop back down so he couldn’t be seen, an icy feeling flooding his system at the knowledge that he was caught. Sure enough, only a second later and he could hear Ghost’s voice. 

“Quiet! We’re being watched.”

“What?”

“Training area, second floor.”

“Woah, Woah! Put the weapons up!” Roach could have laughed. Of course, the taskforces first reaction would be to pull their weapons.

“We need to go see who that is. It could be one of Makarov’s men!” Price’s voice was hard. Roach could hear the hatred for Makarov in his voice, a hatred that was similar to what Roach had heard from the man in his past life. 

“It’s not one of Makarov’s men! Just, just hold on.” The Sergeant sounded a bit tired and Roach winced, knowing exactly what was about to happen. “Sanderson?”

Roach considered his options. He could just run off back to the barracks, but with his luck, he’d get caught and be in more trouble than it was worth. His Sergeant already knew it was him, so what point was there in trying anyways? So, with those quick thoughts in his mind, he decided to just bite the bullet and stand. He didn’t quite like that this was the 141’s first time meeting him, but he couldn’t control everything. 

He pushed himself to his feet and ever so hesitantly peeked out from behind the wall of the training area until finally he could be fully seen. “Sergeant,” he nodded meekly. 

“How long you been up there soldier?” Came the harsh-sounding question from Price. 

Roach winced a bit. He’d always made an effort not to get in trouble on base, he absolutely despised being yelled at. “About an hour and a half sir.” He responded. 

Price seemed a bit surprised at that answer, but Roach’s Sergeant chimed in on his behalf, “There was no malicious intent or following Price. Roach likes to sit up on the second deck of the training area. Everyone on base knows that if you stop here to talk he may overhear you.” The Sergeant ran a hand down his face, “It’s my fault for not remembering.”

“Roach?” Came the question from Soap.

“It’s what everyone calls him, he’s had the name practically since he enlisted.”

“I remember your file,” Came the voice of Price. Roach’s eyes shot over to him. “You used to be on Grigg’s squad right? The Demon Dogs?”

“Yes sir,” Roach responded.

“You were on one of the teams that helped with the initial capture of the Wolf. What are you doing back on a basic squad like this? No offense Sergeant.” Roach watched as his Sergeant waved Price off before everyone’s gaze was once again directed at him.

Roach shuffled for a moment before clearing his throat. He couldn’t exactly tell them he’d left the Demon Dogs in hopes of eventually joining their task force, so instead, he offered the next available truth he could. “I joined the Unit with Sergeant Paul Jackson. He was the reason I joined. During the mission for the Wolf, he was injured, an injury that resulted in his discharge. I didn’t really have a reason to stay anymore.”

There was a moment of silence before Price nodded to him. “How much of our conversation did you hear, Roach?”

There was silence for a moment as Roach shuffled awkwardly. “Almost the entire thing sir.”

Price nodded, “Can I trust that you won’t go sharing this around the base?”

Roach nodded rapidly, “Wouldn’t have anyone to tell even if I wanted to sir. And even if I did, you’d know it was me who spread the word.”

Price gave a bit of a chuckle, “I suppose that’s true. Go to bed, Roach. I want you at the top of your game for the tests tomorrow.” Price gave a dismissive nod and, with one last look to Ghost, who was giving him a rather scrutinizing look, Roach gave a salute to his Sergeant before turning and scurrying down the training area, his heart beating rapidly in his chest the entire way back to the barracks.  

“You’re thinking about the eavesdropper?” Gaz asked with a bit of surprise as he spotted Price looking over the file of one Gary “Roach” Sanderson. 

“The lad seems a bit meek to help us out on this Price,” Soap called from his place beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t very touchy, but he’d allowed an exception for Soap who was pressed right at his side with his head on his shoulder tiredly. 

“Only meek because we caught him out I think,” Price responded. Roach’s file was filled with glowing reviews from practically anyone and everyone who’d met him. He had a number of amazing accomplishments in his file as well. Price was quite surprised to see that he wasn’t a higher rank, that and that he hadn’t already been scooped up by a special ops team. Of course, there were the Demon Dogs which, according to Griggs’ letter in Roach’s file, he’d excelled in. According to his file, he’d turned down only a few offers to join special ops teams and all but ignored applying for promotions. “Kids file is insane.”

“Good insane or bad insane?” Gaz questioned, leaning over Price’s shoulder. 

“Look for yourself.” Price slid the computer in front of Gaz, allowing the other man to see the file better. 

Gaz let out a low whistle, “And the kids only on a basic team? The fuck’s wrong with him?”

Price chuckled, “Nothing wrong with him, apparently it's more like what’s wrong with the teams. He’s turned down offers from six different ones.”

“I wonder what he’s waiting for.” The line came from Ghost, ever the silent member of the team. It was a bit of a surprise to hear him speak on the subject. 

“Maybe people?” Soap questioned, “Kid said he only joined the Demons cause of that Sergeant Jackson and left after he did.”

Price let out a humming noise and used the database to pull up the file of one Sergeant Paul Jackson. “Let’s see here. According to Jackson’s file, the two were essentially partners on their teams. They were with Griggs before he formed the demons. Hold on…shit.”

“What?”

“During the hunt for the wolf, I thought the kid was on one of the Demon teams that were covering from the outside.” Price turned the computer to Gaz again and pulled out his phone, “The kid was on the primary team. With Alex.”

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m getting the opinion of someone I trust.” 

The room was quiet as the phone rang for a few moments, finally, on the last ring, someone answered. “Price?”

“Alex. Don’t worry, the world isn’t ending.”

“Well, that’s a relief. What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you remembered a Gary Sanderson, would’ve been called Roach, he was one of the Demon Dogs that was with you and Griggs when you went after the Wolf. He would have been with a Sergeant Paul Jackson.”

“Scouting for new members?” Alex chuckled for a moment, “Yeah, I remember the kid. Hard to forget someone with skill like that.”

“Yeah?” Price asked, “Tell me.”

“Kid was good, really good. Helped me push up a blocked hallway with a machine gunner nest at one end without taking a shot kinda good.” He paused for a moment, “I think the biggest thing from that mission though was the deal with Jackson. Guy got injured and would have bled out if it wasn’t for Roach. He applied an emergency tourniquet to the guy's leg, was good enough that Jackson got out with only losing his leg. If anyone else had found him? I’m pretty sure the guy would’ve been a goner.”

Price took in the information with a nod, “And his shooting?”

Alex let out a low whistle, “He’s good, really good. Have you watched his end-of-basics test yet?” Alex responded, “Watch it. That was the kids shooting after basic, imagine how good he is now.” There was a moment of quiet before, “Hey, I hate to do this but I gotta go, something just came up with Farah.”

“Alright, thanks for the help.” Price was already pulling up the video from Roach’s file before he hung up. 

“A glowing review from Keller too,” Gaz commented. “Kid must be good.”

“We’ll see,” Price said simply.

Prev: Part 1

Next: Part 3

[scumbagg]

art by my gyal @/rex.goodnight on ig 🥰

DISCLAIMER: I did the absolute minimal research when it comes to the different factions/orgs/branches of military/army or whatever lmaoooo so if anything’s incorrect idc just pretend it makes sense 🌚 also yes this is absolutely a self insert masked as a character so 🤫

Sydney “Wednesday” Reid

Aliases/Nicknames: Syd (Kyle & Ghost), Wednesday (141), Reid (Price)

141, SRR

Nationality: Australian/United Kingdom

Age: 29

Height: 5’7” / 170cm

Expertise: Combat, Stealth, Technical Knowledge, Language Translation, Bomb Disposal, Covert Surveillance.

Born in Australia to an Australian father and English mother, Sydney was the lucky recipient of a dual citizenship. The family emigrated to her mother’s home town of Appledore, a small fishing village in the south west of England when Sydney was 15 years old.

Sydney joined the British Army straight out of school, eventually passing selection for the Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR). She was eventually passed onto the anti terror wing team assigned to clear a London townhouse confirmed to be housing the members of Al-Qatala responsible for the Piccadilly terrorist attacks, where she worked alongside Captain Price and Sgt Kyle Garrick. It’s here Syd formed a strong friendship with Kyle, managing to stay in contact with him afterwards.

Sydney linked back up again with Price and Garrick at the siege of the US embassy in Urzikstan, where she assisted in the failed extraction of Omar ‘The Wolf’ Sulaman. Unable to be complacent with the failure of the mission, she joined Farah and Alex in the capture and death of The Wolf.

Syd is contacted years later by Captain Price himself to join an elite team he called Taskforce 141, comprised of the best British special operatives he knew. It’s here Syd is introduced to Sgt John ‘Soap’ Mactavish and Lt Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley as they set off for Al Mazrah.

Sydney and Ghost eventually develop a slow burn relationship, keeping it extremely quiet until Price picks up on it and questions Syd about it one night when it’s just the two of them on a drive back to base.

Random facts:

- Soap gave Sydney the name ‘Wednesday’ due to the way she wore her hair - at first as a joke, but eventually everyone around her on the squad began to call her that. She hated it at first and would roll her eyes, much to Soap’s amusement, but one day she caught sight of Ghost’s eyes watching her and noticed he found her irritation amusing. She’d never paid the Lieutenant any type of attention, and he never gave away any type of emotion, so knowing this information sparked something in her curiosity. (Everyone except Ghost eventually started calling her Wednesday over comms).

- Sydney’s scar came from a failed surfing lesson at 14 years old at a beach in Australia. Faces and surfboards aren’t a good match, apparently. The accident closed the beach for the rest of the week due to the amount of blood in the water from the head injury. No more surfing after that.

- Syd loves cooking, and is really good at it, however finds it difficult to find the time while on assignment. She’ll take any opportunity she can to cook the 141 boys a big meal

- Loves photography. Sydney quite often carries around a camera while travelling to assignment, and loves capturing the different countries she visits. She mostly captures her squad mates in unsuspecting moments.

