Chapter 4: Caiaphas

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Glaz grabbed Mira's M4 that had a M230 grenade launcher mounted and fired at one of the An-12 engines. The plane flipped to side and a stray piece was caught under the truck's tires. The truck flipped and threw Archer out of the bed and was knocked
out cold.

After a couple of minutes passed Archer slowly regained consciences and looked at the fire around him. Glaz appeared out of the fire and gave Archer a hand up. "We got Limonov."

Archer got up and saw his team surrounding Limonov, who's legs was injured badly. "You're done Limonov. Where was you taking the gas?"

"I'm not telling you. It doesn't matter anyway, Caiaphas's plan is already in motion." Limonov hissed, as he drawed MP-443 Grach and pointed it at Archer. Before he was able to fire, Archer kicked it from his grasp.

"Caiaphas is dead. I killed him myself." Archer stated as Limonov laughed.

"You really think he's dead? You Americans sure are stupid. Just like those soldiers in Sudan." Archer's eyes widened from what Limonov said. He felt rage and anger fill his body.

"Shut the fuck up!" Archer thundered, "Where is the rest of the gas?!"

"Enroute to him. Caiaphas will kill you, just like-," Limonov taunted before Archer drawed his 1911 and fired, leaving a crater in his skull.

"Let's get out of here." Archer muttered as he holster the handgun

***

An hour passed before the extraction helicopter arrived. Archer stared out of the black hawk at the CIA's chemical containment team loading the gas into a Pavelow helicopter.

Limonov's words haunted Archer's mind. He could still remember what happened in Sudan, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

"What was Limonov talking about?" Mira asked.

"Which part? He wouldn't shut up." Archer responed.

"The Sudan part. Did something happen between you two?" Mira said as Archer gritted his teeth.

"With Limonov? No, he's a puppet that was told too much." Archer stated, trying to divert her question.

"Who's Caiaphas?" Mira questioned once again.

Archer was reluctant to answer but eventually did, "It's a codename for a Russian spy, one of their best. We've had a couple of run-ins in the past, but I thought I killed him a long time ago. Guess not."

"Look at the bright side, we got some of the gas back. It's a start." Glaz suggested before Archer cut him off.

"Yeah, this is just the beginning. If Caiaphas is still working for the SVR and has the gas, we're looking at a international crisis." Archer stated, as he looked back out the helicopter door.

***

Later that day Team Rainbow met at the local pub for drinks. Archer sat alone at the bar, staring into his glass of bourbon. Archer thought about his career choices. For as long as he could remember he was told stories of his father fighting in Panama and The Persian Gulf, then his grandfather in Vietnam. Now Archer had his own war stories, though he doubted he could top his grandpa's tales of saving entire platoons in La Drang or his dad saving VIPs from a Panamanian prison. Archer used to like what he did, but now he just sees it as a necessity and nothing else. Doing dirty work for the CIA, sometimes justified, sometimes not. Archer had some belief in the system, but he wasn't blind. With the army, he defended the line, but with the CIA he crossed the line to make sure it was still there to defend.

"Archer," Elena got his attention, "Are you alright? You look like you're in deep thought."

Archer grinned slightly and swirled the ice in his drink around. "Yeah, I guess I was." Archer finished his bourbon, which left a burning sensation in his throat. "You did well on that mission."

Elena gave a sly nod and turned to the bartender, "Cuba Libre. On the rocks." Archer had just noticed her English was almost better than his.

"Same thing, over here," Archer ordered, with the bartender nodding.

"Okay Archer, be straight with me." Elena caught him off guard, "I watched you sit there and pour drinks into yourself for about an hour now. You don't look that bad. So I'm guessing you're used to drinking this much." She said, starting to notice the liquor sweats.

Archer nodded, "So?" The bartender had just then brought the Cuba Libres. Archer naturally thanked the man and took a sip of the Rum and Cola cocktail.

"What are you trying to forget?" Elena asked, unknowingly striking a nerve with Archer. He picked up his cocktail and downed the entire thing, hoping it would do something else besides making him vomit. "I'm sorry Archer I shouldn't have-,"

"It's West." Archer cut her off, "My name's West." This threw Elena off from questioning him further. "Something happened a long time ago when I was with 'Delta'. Some men died on my watch... That's all I want to talk about." The spook laid the appropriate amount of money on the counter and got up, "I'm going back to Hereford. See you there?"

"Yeah, bye Ar- West." Elena waved and sipped on her cocktail.

Archer waved to the operators in the bar and they waved back. He exited the bar and saw the beauty of a vehicle: a 2020 Toyota Hilux, something he wished he had in America, but a Tacoma would cut it for now. Archer grew up with these pickups, so he didn't have to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road, wrong to him at least.

Archer got onto the pickup and quietly sat, trying to force his memories out. He couldn't stop the pain and grief of the past from coming back. The rage overwhelmed him as he threw a punch directly into the steering wheel, "Fuck!" 

He eventually calmed down and started the trip back to Hereford.

***
Three Years Ago

"Disciple 1-3 to Overlord, send evac now," Reyes yelled into the radio over the roaring gunfire in the African town.

West pushed himself off the ground and grabbed his rifle. "No! We have to get these rangers out!" West yelled while dragging himself against a destroyed car for cover.

"We are out of fucking time! We have to leave them!" Reyes snapped back at his superior. Reyes then got up and ran for the fallback line, leaving his comrades.

West crawled over to Cicero, who was trying to stabilize Lambert's wounds. "Let's grab who we can! We'll come back for the rest later!" West reluctantly bellowed. Kolinski loaded his last mag into his MK18.

"We will," Kolinski said as he looked from around the corner and fired at the African militants. Cicero picked up Lambert into a fireman's carry with Kolinski and West giving them covering fire.

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