"Revenge is like a ghost. It takes over every man it touches. Its thirst cannot be quenched, until the last man standing has fallen. The world's men of action will look and wonder… how it came to this." – Vladimir R. Makarov

Really, they should have seen it coming.

Faced with a similar situation that happened years ago, of course there would be paranoia and the expected looking-over-one's-shoulder for an assassination attempt. How could they have vastly ignored the situation's progression toward a familiar set-up? It was the reason they were stuck behind enemy lines, awaiting a decision that could potentially spell the end of all their lives.

The elevator doors slide open with an almost sickening squeal. From his vantage point, John "Soap" MacTavish glared into his RSASS's scope, attempting to get a better look at who was strapped to the chair inside the elevator. He wasn't certain, but he had a guess, and it wasn't someone he had been expecting.

"What the hell…? Price, who is that?"

"Kamarov," Price responded, voice low and cold. This indeed was a blow. Kamarov's body was strapped to a chair, straps of C4 planted on his body. Price's and Kamarov's eyes met, and the latter gave a sad, pitiful look, regret flooding his features.

"I'm sorry, Price."

Before Price could even attempt a response, someone else's voice drifted across the radio link, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. It was the voice Price desperately wanted to silence, to destroy without mercy or regret.

"Captain Price - Ад ждет тебя."

It took all of a second for recognition to coil itself around Soapbefore he shouted. "Price! Get out of there!" He saw through his scope the man break into a run, heading for the stairs to the right. The bombs went off, and he and Yuri leaned away from the window as a flock of pigeons took frantic flight. Soap hoped Price had gotten away in time – they didn't need another ally on Makarov's hands. As he prepared to turn to Yuri to create a quick regroup strategy, Makarov's cold voice came over the link again, each word a calculated attack.

"Yuri, my friend, you never should have come here."

Soap felt like a blade had twisted itself into his stomach. His eyes instantly narrowed, a scowl racing across his features as he glared at Yuri. "What the hell's he talking about?"

Beep.

Soap swiveled his head around, noticing a red-tinged blinking light accompanied by a beeping sound. That could mean only one thing…

Moving as quickly as he could, he lunged for Yuri. "Get out! Now!" With his momentum, he pushed the other soldier through the window, attempting to jump out right after him. However, his reaction was a tad too slow; he felt the bomb exploding at his back. For a moment, he was enveloped in flames and smoke, unseeing, before the construction platforms rose up to greet him.

Price narrowed his gaze, focused on the task at hand. Yuri stood a rather safe distance from him, his M4A1 gun in his hands. The ex-Spetsnaz soldier didn't dare to look back but instead kept his focus toward the door they had previously slipped through to avoid Makarov's men. Standing guard was a necessary duty, although the tension of the air felt close enough to the heat of battle.

Price tied off the bandage as well as he could, remembering briefly a time when he had to do it several months before, for the same wound. "That ought'a keep you from bleedin' out for the moment," he gruffly spoke, patting a hand on Soap's shoulder. "Won't hold forever, though. We've got to get out of here."

"Don't have to tell me twice, old man," Soap weakly replied, his back against the alley's dumpster. He felt like a stuck pig bleeding, and with Makarov's men swarming the city, he felt like he needed a nice, cool draft of alcohol to get his blood moving quick enough for an adrenaline boost. He wasn't out of the fight, no matter what Price was thinking. All he required was a firearm and he'd clear a path through the enemy; as it was, he was waiting for one of two things: a rescue or an early grave.

Not the best outlook, but thinking about what had occurred minutes prior made his blood boil.

Soap lifted his eyes over toward the Russian, his mouth set into a firm line. Lowering his voice for Price to hear, he whispered, "I don't trust him."

"Who does at this point?" murmured Price in agreement. "But right now, we've got a little more to worry about than his loyalties. If we don't get out of this area before Makarov's men close in, there won't be time for interrogation."

"Then move me and let's go." Soap moved his gaze to Price, letting his narrowed eyes silently tell the man that he wasn't an invalid.

"You sure you can walk in your condition?" Price pressed, his gaze moving down to his makeshift bandages where red was already seeping through grotesquely. Soap wouldn't last more than a half hour at best in a prone position; half that if he moved around excessively. And, unfortunately, time was not their ally. Makarov's men would be there soon, breathing down their necks to wipe their having ever existed.

Soap's face twisted into an angry scowl at Price, but the pain in his eyes couldn't be hidden. He knew he wasn't going to make it for much longer, but at the same time, he didn't want to be the reason why they were captured. "Price." His tone was flat and filled with a challenge to tell him otherwise.

Price seemed to regard Soap for a moment before letting out a half-sigh, wrapping an arm around Soap to help him into a standing position. "If we head toward the northwest of town, we may run into some of the Resistance. It's not a solid lead – hell, I'm pulling at strings here – but if it means getting out of here alive, we're going to have to take the chance."

As Soap rose with Price, he jerked his head slightly to the other man who occupied the alley. "What about him?"

Price merely started moving toward a building opposite the one they came in through. "He still has his uses, for now. We'll question him later, once we're somewhere safe." The Captain turned his gaze toward Yuri, his eyes hiding none of the fury that he felt. Regardless of how any of them felt toward each other, all three needed the other two to get out alive. What came after would be a completely separate matter. "Yuri," he barked, "Take point through the store ahead. We've got to get Soap out of here."

Without hesitation or a backward glance, Yuri moved forward.