- Sydney and Kyle discovered they live in the same neighbourhood in London. They often go to football (soccer) games together when they’re back home.

[incorrectcodmw]

The Wolf: Every time I ask one of the ULF to explain “vibe check” to me they hit me with some kind of improvised weapon.

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 7: Bloody Reunions

Chapter summary: Time to get the Wolf. Alexis conducts interrogations like the badass she is, but sometimes it sucked being that good at her job. (Protective couple... you don’t even have to squint.)

Warnings: Misogynistic POS, emotional detachment, blood and violence, mild graphic detail of torture. (4490 words... i went hAM lol)

28 October 2019, 0630 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with Demon Dogs Rammazan, Urzikstan

   "Place is a freaking morgue."

Judging by the piles of stacked bodies on the medical beds, it was a justified statement. Morgue might be an idoneous word for hospital. The patronising smell of death bypassed her as usual, but not the disturbing scene of unnaturally still bodies.

The handiwork of Roman Barkov.

There was a twisted satisfaction when Alexis shoved another magazine in her M4A1, knowing one of these bullets had Barkov's name mentally carved into it. She couldn't wait to see it lodged between his eyes.

"Check the bodies..." Sergeant Griggs ordered. The Marines and both CIA agents warily slithered along the occupied stretchers and medical beds—hoping none of them was sleeping with a gun.

It was a gut-wrenching sight. Bloodshed and raw injuries everywhere they turned. Not even sure if those alive should be considered lucky.

Suddenly, one of the civilians bolted into a sitting position, making everybody on edge. Frantic shouts and language barrier only escalated the chaos. Not willing to see another dead body, Alexis interjected in mediocre Arabic, calmly demanding the man to lay back down.

"More than a pretty face..." She looked distastefully over her shoulder, the Marine didn't bother wiping the smirk off his face and instead, shamelessly winked. Revolting, but she merely rolled her eyes, though a much younger her wouldn't hesitate to deck his face.

Gender discrimination in the military was a blast. There came a time when a heavy chip weighed down her shoulders—excruciating, yet she thrived under it. Often, some misogynistic meathead would challenge her.

Emotional, weaker, probably a lousy spotter, wouldn't last a week in the jungle.

Eventually, they all ate their words.

Alexis broke through every damn glass ceilings she went: the only female recruit in her company, made Lieutenant, then transferred to JSOC's Task Force Black. Impossible was understating things.

Her unconventional transfer to Task Force Black was a statement in itself. It finally felt like she earned it. Though she loved 88, the CIA was a nice change of scenery, where there were lesser suffocating males with inferiority complex and women were actually appreciated.

Five years later, such remarks were a humourless punchline to her. On the contrary, Alex fantasied how good Demon 1-2 would look with a bruise on his face. In the shape of his rifle stock.

Truthfully, even she considered shoving a middle finger. The weather was hot enough to vaporise her and having a tactical vest strapped against her sweaty body, was not it.

Things changed when another civilian to their 3 o'clock pulled out a gun targeted at the uniforms. While everyone was still busy hollering around, she shot a precise bullet between the hostile's eyes.

With a thud, the man fell off the stretcher.

The female agent scoffed, returning a satirical wink of her own, "Stay frosty, 1-2." He tripped around his words in shock, until Sergeant Griggs forced the gratitude out of him.

Well. If the Universe wanted to send it her way, who was she to reject it, right? She shook her head at the inevitable smirk on Alex, a subtle one hanging on her lips too.

It was a shame that the peace was ephemeral, by this time, several of Sergeant Griggs' men went radio silent. She religiously trailed behind Alex. They pushed further into the hospital, only to be met with a minigun.

"Mini my ass," Alexis laughed nervously as bullets sprayed inches away from tearing her abdominal—because of her ballsy move to switch covers.

"Holy fucking... Okay! Don't give me that look, Alex!"

She thanked the Heavens that Alex's yells were muffled over ricocheting bullets. Several smoke grenades later, Alex sniped the gunman and lo and behold, they finally reached a heavily chained door.

Score, imagery confirmed the Wolf was inside.

It was her job to clear the room while Alex secured the Wolf. Her index finger pressed lightly against the trigger, swallowing the adrenaline that dangerously swirled inside her. Upon Alex's signal, they sneaked in and hid behind messy shelves. The visual of the three missing Marines came into view, with one held hostage with a knife against his throat as the Wolf filmed another propaganda video.

"Check... Five hostiles."

"Affirmative. On my mark," Alex replied. A split second later, he tackled the Wolf from behind. His men's reactions were quick, but her years of muscle discipline was borderline supernatural.

"Clear!" Griggs rushed to untie his men. "You two good?"

Alexis nodded, tightening the zip ties uncomfortably around the Wolf's wrist. She began examining his body language, hopefully finding nibs of his tells to use against him in interrogation later.

Omar Sulaman was strangely calm for a man with a foiled plan. There was slight reluctance in his steps, but still, silence.

"Saint to Watcher, Wolf is in the bag."

Her voice was a stark contrast to the boyish tones that surrounded the room—earning the Wolf's attention, who made the bold decision to turn around abruptly.

"What are you doing here, daughter?"

Alexis felt the entire world's gaze burn into her side profile, equally as confused as the lot. She shrugged and walked away.

Inwardly, the interrogator inside was thrilled. The Wolf was in for a helluva surprise.

━━━━━

28 October 2019, 2100 Sakhra, Urzikstan

The air-conditioned room in the embassy was a godsend, not a word of complaint as the cold air blanketed her. Alexis, Alex, Farah and Hadir patiently waited for Price's arrival.

When Alexis expectingly popped a piece of mint gum, Alex knew. Though it didn't take an expert to discern the ominous aura around her. Alexis hadn't said more than what was necessary in the seven hours since they captured the Wolf, busying herself to study the Wolf.

Alex was smarter than to cut in between. Like Alexis said, she was damn good at her job. Interrogation was one of her most valued expertise, perhaps arguably why the CIA wanted her so badly and the reason why JSOC refused to let her go.

There was a secret to her tactics—compartmentalise. Alexis sat opposite the Wolf, gaze cold as ice. It was a chilling sight even for Alex.

Unscrewing his bottle, Alex greedily rehydrated himself, still observing Alexis. The grittier bite in her tactics was certainly noticeable. He guessed it had something to do with her incident. Having been captured once or twice, that was the closest Alex came to ever understanding her.

Sometimes Alex swore he never got her back.

Physical detachment was a given while she was... compartmentalising, although the rising situation gave him no choice. A shiver ran down his spine as he tapped her shoulders. At the slight arch of her eyebrows, "Bravo's three mikes out."

Alexis blinked slowly in comprehension, not realising Alex's first announcement shot past her. She nodded methodically, the metal chair screeched as she got up. She charged determinedly to an isolated hallway and slipped down against the wall, burying her head in her tucked knees. Despite the rapid intakes of breaths, it didn't suffice.

She loathed every single second in interrogations. Doing the Devil's work, she thought. The irony in this situation was her call sign. For someone called Saint, she didn't know anything else more normal than this.

Saint wasn't a moniker given to her because she was virtuous, innocent or some shit like that. Hilarious to think that, for its darker origin.

Every time she conducted an interrogation, she had to subdue the gag-inducing hypocrisy. How could she, after St. Petersburg?

The reports claimed it was a miracle she survived. Fuck that, what did they know.

That birthday was memorable, to say the least. He had even arranged something special that faithful day—nothing said happy birthday! more than electrocution.

152 days.

"ты прекрасна, ангел... (You are beautiful, angel..)"

"Fuck!" Her eyes shot open, desperate to let the ugly fluorescent light blind the image. Autonomously, her fingers scratched wildly across her arms. After a particularly deep breath, her head fell against the wall and like clockwork, she exhaled all her anxiety.

She was too good at pretending.

It was her desire to stay in solitude longer, but the shrilling embassy siren obviously had other plans. Doubling back, she found Alex at the doorway already looking for her.

"The Butcher and his men are about to breach. We need to leave, now." She peered into the room, barely seeing the tinted glow of the fire outside. Noticing the rising blood clots and angry red streaks on her forearms, Alex clenched his fists to restrain himself from reaching out, knowing she would only flinch. So, he settled for a hard swallow of his saliva, "Follow me."

Price's voice rang in their ears, "Saint and Echo 3-1, primary extraction failed. We're down on the roof."

"Understood. What's the call, Captain?"

"There's a saferoom in the basement. Head there. We'll be right behind you."

When they reached the basement, Alexis basically scrambled to the CCTVs for a sitrep–she had half a thought to join the sweep, eager to rid the hypocrisy from her systems. Eternity later, or in reality, twenty minutes later, their backup arrived.

Price.

The SAS Captain squeezed her upper arm in greeting. Lucky for her, it was where the bullet had previously scraped her. Price clapped Alex's back while glancing at her patched-up injury, "That fast, huh?"

Missed you too, old man, she thought, rolling her eyes as a response. Her coldness confused the Captain, eyes darting to Alex for an answer. He understood when Alex cocked his head at the Wolf.

"Let's move. Clock's ticking."

"You heard her..." Price ordered the Sergeant to direct the Ambassador secretary to safety and the rest headed to the parking lot. While Price and Farah went to retrieve the Ambassador's secretary, the two CIA agents stood guard at the car park entrance.

Under the flashing red coat of the emergency lights, there was no mistaking in the comfort Alex's concerned nod brought her.

It was apparent that Alex was her anchor. But in this state, she couldn't bear to look at him for long, internally disgusted by herself. All these years, she was petrified to ask if he was repulsed by her hypocrisy.

