Old Comrades Conclusion (June 14, 1997) - Path To Vendetta

After Landen killed the warlord, everyone regrouped and got their gear.

Now it was time to find their hostage.

Within minutes, the team planted a breach charge, the door swung open within milliseconds of the explosion popping off. Dmitry breached last, barely coming to sentience.

They found the hostage.

Mensah.

"Raaaagh!" Mensah was behind a ZLF rebel, choking him to near death with his binds, pushing him forward into Landen and stumbling over the pair.

As Landen fell, Trafford quickly aimed his rifle at Mensah.

"HOLD! Its one of Dmitry's guys!" Creed put his hand on Trafford's barrel, letting the man lower it, before turning towards Dmitry.

"Whos this one? You recognize him lad?"

Creed looked around the room. It appeared to be a cell, but lacked the metal bars of a regular holding room. Mensah was held in a room with nothing in it but a door and wooden chair.

"Yes. I do." Dmitry stomped over to Mensah, watching him drop the zlf guard instantly, he reached out, bawling up his fist and hurling it into Isaac's face. Adding one to the many bruises and cuts on him, then kneeling down next to him. "I almost wish you weren't useful boy. Get up."

"Good to see you too, Dmitry." Mensah stood up, bruised, battered and all of the above, staring at everyone else. "Who are you?"

"We're your rescue team. I am Special Agent Dominic Landen." Landen stood up now, gently pushing the gutted ZLF off of him, and turning to Mensah, who was noticably injured but it didn't seem to make the man weaker in comparison.

"About time. You here to bring me for prosecution or what?" Mensah stepped over the body, and started walking past Landen, being stopped by his arm, looking down to it, then him in the eyes. "So?"

"Negative. But it seems like you and Sergeant Berkhoff have business to wrap up. He was heavily against rescuing you from the ZLF. Right?"

Landen now looked past Mensah to Dmitry, who stood attentively behind the man.

"Without this man, the ZLF probably would have never stayed here."

Dmitry didn't seem too happy about it neither, but they had to leave, and that was soon. So he kicked over the corpse of the ZLF guard and hobbled out with everyone else.

Next, it was the black site.

---

"Special Agent Landen, Report."

Mr. Graham's voice came in crackled through the radio, to the isolated Landen who stood on a hill away from the JSOC/CIA joint force. The force itself had sent Mensah back to the JSOC FOB, and now looked upon the final location listed.

This is what they believed to be a ZLF black site, of course unbeknownst it was work of the CSA.

"You're comin' through great, brotha. We got another hostage sent on his way and we have the final location in our crosshairs. We are ready to proceed, over." Landen spoke through the radio confidently. He held the warlord's deagle in one hand, the radio held in the other.

Mr. Graham's enthusiasm on the other side was clear.

"Wonderful to hear. Expect greater contact in this net, over."

Landen responded casually.

"Copy that. You'll be the first to know once the rest of the hostages are secure. Out." Landen clicked his transciever and walked down to the hill where the rest of the JSOC group was, being met by Trafford, who gave a mission report.

"We have a recon team up here, but everyone else is ready to storm the black site."

Landen nodded, preparing to lead the group out.

"Two left… i seriously hope you have a better plan than shooting everything you see this time, Landen." Dmitry referred to him by name this time, how curious, either way, despite their differences, he moved on with the mission, scoping in on the black site.

"We'll do whatever's neseccesary. We got a job to do." Landen led the large group of operatives down the foothill, nearing the front gates of the black site, which was filled with security.

On Landen's signal, the snipers left on the hil began systmatically clearing guards who were more isolated, leaving the brunt of the work to Landen and co., who waited for the perfect opportunity to strike.

"Oh good, you can communicate." Dmitry trudged forward, his gruff annoyed tone persisted through the air, his snare directed toward Landen of course. His rifle pressed close against his chest and in his hands as he followed through with the snipers shots, waiting for Landens orders.

