"Do I Have to Think of Everything?"

Day 7 - 08:51

Vladimir Makarov

Ultranationalist

Georgian-Russian Border

Makarov was enjoying a steaming cup of tea while reading the morning paper. It was a wonderful way to spend such a beautiful Sunday morning. Makarov chuckled softly to himself, his problems had all sorted themselves out. Price and MacTavish would be busy trying to clear their names for the time being, obviously they would be coming for him, but all in due time. Secondly, his house guests had also made themselves scarce, Sanderson probably slowly drowning in his own blood somewhere and Riley had managed to get his face in the papers alongside his Captain's. The man would be an idiot to return, his men had tightened security since his departure. He was prepared to read the Sunday comics when a pale-faced Anatoly leaned in and said, "Sir, the front gate's gone dark."

"Anything on security?" asked Makarov, searching the rows of comics for his favorite.

"Nothing. Whoever did this wiped the footage." replied Anatoly.

"Did you send a team to investigate?" asked Makarov, sipping his tea.

"Well, no.."

Not looking up from his paper, Makarov said, "Deploy a squad to search the guard post. Then I want a clean sweep of the countryside. I want this intruder dead by nine o'clock, understood?"

"Y-yes, sir." replied Anatoly, retreating from the kitchen to alert the guards.

"The Idiot Returns"

Day 7 - 08:53

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141

Georgian-Russian Border

Predictable. Whether Makarov liked it or not, he was a very predictable man. Three squads were heading down the hill towards the guardhouse. They were nervous, he was positive he saw them flinch every time a twig snapped. Two squads fanned out into the hillside to search, no doubt for whoever knocked out the guard post. The other squad went to check the block building, unknowing to them, they'd walked straight into a trap. The radio he'd snatched off one of his victims let him hear everything they said.

"This is Team One. We're secured the guardhouse, we've found everyone but Belinski." said the squad leader.

"Understood. Keep looking. Any news from the other Teams?" asked the radio operator, Anatoly.

"Negative. Whoever this is, he's a ghost. Haven't found a single sign of the bastard."

"Keep looking, he can't have gotten far. Over."

"C-captain? Captain!" shrieked one of the Russian's no doubt from Team One.

"What the hell is it?" barked the Team Leader, "Have you found Belinski?"

"Y-yes, sir. I think you need to see this f-for yourself.." murmured the soldier.

Ghost grinned under his mask, the Russian had begged for his life like a boy begs for a puppy. Despite what anyone ever said, he wasn't fond of torture, but it had it's uses. Now being one of those times, while the Russians were more concerned about their friend they wouldn't realize that the building was positively laced with C-4 plastic explosives. During the night he'd managed to lay the explosives over a good portion of Makarov's safe haven, a shame he couldn't demo the house, but sacrifices had to be made. The blocky detonator lay in his hand, the slightest squeeze would level the guardhouse, the garage, and most of Makarov's bodyguards.

"What kind of sick fucker would do this to a person?" asked the Captain, before clicking on his radio, "We've found Belinski, he's dead. Someone tortured him to death. What do you want us to do?"Ghost squeezed the detonator and the C-4 placed inside the dead Russian's jacket exploded, killing anyone in the room with him. Meanwhile, Makarov's array of vehicles were also destroyed, cutting off his escape. The two squads in the field soon found that they too were in danger.

Ghost triggered his second remote, this one controlling the Bouncing Betty's laying in the field. The silver disks hopping roughly four feet in the air before spraying shrapnel in every direction. Before the Russians had any time to react the mines had left them without a head or at the very least extensive shrapnel damage. Ghost stood and began to move towards the house, no doubt Makarov already knew who was coming for him. Based on casualties, Makarov's men had been all but decimated in his ambush. Makarov and Anatoly would be all that remained of Makarov's once proud army. Ghost smiled beneath his mask, withdrew his Beretta M9 handgun and stalked down the hill towards the safe house.

"Come in. Respond if you are still combat effective. Repeat. Respond if you are still combat effective." droned Anatoly, his concentration solely on his radio. Makarov was in the other room clutching his M4A1 knowing full-well Ghost was hot on his trail.

"Save your breath. No one's going to call back." whispered Ghost, aiming his M9 at the back of Anatoly's skull. The bullet pierced the back of his skull and sent a spray of blood over his radio equipment. Makarov readied his M4A1 on the door, having heard the sound of Anatoly's demise.

"Just you and me, Makarov. None of your goons to protect you."

"They will kill you. No matter where you go, they will find you and kill you." threatened Makarov, creeping towards the door.