Then, she felt the hesitant touch of a coarse, large hand. She accepted it immediately—much to Alex's surprise. Their fingers intertwined secretly in the dimly lit hallway. Her eyes had long adapted to the darkness, able to witness Alex looking down at her and just like that, a sense of serenity flowed through her.

The unreadable expression on his face was a stranger to her in all their time together. Under the magnetic allure of Alex's gaze and the soothe whirring of his touch, it felt like they were worlds away from a war zone. Until gunshots unforgivingly interrupted.

She immediately retracted her hand.

Afterwards, the group slotted the obtained garage keycard. They fought through waves of Al-Qatala soldiers in low light, courtesy of the lacking streetlights.

The Ambassador's residence was no sanctuary either, as another wave of AQ fighters drew closer. Afraid the rising situation might delay their timeline, Price ordered her to start interrogations immediately. Her heart jumped at the unexpected news, suddenly thrown in the ring.

Hadir and Farah sent nods of encouragement before running out the residence. Price, despite raging at Laswell through the comms, mustered one last small smile for her.

That left Alex, who looked equally worried as her. Wordlessly, he tapped at the base of his neck. She understood instantly, feeling the cool metal of his dog tag against her skin. Obviously they had airtight obligations to not carry personal items, zero accountability and all, but it was Alex. She had corrupted him enough to not give a fuck.

The dog tag was nothing informative, only a simple 'X' carved messily from Alex's kitchen knife. Useless to her enemy, but deadly if it was ever pried from her neck.

It was a matching set. She mysteriously woke up with it after that night with Alex. His way of saying they'd always have a piece of each other.

With one last longing look, that unbeknownst to both of them—burned their insides, Alex left her alone with the Wolf.

━━━━

Her immediate observation? The Wolf was talkative.

It didn't faze her—narcissists simply could not shut up. Past thirty minutes, zero words retaliated and the Wolf was still going on.

Please. She wanted to yawn. Her legs swung restlessly while she sat on a table, undermining whatever authority the Wolf thought he had. The folklores he told in his grandiose sense of self-importance was vexing but valuable.

He hated women in combat. She learnt that when he tried to recruit Farah and even her, just minutes ago. Omar Sulaman thought women were weak.

Exciting.

As he rambled on, she almost failed to suppress a scoff. A woman wielding more power was his stressor, this meathead would be even easier to break.

"You have killer eyes," The Wolf said, tone switched from persuasive to intimidating. He exhausted everything—telling stories of what Barkov's men did to "weak" women, trying to scare her into his protection. Alexis hadn't bothered reacting, which pissed him off.

Victory surged past the fog of irritation inside her. She had conditioned the Wolf by staying quiet, truly a personal achievement. His narcissistic tendencies were itching to get out, evident from how he was desperately reaching for straws.

Alexis reached for her stripped vest and carelessly dug around for a plastic bottle. Popping the lid open, she chucked a mint gum in preparation.

It was time. Clouded by anger, he'd make mistakes that she would catch.

"Somebody hurt you."

She couldn't resist a huff at his eleventh-hour tactics. So the Wolf was now gunning for her emotional side? Fine, she'd bite.

"Don't act like you know me."

"Oh, child... I know more than you think. The look in your eyes, fear..." The Wolf paused, smirking arrogantly even at her mocking smile. "You put a great act, daughter. But I've been around longer than you... seen more."

"I bet... Because what makes a freedom fighter wake up and decide to switch sides?" Alexis circled him in pretence thought, "Money?" Noticing his jaw clenched, she pressed on it. "Power? That's why you made those videos?"

Alexis interrupted at the sounds of his protest, "Surely freedom fighters must not pay well. Maybe you got sick of that and switched?"

"I didn't switch sides! I was always on the right side."

"And what side is that?"

"The winning side," He snapped, "This occupation will never end if we hold sympathy for others."

A narcissist with a saviour complex, laughable. Alexis returned to stand in front of him, the grin ever present on her face. "But you didn't deny my claims—you want money and power."

The Wolf wanted to charge at her but was tied by the restraints, heavy creases in his forehead as he snarled, "No! I am saving Urzikstan!"

"Murdering people is saving them? I know people just like you, hiding behind a cause. After you kill Barkov, you will only start your own regime." Alexis chuckled darkly, "I'm not gonna let you do that. Don't bother holding out, nobody's coming to save you."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" At her strained expression, he continued, "If I die today, I die a hero. You? Your death will be meaningless, a secret." He continued laughing, "You Westerners... Busybodies, you have no business here. The price for that is death–"

He paused, not because of her killer gaze, but as if something in him clicked, "You have no family... That's why you are here." Loud waves of laughter escaped from the man, like he figured it out. And fuck, he did, word for word.

Alexis must have reached Nirvana or gained enlightenment, shocked by her restrain to not blow Omar Sulaman's brains out. She dare not move a muscle, refused to prove him right.

"When my men come, and they will. I will spare you, kill everybody but you. Maybe even make you watch that young man who loves you so much. Then, you shall know fear, child..."

That was it, her trigger point. Blood red. Hot flashes of anger. Picturing Alex's dead body was enough to chuck everything up. The wrathful voice inside her absolutely shattered her restrain, no longer concerned with not letting the Wolf gain an edge.

Alexis bit.

In a flash, she tipped his chair behind and roughly circled a hand around his neck.

"Don't. You think you know fear? You don't know shit until you carve your name on a disgusting brick wall with your bloody fingernails because it was the only way anyone would know what happened to you." Alexis spat, eyes boring at the choking man rendered helpless under her. "So don't fucking talk to me about fear, old man."

When the Wolf thrashed around to breathe, she waited another three seconds before releasing him—the once tipped chair landing wobbly with a sharp shriek. Her sudden outburst gained a new terror visible in the Wolf's eyes. No longer the delicate soldier his sanctimonious mind painted her as.

"Now," She slapped the invisible dust off her hands, tone bouncing scarily fast to normal. "Where is the gas?"

"I... I don't know."

Sighing, she wiped the sweat off her forehead and asked again. Still receiving the same reply, "And I don't believe you. Nothing escapes the Wolf. Someone stole the gas and you knew about it..." Alexis abruptly paused, fingers tapped against her forehead, "No, wait. You made a deal. Help whoever steal the gas and they promise to help you chase the foreign powers out?"

His silence was abundant.

There wasn't a tinge of remorse when her fingertips glided along a screwdriver.

"Since you have been here for much longer... You know this next part." As soon as she wiggled the screwdriver between her fingers, Alexis had him in the bag. The slight twitch under the Wolf's right eye was his tell, fear. Alexis witnessed it when she choked the living hell out of him.

Too damn easy. She should dress a big fat red ribbon across him right now.

"And since you know me so well," She gestured between them, "You definitely know that I'm a big believer in second chances. Right your wrongs, blah blah. I'll give you second chances. Many more, actually, I'm pretty generous... But I'm not sure if you can take it." With that, she ruthlessly stabbed into his left thigh, a devious smile spreading wider with the increased intensity of his screams. The metal tip squelched when she dug around.

"The gas?"

"I... Stop!" The Wolf bellowed in pain when she yanked it out, sprays of blood following. For someone called the Wolf, he had an embarrassing low pain tolerance.

She tilted his chin up, pleased as she surveyed the sweat that broke. "Here's your second chance. Third is when I snap your femoral artery and hang you for all of Urzikstan to see you bleed out. Your legacy will be a joke."

"Y–You can't do that..." He shook his head weakly, eyes blinking in pain. "Everyone will know the Americans are here... You'll be buried with me."

Reducing to eye level, she smiled wholeheartedly, "I'll make sure to dig a grave big enough for us both. Last call... Your third chance is coming," Alexis taunted, nodding towards the electrical screwdriver—witnessing the fear shudder across his body. "Where is the gas?"

She came so close to breaking him, practically seeing the words trying to tumble out of his mouth. Literally a blink later, a truck wildly crashed into their room, crumbling the house's weak foundations. Jerking to a standing position, she instantly reached for her sidearm and fired.

At least five men exited the truck, spraying bullets that forced her to tuck her body behind the slim profile of a cupboard.

They had AKs and she had a handgun, do the math.

She hurriedly pressed her comms, "I lost visual on the Wolf!"

Her instincts wrangled between fight or flight, seeing that she was severely outnumbered and the door was literally on her left. But the morality in her warred on. Suppressed under heavy fire, she still had no visual of the Wolf, but assumed he was freed by now.

She yelped in surprise as a painful tug tossed her out into the open. A burly man wasted no time to attack her. She barely raised her Glock 21 before he swiftly grabbed her wrist and pressed the magazine release button.

He wanted to reach for her Glock's slide lock before she elbowed his jaw, making him stumble backwards but made a quick recovery. He threw her into the metal table and she lost the grip on her gun.

Alexis' back arched painfully across the table, hands scrambling for purchase to rid the tightening hands around her neck. She weakly tried to pry in between his arms, but her lungs burned from the depleting oxygen. Fingers scrambling to poke his eyes and finally mustering enough strength, she sent a cheap blow to his nuts. He hunched over just enough for her to inhale loudly.

Seeing that, the Wolf's man started firing again.

She kneed him in the gut, put him in a chokehold and propped him up as her shield. The man's body jerked in reaction to every bullet he received.

Her ears picked up on the distinct sound of M4A1s approaching closer to her location. The Wolf motioned to leave, dust spluttering her way as their truck wildly reversed, with the Wolf grinning victoriously in the passenger seat.

"We will meet again, daughter! And your lovely man."

He left her alive. Like he said he would.

Miraculously still breathing, the man in her grasps used this distraction to tug on her legs. Seconds later, she felt a splitting pain in her head.

She was on the ground when she reopened her eyes, hazily feeling a wet sensation drip down her temples. The pain mirrored a wave, boggling inside her. Black spots started to consume the edges of her sight.

No no no.

From her blurry vision, she managed to squint out something glimmering in her 12 o'clock—she assumed a knife or her god damn screwdriver coming back to bite her ass.

