The year is 2016. Joseph, a survivor of 9/11 follows his father's footsteps and enlisted in the military. Not long after, he along with two of his friends were deployed to Iraq among the ranks of some of the best American fighting men: the US Army...
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17.05 hours
April 25th, 2016
Malmo, Sweden
Natasha V. Belova – Spetsnaz GRU
After knocking out the chef with the Kalashnikov we picked up, we went proceeded through the back of the kitchen and into the meat room like he said. He better be telling the truth, or I would skewer him like a kebab. As we entered the room we saw a whole bunch of animal carcasses hanging on meat hooks, all of them boned, skinned and gutted. To be specific, five goats, two cows, and ten chickens.
If anything, there should be some kind of secret door or hidden wall, given the nature of these guys. Sergey looked around the top looking for a rusty chain, while I kept watch for any remaining hostiles. Heh, this feels like we're back in the Middle East...
To our surprise, from behind one of the cow carcasses, one guy popped out with his AKS-74U pointed at us. But I was quicker, and his aim was bad. I sidestepped as he fired, and squeezed the trigger. Three rounds went straight through his torso, squirting blood onto the wall behind him as he fell.
"Clear," I said.
"Uugh... Natasha..."
"Sergey?"
I turned towards him behind me, and saw him lying on his side on the floor. He was holding his wounded left arm, and another wound on his stomach just below his vest. Blood spilled on the floor.
"Oh blyat..." I muttered.
I went over to him and helped him up before setting him down in the corner. He then sat down leaning against the wall, and I took out his medkit. As he kept pressure on them, I applied morphine and patched them up with the bandages. The 5.45 mm rounds were still lodged inside, but we can't take the bullets out yet. We'll do it later in the safe house, with Boris who has the better know-how.
"You'll live, Sergey. Just... stay here and stay up!"
"Khorosho, Tovarish... Don't worry about me..."
I continued looking around. Okay... The chef said something about a rusty chain... I wonder which one. All the chains seem rusty. I scratched my head in confusion.
"I think it's... that one..."
Sergey had one hand on his binoculars, and the other hand pointing on one of the cow carcasses. Beside the one where the guy I took out appeared from. The chain does look more rusty than the other ones.
I approached the carcass he meant. I looked to him, and he made an 'ok' handsign. Then I grabbed it and pulled down. There was some mechanical gears operating, as I heard. A two-meter long fake wall opened behind me, showing a fire door and a staircase going up. The fire door itself had its original inscription spray painted over and replaced with a bigger "No Entry". I readied my Kalashnikov.
