Steve knew Spectre 6-4 was gone. They'd lost their last crutch.
"Fall back, fall back!"
Without air cover, their escape would be even harder. Every time Steve turned to fire he pushed bullet time to the max, cutting down live targets quickly and steadily—but it was a drop in the bucket. His efficiency was several times the enemy's, but they had dozens of times his numbers.
He had the others pull back fast while he and Ghost fought a delaying action. On the slope, Swagger had already sent Fred back to help the team while he laid down cover and then withdrew.
Running and gunning, Swagger ditched the heavy M200 in the crunch and switched to his M4A1.
He charged down the hillside and linked up with Steve and Ghost. The three worked in tandem, covering the others and falling back.
Steve shot like a god—every time he fired, enemies fell by the handful. Which meant he drew all the hate.
A thunderous blast—just as Swagger was about to bound back, he saw Steve get flung into the air. Steve had just finished a volley and was peeling off when an RPG detonated where he'd been standing two steps earlier.
Steve hit the ground and didn't move. Swagger and Ghost sprinted to him.
Tat-tat-tat—
Ghost, closest, hauled Steve up first. Steve's face was a mask of blood; he seemed out cold, eyes open but unresponsive. Swagger, a heartbeat late, glanced, then turned and clipped a few enemies with a tight burst.
"Get him out!"
Swagger shouted and fired again. In that instant, more enemies swarmed from behind.
They dragged Steve at a crouch, running hard. With the main threat gone, the enemy grew bolder—bullets crackled all around the three of them.
Not like this. Nobody would make it out. Swagger's mind snapped to a decision. He spun, dropped to a squat, shouldered the rifle, and started stitching controlled pairs.
"Go! Get him out!"
Resolve set hard on Swagger's face; his hands never stopped. Ghost had seen life and death enough to understand in a flash. He didn't waste a second. He hefted Steve and moved. He knew the moment Swagger yelled, he'd chosen to trade himself for Steve's chance. Something surged in Ghost's chest—but this was no time to break. The only thing that mattered was not letting Swagger die for nothing.
High above, Becky saw it on the satellite feed and gasped. On the ground, sensing something wrong, Ela doubled back first and helped Ghost drag Steve aboard the aircraft.
Steve's consciousness was a fog. He could see, could hear—he just couldn't make his body move.
"Take off!"
"No, Bullseye's still down there…"
"Dammit—do what I say. I'm acting lead. Take off!"
Ghost shoved the balking Bayev aside and barked at the pilot.
The pilot followed Ghost's order. The V-22's twin rotors clawed for the air. Steve watched the ramp inch shut, cutting him and Swagger into two separate worlds.
The rotors reached critical rpm and the Osprey lifted, climbing away.
In the cabin, everyone stared at the sealed ramp in despair. The moment it shut, Swagger's hope of life shut with it. Ghost let Bayev pound on his chest. He had given the order to leave Swagger. It was a brutal call—but it had to be made. With Steve out, he was the highest authority on the team. He couldn't let everyone die. He couldn't let Swagger die for nothing.
On the satellite view, Becky watched the V-22 pull away, then watched the field of black dots on the ground converge on the lone black dot. Swagger crumpled, and silent tears rolled down her face.
…
Omega Headquarters
"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I put up bad intel. I didn't see the trap. I got Bullseye killed…"
In the ops room, guilt was written all over Silly Sweetie's face. This was Omega's first loss. Steve, just back on his feet, still had blood on his face.
"Is Bullseye dead?"
"Uncertain… but the odds of him being alive are slim."
The picture from orbit clogged Becky's chest every time she thought of it.
Steve said nothing, but everyone felt like he was a volcano about to blow. He looked up and locked onto Makarov's photo on the board.
Voices echoed in his head.
"Brother, I'm not doing this for some damn United States. I'm doing it for you…"
"Go! Get him out!"
…
He saw the moments of meeting Swagger, still vivid. The ache surged. They'd been through fire together. Steve had saved Swagger's life. Swagger had saved Steve's. Who owed who? He'd lost count. They'd done too much.
During the presidential campaign, they'd faced down hired guns together…
In Costa Rica, they rescued a CIA female operative together…
In Yemen, they dragged that show-off "SEAL" out of a terrorist den…
In Bosnia, they hunted for a downed pilot behind enemy lines…
Up to Mexico last time—killing a cartel boss, splitting a fortune…
When Omega took that hit not long ago, he was the one who told Steve, "If you walk from CTU, I walk too…"
Warmth welled up in Steve. This was a brother you could trust with your life, a solid partner. And this time, he'd covered Steve's back with his own life…
That last image before the ramp shut—Swagger surrounded by a sea of enemies—stabbed Steve's heart, and then hardened into resolve. He didn't know if Swagger was alive, but one way or another he would find him. Alive, he'd see the man. Dead, he'd see the body.
Makarov!!!
All of Steve's feelings condensed into hate. Thunk—a throwing knife buried itself dead center in Makarov's photo on the board.
…
In the interrogation room, Steve faced the man they'd bled to carry out—the bait Makarov had tied to the chair. The man was—Yuri.
They'd been in a rush, and Yuri's face had been battered. When Steve ripped off the hood, he hadn't recognized him.
"Why? Why did Makarov want you dead? Tell me—tell me why…"
Steve's voice climbed, his emotion spiking. He roared. He needed answers. He needed Makarov's location. He was desperate to know if Swagger was alive or dead.
Everyone watched him, worried. Steve was too far gone. In the end, Ghost stepped in to steady him. "Steve, you need to be calm. We all want to find Bullseye fast. But this—this won't help. Let me handle him. You watch. Remember—only if you calm down can you help Bullseye…"
No one dared tell Steve Swagger was already gone—even if, in their hearts, they knew the chance he was alive was almost nil.
Breathing hard, Steve finally nodded. Ghost was right. Only by cooling down could he help Swagger.
…
Operation Kingfish is done. Yeah, I lifted it from the movie, but I rewrote it back and forth several times, trying to recreate that scene as best I could. This chapter is dedicated to the COD fans—cheers from Dumpling. I thought long and hard about adding Soap and Captain Price, but in the end decided not to. If they showed up it'd barely be a cameo, and falling short would be worse than leaving them out.
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