After the final sniper shot, the team breached the main gate and went in guns-blazing, taking out the confused guards with relative ease. Of course, it was simple now. But once they got into the black site, everything would change.

Upon reaching the first hostage room, a couple JSOC operatives sweeped the hallway while Creed, Dmitry and Trafford stacked up on the door. Creed nodded to Dmitry to plant a breach charge.

Dmitry reached into his pack, fumbling around with various tools before planting the charge on the door, once he did, he motioned for everyone to move back, and hid himself behind cover. 5 seconds later, the wall came caving in with a loud 'BOOM', then they breached.

Dmitry last… what laid before them was disturbing, for even the most grizzled.

"Oh…. God…"

Creed himself had to look away for a second. The sight was extreme and disgusting. He then looked at it again. It was almost like a lab. A testing lab. "This-This is a fucking testing room. For people." Creed took note of the surroundings, noticing lab equipment, tables, all filled with information. There were bodies wrapped in bodybags, slung from the ceiling.

Corporal Hemlock Grant looked at one of the bodies, it had detailed information about its purpose, and time in the lab. "What the hell are we dealin' with? This can't be the work of the ZLF."

"Well if it isn't ZLF then who is it, dumbass? The only troops we've seen here are those mindless grunts." Trafford interjected, arguing with Hemlock.

Dmitry covered his nose, immediately he stepped forward, disregarding orders, his own will took over, to find his team, to make sure everything and everyone got out okay, despite the pain that welled up in his chest just now, he searched every body, every dead detail of this hellscape. Eventually finding a malnourished man in the back, shouting to his team. "There's one alive!!!!"

"U...Ugh...--...Dmitry?! You came!" A Hound Wolf squad member was malnourished and deprived, holding onto himself desperately in the corner in the back-room of the labratory setup.

"Dmitry...listen to me. It's not just me. I know theres other hound wolf people...here....you just gotta....you gotta find them....I know they're alive!"

"How many more?" Landen walked in with Trafford, leaving Hemlock to cover the door of the lab, brandishing his desert eagle and eyeing both Hound, Dmitry, and Creed, as well as the "data" and "analytics" featured across the room. A sight to behold.

"Atleast two! I can't remember who...--It's...--It's been too long!" Hound talked quick, almost too quick to the point where they couldn't understand him, but he got his point across albeit.

"Siba, you'll be moved back by my sergeant. We'll get ya outta here, real nice and fed, i gotta save the rest of the boys now though…" Dmitry patted him lightly on the shoulder, standing up and nodding to Creed, then looking to Landen. "This place isn't getting any better. Move on agent, lead the way."

But it wouldn't be that easy.

From the darkness - enter Judge.

Snaking his way through the darkness, silent but deadly.

He slithered behind Hemlock who was guarding the door, sliding his gloved hand over his mouth, then promptly bashing the side of his skull with a lead pipe, knocking the man out instantly, dragging him back to the shadows in total silence.

Sounded like nothing more than a creak in the disturbing building.

Two Agents patrolling this sector found the legs sticking out from the darkness. The body of Hemlock, just as Judge seemingly vanished, the Agents stood over his body, Hemlock, with a wound to the skull and gutted brutally now. dead as ever.

They yelled.

"SIR!"

Before Landen could reply to Dmitry, he ran over, exiting the labratory with Creed, Trafford and Dmitry. He came to a halt, stopping at Hemlock's disgusting corpse. He stood there shellshocked, before transitioning into anger:

"I TURN MY BACK FOR ONE GODDAMNED MINUTE!!"

He turned to Dmitry now, "Grab your guy. He stays with us..."

He took a moment to catch his breath before turning to one of the agents. "Get me my armor."

"Guess not, after all then." Dmitry propped up Siba, holding and walking him with one arm draped over his shoulder, pistol loaded in his other, free hand.

Following Special Agent Landen, unaware of the threat lurking in the darkness.

Watchful eyes, so silent, so faded, yet so prevalent.

