"Take a left," I told Heatstroke. "We should be nearing the target building."
"I'm on it," She reponded with a sigh.
After being in a truck for nearly an hour was probably Shepard's definishon of 'a quick drive', but not me, it was ocward. Heatstroke parked the car a block away then we headed down to the building, in light weight weapons this wa an easy walk, but when you're carrying a heavy machine gun and gernades galore this was quite agerivating. When we reached the door we took it in our best interest to sneak in through the fire excape on the side of the building. So we cracked a window open and slipped in. I studied the room for a moment, there was scattered sleeping bags and a bathroom.
As stealthly as a woman who would have weighted a hundred and fourty pounds but was carrying about an extra fifthy pounds of dead weight could be I opened the door. The hall was clear and we snuck down the stone passageway.
I froze and stopped Heatstroke, a guard stood at the end of the hall. He was facing away and was smoking a cigarette, in fact I could smell the smoke from where I stood twenty feet away. I then whispered into the comm, "Stay here. He's mine." I pulled a combat knife from my belt and soundlessly rushed up from behind. My hand wrapped around his face to cover his mouth and I plunged the blade right above his collarbone. I heard him groan in pain then went limp, his gray eyes now glassy. I sat him against a wall and then told her, "Hope you learned something here."
"What like brutally slaughter a man?" She retorted as she zipped up next to me. "Nothing I didn't already know."
I ignored her comment and went on trying to avoid breathing the second hand smoke, I wasn't really a smoker. In fact I never did, whenever Soap or Roach lit one up I'd just walk away. And consitering how fast Roach goes through his, it really didn't take more than a couple day until he finished a pack. Soap, one the other hand, only seemed to smoke before a mission or something.
Finally we reached a door, it was metal and locked. So I kneeled down and started to try and pick the damn thing.
Meanwhile (Soap)
I stood next to Roach in the cool morning air. He was leaning against a wall and taking long drags from a cigarette. It was weird how he seemed to smoke, instead of just blowing it out it came out in one quick huff of smoke. To me it was pretty strange, but to Roach he didn't give two craps.
I sighed, "So what do you think the girls are up to?"
"How the heck should I know," He grumbled. "It's not like a planted a bug or something on them. Nor am I phycic."
I rolled my eyes and looked over to the bunk hall where some of the men were still getting their boots on. Sometimes I wondered what seemeed to take them so long, but it was probably the fact they were so tired. I didn't blame them, I remembered how when I was seventeen and on a Saturday morning my mom would have to force me out of bed. But even still I wasn't out of my room until the afternoon.
For some odd reason Shepard left soon after Scarab and Heatstroke did, but I didn't think much of it. Maybe he had discided to do and meet up with his troops. I honestly didn't know, and I wasn't a mind reader either.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: So yah, the Soap's point of view was just to fill in teh rest of the story, even still it was short. I'm trying to expand this among the next few chapters. 5 left!!!!!!!!!!!! Then we get to the campainge.
Sorry about the spelling errors. Huh, now I just wanna draw.
(Current Me Note: I think the only reason I'm not commenting more here is because the author's notes pretty much say exactly what I'm thinking, except I'd be saying this sarcastically.
Hmm.... maybe I was trolling....
Naaaah....)
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Plan B
FanfictionAh, yes, the infamous self-insert fic, bane of good literature. Often spawned by immature writers who know no better. An avid Call of Duty fan did just this when she was a 7th grader, and this is the frightening result. Meet Scarab, a woman in the T...