Not like this.

The shuffles of dragged footsteps echoed in her brain, almost a warning from her body. She blindly saw the shift in light source, presuming he was walking towards her.

Incoherent words tumbled out, forcing herself to speak so she wouldn't pass out. Shaking, she pushed her upper body off the floor and stretched for her fallen sidearm...

That one bullet in the Glock's chambers was still waiting.

More blood flowed messily down her head, further impairing what was left of her vision.

Muscle memory dictated the rest—the grainy grip of her Glock, index finger looped around the trigger.

Alexis prayed when she fired.

At the assuring sound of a body collapsing, so did Alexis.

━━━━━

Price was the one to spot her.

"Clear!" He burst open the door, finding a jarring hole in the walls and an unconscious Alexis laying beside a dead man.

"Shit," Kyle said from beside him. "Is she breathing?"

Price shouted for Alex and the man instantly appeared beside him. Careful not to move her unnecessarily, two shaky fingers checked Alexis' pulse, Price felt his heart threatened to burst out.

"She's alive."

No one heaved louder than Alex. They examined her injuries, a large gash splashed across her right temple that hopefully a few stitches would solve. But her unconsciousness was troubling.

"How long has it been?"

"More than a minute..."

"Fuck, we need to do something!" Alex yelled frantically. Please, please, please wake up. Her chances of a brain injury increased by the seconds. Fuck! He should have stayed with her, why didn't he stay?

His hands gently cupped the sides of her face, feeling an onslaught of tears starting to form amidst the rising stuffiness in his nose. As his light-blue jeans was tinted a carmine red, he decided this was his fault.

Alex jerked at the mention of his name.

"Let me clean her injuries..." Farah coaxed, a cloth that reeked of disinfectant in her hands. Alex reluctantly shifted, kneeling beside her laying body and watched Farah dab carefully, venomously demanding her to exact more care.

"Alex," A powerful grip tugged on his vest, lifting him to his feet to meet John Price. "Ease off. Let Farah and Hadir do the work."

"Captain..."

"She will be fine, trust me." Price chuckled to himself, "Unbelievable. That woman is still an excellent shot." He whistled lowly, staring at the man with a fatal shot to his heart.

Price said with a knowing look, "Clear your head, son."

"Yes sir," Alex exhaled, going to retrieve her fallen comms set on the floor.

Seconds later, Farah yelled for them. The two men doubled back, finding Farah holding Alexis down from wiggling about. Alex heard a groggy mumble of his name.

"Alex..." Alexis repeated, head rolling around despite the yells of protest. "Where..."

"Here! Here! I'm right here. You need to stop moving, baby." Alex skidded to her side and held her outreached hands. His eyes raking over her as if he had the superpower to mentally check her wellbeing.

A weak grin formed at the realisation that he was alive, breathing and right before her. "The Wolf... He... The escaped... He... car... men."

"Shhh, we'll get him," Hadir tried to pacify her while handing Farah a clean cloth.

Ten minutes passed before she started making sense and was fully conscious. Though the pounding in her head was enough to last a lifetime. Her eyes averted to the dead man.

Jesus, the pain...

"Alexis." Price sternly warned.

"Get me up... I'm fine... Don't be a pussy."

Carefully positioning her to sit up, she weakly laid against Alex's chest. The man could care less when her blood seeped into his shirt—evident as he steadied her head against his own, refusing to let her move it wildly.

Staring at her bewildered teammates, she hazily slurred: "Well. Don't all of you look like shit."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓

a/n: i really went with the "i'm injured and my lover finds me and cradles me in my blood" trope and y'know what. y'all are welcome ;) btw sry for the late update... i edited this chapter 17 times lol i was so insecure about it. thanks for waiting lovers!

taglist: @flyboidameron​​ @wanderlustgiant​​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[inkedsoldier]

Chew the Bullet - Chapter Six

A Modern Warfare series

Casey Vos is a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces. She has been stationed in Afghanistan and Syria, but now works everywhere they need her assistance. Specialized in counterterrorism and intelligence, she is unmistakably a great asset for the upcoming Taskforce 1-4-1, under the command of Captain John Price.

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter six of the Chew the Bullet. Let’s continue the story. English is not my first language, but I’m getting better at it. Please, if you see any errors, let me know so I can fix it. It’s much appreciated. Well, I hope you enjoy! And please leave a note, vote or message with your thoughts! Bravo team out.

Warnings: angst, violence.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

_____

As Casey pulled off her gear and locked up her weapons in the armory, Price walked in with a phone in his hand. “Case, Laswell wants to talk to you,” he said handing the girl his phone. Casey nodded. “Kate?” she said. “The attic of the Al-Qatala townhouse was a gold mine. It looks like you found the Wolf,” the American officer spoke. “Communications from the laptop were tracked to Ramaza hospital in Urzikstan, where the Al-Qatala leader is believed to be holed up,” Casey replied. “Farah’s forces will track activity at the hospital while a marine ground force can be mobilized to advance on the complex. Echo 3-1 will capture the Wolf for interrogation about the stolen Russian gas,” Kate informed. “Good! We need to end this bastard,” the Dutch lieutenant stated. “Indeed. And I need you for that, Casey,” Laswell announced. “What?” Casey said surprised. “I want you to assist on the interrogation, Vos. A cargo plane will pick you, Price and Garrick up and bring you to base. You leave in 4 hours,” Kate finished before hanging up.

 Aqtabi, Urzikstan The orange gold stretched far and wide. Alex’s eyes were steady on the horizon, face aglow with the last warm rays before twilight introduced the stars. His lips bear the resemblance of a smile, just enough to show that he is enjoying a thought that came up in his mind. The sunset reminded him of a moment he shared with Casey weeks before the accident. She took him back to the Netherlands, where they had the time of their lives. Watching the sun go down at the coast, eating fries and seafood late at night and driving to the southern border for her favourite pastries. He missed her, but the beautiful memories kept her alive in his head.

 Farah was keeping watch on the roof as he dreamed away. A sudden talking on the comms got him back to reality. “Commander? Al-Qatala was shooting in the hospital. It’s quiet now,’ one of the militia fighters said. “Copy. Keep us posted,” the Urzik leader replied. “My soldiers confirm that the hospital is under siege. Al-Qatala is taking civilians as human shields. They’re protecting someone,” she said to the American soldier. ‘Or something,” Alex spoke. Farah glanced over the operator and smiled. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not much,” he replied leaning against one of the walls. “Doesn’t seem like it,” the commander stated. Her stubbornness reminded him of Casey. “Where will you go when this is over, Alex?” she continued. “Wherever they send me.” Farah was surprised by his answer. “You don’t choose?” she asked. “Not exactly,” Alex answered.  

 1540 clicks from base The cargo aircraft was noisy and for most of the passengers sleeping was a no go. The engines roared and the sky-born plane rocked by the winds far above the ground. Casey on the other hand didn’t have any problem with sleeping. She had flown in these aircrafts so often, that she would easily doze off in her seat. Unfortunately, nightmares haunted her sleep. It wasn’t always the same bad dream, but she would always end up like a mess, trembling from fear and unspoken pain.

 Same shit, different day. The guy in the grey uniform was back again, asking the same questions and getting the same answers from the soldier. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. A fist collided with the right side of her head. “You get one more chance!” the man growled. “WHAT DO THEY KNOW?”

 He didn’t get the answer he wanted so he switched to a different tactic. Within seconds one of the Al-Qatala soldiers came in, dragging a little girl behind him. She must have been no older than 10 years, her arms and legs tied, tears staining her face. “Give me what I want or I kill her,” he informed Casey. She looked at the girl with hurt in her eyes. He held her up by her hair – a knife against her throat. “If you hurt her you’ll get nothing out of me,” she yelled. All he did was shrug, “Tell me or she dies!” The girl was so scared. Her eyes begged Casey to give them whatever they wanted, but she couldn’t comply. “You’re gonna have to beat it out of me, you sick fuck,” she screamed. “What you wish,” the man spoke, before he slid the knife across the little girls throat. “NOOOOO!” Casey yelled.

 Casey gasped for air and shot straight up in her seat. Price noticed and slowly moved over next to the lieutenant, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Everything alright?” he asked. Her heart beats fast and there is a buzzing in her head. “Uhum.. just a bad dream,” she replied softly, but loud enough for Price to hear over the roaring engine. He had a worried look in his eyes – he knew how bad nightmares could get. “You have them often?” the captain asked. Casey didn’t know if she should be honest, but she also knew he would not stop trying to get the truth out of her. “Just when I close my eyes,” she answered. John sighed, “You want to talk about it?” Casey hummed in response, “…but not now.”

 07:30AM Ramaza Hospital, Urzikstan Led by sergeant Marcus Griggs, Marines of the Demon Dogs unit launched the assault against the hospital occupied by Al-Qatala. In the early morning of the 28th of October the team entered the warzone to capture the Wolf, before he had the chance to kill the marines that were taken prisoner during the fight. “Griggs, were heading inside. Stand by,” Alex informed. The main door was blocked – the team had to find another way to get tot the Wolf. Just as he opened the door, he noticed the grenade that was strapped near the left side of the entrance. There was no way he could open the door fully without blowing up its surroundings, which meant he had to dismantle the frag first. The American operator opened the door just enough to locate the tripwire to defuse it. It was a M67 - something Alex was all too familiar with. “Demons set. Take this animal alive, Alex. Don’t shoot him, get him on the ground,” Griggs said on the comms while he prepared for a breach on the other side of the area.

 The end of the hallway was blocked by some furniture. Alex lowered himself and crawled under the table, giving him a position behind the Wolf, without being seen. Before the Al-Qatala leader had the opportunity to slash the marine, Alex took his chance and threw him on the ground. Immediately after the marines burst through the door to shoot the remaining fighters that were there to protect their leader, Omar Sulaman. “Clear,” Marcus announced, helping one of the marines up from the floor. “We gotchya, brother-man, you’re alright.”

