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

Chapter 4

    "I can't get anyone on the horn," Ghost grumbled, pacing in our place of interrogation.
    "The Russians must've copied the ACS module. Got the key to every lock in America," Soap kicked a tire in frustration.
    "And they're killing a thousand Americans for every dead civilian in Moscow," Ghost threw down the long piece of dry grass he'd been tying in knots. "Looks like we're all out of friends."
    I leaned against a cheesy building with my arms crossed, hazel eyes on Rojas. His face was a little bloody after Soap finished interrogating, but for me it wasn't enough. The bastard needed to die for what he helped cause.
    "I know a friend," Soap snapped his fingers, raising his gaze from the ground. "Let's find a payphone. They still exist?"
    "Yes, you bloody old bastard," Roach sighed. "I saw one off to the east."
    "Militia is moving in," Ghost pointed out. "200 of 'em at least. Front and back."
    "We're gonna have to fight our way to where our LZ will be then," Soap braced, ready for the fight. "Roach, show me the payphone."
    "What about Rojas?" I didn't remove my gaze from the shallowly breathing prisoner.
    "All we got outta Rojas is that the only guy Makarov hates worse than Americans is locked up in a gulag," Ghost reminded.
    "The streets'll take care of him," Soap started to move away, done with the situation.
    "Not good enough," I pushed off the wall and withdrew my knife.
    "Sam—"
    I sliced the enemy's throat before anyone could have a say on what else to do with Rojas. Wiping the bloody blade on his shirt, I sheathed the weapon. The three men were staring at me like I'd lost my mind.
    "What? We don't need someone like him running around," I pointed out, beginning to head towards the payphone.
    Roach came up next to me, smirking with his hazel eyes gleaming. "I like you."
    "That's a good start," I smirked and shoved him with my elbow.
    "Both of you lock it up," Soap hissed as he passed us and hurriedly put change into the payphone. "Watch our flanks."
    Ghost watched where we came from, his trigger finger twitching to the shadows of the militia heading our way. I leaned against the building next to Soap, watching Roach keep track of our other exposed side. Both Task Force men were so careful.
    I'd had my experience with multiple waves of enemies—these militia men didn't bother me. Yes they outnumbered us and knew the area better, which were two important aspects, but we had more skill. I knew how to evade the onslaught of bullets; I'd done it for a third time just an hour beforehand.
    "Could you speed it up a bit?" I glanced at Soap as he spoke to the person on the other side.
    Soap glared at me and then whispered a few more words, hanging up the payphone. I smirked and got off the building, looking around at the nearing militia. Their Portuguese was getting louder.
    "Wish I knew what they were saying," Roach muttered.
    "Sam does," Ghost started to head up the slight hill with Soap.
    Roach looked at me hopefully.
    "They're looking for young man about yay-tall," I put my hand over his head. "Says they'll have his guts spilled on the street."
    "Real funny," Roach shoved me and I laughed.
    "Quit!" Soap snapped. "Nikolai, we're at the top level of the favela surrounded by militia! Bring the chopper to the market, do you copy?"
    "Ok my friend, I am on the way!"
    The voice which responded was of Russian descent and I narrowed my eyes. Trusting a Russian when we were getting attacked by them? Soap was even stupider than I'd thought.
    "Russian?" I snapped once we crouched for cover, next to Soap.
    "You have no idea who he is," Soap growled.
    "He's a—"
    "Tangos at the ground level dead ahead," Ghost announced, firing.
    I left a harsh glare on the side of Soap's face as he went away from our cover to push forwards. In haste, I decided to do the same and pop out of cover. Ghost and Roach were pushing up ahead of us, shooting at the militia with trained steadiness.
    "Foot-mobiles on the rooftops, closing in from the south," Ghost reported, reloading his gun.
    "They're coming out of the shack on the left too," I grumbled as I also reloaded and then carefully shot at the cluster.
    "Just keeping pushing to the evac point," Soap ordered, ducking into cover to avoid militia fire.
    I could see the market from where we were. If alone I may have tried to run for it and dodge the bullets while saving my own. As a team, I had to reconsider. It had been a solid six months with no one to call my comrades. This whole first-mission-with-the-Task-Force thing was an adjustment.
    "Spread out and cut through the market," Soap told the three of us as we reached the point of extraction.
    Along the rooftops lining the market, militia started firing heavier weapons. I shot their direction in a spray, hitting a few with the timing. My legs brought me behind a stack of crates with chickens flapping around.
    I could hear the helicopter nearing our position, flying above our heads to reach the landing zone. My lips parted for a short exhale and then I continued to charge forwards. The others were around yet not in my sights.
    "There's Nikolai's Pave Low! Let's go!" Soap shouted. "Nikolai! ETA 20 seconds. Be ready for immediate dust-off."
    "That may not be fast enough!" came a reply. "There are more closing in."
    Leaving us to die are you?
    RPGs started hounding the area where Nikolai attempted to land his Pave Low. Soap kept pushing as we all came back together in the soccer field just past the market. His eyes, however, hesitated.
    "It's too hot!"
    "Nikolai, wave off," Soap ordered, waving a hand. "We'll meet you at a secondary LZ."
    "Very well, good luck!"
    Nikolai lifted the Pave Low away from the militia heat, heading further northeast. I ran up to where Soap was mantling the side of a low tin rooftop. My lighter body was easier to lift as we began to run across the tops of the unstable shelters.
    "My friend, from up here, it looks like the whole village is trying to kill you!"
    Soap huffed to Nikolai's comment. "Tell me something I don't know! Just get ready to pick us up."
    We leapt across gaps, or alleys, in the favela. The entire militia force was on our heels, firing as we ran towards Nikolai. The Pave Low was in view again, but this time boarding would be a little more difficult.
    "We're almost there!" Soap launched across the largest gap yet.
    I leapt after him, pausing to see what Ghost and Roach did. Ghost easily flew across, but Roach...he slipped on the slick tin roofing. He let out a grunt as he slammed down and started sliding towards the alley.
    "Roach!" Soap shouted.
    I dove at the same time as Soap, reaching for Roach as he fell towards the ground. Roach lost his grip before either one of us reached him, collapsing to the ground far below.
    "Shit!" I yelled and scrambled to get up as more militia shot at us. "We have to keep moving."
    The three of us booked it to where Nikolai was lowering just enough for us to haul our asses on board. As soon as we were in the chopper, Nikolai lifted away from the heat of the fight. I panted, sitting up to try and find Roach.
    "Roach? Roach!" Soap shouted into the comms.
    I peered downwards, seeing the clusters of militia descending on Roach's position. My foot tapped anxiously and Ghost leaned off the side of the Pave Low.
    "Roach! We can see them from the chopper! They're coming for you, dozens of 'em!"
    "Get up dammit!" I gritted out.
    "Get the hell out of there and find a way to the rooftops," Soap ordered, seeing Roach stir to a standing position. "Run for it! Get to the rooftops!"
    "Gas is very low," Nikolai shouted from the cockpit. "I must leave in thirty seconds or less!"
    I released the edge of the chopper, storming back to sit down. Ghost followed suit, holding on as Nikolai dodged a missile. Soap hung onto the edge, gazing down for Roach.
    "Come on Roach!" Soap shouted, throwing down the ladder by his feet. "Jump for it! Nikolai. We got him! Get us out of here," Soap moved away from the edge of the Pave Low, glancing into the cockpit.
    "Where to, my friend?"
    "Get us to the sub."