Every man on board had their eyes glued to Ghost as he paced through the cabin. "Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle." He stopped at the tail of the aircraft and looked back at them. "Remember: we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill."

Bravo Team stood up, Soap bumped fists with the leader of Alpha Team, and they headed for the open door, their clothes fluttering in the buffeting winds outside. Novaleen adjusted her helmet to make sure it was secure and lifted her balaclava over her nose.

Ghost stepped out first, then knelt down, motioning the rest of the team to follow his lead as they covered the helicopter's liftoff, its red lighting fading around them and leaving them in total darkness. "Bravo Team, move up. We're heading for that building straight ahead."

As they slunk through the field, moving between the sparse stones left of a ruined house, the bright flash of a rocket snaked after the helicopter. The pilot popped his flares and he, as well as Bravo Team, breathed a tense sigh of relief. "Shit, that was close..."

"L.T. ..." Soap's shoulders rose up nearly to his ears as a second rocket clashed with the bird's side.

The entire team took off running for the crest of the hill when it spiraled out of control. "This is Razor-1, we're going down! I repeat: we're going down!"

Ghost watched with widened eyes, the explosion of the crash reflecting in his dark irises. "Alpha, what's your status??" His only response was a fit of coughing and he bent his face closer to the mic. "Alpha, how copy?!"

"Come on, come on..." Novaleen crouched on the hill, terrified there would be no response.

The com picked up again. "Bravo, Alpha is immobile, multiple critical!" The pilot stopped to cough again. "Ah, shit! Bravo-7, we're taking effective fire!"

Ghost nodded, motioning the team forward. "Alpha, we're moving to Building 1. Hold tight."

Novaleen halted, looking back at the Lieutenant. "Building 1..?"

Before he could walk on, Soap's hand came out in front of him and he coldly side-glanced the Sergeant. "Problem?"

"Ghost, we need to secure that crash site now. We get there a moment too late, we could lose Alpha Team."

"First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site." Soap's blue eyes flicked in the direction of the crash again at the sound of a second explosion, belching a red cloud of smoke and flames into the air. Ghost grasped the shoulder strap of his ballistic vest and jerked his attention back. "Are we clear, Sergeant?"

Soap nodded solemnly. "Roger that." Ghost released him and pressed forward, leaving the Sergeant walking beside Novaleen. "C'mon, mate. Let's get this done so we can help Alpha Team."

She loped alongside him, unable to focus on anything but the burning aircraft. "I don't feel right about this..."

"Not our call," he replied quietly. "Just do what Ghost says; he knows what he's doin'."

They regrouped with the rest of Bravo Team and forced their way up to the first building, a small two-level house, stacking up at the basement door. Ghost drew a large hammer off his back and gave a nod to his team. "On my mark." He gave two test sweeps with it before winding it up and letting it fly, nearly tearing the door off its hinges. "Sweep through!"

Soap was the first through the door, immediately downing two soldiers. He took point, motioning the others up behind him. Two of Bravo Team went upstairs, quickly relaying that the second floor was empty. The Sergeant nodded and crouched at the mouth of the basement door, facing the next building. A flood of gunfire clattered against the door frame and floor, and Soap pointed out several men standing on the balcony and under the outside lights. "Smoke those guys!"

In a blaze of bullets, the men fell, and Ghost took point. "Bravo Team, move to Building 2!" He glanced over his shoulder at Soap, noticing the Sergeant's face was easily visible in a flash from ahead of them. A long stream of smoke connected the house to the downed helicopter and Ghost felt his heartbeat throb in his throat.

"Bravo," said Alpha 2. "Crash site is taking RPG fire from Building 2, second deck!"

Ghost nodded stiffly. "Alpha, taking Building 2, hold fast!"

Novaleen took off her night vision when they all approached the house and blinked blindly in the light. Inside, she could hear men shouting in Arabic to each other, and she reloaded in anticipation. "Ghost," she murmured. "Let me take point."

Silently, he swiped his hand in front of her, keeping her back to let Soap go forward. She narrowed her green eyes at him but he disregarded her as he stepped through the door. Inside, a tango raised his weapon in alarm, and upstairs, they could hear more men preparing an ambush. Shooting the advancing soldier would trigger an attack, and Soap was already raising his rifle.

S'WHACK!

The soldier fell with a knife lodged in his throat. He gurgled and jerked, spitting a line of crimson across the rough wood floor. Ghost crushed his shoulder under a heavy foot and yanked out the throwing knife, sending another spurt of blood spewing from the gash under his chin.