 Alex cuffed Omar and looked him in the eyes. He finally had the man behind what caused Casey’s death. Oh, how he would have loved to put a bullet between his eyes. “You good, Alex,” Griggs asked. “Good, Griggs,” he answered. “Omar Sulaman, you are now in custody of Special Operations Force. Do exactly as you’re told, or you’re a death man.”

Taglist: @imahardcase​ @yvessaintrogers​

[thaithanhbinh]

Tương lai của Call of Duty: Modern Warfare dần hé lộ ?

Nói theo một cách khác Infinity Ward đã có một bước khởi đầu rất suôn sẻ và thuận lợi trong việc hoạt động lại series Modern Warfare và đưa tới cho nó một cốt truyện hoàn toàn mới cũng như mang trở lại những nhân vật biểu tượng của dòng game này – Captain Price. Dù phần chơi chiến dịch của game có thời lượng khác ngắn, nhưng cái kết của game mở ra cho Infinity Ward nhiều hướng phát triển độc đáo cho các phiên bản tiếp theo của mình.

Trước khi đến với những dự đoán cho phần tiếp theo của series game này, hãy cùng trở lại với đoạn kết của MW 2019. Trong đoạn kết, cô em gái Farah đã nấp trong trực thăng của Barkov và kết liễu hắn, trong khi Alex nhận nhiệm vụ cảm tử để phá hủy xí nghiệp sản xuất vũ khí hóa học vì kíp nổ đã bị hỏng trong cuộc chạm trán trước đó. Anh trai của Farah là Hadir đã được gửi đến Nga để trả giá cho tội ác của mình, nhưng có thể Hadir sẽ sớm được giải cứu bởi những kẻ khủng bố để thay thế vị trí của “The Wolf” Omar Sulaman, người đã bị giết trong các nhiệm vụ trước.

Về tổ chức khủng bố Al-Qatala, tổ chức này đang được lãnh đạo bởi Imran Zakhaev – con trai của Victor Zakhaev và Khaled Al-Asad, đang đặt ra một mối nguy cơ mới cho thế giới. Trưởng căn cứ Kate Laswell đã gặp Price tại một địa điểm không được tiết lộ với hy vọng nhận được sự giúp đỡ từ anh. Tại đó, Price đã đòi hỏi tự thành lập lực lượng đặc nhiệm của riêng mình với tên gọi 141 để xử lý Al-Qatala và những mối nguy cơ mới. Đồng thời, Price cũng lựa chọn ra 3 nhân vật nữa sẽ đồng hành cùng mình gồm, Kyle Garrick (Gaz), John Soap Mactavish và Simon Riley (Ghost).

Trong đoạn credit cuối, người chơi được một lần nữa găp lại Laswell, anh bạn Nikolai cùng một nhân vật hết sức quen thuộc khác là Trung Sĩ Kamarov. Thời điểm diễn ra đoạn credit cũng là lúc mà cả Hoa Kỳ và Nga cùng hợp tác để giải quyết mối nguy cơ của Al-Asad. Điều này mang đến nhiều cảm giác quen thuộc như ở Modern Warfare 2007. Hiện tại người chơi có thể bắt đầu hành trình chống lại Al-Asad trong các nhiệm vụ phối hợp Specs Ops, mặc dù những chiến dịch này không ưu tiên nhiều về tính cốt truyện, nhưng cũng sẽ đưa đến nhiều chi tiết để phát triển cho phần game tiếp theo.

Nếu Infinity Ward quyết định thực hiện phần tiếp theo, hoàn toàn có thể các sự kiện của phần hai sẽ ít nhiều đi theo những gì đã diễn ra trong Call Of Duty 4. Tuy nhiên, vẫn sẽ có nhiều điểm khác biết so với phần game cũ. Trước hết, phe phái Al-Qatala đang rất quyết tâm để có thể giải cứu được Hadir. Đồng thời, một nhân vật khác cũng có thể xây dựng thương hiệu trong phần game tới là Ghost bởi trước đây anh ta chỉ xây dựng thương hiệu trong MW2 (2009), dù cho có thể Ghost đã nằm trong nhóm 141 ngay từ đầu.

Một nhân vật khác mà series này có thể sẽ không bỏ quên chính là tướng General Shepherd – kẻ đã cho ra một số trong những khoảnh khắc gây shock nhất lịch sử Call Of Duty khi một tay hạ sát Roach và Ghost. Trong đoạn credit kết thúc MW 2019, Laswell có nhắc đến tướng Sherpherd với vai trò là người móc nối với Price và cung cấp những cái tên mà ông ta muốn trong đội 141 của Price. Thêm vào đó những cái tên khác như địa danh Pripyat hay đội trưởng Macmillan cũng được nhắc tới có thể xem như là một dấu hiệu cho sự liên quan của những nhân vật hay địa điểm đó.

Nhìn chung, MW 2019 mang đến một dấu hiệu khởi sắc khi xây dựng nên một kịch bản hoàn toàn mới mẻ và giải thích ngọn nguồn cho sự xuất hiện của lực lượng đặc biệt. Do vây mà nhiều người chơi hy vọng, phần thứ hai của series này nếu được ra mắt, sẽ tiếp tục mang đến một câu chuyện hoàn toàn mới với chất lượng không hề thua kém những gì mà Infinity đã làm ở phần đầu của series này.

Trailer mới của The Witcher khiến fan lo lắng không yên vì nhiều cảnh nóng

Nguồn: GameK

Bài viết Tương lai của Call of Duty: Modern Warfare dần hé lộ ? đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Đồ Chơi Công Nghệ.

source https://dochoicongnghe.com.vn/tuong-lai-cua-call-of-duty-modern-warfare-dan-he-lo-6169.html

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 9: A Witness and Witless

Chapter summary: A realisation for Alexis, kindly dished by Captain Price. Meanwhile, danger is the gift that keeps on giving. (3284 words).

Warnings: N/A. 

29 October 2019, 0500 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with SAS and Urzik militia Sakhra, Urzikstan

   Having her forehead split open had its benefit. Okay, maybe that was arguable, but Alexis was mildly grateful that the unbearable stings stirred her awake. It saved from her reliving a gauche situation: sleeping limbs entangled with her best friend, who she almost kissed, again.

They were practically squashed together, her head pillowed against his firm chest. Seeing how paranoid and sharp to his surroundings Alex was, his iron grips were challenging to snake out of it, good thing she had practice.

Here, at 5 am, while others were desperately chasing some sleep, Alexis was too engrossed in her own thoughts. The past 24 hours happened like a flash, and the Wolf was her highlight, making her fidget uncomfortably just at the thought.

You should have fought harder, been stronger, not falter at his baseless threats. Alexis had no one but herself to blame for allowing the Wolf to escape. The guilt her mistake carried fuelled the fire inside her, with revenge as additional gasoline to the mix.

The Chinese had a saying: "for what you do upon me, I'd unleash it ten times worse." Omar Sulaman would regret ever threatening her.

Seeking refuge under a dying tree at the residence's courtyard, she brooded in reflection. At least she figured out an end goal for the Wolf, but the friendship between Alex and her was shaky, at best. Alexis released an exhale of pent-up frustration, fingers weaving her chocolate locks into a braid. So immersed with overthinking, she almost failed to catch Price's approaching footsteps.

"No rest for the wicked, eh?" He arched a concerned brow at her stitches.

Alexis cracked a smile, "'Course." Patting beside her, she gestured for Price to take a seat with her on the patch of dried grass. "Please, don't be a nanny. Just sit down."

"Fantastic. I'm in no mood for that either," Price replied. His face briefly caught silvers of golden rays, accentuating the eye bags and fine lines that revealed just how much Price had aged since their last encounter. Even without the combat vest, his broad shoulders remained permanently slouched.

Alexis smelled smoke before the wisps floated past her. Witnessing how it relaxed Price, she shuts her mouth. "Something wrong?" she guessed, feeling the passing smoke layer her tongue with a woody fragrance, suddenly feeling the need to spit.

"The Butcher... Bastard didn't even spare a kid." Price took another deep inhale.

Alexis sighed, "We'll make him pay."

"Damn right." The price of war was a hefty one. And Alexis idolised John Price for his unwavering tenacity. By far, he was the most unbreakable person she'd ever met.

"So..." Alexis steered the topic, "What cover story did you tell Maddox and Forbes this time?"

Price scoffed lightly, a light-hearted undertone in his words, "Ah, I didn't bother. Bloody bitch about it, is all they do." Though Price, Maddox and Forbes all knew each other, Alexis always questioned what kind of Doomsday loomed over the world for a SAS Captain, Task Force Black's commander and a CIA handler to cross paths. Candidly, it made her excited to know why.

"Something going on between you and Alex?" Price questioned abruptly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She confidently lied, ignoring the tingling sensation on her lips.

"For your sake, I hope you lie better when you're on the job," he mocked. Did she develop a tell? How did Price always know?

"Ah, it's just a bunch of gossips, don't feed into it."

"It's a reliable source," that piqued her curiosity.

"Kyle," she deadpanned, twisting her body towards Price. "Call MacTavish, I'm gonna skin Kyle alive."

Price hummed, giving her an amused look, "That'd be a waste of talent. So it's true, you two dating?"

She didn't even know the answer herself, so she replied with something safe, "We're friends, always have been." Her gaze averted to the small wildflowers blossoming under the base of the tree she leaned on. Chrysanthemums, its deep red petals swaying gently against the wind currents, almost like a greeting wave. Alexis scratched her head at the timely symbolism.

"Don't get stupid, you know better than most that nothing lasts forever," Price chided with a distant look in his eyes. "That boy looks at you like there isn't a war waging on."