"At least I'll have the satisfaction of taking you with me." replied Ghost, firing his pistol. The rounds found their mark in Makarov's arm, causing him to lose his grip on his M4A1, the weapon clattered to the ground before Makarov's leg was shot out from under him. Ghost stood over the crippled terrorist with growing delight, and growled, "So we meet again, Makarov. I'm going to enjoy carving you up like a Christmas goose."

"When we going to Moscow?"

Day 7 - 09:00

Pvt. James Ramirez

U.S. Army Rangers, 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment

Washington, D.C.

"Can't believe we lost Allen to Hunter 2-7." grumbled Dunn, stowing his gear in the Humvee.

"Yeah. But those guys got seriously hammered during the battle, they could use someone who isn't green as grass." replied Ramirez, handing another bag to Dunn.

Dunn paused, and asked, "Like you?"

"Guess I was pretty green back then. How about now?" asked Ramirez, tossing his rucksack in the rear of the vehicle.

Getting behind the wheel, Dunn said, "If green is a rookie and red is a bad-ass then you'd be in the yellow range."

"And what would you be then, Mr. Big Shot?" asked Ramirez, strapping himself into the Humvee.

"Me? I'm honest to god as red as you can friggin' be." replied Dunn, steering the vehicle out into traffic.

Ramirez chuckled, "Bullshit."

"I'm telling your mama you said that."

"You're joking."

"Don't push it."

Foley was a man of action, not a man who enjoyed toiling behind a desk. He'd been working on an after action report on and off for the past week, it was due four days ago but no one was pushing it.

"You see that chick back there?" asked Dunn, strolling through the old building that was currently housing the leadership of the US Military stationed in Washington.

"And?" asked Ramirez, all he saw was a woman serving her country. They were all soldiers, gender wasn't a factor. The resent invasion had left a major void in man power, every available soldier was on the front line, proven they were male. Females hadn't yet reached the point to share the battlefield with the men yet, thus they had taken over the majority of behind the lines work, including security. Thus the current conversation.

"I swear she had hookers the size of my-" started Dunn, before stopping himself.

"The size of your what?" asked Ramirez, standing outside a door labeled 'Foley'.

"Not sure…don't remember where I was going with that one." replied Dunn, knocking on Foley's door.

"Come in." replied a muffled voice from beyond the oaken door.

The duo let themselves in, Dunn in front with Ramirez behind carrying a large manila envelope. The Private tossed them on the Sergeant's desk. "What are these?"

"Orders, said Dunn, "Straight from the desk of Colonel Marshall. See for yourself."

Foley tore off the seal of the envelope and withdrew the large sheet of paper.

"Isn't it great?" asked Dunn, leaning back in his chair his feet on the Sergeant's desk. "We're going to Moscow! Tip of the Spear!"

"Moscow.." breathed Foley, they were finally going. Ready to take the fight to the Russians.

"Loose Ends, All Tied Up"

Day 7 - 21:47

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - WIA (Again)

Somewhere in Russia

Something roused Roach from his sleep. He'd never been a light sleeper but recent events had left him on constant look out, the result of one betrayal too many. The silhouette of a man against the darkness of the room, Roach already pulling his USP.45 out from under his pillow.

"Get the hell out of here or I will shoot you." growled Roach, his weapon trained on the unknown individual in his room.

"Now that's no way to treat the man who went out of his way to save your sorry ass." replied the unseen man.

"Ghost?" asked Roach, his pistol still unwavering.

"Yeah, it's me." replied the shadow, clicking on the bedside lamp. The soft light illuminated the room casting ghastly shadows on Ghost's skull mask. "Sorry I was gone so long. Had to tie up a few loose ends."

"With Makarov, I presume." murmured Roach, putting his handgun under his pillow again.

Ghost sighed, "Yes, with Makarov."

"Did you kill him?" asked Roach, not exactly sure how to respond no matter the answer.

"Outright? No. When it finally came to it, I couldn't pull the trigger. Though I do assume the FSB is having a field day with him right now. If he can even talk, he's defiantly going to need a hospital bed. I told him that once you'd got back on your feet he'd be the one in a hospital, and I'm a man of my word." said Ghost, leaning back in his chair. Wondering what the next day might bring.

Like all good, or not so good things (take your pick) this had to come to an end at some point.

Hopefully, this ending didn't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth or whatever.

Also I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story.

The Drunk Fisherman - Did I ever say I was mad that you were tearing my story a new one? No? So don't worry about it, I understand where you're coming from and I'm fine with that.

It was nice to get some reviews from some of the heavy hitters, along with some favorites!

Maybe this is proof I'm maturing as a writer, maybe I'm just a game nut with too much time on his hands…the world may never know.

So, because I always tell you to, Review!