"This whole op is goin' to shit..." Creed whispered to Dmitry, as the duo followed behind Landen and the other agents. Of course, the two men saw the opportunity to rescue Dmitry's old squad and took it, but did not nearly expect this nature of unpredictability from both sides - Landen and the ZLF.

Thats precisely when they heard it, distant yelling, no one from their team, no one of the corpses strung out around them, whoever it was sounded well fed, couldn't be an ally, could still be an enemy… then it became clearer as they trudged through. "WHERE IS LIEUTENANT AKERS?!" His voice practically projected his question to the heavens, echoing throughout the halls despite the corpses.

Creed was overcome with confusion.

"Akers?! Wh-- Keep your guard up everyone!" Creed immedietely raised his rifle, pointing it into the darkness but not firing recklessly. The voice seemed to come from various areas in the darkness. Each word coming from a different room, almost. Creed stood behind Dmitry, covering the six of him and the hostage, Siba.

"Nothing but a horror show in here…" Dmitry moved forward, specifically butting shoulders with Landen, whom he gave a small scowl before proceeding to Siba, finding the man in his state, standing above him this time. "I know Siba… prove to me you can stand, place like this wouldn't even be a minor setback for you."

"Ugh...God...we need to get out of here...that man yelling...he's...--you don't want to deal with him...I promise...." Siba struggled to speak coherently, gripping onto Dmitry's arm as he limped forward.

Creed went to a door on the teams left that led into a armory. There were no guards here, luckily. Allowing the squad to take temporary refuge to devise a plan to gather the two hostages, and for Landen to give Graham a "mission report". "Dmitry, what are ya thinking, mate?"

"This is hell, and we're dead mate." Dmitry set down his sergeant here, immediately after putting his hands on his hips, pacing around the other side of the refuge, looking down at the floor the whole time.

"We're getting your men out of here." Creed turned to him trying to make eye contact, speaking firmly. As he did so, he offered a tight, reassuring nod, projecting a sense of absolute certainty, even if he didn't believe it internally.

---

On the other side of the room, Landen stood across from Trafford, communicating to Graham over the radio. "Lieutenant Akers. That's the name we heard. Some lunatic yelling it. Another warlord, I presume."

"What was the agenda?" Graham replied over the radio. "Just the name? I need the details to give you an objective."

"He was... asking for him," Landen said. "Like he had a score to settle."

There was a long pause on the other end of the radio, before Graham returned. "Then the mission priority changes. The hostages are now considered liabilities in the realm of this mission."

Landen shut his eyes for a second, like he was contemplating, before replying back.

"So... what are you thinkin'?"

"How is Creed working out?"

"Great," Landen said. "Surgical. Makes my job easier."

"What about Dmitry?"

"He's... a wildcard," Landen said. "But his squad trusts him like a father. If he's the one at the door, they won't even think twice." He took a glance at Dmitry and Creed, and their hostage, Siba, in the other room, while keeping his deagle steady.

"Exactly," Graham said. "Use Dmitry to get their guard down. Let him grab the hostages and lead the way... then you step in and do what you do."

Landen's tone changed as he pressed Graham for instructions. "And what about when things turn and I have to tell 'em what's what?"

Before disconnecting from the radio, Graham spoke slowly and assured:

"They'll fall in line. They always do."

Dmitry was quick to react.

He didn't exactly know.

But he felt something wasn't quite right, the way Landen's face changed, his low expression whilst he spoke, the surprised look when he listened to the radio.

He slowly hobbled over to Creed, trying to look as normal as possible.

"Listen to me, boy, if anything happens to me or my team, you gotta get out of here as soon as possible, our lives aren't as important as yours."

He whispered, almost as though reassuring his own child.

"No...we came here to rescue your team, lets rescue them. We'll do whatever it takes....even if it means...--...even if it means we have to do something we didn't expect." Creed almost choked on his own words, looking at Landen, not knowing what the agent was capable of, understanding his unpredictability.

He then turned to Dmitry.