Alexis sighed, twirling the stalks of red chrysanthemum hesitantly, "That's the problem. Wars are happening, it's selfish."

The Captain huffed almost disappointedly, "There's always a war. You see something you want, you best hold onto it before something blows it up."

"Shouldn't you advise me against fraternisation, Captain?" She smiled.

Staggered smokes escaped when Price let out a short laugh, "Whoever tries to boss you around is an idiot. Do I look like one?"

"No, no you're not," she chuckled, always finding wisdom in Price's words. So when he told her the way Alex looked at her wasn't platonic, she believed him. Not like it was unbelievable or anything. The way he tirelessly searched for her in a crowd every few moments—then smile when their gaze meets. With ample practices over the years, she'd successfully ignored how much he burned her insides with a simple look.

Now, maybe she didn't need to.

Alexis was always more of a spy than a soldier—at least, that was what Maddox always said about her. A natural God instinct to read the room, practically able to smell the changes like a bloodhound. Yet she was slow to pick up on the change in their friendship.

Slow, and a little reluctant. Now that she opened the floodgates that she guarded for so long, every possible feeling punched their way to her heart.

She was still in love with Alex. A chilling sensation ran over her spine when she inwardly admitted that. It puzzled her if it was relief or nerves? Either way, it jolted a new kind of excitement in her. Every exhale felt lighter.

"And what about you and Laswell?" Alexis retorted smugly, enjoying the rare stunned expression that slipped onto her mentor's face. "C'mon, give me some credit. The most impressive agent you've ever come across, right? I read your debrief about me from the Caucasus mission."

At his threatening frown, she held up surrendering hands, "Alright, alright! I'm done here."

Price ignored her teases, stubbing out his cigar at the base of the tree. "The Caucasus... That's what, 7 years ago? You just made JSOC back then."

Alexis cackled at the memory, "Back then you didn't have this glorious moustache. Remember when I pulled a knife on Mactavish?"

"Scared the lad shitless. Didn't show it, but sure as well saw it," Price continued, a smirk present on his face.

"I sure as hell felt it. Mactavish's pulse was jumping." Then she paused, realising Price purposely dodged her questions. So she tried again, "Don't avoid my questions, I'm a great matchmaker!"

He shot her a look, "Says the oblivious fool."

"Touche. But still-"

Luckily, Hadir spotted them, sliding open the residence's glass door and jogged up to them. "Oh, Hadir! Thank goodness you're here, Price was about to murder me."

Hadir squinted in confusion. "Ignore her," Price got to his feet and dusted the grass off his camo pants, sending the gleeful agent a hard glare. "Lass hit her head too hard, she's spewing rubbish. Careful, Hadir." He patted Hadir's back and started to head back to the house.

"C'mon mate!" Alexis yelled after him with a butchered English accent. "I said I'm sorry!" She laughed at Price's slightly gapped mouth.

"Did I mention?" His hands steadied against the sliding door, "You're benched!"

With that, Price slid the glass door closed, wearing an amused expression as she yelled pleads after him with no avail. "Petty old fellow."

Hadir sat on Price's previous spot, gracing her with a chocolate bar. Unlike commercial ones, military chocolate hardly tasted edible—for somebody who hated chocolates, it was a torture to sink her teeth into the hard cocoa blocks. "Hadir, you couldn't find anything else?"

"It's chocolate!"

"You think."

His enthusiasm didn't die down as he chowed down his own energy bar, but after a few chews, Hadir promptly stuck out his tongue in disgust, earning a burst of hearty laughter from Alexis, "People eat this?"

"Dumb soldiers do. But the smart ones..." Alexis pulled out a packet of biscuits from the side pocket of her pants, wiggling in front of Hadir. She snatched the cup of hot water from him and dunked the biscuits in, much to his protests. Seconds later, the biscuit softened to a texture that resembled a sponge cake. Alexis urged the wide-eyed Hadir to take a bite.

Hadir was sceptical until he tried it, pleasantly surprised. He praised, "Finally, some food fit for humans!"

"Genius, right?" He nodded in agreement, passing her the cup to share. "And I can see that look in your eyes that you want to ask if I'm okay, so answer your question: I'm fine, although I'm sick of people asking me that. Thinking about tattooing the answer across my forehead, wanna help?"

"Horrible idea... Count me in. But no, not your injuries, here," he pointed at his heart. "You feel bad for letting the Wolf go, I know. It's not your fault, Alena– Alexis," he corrected. "Your names are confusing."

The smirk on her face faltered slightly. Though it quickly returned, Hadir already saw the cracks in her smile. Then she decided not to bother with the facade. "I should have fought harder. I imagine there are people who should be alive right now if not for me."

"Like I said, not your fault. In all my years, you got my sister and me closer than we've ever been to end this war... We've lost many brothers and sisters to get to this point. Between Barkov and the Wolf, I'm not sure which of these dogs are worse." His words had a certain edge in them, reminding her how much this war changed Hadir. "But they are not careless men. Why did the Wolf keep you alive?"

"Said he wanted to watch me suffer," Alexis answered honestly, hesitantly taking another bite of her dessert. "Jokes on him. I'm gonna crush him. We're gonna fucking crush them."

Hadir pulled his legs closer to his chest, returning a small smile when she rested a comforting hand on his knees, "With a big enough stone, right?"

"Damn right."

━━━━━━

Even with the miraculous arrival of a second chance, it doesn't mean Alexis made it easy. Now was the perfect example for his argument.

"Maybe you did hit your head too hard—look in the mirror and tell me if you see a large cut across your forehead, because I might be seeing things." He pinched his nose bridge in distress. Price had tasked the very injured Alexis to sweep houses with Bravo Team, take it easy and all.

Alexis wore a polite smile and calmly said, "Fuck you."

"How eager," he retorted, knowing just the way to irk her.

She threw up her trusty middle finger, "Hard pass."

Really? She thought, playing hard to get is so 2002, Alexis.

"Really?" He moved closer, and except for a hardened face, Alexis did nothing to stop him. Trapped between Alex and a table, she breathily observed the blue flecks in his irises, avoiding his alluring pink lips that was definitely calling to her. "Trouble breathing?"

Alexis swallowed her nerves, "The only trouble I'm having is my lack of personal space."

"Ouch..." His head fell defeatedly on her shoulder, chuckling. "Lexi, honey..." he gilded, eyes boring into her own. She kept still and bit her tongue at the pet name, watching his gaze travel down her face, maybe her lips.

Alex pressed more of his weight against her, "Be a good girl for me. Consider I said please."

Her heart quickened, sparing a quick glance at the wide-open door full of Marines who stood oblivious to their actions, but if they continued standing in this position, it was just a matter of time. "You're adding to the rumours..."

"So everybody thinks we're dating, big deal." He slammed the door shut to prove a point.

Are we? What is this between us?

She tasted the words on the tip of her tongue. Alex's flirting had become painfully obvious that she wasn't the sole player of this game anymore. And instead of addressing it, her wickedness took over—lightly chewing down her lips just to confirm her suspicions again.

A knowing smile slowly builds when he took the bait.

Alex blinked rapidly, retreating instantly. His attempt to clear his throat was pathetic, voice throaty as he said, "You're going with Bravo, no arguments."

"Like hell. The medic cleared me!"

Alex paused thoughtfully, rolling up his sleeves up his forearm. If this was his sly attempt to distract her, it worked. Reasons beyond her, his tattooed arms were incredibly attractive. "Was that before or after you threaten him?"

He didn't... Alexis recalled the easily convinced medic. Sue her for having a way with words. She smiled sweetly, refocusing on packing her combat bag, "You have no proof."

"Tell that to your face," he rolled his eyes. "Babe, come on, there's not enough time for me to tie you to a bed."

She'd admit to almost choking at his unexpected comment. Like a good spy, she hung a scowl at his charming smirk—refusing to play into his trap. Then, she internalised his appearance, styled hair, in the middle of a war. Still so vain. Probably trying to impress her, cute.

"Number one, you're god damn shameless–"

"I call it honesty," he shrugged.

"Outrageous, not to mention scandalous-" she corrected.

Alex huffed, throwing his head back briefly.

"Number two, I'm pretty sure Wade outside there, who was shot in the thigh is still on the mission. Talk about a double standard."

Usually, this danger zone was when Alex would back off. But today, she was convinced he had an intensified case of a stick up his ass. Still, he brazenly took the loaded magazines off her hands. "I'm trying to not treat you any differently from the boys, if that's what you're implying. I just don't want anything else to happen to you, Alexis."

"But I am different, Alex! I'm not the boys," the menace in her voice was hard to miss, a stark juxtaposition to the playfulness, "I don't want to be one of the boys. Read my damn resume, you really think this injury will be the one to do me in?" Her neck craned upwards to meet him, "I'm still standing. I can do this."

Alex finally uncrossed his arms and nodded, "Okay."

She cast a suspicious sideways glance, "That's it?"

Alex hummed– actually hummed this time. Her eyebrows shot heavenward, which amused him. "You expected a few more rounds, didn't you?" At her nod, "I trust you, that's all."

"Huh... Usually, you'd try harder. Say something melodramatic like: No, Alexis! You'll quite possibly die, bleed out to death–"

"Defamatory, I do not sound like that," he insisted upon her dramatic pause and casual dismissal of hands.

Alexis poked accusingly into his chest, "Something's wrong with you." He smirked like he knew something she didn't, and ironically, she did. You're not that slick, Romeo. Two can play this game.

"Funny. Here I thought a master profiler like yourself had better skills."

Part of her questioned if it was a double meaning, but shook it off. Grabbing her stolen magazines from his grasp, "Come on, we have a war to fight."

