#Al-Hassan Ly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bits-and-babs · 6 months

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✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

captain john price x f!reader (raven) | smut, 18+ | 4.2k

summary: when a seemingly bulletproof mission goes awry, captain price makes the vital mistake of pursuing the target alone and contributes to the chaos that almost claims the life of one of his men. When he returns, he lacks the humility to accept your reprimand lying down.

cw: mwiii spoiler free. war and violence, mentions of wounded, ooc price maybe a little? angst, enemies to enemies that fuck, reader is pathetically attracted to price because same, literally a voice kink fic disguised as a deep throating fic, very light degradation, bratty behaviour from reader, heavy face fucking, hair pulling, praise, gagging, very little aftercare.

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It all goes tits up.

Shouts of distress arise across the coms in the CIA conference room, blaring through the headphones glued to the watchers’ heads. Ghost’s gruff voice calls out a casualty, leading General Shepard to launch out of his seat and crash his fist against the tabletop. Mugs of coffee tip over from the force of the impact, liquid bleeding into top secret documents- they aren’t his primary concern.

“Lieutenant, this is Gold Eagle. Is there an issue, Ghost?” Shepard’s voice snarls down the coms.

“Sir, it’s Soap- he’s been hit.”

Hanging your head between your shoulders, you barely register the orders that Shepard screams into the microphone of his headset, his spittle peppering the laptop screen where he oversees the mission descending into chaos. Your ears are ringing, your heart thumping wildly against your sternum. Further panic ensues, Gaz shouting a brief, hurried explanation of the mission breakdown. “… snipers in the mountain, sir. Had to dispatch them- I can’t see Captain Pri—”

“Bravo 2-6, this is Raven. Confirm Captain Price’s location,” you insist, swallowing the alarm that threatens to haemorrhage from your lips.

“Negative, Ma’am. Lost him while dispatching the snipers.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your blood boil at The Captain’s recklessness. “Fuck!”

Your fingers blur over your keyboard, focusing your attention on John Price’s coms. Again, Shepard barks orders at Ghost, but you can’t hear him over your own heavy breathing and pressing tone as you address Price in a fury.

“Captain Price, this is Raven; confirm your location immediately!”

Silence at first. Coffee drips from the edge of the tabletop by your feet, pooling into the navy-blue carpet. It stains like blood, a dark smear. You can imagine it in Price’s camo uniform, spreading thick and fast from a bullet wound- a direct hit to the chest.

“We’re gonna lose Hassan.”

“Captain Price,” you yell down the microphone, simultaneously relieved to hear his voice and enraged at his increasingly frequent decision to go AWOL, “We will most definitely lose Hassan if I must bury every member of 141! Return to Team Bravo immediately!”

You’re almost certain you can hear Price’s teeth grind together, the enamel straining under the weight of his fury and threatening to crack down to the root. “Are you tellin’ me we let him go?”

“Captain Price, I am telling you that we were given faulty intel. I am telling you that we are sustaining heavy losses and that Sergeant MacTavish is critically wounded, and I am calling for EVAC!” Your knuckles are bleached where your fists hover over the keyboard, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure the indents they leave burrow straight to the bone as you await confirmation of Price’s retreat. “Task Force 141 is a priceless tool against Al-Qatala. I cannot afford to lose every member for the sake of a man we will ultimately have to chance to apprehend again!”

Your eyes float to General Shepard. He’s furious, his irises swallowed by the hollow blackness of his pupils as he jerks his head in confirmation of permission to evacuate 141. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Do you copy, Captain Price?” You yell down the microphone, finally losing your cool with the maddening Englishman that continued to defy your authority.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

The ticking minutes-hand of the analogue clock that hangs above your desk sweeps away half of the day before you have confirmation of 141’s safe return to American soil. A further two hours of urgent, life-saving surgery have you chewing your nails to the quick. By the time word reaches you of Soap’s stable condition, your nailbeds are bloody and raw.

“Intel confirms a convergence of Las Almas fighters on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. We believe they intend to smuggle Hassan out of Mexico and into Venezuela, where they would almost certainly grant him sanctuary. Air surveillance suggests that armed guards patrol the border twenty-four seven, concentrated significantly around a central point where we suggest they will attempt to help Hassan over it. Ghost and Soap will lead a special operations unit to kill all Las Almas fighters on sight. Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him with the help of the Mexican Special Forces. Captain Price, you have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.”

Enraged by the complete breakdown of the mission, your mind replays your mission briefing repeatedly, scanning the tiniest of details in vain hope of understanding how such a concise and faultless plan had almost killed a vital member of your task force. You couldn’t have made it more transparent, having covered every possible eventuality. Even the risk of faulty intel had been accounted for, enough backup issued should teams Alpha and Bravo find themselves outnumbered, yet…

“Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him.”

High-ranking officials sidestep you as you turn the corner to your offices, just barely escaping your warpath as you zero in on your target. The heels of your polished shoes crack against the lino flooring of the hallway like gunfire, the sound ricocheting off the walls and alerting those in your way to your fury.

Perhaps it would explain the wide-eyed shock already present in both Shepard and Captain Price aimed at the door of the General’s office when you throw it open with rage.

“John!”

“I fucked up--“he attempts to assure you of his guilty conscience, gesturing vaguely to his commanding officer, who no doubt had already laid into him over his poor decision-making. It does little to dispel the bubbling temper that churned in your stomach and coated your tongue with a sour taste.

“You’re damn right, you fucked up,” you scoff loudly, watching Price cross his thick, bulky arms across his chest as he surrenders to your verbal onslaught. “Your decision to ignore my plan and, arguably, go AWOL nearly cost Johnny his life! I’d issued a faultless mission briefing and paired you with Gaz against Hassan! With Gaz!”

