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theweirdowithcoffee · 6 months

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Modern Warfare (2007-2011 Era) AU Chapter 1 Rough Draft (Continuation of Prologue Rough Draft):

"In The East, Nothing New."

Day 4 - 16:58:49, 2016

PFC Michael Carver

1st Bn., 7th Marines Regiment

No Man's Wasteland, [REDACTED]

"Carver, sitrep, over." Lieutenant Phillps broke through the static comm in his usual dull tone accentuated by his higher than average volume when giving out commands. He needed to so as to ensure Private First Class James Ramirez and I could hear him over the interference. I got on the line and reported back what the pair of us had been reporting for the past hour.

"Not a thing, sir, over." The loud noise punctuating the activating and releasing the button on the radio punctuated my nothing report. It was as boring as it was true. The U.S. Army Rangers usually saw more action, especially this deep into enemy territory. As a marine myself, however, I learnt to fear the quiet more than any firefight. Silence is the last thing you want to hear in a hot combat zone. Probably why I felt somewhat tense around the mute Ranger paired with me these past couple recon assessments.

Ramirez and I were scouting out ahead in "No Man's Wasteland". I adjusted my seating, the extra gear was more than what I was used to carrying, and the masks were causing more issues than I'd like. Ramirez on the other hand was as stone faced as ever. It was like nothing could ever phase the guy. It made going out on ops easy with him, but a little unnerving. He never talked back, never questioned a direct order, and somehow had always been ontop of things. But he was an anomaly. Sometimes he'd quietly take the initiative without warning and eas hust as capable at turning overwhelming odds into our favour. If he at least said something once in a while it'd put me more at ease, but I can always respect a man of action.

The radio roared to life before the Lt's voice filled in the temporary white noise. "Roger that. Come back home you two, regroup with the rest of us and we'll move deeper into the Wasteland, how copy?"

"Solid copy." The reply was simple but to the point, just as Uncle Sam had drilled into all of us grunts. I tilt my head over to Ramirez, who was crouched against a wall with a massive burned hole where once a window must've stood between. "We're Oscar Mike, bud," I quietly call out.

Ramirez gave a slight pause before glancing out the broken window space once more. A bit of dirt and debris fell gently down the floor above us when he did. After a moment he turned back to face me, staring through the gasmask that was obfuscating his and my facial features and made a quiet hand gesture. He put up three fingers and tilted his hand downwards a couple times.

I held my breath. Three tangos that we hadn't noticed? Trepidation crept in as I wondered if they heard the radio call between the Lt. and I. A quick gesture returned back to my fellow Private from I for him to stay on my back as we quietly were to descend and rendezvous with the team. A brief nod acknowledged my order. I took point, stepping away from the corner I was observing the location from and crouch walking out the burnt down doorway we passed through about four hours ago.

This was a dangerous place for anyone to be in. It was the site of the nuke that went off five years ago during Al Ahsad's coup. A middle eastern military rising practically overnight for the world to watch in terror after executing their former President, Yasir Al-Fulani, on live television was enough to shake up the western governments into immediate action back in the day. It would be nothing compared to what came next. Unbeknownst to the U.S. at the time, they were being supported by the Ultranationalist party in Russia during its Civil War, and they supplied a nuclear weapon. When the Americans sent our boys and girls in to bring down Al Ahsad, we were working on bad intel. We knew nothing about the Ultranationalist, the bomb, and where exactly Ahsad even was. The perfect recipe for a tragedy.

We came in half cocked and confident to end this conflict in less than a week. What we got instead- was 30,000 dead and the No Man's Wasteland. The deceased can't hear our sympathies, our anguish for their loss. They can only make room for us when we find our way back to them at the end of all things.