Novaleen's skin prickled with goosebumps. "Good kill..." she murmured, impressed. He didn't respond and she swallowed a bitter taste welling in her mouth, stepping past him to follow Soap up the stairs along with a few others, the Lieutenant's heavy gaze following her the whole way.

As they crested the stairs, a clatter of bullets rattled against the walls, engulfing a Lance Corporal in front of Soap in sheetrock and dust. He howled in alarm, scrambling for an open door leading to the patio. "I'm hit!"

Soap stacked against the door and motioned NAG to stay back. Quickly, he peeked around the corner and swung around, firing a shot perfectly between the eyes of an AQ soldier inside the next room. "NAG, this room is clear, go outside and check on Stevens!"

He was laying adjacent to the door frame, clutching his having chest and she knelt beside him. "You good, brother?"

"I'm good... Just got my plate." A weary sigh deflated his lungs and he doubled over. "Scared the fucking shit outta me!"

"Not just you. Come on, let's get you back on your feet." As she lifted him up, Soap was stepping out of a hall, grasping a soldier by his jaw and wrenching his neck with a wet snap. "D'you see anything in there?"

Soap wiped a smear of blood off his face with the back of his hand. "Just a coupleRPGs. Topped 'em, now we can secure the crash site."

She nodded and looked over the wall down to the ground where Ghost was waiting with the rest of Bravo Team. Novaleen swung her legs over and landed with a solid "thump," Soap and's Stevens shortly behind her.

"Soap," said Ghost. "We're moving to the crash site to help the wounded. The rest of you hold here and cover us."

There was a sting in her chest, but Novaleen took a position on top of a crate, lying flat on her belly. Stevens' hand clapped down on her leg and she cocked a brow at him.

"You're not gonna have enough cover up there."

She shrugged. "Not a problem." He slowly knelt back down, keeping close to her position and she looked through her sights into the waves of smoke drifting around the downed helicopter.

The hairs on everyone's neck stood up as enemy soldiers emerged from the distant treeline, slowly at first until they were at a jog, then a dead run, weapons raised. Novaleen nailed one in the neck, then wiped out the knees of another. It was no easy task picking off the advancing men, and as their numbers increased, she felt her heart floating up into her throat. Her vision began to weave and blur and she rubbed her eyes. "Damn, come on, guys..."

What started as gunshots turned to RPGs and grenades. She could hardly hear the chatter on the com; all she could see were the orange tongues of flames and curling ribbons of smoke painting the battlefield fever-dream red and black. In the midst of it all, a convoy of armored vehicles came slowly rolling into the area, launching projectiles as they got closer. Novaleen shielded her face and pulled the pin on a grenade, lobbing it into the fray. It exploded on the windscreen of one vehicle, but she swore roughly under her breath when it barely left a scratch behind.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!

In a bright flash, the convoy exploded under the fire of an AC-130. "Gotcha covered, Bravo Team," said Kilo 7-6, circling his aircraft over them. "Get Alpha Team and get out of there!"

They emerged from the burning helicopter a moment later, Alpha Team following them, two men lighter. "C'mon," said Ghost. "Building 3 is just ahead, let's go."

As they ran swiftly through heaps of stones and old bricks, Novaleen paused in the tall grass and looked through her scope. "Bravo and Alpha Teams, get down and do not advance!" she warned. "Snipers on the rooftop."

Soap nodded, peering through his binoculars. "Good call, Corporal." He looked between both teams, motioning to them with splayed fingers. "Everyone fan out and only move when you have to. NAG, you go left, I'll take right; we'll alternate who moves and who shoots. On my mark?"

"Copy." She slunk through the grass, slowly drawing up her rifle to her chest. Soap took aim in a kneeling position and took a shot. "Topped him. Merwyn, you're up, I'm movin'."

She rose onto her knees and settled her crosshairs a few marks over one man's head, barely able to make him out between the rooftop and the skyline. She let out a half breath and pulled the trigger, waiting to see his head burst into a red mist a second later. "Got him, moving."

Soap gasped as multiple shots surrounded him and he balled up tight, rolling away from his position. "Fuck!" He swept some dirt from his sleeve and looked back down his sights. "AQ's dug in hard here- whatever they're defendin', it's fuckin' big!" He laid back down and crawled forward, keeping his eyes on NAG as she picked off another couple of snipers.

"7-6," said Ghost. "I want fire on that building now!"

Soap jerked his brows up, scattering pebbles toward the Lieutenant with his hand to get his attention. "Ghost, we don't know if Hassan's in there!"

"They're forcing our hand," he snarled back. "7-6, fire on that building, but don't level it."