"I ain't giving up on you, mate."

"Not me — yourself." Dmitry awaited the agents next task very impatiently, waiting around Creed, yet again, like a father protecting his child. He couldn't quite grasp the feeling he was getting, but he knew it was no joke, so he remained patient, persistent, ready to go at a moments notice.

"Alright boys, change of objective. My handler informed me of an influx of ZLF troops arriving to burn the black site, so we need to hurry to get your boys back."

Landen turned to Dmitry.

"I'll take my guys, scope out the right wing, you take Creed, deal with the left wing. We split up, divide and conquer, everything will go smoothly. You understand?"

Landen folded his arms, appearing smug, eyeing Siba and Creed as well.

"Aye, Boss." Dmitry hoisted up his soldier, firmly placing his feet on the ground and trudging off with him, eyeing off Landen the entire time, keeping Creed close by, his suspicions started to latch onto the agent, even if he didn't quite understand why.

Then it happened.

The moment Dmitry turned his back and started hauling Siba away, Landen raised his pistol in one smooth motion.

The shot cracked through the room, tearing through the back of Siba's head.

Creed initially froze.

The gunshot rang through the room, and for a moment, he could not process what he'd just seen.

His eyes moved from Siba's dead body to Special Agent Landen and Trafford, his mouth parting in disbelief. This disbelief turned to anger.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

On the other hand, Dmitry didn't turn.

Instead, he tried to grab his friend, he held the man's back, not wavering even an inch, trying to find any sign of life.

Which there was none.

So instead, he stood up. With a fury in his hands, his entire being, it crawled into his spine, seething, burning him inside.

His eyes didn't concede an inch once they locked onto the agent.

"Creed…. I want you to run, boy. Run and don't look back."

Landen noticed Dmitry's determination.

It only fueled him.

He smirked smugly, inching towards Dmitry.

"Huh. Okay, lets go…!"

Landen got into a fighting stance, fists up, discarding his deagle onto the floor as it was out of ammo.

Trafford stood behind him, rifle trained on the Russian.

"MARCUS! GET OUTTA HERE!" Dmitry immediately clenched his fists, the rage flowing through his voice, he rushed forward with merely a step, feeling the combined power of his teammates own rage, had they found out. He went for the hit—

A magnum's bullet rung out, deafening everyone in the immediate vicinity, as well as a hailstorm of SMG bullets, the man behind it all stood above the agents, donning his black raincoat, deathly looking gas mask. "You're not Lieutenant Akers - BUT YOU'LL BRING ME TO HIM ALL THE SAME!"

"Shit! Run! Get the fuck outta here!" Dmitry narrowly dodged the magnum shot, mostly by pure luck, as he ducked on his way out, scrambling into the tight hallway as the men in black followed with guns close behind.

As fighting began between both ZLF and Landen's rogue agents, Creed sought the opportunity to scramble away with Dmitry, fleeing into the narrow, poorly-lit corridor of the black site. Blood stains marked the walls and the hallway reeked of pure death. Creed desperately turned to Dmitry, "We get your guys and we get the FUCK out of here, okay?!"

"They're in the hands of that bloody agent now! You can't come with me to save them! - they're my responsibility, YOU SHOULDN'T BE INVOLVED IN ANY OF THIS!"

Dmitry sprinted away with Creed, all the more, huffing his words out like he was running a marathon.

"Oh agents! Where are you running off to? Back to America?! - Fine! BUT Akers won't leave Zaire ALIVE. bring me AKERS and all will be forgiven!" Judge fired shots toward Dmitry and Creed, then toward the fleeing agents and Landen himself.

Landen and a portion of his agents moved down the corridor, evading Judge for now, but not without multiple casualties.

More agents began attacking the black site, and a fire began brewing just outside of the main headquarters.

Everything was turning to chaos quick.

Upon reaching a side-room, Creed pushed the door open and cleared it quickly, before slamming the door behind Dmitry.

Creed took a moment to catch his breath.