General Shepard watched you chew up Price from his seat at his desk, lacing his fingers across the surface littered with pictures that looked as though they’d been ripped from the bodycam and air surveillance footage of the failed mission. Photographic evidence of Price’s incompetency—or rather, his blind faith in himself that he could singlehandedly take on a small army of Las Almas fighters and legendary terrorist fighter Major Hassan Zyani.

A bitter spark flashes across Captain Price’s cerulean eyes, his inflammatory retaliation worming its way between his gritted teeth and rumbling in his chest.

“It’s easy for you to criticise my split-second decisions when you sit behind a desk every mission, barkin’ orders with coffee in your hand.”

It’s a miracle that you restrain yourself, momentarily considering issuing a reminder of your military prowess in the form of hand-to-hand combat. If it weren’t for the haggard strain of John’s voice from his bellowed EVAC orders in a desperate attempt to save Soap’s life, you’d have connected your balled-up fists to his face. Instead, you spit in retaliation.

“Need I remind you that before I used to call the shots, I used to shoot people?”

Price lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at your comment and opening his mouth to argue. You don’t let him, smothering the threat of his stupid rebuttal of ‘with what, a water pistol?’.

“Your decision to pursue Hassan nearly killed Johnny,” you repeat the undeniable fact, punctuating it with a violent jab of your finger towards him, “Do you realise how close I was to calling into Scotland? How close I was to organising the coffin to bring him home in? How dare you undermine me- disrespect the resume that put me in that seat and the people I killed to get there, Captain.”

If it weren’t for you, Price’d be standing in the pews of a church in Glasgow, draped in black and drenched in red.

Clearing his throat suddenly from his seat, General Shepard just barely splits the brutal tension bludgeoning your skull in the form of a migraine that only seemed to arise in the presence of Captain John Price. It thumps against your temple when Shepard makes a show of standing from his seat and pointing to the door.

“I can leave you both here to sort out your differences. The last thing you will both do is undermine my authority by screaming like petulant children in the corridor in front of my colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you both manage to address him, eyes still pinned to each other like a missile’s locking system. Shepard grunts, and you note the twitch of a muscle in Price’s lower eyelid, his anger threatening to claw its way out of his face before he erupted with it.

The door to Shepard’s office swings open, heavy footsteps passing the threshold. In a sick, comedic chain of events, he doesn’t bother to pull it closed again. Instead, it creaks as the hinge closes achingly slowly.

You feel sick when you stare at Price. Not because you fear the words he could aim towards you in a critical hit—instead, you felt nausea at the concept of hearing the gravelly tone of his voice alone, the stabling force of your commanding officer absent.

It’s a dirty little secret that you’d never allowed yourself to speak. Even four Proseccos deep into a rare Christmas gathering of 141, you’d swallowed the word bile down that threatened to use your inebriation to rid yourself of the guilt. Price had admonished your choice of alcohol that night, commenting on how you could have chosen something better- like whiskey. The rumble of his voice in his sarcastic assessment had pooled in your stomach like the liquid amber he had suggested.

How could you possibly admit that the tone of his voice, so gritty and deep, swelled in your clit when you went to bed at night. That you replayed the ridiculous, pathetic one-liners he’d utter over the coms to you. The one time you’d issued a warning of an incoming threat, and Price had offered thanks in the only form he knew to give you: “Tha’s a girl”. You’d made a late-night Amazon order for new bedsheets and a mattress protector that same evening.

Click.

The door shuts, and the sound makes you jump as though John had slammed his fist on a big, red nuclear button.

“Are you done?”

The swallow that drags down your throat at the husked whisper he’d started with is far more audible in the now silent room. The spiteful gaze you had levelled at Price melts away, transfixing on him instead with something akin to dumb-struck, doe-eyed idiocy.

“P-Pardon?” You stumble over the two-syllable word that had confidently come to mind. Working in a building that relied so much on manners, there was absolutely no excuse for butchering a word you used upwards of fifty times a day.

Price’s eyebrow arches pointedly at you, the flickering ember in his irises that had previously resembled an inextinguishable fury instead glows with an amused curiosity at your very sudden surrender.

“Are you done making me look like a rookie in front of General Shepard?” He clarifies, stalking forward. He crosses the space between you both with long, cocky strides that make your heart pump double time when he finally settles in front of you. “Are. You. Done?”

“Hah-!” You laugh. You mean for it to mock his ridiculous notion, but instead, it’s all choked, nervous and airy because that damn voice knocks the oxygen from your lungs like he’d rendered a sucker punch to your gut. Price’s eyes pin you to your spot on the floor, root your feet to the coffee-stained carpet.

It’s utterly infuriating how he tilts his head in a smug observation of your panicked expression. You can see the exact moment he notes the tremble of your inhaled breath and the heat of your arousal rolling off your body. Fuck-

“John-“

There it is. Comprehension. The glistening sweat at your temple, the wide-eyed nervousness in your expression, and the breathy whisper of his name all surged forward and lit the bulb of realisation in his mind. You can practically see the golden glow of it in his pupils, a switch tck’ing when he murmurs an ‘oh’.

His lips split into a toothy, wily grin, “Oh, look at you, Station Chief.”

You bristle with panic with the way he makes a point to emphasise your rank, your lips parting in shock when he reaches up to grasp your chin in his hand.

“Who are you to question my decisions? You don’t even know if you want my cock in your mouth or your cunt.”

The sheer filth he utters makes your head reel as though he’d fed you some of his mind-numbing whiskey. You’re confident you’re gawping at him when he smirks at your reaction, his calloused thumbpad brushing across the bridge of your jaw. It reminds you of the way he caresses the trigger of a sniper rifle before he fires it and how you’d spent so many nights imagining that touch when you circled your clit-

“How ’bout we start with your mouth?” He urges you with a smokiness that rivals the puffs of his cigar. You loathed him for his smoking habits when the acrid scent clung to your hair but worshipped him for it when you buried your nose into your pillows when you came with a silent cry of his name.