She wondered if Alex's blood had always run so hot when she reached over to grab his arm, surely she wasn't the only one who felt that. But Alex remained silent and allowed her to push him towards the door. They were about to step out until her satellite phone sounded. The two shared looks of caution at the odd notion, her phone hardly rang. Alex was the designated communication channel, and with Price's arrival, he carried that responsibility.

Unless it was an emergency... She quickly accepted the call. "This is a secured line, identify yourself and how you got this number."

"I have my ways. Good to hear you're still breathing."

Her shoulders relaxed, "Ruddiger. Why wouldn't I– Did something happen?"

"Saint, listen carefully, I don't have much time."  She mumbled a quick apology before kicking him out the room.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"After you left, we got a tip about Valhalla's safe house. It was a scam to draw our attention away from Boucher." Her stomach clenched at the ominous feeling. "He's dead. Someone got to him."

"In the Hostel? That's not possible." The whole point of a Blacksite was that it didn't exist.

"It's true, Saint. I saw his body with my own eyes. We found a tracker—plastic polymer, explains why it didn't show up when we wanded him." He continued when Alexis didn't reply, "This shit gets worse. They got a list... Of everybody who's on the op."

Her heart stopped right then, "No fucking way. Where are you now? And wait, this is high-level intel, how do you-"

"I'm officially CIA, thanks to your glowing recommendation. So technically, I'm also here to say I owe you one. The welcoming committee sucks, they're putting us in safe houses. All except you."

Then Alex burst through the doors, signalling it was time to move, but paused at her ghastly face. She held up a shaky hand, "Well, fuck, mon sauveur, huh? Thanks for the intel, but you do know you just broke protocol?"

From the anxious rubs on her face, Alex knew something was really wrong.

Ruddiger laughed on the other line, "Consider it my gratitude for your olive branch. I gotta go. Stay safe, Saint. You'll never know how far Valhalla can reach."

"I'm in the middle of a war. He'll never find me here," she braved through the unsteadiness in her voice. When the call ended, she remained on the chair, still profoundly dumbstruck. She didn't know which was worse: that someone managed to infiltrate a Level 10 CIA blacksite, spooking Valhalla, or that her name was sitting somewhere on a hit list.

Another question bagged her, was it her real name? A thousand worries crashed down onto her. Why haven't Forbes or Maddox called?

"Hey," Alexis jumped at the touch, instilling more fret in Alex, who kneeled before her chair. "You're shaking. You okay?"

Alexis knew Alex wouldn't stop until he got an answer. Yet she couldn't give it to him, she'd put him in danger.

"Always," she mustered the biggest smile she could. And because of that, Alex saw right through her. But there wasn't time to dig further, they had a war to fight. Besides, for all she knew, she was safe, for now.

If Forbes or Maddox haven't called, it meant she was still safe. She'd focus on that.

When she wordlessly slung her rifle and holstered her guns, there was a heavier feeling bubbling inside her. Alexis didn't have a good omen, but she couldn't pinpoint if her gut was referring to today's war, or the brewing one.

Ah fuck, is there a difference? War is war.

War is war, was her final thought as she got ready to start a day full of tragedies.

Alexis should have listened to her gut.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: taking a minute to say thank you to all of you!! i never thought Killer Instinct would receive so much love, but here we are, thank you lovers!!

taglist: @flyboidameron @wanderlustgiant @captain-pikas-world​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[inkedsoldier]

Chew the Bullet - Chapter One

A Modern Warfare series

Casey Vos is a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces. She has been stationed in Afghanistan and Syria, but now works everywhere they need her assistance. Specialized in counterterrorism and intelligence, she is unmistakably a great asset for the upcoming Taskforce 1-4-1, under the command of Captain John Price. 

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter one of Chew the Bullet. I’m going to slowly introduce all the characters while (sort of) following the storyline of the gaming series, starting with the most recent campaign of Modern Warfare (2019). English is not my first language, but I’m getting better at it. Please, if you see any errors, let me know so I can fix it. It’s much appreciated. Well, I hope you enjoy! And please leave a note, vote or message with your thoughts! Bravo team out.

Warnings: guns.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

____________

War is not just a three letter word. It is something worse. Something that can obliterate everything. War tears humans apart, even those who were once so close. Victims of war are over and over drowned in waves of guilt, pain and regret. In war no one is safe. Nowhere.

 Returning to a place she once called home was just a foolish thought in Casey´s brain. Everybody moved on in her absence. No one to return to for a warm embrace or innocent chatter. Home was a gaping hole and had long since healed and scarred up. She thought that with growing up in a place full of violence, tears and poverty she had seen everything. But nothing could have prepared her for the life as a soldier. She had seen friends, allies and blood brothers die. The moment you enlist, no matter what age, you either die in combat or live with the guilt of what your hands caused.

 At twenty-seven years old she had seen it all. Done it all. First Afghanistan, then Syria - and now everywhere they needed her assistance. As a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces she could be in London one day, and in Moscow the next.

 It has been twenty-six months since the last time she set foot in the cosy coffee shop in her hometown of Rotterdam. The air is thick with the scent of the dark liquid. Before she makes her way to the table in the corner of the place she orders a cappuccino at the counter. The first thing she does before sitting down is grabbing the laptop out of her backpack. She would never leave without the device. You could never know when another terrorist cell would pop up with the most horrific intentions. The laptop didn’t look as new as a few months back, but it saved a lot of lives in the meantime. Collecting information and analysing data were the main tasks on the computer to provide guidance and direction in modern warfare. Since Casey came back from the special operation in Istanbul there has been a lot of chatter about Al-Qatala. Unfortunately, the rules of engagement kept her from acting on it.

 The moment the barista turns up with her drink a notification appears on the screen of the laptop – a new email from Kyle. “Casey- We need to talk.” A short, but clear message. She winced as she took a quick sip from the overly bitter drink. The lack of cream made it just another caffeine shot. Not what she expected, but something she needed. She met Sergeant Kyle Garrick a couple of months back when working on a case at the Metropolitan Police Service. It was then that he crossed paths with allies of Omar Sulaman, also known as the Wolf, for the first time. “Call you in twenty,” was all she replied before sliding the laptop back in her bag and walking over to the barista to pay for the coffee.

 Back in the hotel room near central station she immediately sets up a secured connection to contact the British sergeant. Within seconds after calling in, Kyle appeared on the screen in front of her. “Casey, where are you?” Kyle asked. “Hey Gaz, how are you doing? Nice to see you, too” Casey chuckled watching the intense look on Kyle’s face. “Sorry, Case… but we got trouble incoming. Another one of the Wolf’s safe houses got onto our radar,” he explained. Casey couldn’t believe her ears. “Where?” was all she replied. “South London. Near Sutton. How fast can you get here?” From Rotterdam to London by train would take five hours with a stop in Paris. Taking the train of one o’clock would give her one hour to pack everything and check out of the hotel. “I can be at Saint Pancras at five. Can you send me the intel you got so far?” Kyle leaned towards the camera and nodded, “Great. I’ll pick you up at the lower level of the station, near the taxi rank. We don’t have much, but I’ll send you everything through the server. See you soon!” Casey waved her hand, “Copy that”.

 During the train ride to London, Casey poured herself into the data she had received from Kyle. He had send her a map of the safe house and all the intel they managed to collect in the last couple of days. The Wolf was back on the grit with a desire to make the west suffer to gain advantage and power. Sulaman is the leader of the terrorist organization responsible for plotting terror attacks, inspiring sleeper cells and lone followers to ban against world power. He was once a freedom fighter, a leader and a hero in the eyes of the west, but he turned. A lack of will made him intolerant. His knowledge of the western strategic limitations moulded him a kingpin of mass destruction. Both the man, and his movement gained mass support in the last years. Casey rested her head in her hands as memories flooded her mind. She had the chance to kill him a few years back, but a bullet… one freaking bullet stopped her from ending it all. The voice over the speakers yanked her out of the trance. The train arrived at its final destination, London Saint Pancras International.

 As promised, Kyle was waiting a the taxi rank on the lower level of the huge station. The area was a seething of mass of humanity – people on their way back home from a nine to five office job, tourists on the move to platform nine and three quarters, and teenagers meeting up with friends for a unforgettable night out. “Sergeant,” she said as she walked up to the six foot tall Afro-British SAS soldier. His brown eyes sparkled as he saw the brunette approach him. “Lieutenant,” he replied before embracing her in a tight hug. “Glad to see you, gal.”

 The ride to the Yard was filled with chatter between the two, but as soon as they arrived at the headquarters the talk got more serious. “Did you check the intel?” Kyle asked as they stepped into the elevator. “I did. Got some strategies on how to handle the raid and clean house. There are multiple ways to enter the property, and we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. We both know how the Wolf likes to set up his security,” Casey answered. “Good. I got a team waiting for us to go through the plan. We don’t have much time, but it should be enough to get in prepared,” he replied. Upon entering the briefing room she already spotted a few men waiting in front of the screen. “Lads, meet Casey Vos. Lieutenant and liaison officer from the Dutch Special Forces. She is going to assist us at tonight’s clean up,” Kyle kicked off. A member of the team walks towards Casey and holds out his hand, “Welcome, Lieutenant. I’m Brooks and this here are Crowley and Fowler.” It was a simple welcome, but greatly appreciated. Meetings like this weren’t always easy, especially not when you were the only woman operating in a team of dudes.  “Thank you. Nice to meet you. I would like to start the briefing in five. Kyle, are we expecting more men?” she smiled while shaking Brooks’ hand. “Yes, we do actually. Let me get them, so you can set everything up.”

  8:45 PM Sutton, South London

The twilight quickly faded to blackness in the small alleys in Sutton, a southern borough in London.  Thick clouds blotted out the stars and the moon in the still air. In the distance you could hear the cry of dogs. “Okay, guys. Be advised. There may be non-combatants on target. Check your shots. Watch those corners,” Casey instructed making way to the residence. Before entering the courtyard behind the house, they met up with another team. Casey, Kyle, Brooks, Crowley and Fowler would enter the premises from the back. The second team consisting of three officers would enter from the side, and a third team would enter from the front. “Ready? Good. Alpha-One moving in on the rear.”