The ZLF gunfire was now distant...enough.

He understood now.

Whatever this operation was supposed to be, it had turned into something else entirely. An unofficial CIA-sponsored black bag operation buried so deep nobody would ever answer for it.

This was not what Creed and Dmitry came here to do.

"He...He dropped one of your guys! Just like that! We gotta...We gotta stop him! I ain't leaving you behind, man! You wont convince me otherwise."

Dmitry shook his head at his Gunnery Sergeant.

"You have to leave me behind. Tell the task force - unless they're in on it too." Dmitry seemed panicked now, like he was all out of options, yet his first and foremost priority was on Marcus Creed - the most pure man the team has.

To let him go, to let him tell the team they were in deeper than they think.

To hold off Landen for just enough time.

"It isn't up for discussion. Let's go." Creed made his way to the door arrogantly, rifle in hand, prepared to kill every last one of the ZLF and rogue agents in this building.

If it meant completing the mission. And bringing Dmitry's men home.

"Boy… do you want to be another poor soul that succumbs to this hellhole?! Sit your ass in here and wait for me to clear the path to get you back home…. And if you don't wanna do that, you better fucking help me kill that mutt."

Dmitry spoke through gritted teeth, his hands moving with his words, like an angry father as he swung open the door, cutting off Creed and stepping out.

"DMITRY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU--" The door shut and locked before he could react. He kicked the door in anger before pacing around the room to see any weakpoints. He examined the gap between the door and the frame. He grabbed the hinge pins.

As he suddenly heard shuffling in the room, Creed realized something.

Dmitry didn't lock the door.

Landen did.

Landen kicked Dmitry onto the ground and locked the door.

He then punched the man in the nose before leaning down to talk to him.

"You coulda made it easy, man. We all know...in this line of work, when we get a change of objective we follow it...c'mon, we find your guys....do what we have to do, and then we can all go home!"

Dmitry had a scowl on his face now, seething like a burn, the same kind of burn that agent gave him. He spoke back as he rose, through coughs and grunts.

"You're not gonna be leaving this place with your head intact, agent!"

Landen punched Dmitry across the face again, his own face now seething with anger. Or perhaps disappointment.

Like he expected Dmitry to work with him.

"Turnin' your back on me, the rest of us, for what? Some lost causes of men you call a squad? I really thought you and Creed were better than all that. I really DID!"

He punched him again.

"Oh please… you wanna be the victim so bad, don't ya?" Dmitry recovered from his hit, stumbling over himself and picking himself back up, waiting for him to strike again.

Once he did, he tripped the agent with a leg sweep, but didn't get very far, as he then heard men rushing toward them.

All with gear and guns.

He immediately began sprinting off, but before he did, he left Landen with a reminder:

"If the wild animal in here doesn't 'bleed ya good enough, i'll be back to collect my debt, you little shit!"

Several agents fired at Dmitry, before turning to their superior who was now getting up off the ground, waiting for orders.

Sergeant O'Brien spoke up.

"Do we go after him?!"

Landen shook his head, already devising a new plan within the walls of this black site. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "No, we're gonna round 'em up." His voice sharpened instantly, referring to the ZLF terrorists.

"Every ZLF body you can find, bring 'em to the roof. We need to get what we want. And we need to get it now."

Landen began making his way to the roof.

"We are going to make an example of this agent… and every single lapdog he sends after us.. men, prepare your guns! We will make our final stand!"

Judge prepared the rest of his men. They rushed up the staircase, sprinting up to the roof in their clanky heavy gear.

Prepared to murder every American in the building.

45 Minutes Later

As his men gathered up ZLF troops on the rooftop, Landen was finally able to find a bottle of alcohol for himself. Despite pouring some of it off the roof in an attempt to maintain his 4 months of sobriety, he "accidently" let his finger catch some of the drink.

He put his finger to his mouth and sucked the alcohol into his mouth methodically, enjoying the taste again.

He put the bottle down.