You see his smirk widen suddenly, and it takes you far too long to realise that you’d let out a devastating whine at his lurid suggestion. John’s fingers and thumb settle on the pillowy flesh of your cheeks on either side of your mouth, pushing against them until your lips are pursed. It’s undignified, far beneath your station, but then-

“Gunna wanna open that mouth nice an’ wide for me, Dove.”

You sink to the floor of your commanding officer’s office floor before your rational mind even has a chance to talk you out of the offence- or acknowledge the choice of pet name that cheekily undermined your call sign. Your perfectly tailored office trousers crease beneath the weight of your knees… But suffering through cleaning and ironing them again was worth the rumble of a groan that fell from John’s lips as he watched you kneel for him.

“Fuck,” Price hums in appreciation, those gorgeous sky-blue irises swallowed by the midnight black of his pupils once more, “Spend all your time issuin’ orders, but you just needed someone else to take control, didn’ you, Love?”

For a moment, you hesitate. It’s improper, the way your knees ache with the hard floor beneath them. A tiny, quiet voice urges you to stand and rush out of the room before you damage your reputation any further, but the clink of John’s standard-issue belt buckle has your jaw falling slack before the idea can truly take root.

“Look at you,” he stresses again as he pulls the length of the belt from its loops with a slow thwppp sound, “So greedy for my cock. Anyone would think you’d been desperate for it all this time.”

John drags down his zipper, watching you look at him through your lashes. You don’t dismiss his hypothesis, instead choosing to stick your tongue out for him in an obscene act of fervour. The haggard groan that lurches from John’s lungs settles deep inside your cunt.

“You filthy girl,” he gasps, hurrying his hand into his trousers. He doesn’t even strip the pants from his hips, instead fishing his cock from his boxers and settling his balls against their waistband. “You have, haven’t you? How often did you touch yourself beneath the table while I spoke to you over the comms? Hmm?”

You’re so far gone now, so drunk on the idea of the agitating, ridiculous, utterly infuriating Captain finally fucking you that you might have answered that question-- if you’d heard it. Instead, his voice, which previously captured every fibre of your attention, drowned into the background of the thumping pulse in your ears. His cock sits just in front of your face, and it’s like you can’t breathe.

Ruddy and red at the tip, his cock already drools precum down the curve of its shaft. Veins throb beneath the thin, velvety skin, their ridges glistening beneath the wet tracks that his leaking seed leaves. It settles at the base, where his heavy balls rest against his boxer’s elastic waistband.

His question dies in the thick tension in the air, and you lean forward on your knees to press your drooling tongue right at the base of John’s cock where his precum pools. Your unexpected starting position causes John to spit out a curse, his fingers flying out to grip the strands of hair at the crown of your skull. “S-Shit-“

Saltiness coats your tongue where you lap up his cum, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft to trace his pronounced frenulum. Dragging your tastebuds upwards, you collect the tracks the droplets had left behind until the tip of your tongue rests on the underside of his fat cockhead. It’s disgusting, the relieved whine that escapes your open throat, but the vibration tips Captain John Price over the edge.

“Fuck! Eyes on me, Dove. Wanna see your eyes- that’s it.” John’s face contorts, brows creasing, and the edges of his lips turned down beneath the coarse hair of his beard as you look up at him, kissing the head of his velvety dick and slipping it into your mouth.

“Take orders so well. So obedient,” he purrs, the rumbling sound edging into a moan when you ease more of him into your mouth. He’s trying to play off the power dynamic, you note. Getting off on the fact that you’re his superior, but that he held the authority like this. A playful resentment teases the edge of your mind, urging you to remind him of his place.

You drag the edges of your teeth over his shaft. Not hard enough to hurt- just enough for a singing hiss to echo in the quiet room when you pull back from his cock.

It’s a mistake.

John grasps your hair at the back of your head, winding the strands around your fingers and suddenly rocks his hips forward. The length of his cock slides deep down your throat, and you splutter as your nose crushes into his pubic bone. “Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

His gravelly reprimand swirls a ghost-like touch around your clit, and you gag around the length that intrudes against your throat walls. Price tuts softly, feeling your nails dig into his flesh beneath the camo canvas still covering his muscular thighs. It’s only when tears cling to your lashes that he draws your head back with a pull of your hair.

Gasping down a heavy breath, you splutter when John groans loudly. His cock twitches, drooling more precum as you gasp for breath, and he drags his eyes across your face. “Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me like that- didn’t it feel good?”

God, you’re nodding pathetically, tongue already lolling from your lips in a silent plea for more. The heaviness of his cock against your tongue and the vibrations of his lurid tone are enough for you to cum on their own, and you want more of them. John groans, a chuckle settling somewhere between the sound as he grasps the nape of your neck.

“Jus’ like that, you dirty girl,” he urges you, his free hand tapping at his balls in a wordless order. This time, you obey, tonguing over his finger before taking one of his balls into your mouth. You can hear the shaky exhale that rattles in his lungs when you suck.

“So fuckin’ good for me. I’ll fuck you against that desk one day, you hear?” You see him point in the corner of your vision, his index finger aiming at General Shepard’s desk. Realisation slams into you and rocks your clit with arousal- Shepard could walk in at any second and see his right-hand man stuffing Captain Price’s cock down her throat in the ultimate show of disrespect. John doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, it’s as though he gets off on the idea, his eyes darting to the door as he details his plans for you.

“Think you’d look real nice on it. Far better than ‘is tacky nameplate. We’d make a mess together, get our cum all over it so he can smell jus’ how wrecked I left you-“

Moaning around the length of his cock, your clit throbbing desperately with his words, the vibrations cause John’s hips to lurch forward again. The head of his dick prods the back of your throat, but John’s tight grip doesn’t allow you to pull back. He’s buried to the hilt, twitching against your palate.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ for it, Love. It’s dripping down your chin—Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” He’s slurring his words as he watches you bob your head up and down on his length, swallowing around him and just barely holding back your gag reflex. It’s quick, messy, and loud, the wet sounds ricocheting off the office’s walls.

