Shadow of Loyalty (COD SOAP* Fan Fiction)

Chapter 2: Extraction Under Fire

The night exploded into chaos the moment they stepped out of the compound. Soap's boots crunched against the gravel as he half-carried the woman they had detained, toward the extraction point. The rest of the team moved ahead, their weapons raised, scanning for threats. Ghost held the lead, his silenced rifle sweeping the darkness, while Price brought up the rear, his eyes flicking to the shadows that seemed to grow with every step. 

"We're not alone," Ghost muttered through the comms, his voice low but sharp.

Soap tightened his grip on Nirra, ensuring she would not escape. She had barely spoken since they cut her loose, but her breathing was shallow, her body trembling against his. He glanced down at her briefly, his frustration mounting. She scrunched in pain at every movement.

"Keep moving," he growled, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I'm trying," she rasped, her voice weak but edged with defiance.

Soap cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure what to make of this situation, but whatever Makarov had done to her, it had left her hanging by a thread.

"Contact," Ghost said suddenly, his voice cold and precise. A split second later, his rifle barked, and a body hit the ground.

Price's voice cut through the comms. "Stay sharp. They know we're here."

The team moved faster now, the urgency palpable. Soap slung his rifle, retreating to a handgun as the weight of Nirra on his shoulder slowed him down. He could feel her slipping, her legs dragging more with every step.

"Stay with me, lass," he said gruffly, his tone softer than before.

Her head lolled slightly, but her eyes met his, bright even in the dim light. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

Before Soap could respond, the air exploded with gunfire. Makarov's men swarmed out of the tree line, their shouts cutting through the darkness like knives. Ghost dropped into a crouch, returning fire with lethal precision, while Gaz swung his rifle toward the nearest threat.

"Down!" Price barked, pulling Nirra and Soap behind a stack of crates as bullets whizzed past.

Soap shoved her to the ground, his body shielding hers instinctively as he fired over the cover. The sound of gunfire was deafening, the flashes of light painting the night in staccato bursts. He could feel Nirra trembling beneath him, but when he glanced down, her expression wasn't fear—it was fury.

"I can fight," she said through gritted teeth, struggling to push him off.

"Not a chance!" he snapped, pressing her back down. "Stay low."

Her glare could have cut through steel, but she obeyed, her fingers curling into the dirt as he returned his focus to the fight.

"Ghost, status?" Price shouted over the din.

"Thinning the herd," Ghost replied, his voice eerily calm. Another round of fire erupted, and two more bodies dropped.

"We've got to move," Price said, reloading his rifle. "Gaz, cover us. Soap, get her up."

Soap yanked her to her feet, her weight sagging against him. "You're going to owe me for this, lass," he muttered.

"Add it to the list," she shot back weakly. He noticed blood had been pooled onto his uniform and for a quick moment he thought it was his, but noticed the trail from her shoulder of a stab wound that had opened up from the trek.

"Shit!" He spat out, lifting her higher over his shoulder.

They moved as one, weaving through the chaos as Gaz laid down suppressing fire. Soap's every muscle burned as he half-carried, half-dragged Nirra toward the extraction point. The sound of the helicopter's blades cutting through the air was a beacon, drawing them closer with every step.

"Go, go, go!" Price shouted, his voice cutting through the roar of the approaching chopper.

The team reached the clearing just as the helicopter touched down. Ghost and Gaz piled in first, covering the others as Soap and she toppled forward. A bullet whizzed past, embedding itself in the dirt inches from Soap's boot. He didn't falter, his grip tightening on her waist as they neared the helicopter. Her weight was a dead drag now, her body giving up even as her spirit refused to.

Another bullet cracked past his ear, but he didn't turn, didn't pause. His sole focus was getting her on that bird alive for the sake of one day finally killing Makarov.

Price spun on his heel, his rifle barking into the darkness as he held the line. "Ghost, give me a count!"

"Four more down," Ghost called back, his voice steady. "But they're not slowing."

Gaz leaned out of the chopper, firing a burst into the approaching shadows. "We're out of time, Cap! We've got to lift now!"

Soap shoved her forward, almost tossing her into the helicopter's open hatch. Her body landed awkwardly, but she clawed her way further in, dragging herself out of the line of fire. He turned to grab Price, who was still firing into the tree line, his movements calculated but urgent.

"Price, let's go!" Soap roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Price glanced over his shoulder, his jaw tight. "We leave now, they'll follow us to hell."

"They'll follow us anyway!" Soap snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the helicopter.

Price hesitated for half a second longer before retreating, his weapon still spitting fire as he backed into the cabin. Soap jumped in last, the weight of the hatch slamming shut behind him cutting off the roar of gunfire.

"Up!" Price barked, slamming his fist against the cockpit wall.

The pilot didn't need to be told twice. The helicopter surged upward, the vibrations rattling through the metal as they left the clearing behind.