Landen let out a slow breath through his nose as if something inside him had finally unclenched.

He took a megaphone from Trafford and began speaking, so everyone in the compound could hear him.

"Terrorists of this black site. You have been deemed enemies of the free world. You have hostages, that we need! That cannot stand. The bad news is a lot of you are dead, but the good news is that you can still make things RIGHT! Give us what's ours and we'll leave. That'll be that!"

Landen eyed the heap of bodies at the bottom of the stairs, before Trafford grabbed his attention. He nodded over at Trafford, allowing the man to convey information.

"Sir. Graham is connected."

Landen nodded again, grabbing the radio transciever and talking.

"Mr. Graham this is Special Agent Landen, do you copy?"

Graham responded on the radio, "Copy that. Status?"

Landen smiled smugly.

"Location secured, brother."

Graham responded enthustically, "Brilliant. The hostages?"

Landen replied back.

"We're searchin' floor by floor. The ZLF hasn't been very...cooperative."

He took another peak at the body pile.

Graham chuckled over the radio, "I mean, can you even believe that? These people in Zaire, they've regressed into God knows what. Its like trying to reason with a rat that can't tell right from wrong."

Landen sighed, "Well, some small taste of law and order will help them remember. Landen out."

Landen gave the radio back to Trafford and turned away, but quickly heard from another agent, "Sir!"

Landen was a bit more angry now.

"What?!"

The soldier responded nervously, "We got...two down at the east exit."

Landen nodded sharply and began moving fast without acknowledging any more subordinates. Something in his eyes shifted.

Not panic.

Not rage.

Pure focus.

He pivoted on his heel, prompting the rest of the squad to fall in, following Landen back into the hellscape that is this Citadel Black Site.

---

Chaos.

"MARCUS! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STAY BEHIND?!"

Dmitry rushed up to the rooftop, much like Judge before him, sprinting all the way up with Creed in two, whom he desperately convinced to stay back.

To no avail.

"They have to be upstairs… they weren't bloody when we found em', just some malnourished… some beaten…"

Dmitry sniffed around for any kind of lead, desperately trying to find his team before the realisation hit him.

They could be on the roof.

Considering Landen's vehicle was missing, and they were too, there's no way he could be here and be gone at the same time.

With this, he turned to Creed.

"Whoever's left is holed up on the roof."

Creed nodded.

"Roger that, lets--"

Suddenly, Creed heard voices just outside in the hallway.

He put his ear to the door, gun at the ready, and listened in.

Landen was heard giving orders to numerous agents in the hallway.

"Anyone you find...ZLF...Dmitry...Creed, they refuse to give you anything useful you just pop 'em in the head and move on with it. We find our hostages in the next hour or we burn this place to the ground."

Trafford walked over to Landen as most of the troopers split off into small squads.

"Sir...Kurogane and Mensah...they got out. Private Hodges hasn't checked in for over 15 minutes."

---

Kurogane and Mensah.

"Mensah… you know what you did. This is your time to make it up to Dmitry, to me.. to all our fallen brothers and sisters." Takeshi wiped his hands off, of the blood the pair spilled breaking free from Landens men, load checking a rifle he stole off them, only having one mag.

-Much like Mensah did, whom stole a shotgun off one of them, he had to play close, he preferred it that way, easier to kill, more damage done in one foul swoop.

Now, they did have it hard getting up here. The only entrance was the ladders on the side of the building, only cause they killed the agents there.

"This isn't for them… maybe if we survive, i'll tell you all about what happened there, seeing as you always liked sitting on your ass inside the chopper."

---

Landen nodded at Trafford's reveal.

He began descending the stairs.

Back inside, Creed was confused at the revelation.

"Kurogane and Mensah. Your men we 'rescued' before...they never made it back to the Forward Base. They were taken captive. This was staged from the beginning!" Creed almost collapsed under the weight of this truth, now fully realizing he and Dmitry were setup from the very start of this operation.

