The Bullet's Mark (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 Fanfiction)

Chapter 24

    I didn't hesitate to rip the right guard's knife from his thigh and stab him with it. Makarov was lost amidst the chaos, running with his tail between his legs as the room was lit up by bullets. More guards came to the ruckus, firing with all they had at the nifty helicopter outside. 
    My elbow found the side of the other guard's knee and I brought him to the ground with a horrendous cracking sound. I huffed, pulling myself up from the floor and moving toward the second story of the mansion; Makarov had escaped in the same general direction. 
    I skipped steps as I landed on the second floor, continuing to be torn apart by Nikolai's attack. "Where the fuck are you Makarov?" 
    Just in time for my question, the sly bastard appeared as he ran deeper into the long hall to the right. I darted after him, avoiding the spray of bullets the best I could. Men were shouting and returning fire, unaware that their precious leader was being hunted to the death. I liked it that way. 
    "You can't run forever Makarov!" 
    Makarov didn't glance back as he threw down things from the wall and tried to slow me down. I dodged the pieces, jumping over furniture and sliding around falling debris as I closed the distance. Makarov raised his pistol, firing three shots backward in my direction. I was lucky enough to escape two out of three. The third....
    I felt a scorching pain through my arm and let out a screech of annoyance. I slowed to walk, holding the outside of my arm as blood quickly reached the surface of my clothing. My eyes narrowed as I shook it off and continued after a scurrying rat. 
    Makarov headed up another grand flight of stairs, reaching a third level of the winter mansion. I glanced out the large panes of windows, seeing Nikolai circling as he continued to take out Makarov's hideout, alerting every bit of his military within miles; he clearly hadn't wanted to get me out without a fight and I appreciated the class of making a wreck of the place. 
    "You aren't so bad, Russian," I muttered and then rushed up the steps after Makarov. 
    "You're too slow Hall," Makarov spat out, his accent driving me insane, and appeared at the end of the long hall filled with pictures and more antiques. He was in a pocket at the end of the room, looking like he had brought me exactly to where he wanted me to be. I looked around at the strangely empty space and then snapped back to a hissing sound. 
    Makarov was being air lifted by one of his men in a small chopper. I let out a loud, angry cry toward Nikolai, hopeless knowing he wasn't aware of the situation—his hands were full enough. I looked back to Makarov, who was giving a farewell nod as he fully disappeared. 
    I let out another groan of anger, kicking the wall as I realized Makarov had not only escaped, but left me to fend for myself as his manor was being torn to the ground. His men were placing explosives, while communicating back and forth on what to do with Nikolai. 
    "Fuck," I hissed and turned to exit. "Oh shit!" 
    Flames roared up from the second floor, trapping me in the long room. I backed away from the fire, running as I searched for a way out. There weren't windows and no part of the ceiling looked flimsy. Makarov's exit had been tiny and there was no way for me to climb up to the opening. I yanked on a closet door, groaning when it only rattled. 
    I spun around, watching the fire travel the rest of the way up the stairs and enter the same room as myself. I paced, yanking on every piece of wall hanging I could. I threw the items in the fire's direction, hoping to slow its pace and give myself time. 
    "Nikolai," I spoke and then cursed when I realized I didn't have comms. 
    I paused, picking up a few more items to throw toward the fire and then looked back at the opening of Makarov's escape. My intentions changed rapidly as I started throwing debris that direction, attempting to build the highest mound I could to give myself more opportunity of escape. 
    Stacking a final artifact, a huge painting, up against the the wall and on top of the debris, I glanced back to the fire closing in. My legs braced as I had a running start to get up on top of the debris and use the canvas as a launch pad. My hands barely breached the surface as I jumped as high as I could. 
    Every ounce of strength in me was applied to gripping the edge of the hole in the roof of the mansion. I pulled myself up, letting out a moan of pain. I reached the top of the steep roof and rolled upward, crab-walking up to the peak. Nikolai was under heavy fire, playing more of a defensive game as he circled right past me. 
    I made eye contact with him as I reached the top of the slippery roof. My eyes locked on the far edge of roof, still untouched by the fire and overhanging a balcony. Nikolai was circling back around to give me the opportunity to jump in. It was a one-chance move. 
    My feet were unsteady as I stood on the narrow, flatter peak. I began to half-run along the top, covering my face as blasts from warfare blew up around me. Nikolai was just reaching the other end as I ran, holding as steady as he could. 
    I jumped from the edge of the mansion, flinging my arms and hands out to the dropped rope and the open part of the helicopter. Nikolai dipped his bird down and toward me, trying to cradle my landing as I gripped onto the landing legs of the chopper. 
    "Hold on!" he shouted, his Russian accent spitting as he carefully spun to dodge a rocket. "We're getting out of here!" 
    I hauled myself up and into the back part of the small helicopter, wishing I had a gun to lay down even a minimal amount of suppressive fire. Nikolai skillfully lifted us from the cover of the taller trees and avoided the remaining heavy warfare; he'd managed to take out a couple of enemy helos during the attack. 
    "Your timing is impeccable Nikolai," I panted as we headed to a safer zone. 
    "Da," he huffed and glanced back. "I didn't see a signal." 
    "I had a little...hiccup," I grumbled and looked out to the barren, icy scenery. "Makarov is still alive."  
    Nikolai didn't respond, only biting the inside of his cheek as he piloted us back. I knew our destination was the safehouse and I sat back against the seat. I examined my arm, pulling it up to try and see if the bullet had been lodged. By the pulsing in the upper part of my muscle I gathered that a piece was in my arm at the very least. 
    Something to handle back at the safehouse. 
    I gritted my teeth and looked back out to the passing scene. My mind was racing with the events of the last hour. Makarov had not only planned out Blackjack and the betrayal, but he had also revealed the target was still alive. He was the reason for everything....past, present, and likely future if I didn't stop him. 
    My eyes closed as the wind lightly whipped at my scuffed cheeks. I held my arm tight to control the bleeding until we got back and tried to allow my mind to quiet; nothing could be done until I regrouped with the others. Once we came up with a better plan I would stop at nothing to execute it correctly.