“D’you think he’s got cameras in here?” John muses, his voice thick with his incoming orgasm. The sound of it, the arousal coating his tongue has you whining desperately, “Why don’t you touch yourself, hmm? Give ’im a show.”

You sob around his girth like he’d just offered you a miracle. Fumbling, you don’t even bother wasting time trying to shove your hand down your trousers. Your fingers find the vague outline of your cunt through the crotch, roughly circling your clit through the layers of material.

It’s all you need. Your eyes roll back into your skull at just how close you are to cumming, your thighs trembling beneath your weight. You soaked through your panties and into the crotch of your trousers.

“Fuckin’ slutty girl,” John gasps, and you feel his cock jump at the sight of you already teetering on the edge, “’s my voice getting’ you off? Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect-“

Stop. Stop; you need him to stop. Your orgasm is ebbing at the edges of your abdomen, threatening to swallow you whole and drawing up tight, but John won’t shut the fuck up.

“C’mon, Love. Deeper. Deeper, that’s it. I’ll fuckin’ lick your pretty pussy if yo-“

His promises drown out with the surge of bliss that roars in your ears. Price times it perfectly, rocking his cock further down your throat so that you gag around his length. The lack of oxygen causes your nerve endings to sing when it cracks down your spine, bursting through your abdomen and spidering across your limbs like white-hot plasma.

Everything is loose with ecstasy, and it allows Price to issue one, two, three more brutal thrusts of his hips before he’s choking out a haggard warning that he’s going to cum.

“F-Fuck-“He chokes out, holding the nape of your neck before burying himself as deep as he possibly can without choking you, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat. Even in your post-orgasm haze, mind numb, you swallow him down greedily. Big, heavy gulps, even licking your lips when he removes his dick from your throat to milk out the last drops of his cum onto them.

“Tha’s my girl, good, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

Price’s hand pushes back the mess of your hair from your face, careful to remove the strands that had clung to your tear-soaked eyelashes. You hold your breath, heart stilling its rapid beat as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone to swipe up the tear tracks that had leaked from your eyes during his assault on your throat. It’s a single moment of tenderness, barely there, before he withdraws his touch to stuff himself back into his pants.

“Can you stand?” Price asks, his voice even hoarser than when you’d first walked into the room, like the moans you’d elicited from him were like sandpaper in his already raw throat. He holds out a palm- but you’re not cock-dumb enough to believe it’s a makeshift olive branch.

“Yes,” you whisper, matching his brutalised tone with your own as you bat away the helping hand he offers you. Price can’t help but scoff at your dismissal. Turns out even a dick down your throat wasn’t enough to change your uptight attitude. He watches you stand on shaky feet, trying to smooth out your creased knees before Shepard could wonder how exactly you’d made such a mess of yourself.

Besides your heaving breaths, still desperately pulling oxygen in your lungs to soothe the burn, the room is silent. Price finishes righting himself, smoothing his fingers through his cropped hair.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he murmurs, eyes sliding over to the desk. His promise to fuck you on it only barely re-enters your mind following a pointed look. Satiated somewhat by the blistering orgasm that had ripped through you, your rage struggles to roar to life like it had when you’d entered this room. Now it smelt like sex, and your anger only simmers in the base of your stomach.

“That is not happening again,” you promise him firmly.

“Mhmm,” he hums, following Shepard’s footsteps towards the door, “We’ll see about that, Dove.”

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annaphoenix1994 · 1 year

Text

Ch.1 - Aftershock

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Laswell and Shepherd discuss Hassan; Shepherd requests for Ghost to team up with Soap to join the Marines on the hunt for Hassan.

A swift knock on his oak door disturbed him of his duties. With an irritated and curious "Come in!", General Shepherd was pleased to see Kate Laswell, Station Chief of the C.I.A. Shepherd knew she meant business when she came to speak with someone one-on-one, but the news he was prepared to hear was not what he was in the mood for. "Laswell." He greeted, setting his pen aside.

"General Shepherd." She nodded, presenting herself in a respectful stature.

"Boy, do I know that look," He sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Are we at war?"

"You would be the first to know, sir."

"Damn right I would. Now talk to me."

She sighed, nodding before presenting her digital tablet to him, zooming in on an artificial map. "We have a hit on Ghorbrani's second in command."

Shepherd chuckled in disbelief, taking the tablet in his hands. "Hassan Zyani. Quds Force Major."

"He's taken up the mantle for Iran."

"Supplying terrorists."

"Money, weapons, intel."

"Well, he's ambitious."

"He's dangerous, sir. He wants retaliation for the Ghorbrani strike. He's planning something."

"We can't take him in Iran."

Laswell leaned over his desk, using her index finger to open a new page on her tablet. "He's not in Iran, sir. He's on the ground in Al Mazrah."

"What the hell is he doing in Al Mazrah?" Shepherd scoffed.

"There is only one way to find out, sir."

"Well, let's get him."

"When?"

"What time is it now?" Shepherd cocked a brow as if he were challenging her.

"Who do we send?"

---

"You're wheels up in five." Shepherd spoke through to one of the most trusted Lieutenant in the 141 – Simon "Ghost" Riley. He was a man of mystery, but a man of duty nonetheless. He was quick, responsible, and reliable when it came to getting the job done. No matter what it was, Ghost was there and ready to go.

"Roger."

"Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this."

"The Sergeant?" Ghost questioned, his brows furrowing beneath his preferred mask, concealing his identity.

"Soap MacTavish."

Ghost sighed as he heard the familiar name. He hadn't seen Soap in what felt like ages, but he would be lying if he wasn't eager to fight alongside his brother in arms. He just couldn't show it.