As the building disappeared in a burst of flares and rockets, Ghost pushed forward with the teams on his heels. "Push up to that wall, go!" They stopped again a few hundred metres from the building, their faces illuminated by the streaming flames from the gunship.

Novaleen was thrilled by the racketing explosions, but couldn't help but notice Soap's pinched brows. "I hope Hassan is still in one piece..."

"Several pieces will do," replied Ghost coolly. He vaulted the wall and took off. "All Bravo Team, move up, I want this place locked down."

Inside Building 3, the atmosphere was tense. Soap took point with NAG watching over his shoulder. Every little clatter of broken glass and weak cough of a dying soldier set each of them on edge. The Sergeant kept his teeth gritted together to keep them from chattering; hearing death rattles was one thing, but the quiet, smothered sobs of men buried under rubble was an entirely new experience.

Every room was eerily still. Soap finally came to an office and shuffled some papers around on a desk. His blue eyes settled on a general's jacket and he felt his heart sink. "Hassan's uniform... So he was here."

"Lost him when we secured the crash site."

Novaleen nearly jumped out of her skin as Ghost's dark presence loomed beside her, silent as the grave. His eyes were closed, his head bowed slightly. "Are you suggesting we shouldn't have helped?" she rumbled.

His eyes met hers from under his hard-set brows, looking wounded rather than indignant. "Choices have consequences..."

Over the crest of the hill, two men came slowly trodding through the deep snow, picking their knees up high. She breathed out a slow sigh and grazed the trigger.

"Nova, be careful. We can't draw that much attention."

She shot a quick grimace at Howl. "They aren't leaving us alone. They know we're here, and I can't let them keep trailing us." His hand rested on her back, but she didn't so much as flinch as she leveled her sights with the first man and slowly squeezed the trigger...

As he walked past her, she couldn't look him in the eye, and took up the rear as Soap fell in before her. She followed them down to the ground floor again. "If Hassan's gone," said Soap. "Then what are they still protectin'?"

"Let's find out." He pressed on and regrouped with the team. "What's going on?"

NAG tilted her head at the sight of a warehouse. Odd. It hadn't been on any of the maps they had looked at. She checked her ammo and knelt close to one of the roll-up doors, cautiously peeking inside. "Should we clear it?"

"Yeah. Let's take a look. Take point, NAG."

She stepped in, quickly glancing around each corner. The silence felt thick; something wasn't right inside this place.

The lights suddenly came on and she scrambled to rip her night vision off. "Son of a bitch! It's an ambush!"

Ghost tore the goggles from her head and pushed her sideways into cover. "Use your flashbangs! Get 'em back and keep moving!" He cooked a flashbang of his own and threw it into the room, taking down one soldier as he doubled over to hold his ringing ears.

She rubbed her blurry eyes and threw a grenade out instead, blowing a hole in the middle of the group of tangos before she moved behind another crate. Her stomach felt as though it much capsise like a boat and she swallowed desperately, hoping she wouldn't be sick. Novaleen finally fired around the corner, taking out two more soldiers, blinking furiously as her eyes adjusted to the light.

As quickly as the ambush began, the warehouse was silent again. The team looked around at one another, cautiously stalking around the open building, waiting for more men to pour out of the cracks.

Soap halted in his tracks, looking at a solitary shipping container positioned at the back of the room. "What the fuck is this?" he asked as he pulled open the doors. Inside was a control panel, with various buttons, switches, lights and leavers.

Novaleen stepped in beside him, reading over the controls. "... It's all in English." She started when he yanked on a lever and she hurriedly backed out of the metal container, heart thundering in her ears. It whirred and hissed, its top coming open as a massive missile rose out of it.

"It's a mobile launcher..." said Soap, glancing back at Ghost whose eyes were darting all over the massive weapon.

"These things can shoot a thousand miles," said Stevens.

"At least..." The Sergeant loped around it, looking for a place to climb up and get a better view with the Lieutenant behind him. "How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?!"

"This is Wathcer-1," said Laswell over the com. "Send traffic."

"Laswell, this is Ghost. We got something."

She sighed breathlessly. "Tell me you found Hassan."

Before he could reply, Soap collected Ghost's attention. "Look at this..."

As he stepped aside, Ghost's eyes widened at the worst sight he could have possibly imagined at that moment painted on the side of the missile. His blood felt like cement in his veins and his feet rooted to the floor.

"Ghost, do you have Hassan?"

Without moving his eyes, he turned his face into the com. "Negative. We found a weapons cache. Hassan's got missiles. They're..." His mouth felt dry as he fought for the words to speak.

"They're American..."