 “Alpha-One, this is Alpha-Two. About to enter the eastern alley,” one of the officers stated on the comms.  “Copy that, Alpha-Two.” Entering through the back door was easy and the kitchen area was empty, but two deep voices could be heard from the living area of the house. Kyle slowly opened the door and dropped the two men, who were both armed. “Secure.” Casey moved up to the hallway when Alpha-Three entered through the front door. Footsteps could be heard from the upper level of the townhouse. “Alpha-One moving to the first floor,” Casey said tapping Brooks shoulder. Quietly they moved in formation and cleared the second floor. “Casey, on me” Kyle spoke pointing to the last floor. Frantic movement could be heard from upstairs. The Al-Qatala members definitely knew something was going on below them. “ I hear two. I got your six, Gaz” Casey said after checking her weapon if it was in need of a reload. The two steadily moved up and ceased in front of the wooden door at the end of the small corridor. They looked at each other and nodded before entering the last room. A woman and a little boy where hiding in a corner of the dark space. “Hold your fire,” Kyle said when he saw they were unarmed.  The sergeant restraint the mother and her child, and guided them downstairs. “Case, see what you can find!”

 The house wasn’t big, but it was a ginormous mess. Papers spread everywhere – on the floor, in cabinets, pinned on the wall. And not to mention the devices that were present that had to be examined. Phones and laptops scattered all over the place. “Alpha-Two for Alpha-One, we need you on the first floor,” she heard in her earpiece. “Copy, Alpha-Two.” Grabbing everything she already found, she made her way to the other team. “What do you got for me?” she asked the officer. “You’re not going to like this,” he said while turning the screen of the black laptop so she had a clear view of the data. Her eyes combed the display from side to side rapidly. She held her breath to concentrate as if her life depended on it. She started to violently beat her fingers against the keyboard in search for more while the glittering beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. All the fragments clogged her mind and she tried to connect them all together. “Shit,” was all she could say after opening one of the encrypted files. “Get Sergeant Garrick. Now!” she spat to the officer. It wasn’t long before Kyle got to Casey. “We’re in deep shit, Kyle. Check this out. Apparently the Wolf has his eyes on chlorine gas from Barkov. A group of mercs are prepping the convoy as we speak. This is really bad. You know what happens when he gets his hands on chemicals like this.” The Brit was stunned by the info he just consumed. His mind was going haywire. “We need to do something,” he affirmed. Casey knew what she had to do. It was her only option to try to prevent any close encounters with chemicals like this.

__________

Masterlist

Want to get tagged in upcoming chapters? Let me know!

[thaithanhbinh]

10 điều game thủ chú ý đến Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Với khá nhiều game thủ của quốc tế, sự trở lại của Modern Warfare quả thực đã mang đến rất nhiều bất ngờ sau gần một thập kỉ phát hành. Dưới bàn tay của Infinity Ward, Modern Warfare nãy đã phủ lên mình một tấm áo mới với một chất lượng không quá tồi hơn, một câu chuyện mới mẻ hơn và những yếu tố gameplay chân thực hơn. Tất nhiên, siêu phẩm vẫn còn có không ít khuyết điểm mà hãng sản xuất cần phải cải thiện hơn nữa nếu tiếp tục cho ra mắt các phần tiếp theo.

Trước hết, hãy cũng điểm qua năm điểm thu hút người chơi nhất trong MW

1. Dàn nhân vật

Là một trong phần mong chờ nhất, phần chơi chiến dịch đã làm tốt hơn những gì mà fan hâm mộ mong đợi bởi không chỉ dừng loại một cốt truyện hay, game còn có sự góp mặt của một dàn nhân vật quen thuộc của vũ trụ MW cùng với các nhân vật mới mẻ khác. Bản thân cốt truyện cũng đưa tới cho người chơi một cái nhìn chi tiết hơn về quá trình phát triển và sự thay đổi của họ trong suốt các nhiệm vụ. Infinity Ward có vẻ đã thông minh hơn trong việc loại bỏ những kiểu nhân vật “im hơi lăng tiếng” để tăng tính vai trò của mỗi nhân vật trong game.

2. Chế độ Gunfight

Trong khi các tựa game có phần chơi coop đều được mở rộng hơn, thì chế độ Gunfight lại đi ngược với xu hướng này. Chế độ 2 vs 2 này đưa người chơi vào các bản đồ nhỏ nơi người chơi có 40 giây cho mỗi hiệp để tấn công và bộ vũ khí được trang bị cho mỗi người là ngẫu nhiên và bình đẳng. Với số lượng đối thủ hạn chế, chế độ này giúp người chơi tập trung vào việc đưa ra các chiến lược tốt để có thể chiến thắng đội bạn – điều mà chỉ một số ít tựa game có thể làm được.

3. Đồ họa

Đây được coi như là một điểm cộng lớn với người chơi bởi MW đã được sử dụng một engine mới mang đến một trải nghiệm bắn súng góc nhìn thứ nhất rất chân thật. Một số trong những yếu tố góp phần lớn vào thành công này chính là ánh sáng bởi nó tăng tính hiện thực của môi trường trong game, đưa tới cho người chơi nhiều cảm xúc mới lạ khi phải chiến đấu trong các môi trường sáng tối khác nhau.

4. Chế độ ban đêm

Trong nhiều màn chơi của Modern Warfare, không ít trong các số ấy đều diễn ra vào ban đêm và buộc người chơi phải mang kính nhìn đêm. Kết hợp với việc ngắm bắn bằng tia laser định hướng, giờ đây bạn buộc phải tính đến một chiến lược khi nào nên nhắm và bắn trong một môi trường rất ít ánh sáng để thực hiện các nhiệm vụ ẩn thân.

5. Tính điện ảnh

Với nhiều người, Modern Warfare 2019 có lẽ đã vượt khỏi cảm giác là một tựa game, mà đó là cảm giác của điện ảnh. Các đoạn cắt cảnh trong game đều được nhìn nhận rất cao bởi tính điện ảnh cùng với diễn xuất và lồng tiếng rất xuất sắc cho các nhân vật trong game. Để tạo ra điều đó, một số nhà sáng lập tiền nhiệm của Naughty Dog đã cộng tác với Infinity Ward để mang đến một phong cách kể chuyện hết sức tự nhiên và cuốn hút cho tựa game.

Dẫu đây là năm điểm sáng của Modern Warfare 2019, tựa game vẫn còn rất nhiều các hạn chế mà Infinity Ward nên rút kinh nghiệm cho phiên bản thứ hai của series.

1. Tốc độ khung hình

Ngoại trừ PS4 Pro và Xbox One X, người chơi phát hiện rằng khi chơi MW trên một số nền tảng phần cứng cơ bản khác, tốc độ khung hình đôi lúc sẽ sụt giảm dưới mức 60fps nhưng vẫn luôn giữ ở mức trên 30fps. Với những người chơi đặt kỳ vọng vào việc trải nghiệm MW mượt mà hơn thì điều này thực sự mang đến một chút tiếc nuối, nhưng suy cho cùng thì hãng sản xuất đã làm rất tốt để cân bằng giữa chất lượng điểm ảnh và tốc độ khung hình của MW.

2. Một số khoảnh khắc gượng ép.

Dù đã được báo trước về những khoảnh khắc có thể ám ảnh người chơi, song đa phần họ đều cho rằng những khoảnh khắc đó còn mang tính gượng ép và không tự nhiên. Màn chơi “Hometown” là một ví dụ điển hình khi có phân đoạn Farah lúc mới bốn tuổi nhặt lấy các tuốc nơ vít để chiến dấu với tên lính nga tiếp theo đó nhấc khẩu AK nặng nề để kết liễu hắn. Ngoài ra việc những người lính Nga hay lính phiến quân Trung Đông nói cả tiếng Anh lẫn tiếng mẹ đẻ cũng là điều thực sự khó hiểu trong tựa game này.

3. Độc quyền chế độ sinh tồn

Dù cơ chế chơi chéo đã có sẵn trong game, nhưng không phải chế độ nào bạn có thể tham gia cùng đồng đội. Trong MW, Survival Mode sẽ được giữ độc quyền trên PS4 trong năm đầu tiên kẻ từ khi game ra mắt. Dù thỏa thuận này mang dến nhiều lợi nhuận cho cả hãng sản xuất game, hãng sản xuất console và một bộ phận người chơi, thì nhìn chung nó vẫn gây “tổn thương” cho tất cả những người không sở hữu bộ console PS4.

4. Vai phản diện

Trong khi những vai chính diện đều được xây dựng rất tốt, các vai phản diện vẫn còn có nhiều điểm thiếu sót khi cả ba nhân vật đều có tính cách khá một chiều. Họ chỉ được miêu tả là một tên khủng bổ độc ác (Omar Sulaman), tay sai trung thành của hắn (Jamal Rahar) và vị tướng độc tài người Nga (Barkov). Cả ba nhân vật này đều không có môt nền tảng trong quá khứ để người chơi hiểu hơn về họ và tướng Barkov, dù là trùm chính, nhưng cũng chỉ phát triển ra rất ít trong vài màn chơi hồi tưởng.

5. Không được phát hành tại Nga

Dù là một thị trường lớn, song Sony vẫn quyết định không bán nó trên PS Store tại Nga. Dù là một loại sản phẩm hư cấu, song các tình tiết của game vẫn có thể rất nhạy cảm.

“Ghen tị với Kojima”, giám đốc God of War nói về khả năng đưa game lên PC

Nguồn: GameK

Bài viết 10 điều game thủ chú ý đến Call of Duty: Modern Warfare đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Đồ Chơi Công Nghệ.

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