He nodded at Soap in greeting as he jumped down from transport, the old friend coming up to greet him with a warm smile, "Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.t? I'll save you a seat, sir." He smiled, patting his shoulder before walking towards his assigned destination, leaving Ghost behind to stare at the events folding before him.

"Fucking hell." Ghost sighed.

"Ghost - you copy?" Shepherd sounded through his earpiece.

"Yes, sir."

"Any issues?"

"Negative, sir. Out here."

---

“Airstrikes are hitting enemy positions bordering Al Mazrah,” Laswell explained. “Intel confirms a concentration of AQ fighters converging in the valley. We believe they’re protecting something. Surveillance indicates soldiers guarding three structures. Major Hassan may be holed up inside. Ghost and Soap will lead a Marine Special Operations unit to kill or capture Hassan, tonight. One helo will insert two teams at separate offset points bordering the target area. Bravo Team will sweep and clear buildings one and two. Alpha Team takes building three. All shooters have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation. And be advised: Major Hassan is AQ’s lifeline. If he is there, they will die for him. Good hunting...”

---

Both Bravo and Alpha Teams cleared the landmarks successfully, only receiving one soldier injured, but zero fatalities on their end. As for Hassan’s men... well, most of them were terminated, leaving enough time for Hassan to get away, leaving Ghost cussing at himself for failing the mission, even though it wasn’t his fault nor his team’s. With suspicion and slight confirmation that Hassan had fled, the soldiers came across a warehouse that most of Hassan’s men had been shooting from.

They were protecting something.

Giving orders to clear it out, Ghost and Soap led the charge, extinguishing less than a dozen soldiers left at the complex. “All clear.” Soap confirmed, catching his breath, his adrenaline keeping him going.

“Let’s search it. Let’s see what they were hiding.” Ghost directed.

“Al-Qatala’s got some serious shit in here,” A Marine commented, helping Soap open the iron door to the shipping container that sat in the middle of the warehouse.

“What the fuck is this?” Soap scoffed.

“It’s all in English.” Ghost commented, now standing beside Soap as the men looked at the control panel.

Soap pulled a power lever to engage the control panel, both he and Ghost stepping back as they watched multiple hydraulic cylinders move into place. It looks like a Transformer, Soap thought as his jaw proceeded to drop in curiosity and amazement, but he also knew that whatever this unit was, was going to be a problem.

“Ballistic missiles.” Ghost said, his suspicion confirmed.

“It’s a mobile launcher.”

“These’ll go a thousand miles...” A Marine stated.

“Yeah, at least.” Ghost shook his head.

“How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?” Soap cursed, walking around the unit.

“7-6, get us through to Laswell.” Ghost commanded to the Marine.

“Roger. Stand by...” He nodded. “Bravo 7-6. Charlie to Watcher-1, how copy?”

“This is Watcher-1, send traffic.” Laswell replied back over the radio.

“Laswell, this is Ghost. We got something.”

“Tell me you got Hassan.”

“Ghost, take a look at this...” Soap said, breaking Ghost’s train of thought as he looked down at his brother in arms, seeing a stunned look in his eye as he and all of the Marines on their team looked at the side of the launcher, seeing an American flag printed on the side, showing the true ownership of the unit. Oh, fuck.

“Ghost, do you have Hassan?” Laswell repeated, eager for an answer, her palms sweating.

He forced himself to reply, still too stunned to speak, “Negative. We found a weapons cache. Hassan’s got missiles... They’re American.”

“0-7 – this is Gold Eagle Actual, repeat your last!” Shepherd chimed in, shocked.

“I say again: Hassan has American missiles.”

---

“All right, clear the room,” Shepherd stated, entering the conference room at the headquarters building. His face stayed stationary with defeat, frustration, and anger. His employees looked at him stunned, each of them jolting when Shepherd raised his voice for urgent response. “Now! Everybody out! Let’s go!”

Laswell stayed behind, standing at the foot of the table, eye-balling her laptop as she looked as confused as he was. She knew she was about to get an earful.

“Iran is in possession of American missiles.” He said, confirming what Ghost had told him from the mission.

“American missiles in AQ’s hands.”

“Hassan has been passing out our ballistic missiles like it’s fucking Halloween and we didn’t know about it?” He shouted.

“Gives Iran plausible deniability,” Laswell replied.

“Oh, plausible deniability my ass – Iran's all over this. I wanna know how many they have and where they intend to use them!”

“If Hassan is moving missiles, then he has a smuggling partner.”

“Well, then I would advise you to figure out who that is.”

“Give my team two hours with those missiles, sir. I will know everybody who’s even breathed on them.”

“Negative. I want them destroyed!”

“General, there’s valuable intel there.”

“This is an intelligence failure, Laswell! It’s not gonna be a tactical one. There will be 500 enemy soldiers on that site by sunrise. We need a win fast!” He stated, leaning for his radio. “Gold Eagle Actual to Ghost – Move your team and call for fire. I want those weapons destroyed.”

A few moments pass by...

“Roger that, Actual.”

“Amsterdam...” Laswell said.

“What the hell’s Amsterdam got to do with this?”

Laswell breathed a laugh, “It’s a smuggling hub. Ports and canals are insecure. Iran has friends there. We do too...”

“Who?”

“The Captain,” She said with a slight smirk, pulling up Captain Price’s file. “He’s tracking an AQ cell in country as we speak.”

“Well, that’s the first good news I’ve heard all day.”

“I’ll link up with him and handle this myself, sir.”

“Kate Laswell back in the field?”

“I want this done right.”

#simonghostriley #simon riley #simonrileyogstory #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty

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warningsine · 1 year

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Sudan's army appeared to gain the upper hand on Sunday in a bloody power struggle with rival paramilitary forces after blasting its bases with air strikes, witnesses said, and at least 59 civilians were killed including three U.N. workers.