We've been steadily infiltrating this site for a while. Ahsad in the end was a glorified red harring, a face in the middle east for the Ultranationalist to wear. Orders came from above, the General leading the forces out here five years ago. Having risen up quietly in the past couple years, we have reason to believe the Ultranationalist party has taken an interest in the area for some ungodly reason. Walking in the shadows of ghosts isn't something I want to make into a regular hobby, but I'm a marine, we typically chart out the path those shadows eventually pass through. Having to do a joint op with the Army Rangers had me racking my mind for a while, made things a bit uncomfortable. We fight for the same government, but our training often conflicts with our priorities when fate ties our hands together.

Ramirez is an anomaly in that regards. There's never any conflict with the man, probably why the Lt. sent me with him for the past couple days. I'd say I like him, but it's hard to say someone is disagreeable or not when they never pipe up. What he lacks in vocabulary, he doesn't in action. I think just as much when he in no wasted efforts shifted into position right on my six, an M4, standard issue; at the ready. Not what I'd come to expect from those army boys, even less from a Private. The only person with as much potential and talent in his division was another Private, Allen I believe his name was. Hadn't met the man myself, but apparently General Shepherd had his eye on the both of them for his "special" task force. As for me, I've been moved around enough as it was.

The Ranger and I made our way down, tight in formation. The harsh winds were starting to pick up. We were located not too far from the initial site of the blast, any closer and the radiation couldn't be ignored. In theory, no one else should be here. Unless you were looking to not to be found or had a death wish. Intuition told me our friends three flights below weren't here to keel over. The pair of us made it down the long decaying hall which sharply directed us right at a harsh ninety degree angle until the the floor began to sink into an empty hole. A staircase might have been standing there at one point, but only a skeleton of a frame remained. Ramirez had to boost me up the first time, getting down was gonna be louder than either of us would have liked. Combined with the weight we're carrying, it's a genuine risk we could fall straight through this floor and the next.

I turned to meet with Ramirez, but as usual he was already picking up what I was going to say, flashing up his hand to gesture "okay" with his fingers as I've grown accustomed too on our outings. I reached out my arm and we gripped it by the forearm firmly as I readied to let him down. Not exactly standard procedure, but it was quick and mitigated the sound we'd make on our descent and exfil. He stood crouched at the edge of the drop off facing I and myself him as I began to lower him. The strain on my right arm wasn't great, but once he was halfway, he detached his grip as I released my own and his boots hit the ground. Fortunately, it suppressed his movements good enough. Now it was turn to get down.

I gripped deep into the edge of the flooring and flipped myself over until I was hanging off the edge. The space between myself and the ground was enough for me and a half of me. Luckily, Ramirez would make up some of that space. He slid over his M4 and waited in a trust-fall like catching position. Without much other options, I released hold and let the Ranger and Gravity sort the rest out.

The impact was a little rough, I was certain my shoulders were going to be sore, but the sound we would have otherwise made and damage to ourselves we might have done was reduced considerably. If Lady Fate was kind, it would be enough to keep us concealed. Wasting no further time, we readied up into our formation once more and carefully resumed our trek out of this dilapidated place. On our way to the next stairway, something caught my attention. I gestured for the Private to hold his position as I too came to a stop. Movement. It was faint, but it was there. Not by sight, but sound. The winds had picked up even further. Cancerous airs inflicted by the hate of man onto this Earth were now masking our enemies- yet us as well. It holds no loyalty for its fathers. A quick motion of fingers and wrists informed Ramirez that we were resuming our withdrawal.

We hit the next staircase. More sounds echoed in tandem with the violent weather. Anxiety of a radiation storm flared up in my mind, no matter how unlikely, but I wouldn't let that show through the mask. I could make out what might have been chatter. Hard to say what they were speaking, but it was a safe bet to say I wouldn't be able to understand even under better circumstances.

Then came the clanking of metal. A tone of aggression, but not pointed at our approach. Not at first. Turning my attention back to my partner in the field, I signaled for him to hold the position at the top of the stairs; I was to scout ahead. He reciprocated the silent command with slight nod and taking cover against the wall that followed the steps back down. This needed to be quick.

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