It wasn't a sudden change at the black site.

It was an elaborate setup.

"Those boys are trying to get themselves up and outta here before it gets any worse - good, we gotta let them do their thing, Landen is our problem." Dmitry was prepared to meet Landen halfway.

He and Creed began clearing room-by-room.

Alas, Creed breached a room on one of the higher floors and sweeped it, before hearing a faint groan in the back.

A groan of a malnourished man.

That could only mean one thing.

Before Creed could move in cautiously, Dmitry rushed to get the hostage.

"Dmitry, wait-- Fuck!"

"Not waiting on my boys…" Dmitry immediately scooped up the malnourished man, he wasn't in any good state, but he'll do for now.

All he had to do was get the man safe, which he did, hurrying down the hallway, narrowly avoiding what was left of ZLF, stuffing his former teammate into a closet, locking it from the outside and returning to Creed. "One more… where could he be?l

Creed made his way out to the corridor for a brief moment, back pressed against the wall -- rifle sweeping the corridor.

His breathing was measured and calm now.

He checked behind them, then infront, both sides of the corridor were clear.

For now, of course. Gunfire echoed - Screams of ZLF...Agents...alike.

Once Dmitry was behind him, Creed made his way to another stairwell.

This was the last flight of stairs before reaching the top floor.

Another stairwell would lead to the roof.

They had to be getting closer.

Creed turned to Dmitry to reply, "We got one more floor til the top. If you were the ZLF, where'd you hide your last prisoner? Top floor?"

Creed knew the roof was a no-go, as Landen and his men had taken it over and thrown numerous ZLF insurgents off of it.

"If i were ZLF, i'd have executed the bunch - but we both know they're not smart enough. Cmon, top floors the only one left, plus - his men are running down to the bottom." Dmitry rushed up to the top with Creed, first he prepped his weapon, kicking down the door and coming through first. A few bullets flied his way, narrowly missing his head and body as he aimed forward into the darkness, firing blindly, hearing a loud grunt. He pushed forward, eventually finding the man on the floor.

And it was not what he expected.

Kael Virelli.

"Dmitry…. Why?"

Kael was on the ground, 3 bulletholes protruded his body, blood pouring out of it in gallons.

"Oh no no.. stay with me…" Dmitry kneeled down, putting pressure on two of his wounds. "CREED! I NEED YOU TO PATCH HIM UP!! LANDEN AIN'T GONNA WAIT FOR US TO GET HIM HELP… I CANT LET HIM DIE FOR MY MISTAKES!"

"DMITRY, WE HAVE TO GO. NOW!" Creed saw Landen and his men on the other side of the corridor, and ran back into the room where Dmitry was trying to resuscitate his fallen soldier. A fallen soldier that he killed.

He tried to pull Dmitry off him.

"Go… avenge our brothers… I forgive you.. so will they."

Kael fell limp in Dmitry's arms.

He dropped to the floor as Dmitry let go.

"You have to go. I'm not letting anyone affiliated with the CIA leave this building. DO NOT stand in my way." Dmitry stood up, gathering his rifle, holding it tightly in both hands, anger welling up in him as he was more than prepared to take on Landen's entire squad.

Creed looked at Dmitry. He noticed the man's white knuckle grip on his rifle, and his anger reaching its definitive boiling point. He replayed the last words in his head, and couldn't let his comrade do anything reckless.

"Dmitry. I heard him."

He waited for Dmitry to turn around, before addressing him again.

"Did you? He spent his last breath forgiving you, lad. Don't throw your life away...doing something....stupid. You hear me?!"

Dmitry finally realized what he was doing.

"It was always about giving our lives for one another - i gotta make up for what i did to him. You gonna help me, or are you gonna get home safe son?!"

Dmitry took cover by the doorway.

He wasn't exactly prepared to go and try and kill an entire group of people plus a manic warlord, but maybe with Creed, he'd feel more secure.

Chapter 18 - Old Comrades Conclusion (June 14, 1997)