The fighting erupted on Saturday between army units loyal to General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, head of Sudan's transitional governing Sovereign Council, and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), led by General Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, who is deputy head of the council.

It was the first such outbreak since both joined forces to oust veteran Islamist autocrat Omar Hassan al-Bashir in 2019 and was sparked by a disagreement over the integration of the RSF into the military as part of a transition towards civilian rule.

Burhan and Hemedti agreed to a three-hour humanitarian pause from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. local time (1400 GMT-1700 GMT) on Sunday proposed by the United Nations, the U.N. mission in Sudan said, with both sides saying in separate statements they had agreed to it.

A Reuters witness in central Khartoum said firing appeared initially to have subsided, but shortly afterwards reported heavy bombardments. Gunfire could still be heard and plumes of smoke seen in the background of live broadcasts from the Sudanese capital.

Doctors' unions had said earlier it was difficult for medics and the sick to get to and from hospitals and called on the army and RSF to provide safe passage.

The United States, China, Russia, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the U.N. Security Council, European Union and African Union have appealed for an quick end to the hostilities that threaten to worsen instability in an already volatile wider region.

Efforts by neighbours and regional bodies to end the violence intensified on Sunday. That included an offer by Egypt and South Sudan to mediate between the fighting parties, according to a statement by the Egyptian presidency.

The eruption of fighting over the weekend followed rising tensions over the RSF's integration into the military. Discord over the timetable for that has delayed the signing of an internationally-backed agreement with political parties on a transition to democracy after a 2021 military coup.

AIR STRIKES

Witnesses and residents told Reuters that the army had carried out air strikes on RSF barracks and bases, including in Omdurman across the Nile river from the capital Khartoum, and managed to destroy most of their facilities.

They said the army had also wrested back control over much of Khartoum's presidential palace from the RSF after both sides claimed to control it and other key installations in Khartoum, where heavy artillery and gun battles raged into Sunday.

RSF members remained inside Khartoum international airport besieged by the army but it was holding back from striking them to avoid wreaking major damage, witnesses said.

"The hour of victory is near," the army said in a statement on Sunday. "We pray for mercy for the innocent lives taken by this reckless adventure taken by the rebel Rapid Support militia ... We will have good news for our patient and proud people soon, God willing."

But a major problem, witnesses and residents said, was posed by thousands of heavily armed RSF members deployed inside neighbourhoods of Khartoum and other cities, with no authority able to control them.

"We're scared, we haven't slept for 24 hours because of the noise and the house shaking. We're worried about running out of water and food, and medicine for my diabetic father," Huda, a young resident in southern Khartoum told Reuters.

"There's so much false information and everyone is lying. We don't know when this will end, how it will end," she added.

Tagreed Abdin, an architect in Khartoum, said the power was out and people were trying to conserve phone batteries. "We can hear air strikes, shelling, and gunfire," she said.

Sudan's MTN telecommunications company blocked internet services on the orders of the government telecommunications regulator, two company officials told Reuters.

State television cut its transmission on Sunday afternoon, Reuters reporters in Khartoum and several cities outside the country said. It was not clear what caused the outage.

UN HALTS FOOD AID OPERATIONS

The U.N. World Food Programme said it had temporarily halted all operations in hunger-stricken areas of Sudan after three Sudanese employees were killed during fighting in North Darfur and a WFP plane was hit during a gun battle at Khartoum airport.

"I ... am extremely appalled by reports of projectiles hitting U.N. and other humanitarian premises, as well as reports of looting of U.N. and other humanitarian premises in several locations in Darfur," Volker Perthes, U.N. special envoy for Sudan and head of its country mission, said in a statement.

A protracted confrontation could plunge Sudan into widespread conflict as it struggles with economic breakdown and tribal violence, derailing efforts to move towards elections.

Energy-rich powers Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates have sought to shape events in Sudan, seeing the transition away from toppled strongman Bashir's rule as a way to roll back Islamist influence and improve stability in the region.

They have also pursued investments in sectors including agriculture, where Sudan holds vast potential, and ports on Sudan's Red Sea coast.

CAUGHT UP IN THE FIGHTING

Several groups of people reported being stranded by fighting near the presidential palace and military headquarters in Khartoum.

The Central Committee of Sudanese Doctors reported at least 56 civilians had been killed and 595 people including combatants had been wounded since the fighting erupted.

Scores of military personnel were killed, the doctors' committee said, without giving a specific number due to a lack of first-hand information from hospitals.

Saudi Foreign Minister Faisal bin Farhan bin Al-Saud had separate phone calls with Burhan and Hemedti and called for an end to military escalation, Saudi state media said on Sunday. The minister affirmed Riyadh's call for calm.

In a speech to an Arab League meeting on the crisis on Sunday, Sudan said the Sudanese should be allowed to reach a settlement internally without foreign interference.

In an emergency session, the African Union's Peace and Security Council also said it strongly rejected any external interference that could complicate the situation in Sudan.

The armed forces said it would not negotiate with the RSF unless the force dissolved. The army told soldiers seconded to the RSF to report to nearby army units, which could deplete RSF ranks if they obey.

RSF leader Hemedti, deputy head of state, called military chief Burhan a "criminal" and a "liar".

(This story has been refiled to fix Saudi foreign minister's name to Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al Saud, not Faisal bin Farhan bin Abdul, in paragraph 28)

#sudan #news

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ahlulbaytnetworks · 2 years

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🍂🥀🍂 Martyrs of Ashura 🍂🥀🍂

🍂🥀 Al-Qasim son of Hassan (as) 🥀🍂

Al-Qasim (as) was in his teens. In the single combat, he prevailed over several renowned warriors including the renowned Syrian, al-Arzaq and his brothers.

When the enemy made a general attack with all his might, Al-Qasim (as) fought with great courage and the ferocity of his attack scattered the enemy whom he pursued right into the midst of Yazid’s army. Sa’d bin Urwa bin Nufeil, a vile soldier of Yazid, hid himself and when Al-Qasim (as) passed in pursuit of the fleeing soldiers who attacked him from behind so ferociously that Al- Qasim (as) fell off his horse.

The enemy, seeing Al-Qasim (as) lying on the ground, regrouped and attacked him.

Hearing Al-Qasim’s (as) cries, Abbas (as), Ali ِِِAl-Akbar (as), and Imam Hussain (as), rushed to rescue him, but the hoofs of horses of the retreating forces of Yazid trampled him badly.

When Al-Qasim (as) bent to mend his shoe, the villainy spirit which was represented by Azdi began to control him. This is what Hameed bin Muslim meant when he narrated the following:

Umar bin Sa'ad bin Nufayl Azdi said, “I have the desire to attack him”. I said, “Glory be to Allah!

Why so?

This army which has surrounded him from all sides will surely kill him”. He said, “By Allah! I shall attack him, and I will make his mother weep over him”.

He attacked him while the child was fixing his shoe and before he could turn his face towards him, he dealt a blow upon his head with his sword and slit it.

The child fell down on his face upon the ground and called out, “Peace be up on you, O dear uncle! Come to my aid”.

Then I saw Imam Hussain (as) standing at the head of Qasim (as), who was stretching his feet upon the ground.

Imam Hussain (as) said, “By Allah! It is hard upon your uncle that he could not come to your aid when you called him, or he answered but it could not benefit you”.

Then Imam Hussain (as) said: "By Allah! Here he has numerous murderers while his aides are quite less”.

Imam Hussain (as) leaned down to Al-Qasim (as) and held him to his chest, embracing him, and took him towards the camp. Whereas at this influential scene Imam Hussain (as) bent and bent down, Al-Qasim’s (as) feet were drawing lines on earth, but why?

Was it because he was taller than Imam Hussain? (as) No, but because the misfortune of losing of Al-Qasim (as), foiled the morale of our Imam.

Imam Hussain (as) arrived to the tent and lay him down in the tent of the martyrs. Then he said,” O cousins, patience on death! You won’t see any mortification, after this day, alas!”.

🍂 https://www.h72.org 🍂

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vertus-fruits-et-legumes · 4 months

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Ordre de passage du contrôle des parrainages des 93 candidats pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages*. 🚨L'ordre de passage des 93 candidats pour la présidentielle de 2024* *pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages*👇. Le contrôle des dossiers de parrainage a commencé ce samedi 30 décembre 2023 à 9 heures 30 mn selon Badio Camara, le président de la Commission nationale de Contrôle des dossiers de parrainages. Ce processus, qui vise à vérifier la validité des signatures recueillies par les candidats à l'élection présidentielle du 25 février 2024, se déroule au Centre international de conférence Abdou Diouf (CICAD) de Diamniadio. Ordre de passage du contrôle des parrainages des 93 candidats pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages* Ordre de passage du contrôle des parrainages des 93 candidats pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages 1 Sur les 93 candidats déclarés, seuls 15 ont opté pour le parrainage des élus, tandis que les 78 autres ont choisi le parrainage citoyen. Chaque candidat doit présenter au moins 65 000 signatures issues d'au moins sept régions du pays, avec un minimum de 2 000 signatures par région. → A LIRE AUSSI Coupe d’Afrique des Nations : La liste du Maroc pour la CAN 2023 est tombée L'ordre de passage des candidats pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages a été établi par tirage au sort. Voici l'ordre de passage des 93 candidats pour la présidentielle de 2024👇 Mamadou Badio Camara livre les secrets de 93 dossiers reçus au greffe Présidentielle 2024 1 Boubacar Camara 2 Adjibou Soumaré 3 Ousmane Kane 4 Ousmane Sonko 5 Amadou Aly Kane 6 Pape Eugénie Barbier 7 El Hadj Moustapha Diouf 8 Abdoulaye Sylla 9 Cheikh Tidiane Gadio 10 Mouhamed Benssine Diop 11 Rose Wardini. 12 Cheikh Tidiane Dieye 13 Malick Gueye 14 Mouhamed Al Habip Tounkara. 15 Mary Teuw Niane 16 Mamadou Sambou Yatassay 17 Dethie Fall 18 Aminata Assome Diatta 19 Pape Macodou Diouf 20 Samba Ndiaye 21 Mbacke Sarr 22 Alioune Sarr 23 Ibrahim Hamidou Deme 24 Daouda Ndiaye 25 Cheikh Mamadou Abiboulaye Dieye 26 Oumar Sylla 27 Cheikh Abdou Mbacke 28 Talla Sylla 29 Jean Baptiste Diouf 30 Idrissa Seck 31 Charles E Abdou Ciss 32 Khadim Diop 33 Aliou Mamadou Dia 34 Birima Mangara 35 Amdy Diallo Fall 36 El Hadj Ibrahima Mbow 37 Ndiack Lakh 38 Serigne Mboup 39 Pape Djibril Fall 40 Ibrahima Datt 41 Mouhamadou Lamine Gueye 42 Alou Lam 43 Adama Faye 44 Mouhamadou Madana Kane 45 Al HOusseynou Ba 46 Mamadou Lamine Diallo 47 Mahamad Boune Abdallah Dionne 48 Aliou Camara 49 Karim Maïssa Wade 50 Babacar Diop 51 El Hadj Ibrahima Sall 52 Habib Sy 53 El Hadj Malick Gackou 54 Pape Momar Ngom 55 Thione Niang 56 Aly Ngouille Ndiaye 57 Serigne Gueye Diop 58 Assane Ka 59 Mamadou Diop ( Decroix) 60 Souleymane Ndene Ndiaye 61 Abdoul Mbaye 62 Sheikh Alassane Sene 63 Al Hassane Ben Aline Niang 64 Khalifa Ababacar Sall 65 Anta Babacar Ngom 66 Aminata Toure 67 Alpha Thiam 68 Amadou Ba 69 El Hadj Mamadou Diao 70 Ibrahima Habib Ngott 71 Amadou Seck 72 Abdoul Khadar Sall 73 Bassirou Diamaye Diakhar Faye 74 Abdou Rahmane Diouf 75 Ndongo Ndiaye 76 Thierno Cissé 77 Amadou Thiaw 78 Ibrahima Sall 79 Cheikh Dieng 80 Mouhamed Fadel Kone 81 Ibrahima Cissokho 82 Mamadou Dieye 83 Moussa Diop 84 Bougane Gueye 85 Mansour Ndiaye 86 Momar Ndao 87 Amadou Ly 88 Ibou Thiawliya Sylla 89 Babacar Ndiaye 90 Thierno Alassane Sall 91 Amsatou Sow 92 Issadissa Thiow 93 Aïchatou Mbodj → A LIRE AUSSI UCAD : Les révélations sur les cours et les examens de Fac médecine et ESP Les candidats les plus attendus Commission de Contrôle des Parrainages fait le bilan à l’issue de la première journée de vérification Parmi les candidats les plus attendus, on peut citer Aminata Touré, la présidente du mouvement MIMI 2024 et ancienne Première ministre, qui occupe la 66ème position de l'ordre de passage. Elle a affirmé avoir réuni plus de 200 000 signatures à travers le pays. Un autre candidat qui suscite beaucoup d'intérêt est Ousmane Sonko, le leader du parti Pastef-Les Patriotes, qui se trouve à la quatrième position.

Il a revendiqué plus de 300 000 signatures, dont plus de la moitié provenant de la diaspora. Toutefois, son représentant ne s'est pas présenté lors du premier passage ce samedi, invoquant des raisons techniques. Il devra donc repasser lors d'une session ultérieure. *(KAFUNEL.COM)* 1er Boubacar Camara 2e Cheikh Hadjibou Soumaré 3e Ousmane Kane 4e Ousmane Sonko. KAFUNEL.COM 5e : Amadou Aly Kane, 6e : Papa Eugénie Barbier, 7e : Me El Hadj Diouf, 8e : Abdoulaye Sylla, 9e : Cheikh Tidiane Gadio, 10e : Mohamed Ben Omar Sy Diop, 11e : Rose Wardini, 12e : Cheikh Tidiane Diéye., 13e : Malick Guèye... KAFUNEL.COM 26e : Oumar Sylla, 27e : Cheikh Abdou Mbacké, 28e : Talla Sylla, 29e : Jean Baptiste Diouf, 30e : Idrissa Seck, 31e : Charles Émile Ciss, 32e : Khadim Diop, 33e : Alioune Mamadou Dia, 34e : Birima Mangara, 35e : Amdy Diallo Fall, 36e : El Hadji Ibrahima Mbow, 37e : Ndiack Lakh, 38e : Serigne Mboup, 39e : Papa Djibril Fall, 40e : Ibrahima Datte, 41e : Mohammadou Lamine Guéye, 42e : Alioune Lam KAFUNEL.COM 14e : Mohamed El Habib Tounkara, 15e : Mary Teuw Niane, 16e : Mamadou Sambou Yatassay, 17e : Déthié Fall, 18e : Assome Aminata Diatta, 19e : Papa Macodou Diouf, 20e : Samba Ndiaye, 21e : Mbacké Sarr, 22e : Alioune Sarr, 23e : Ibrahima Hamidou Dème, 24e : Daouda Ndiaye, 25e : Cheikh Bamba Dièye... KAFUNEL.COM 43e : Adama Faye, 44e : Mohammadou, Madana Kane, 45e : Al Housseynou Ba, 46e : Mamadou Lamine Diallo, 47e : Mohammed B. Dionne, 48e : Alioune Kamara, 49e : Karim Wade, 50e : Babacar Diop, 51e : El Hadji Ibrahima Sall, 52e : Habib Sy, 53e : El Hadji Malick Gackou, 54e : Papa Momar Ngom, 55e : Thione Niang, 56e : Aly Ngouille Ndiaye, 57e : Serigne Guèye Diop, 58e : Assane Ka, 59e : Mamadou Diop, 60e : Souleymane Ndéné Ndiaye, 61e : Abdoul Mbaye KAFUNEL.COM Le contrôle des dossiers de parrainage a commencé ce samedi 30 décembre 2023 à 9 heures 30 mn selon Badio Camara. 🚨L'ordre de passage des 93 candidats pour la présidentielle de 2024* *pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages*👇 → A LIRE AUSSI UCAD : La colère du président Macky Sall Le contrôle des dossiers de parrainage devrait se poursuivre jusqu'au 10 janvier 2024 Ordre de passage du contrôle des parrainages des 93 candidats pour la vérification des dossiers de parrainages OK Le candidat du pouvoir, Amadou Ba, qui représente la coalition Benno Bokk Yakaar (BBY), a quant à lui opté pour le parrainage des élus. Il a déclaré avoir obtenu le soutien de plus de 80% des députés, des maires et des conseillers départementaux du pays. Le contrôle des dossiers de parrainage devrait se poursuivre jusqu'au 10 janvier 2024. À l'issue de cette opération, la CNRV publiera la liste provisoire des candidats retenus pour le scrutin présidentiel. Les candidats écartés pourront alors introduire des recours devant le Conseil constitutionnel, qui aura la charge de publier la liste définitive des candidats au plus tard le 20 janvier 2024. Kafunel vous tiendra informé de toute évolution sur ce sujet crucial pour la démocratie sénégalaise.

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sports-100-buzz · 4 months

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reussir-a-tout-prix · 4 months

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ouyander · 4 months

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speakingparts · 2 years

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