O’Neil woke to the sound of the heavy wind blowing. Around here the world was dimly lit by the reflected glow, trapped between clouds and snow. The sun would not be visible here until at least spring but it was still faintly light. He decided that the best thing to do would be to try and contact his base camp on his radio communicator. The artic conditions had got the better of it though and it was impossible to pick up a signal. He pulled out his map wiped the powdery snow off it and studied where to head for. It appeared that a few miles away was an abandoned pipeline pumping station. He would head in that direction and salvage anything that he may need from the derelict station. O’Neil moved on keeping his head bent and shielding his face from the wind and snow as he trudged across the Siberian wasteland. Far ahead O’Neil could make out something it wasn’t the station it was too small but there was defiantly something there a glitch upon the perfect white horizon. As it got closer it slowly became more visible until it was obvious what it was. What lay before him was a corpse O’Neil jogged towards it and released the safety catch on his AK-47 just to be sure. The corpse lay on its front but O’Neil could tell by the clothing that it was a Russian soldier probably one who was sent to hunt him down during the night. It looked like to conditions of sub zero temperatures had to got to this particular soldier. O’Neil turned him over to try and find some sort of identity, but as he turned him it became obvious that this was no accident. The whole front side of this victim was mutilated to the extent that only half his face was visible. O’Neil bent and examined the dog tags hanging from the neck of the soldier. It appeared his name was Vetrov; first rank soldier #216.Two parallel slashes had cut Vetrov’s face open slicing from temple to throat. A pool of frozen reddish brown blood surrounded the corpse. O’Neil checked the pockets of the body for anything that may come in hand but only managed to find a small knife stashed inside a sheath. O’Neil checked his bearings on his compass, the station should not be far now, but the artic fog had started to cloud the way and he could only see a few feet ahead of him. He kept his pistol at the ready at all times after seeing the remains of Vetrov. Suddenly he heard the sound of heavy footprints crunching down on the snow just above him. The enemy. The enemy was there, no more than a few metres away. O’Neil raised his pistol and cautiously stepped closer and closer towards the sound. There was about a two-foot radius around O’Neil of visibility and there was still nothing to be seen. Then suddenly two arms wrapped around O’Neil’s neck completely constricting his air supply. He thrust a quick elbow into the attackers waist and they fell to the floor. O’Neil could see him clearly now it was another Russian soldier at least six foot four with an immense build. The attacker reached for a knife but O’Neil was to quick kicking out his hand. The soldier swept O’Neil right over. The man turned O’Neil over in his grip hit in the face several times and locked his hands around his throat.
“Die, scum” he said. He squeezed even tighter, O’Neil struggling to find oxygen, began to lose consciousness. Before he fainted O’Neil remembered the knife he swiped from the corpse, it was attached to his belt, quickly he grabbed it and plunged it in to the attackers stomach, the grip on his neck suddenly loosened. Blood began to trickle out of the attackers mouth and on the icy floor where it froze straight away. O’Neil lay on floor still trying to find his breathe but then the ripping sound of nearby gunfire interrupted the calm atmosphere. Without thinking he dived for cover behind a mound of snow. The gunman whoever it was continued to spray bullets into the snow for another few seconds until the clicking sound of an empty magazine told O’Neil that they were out of ammunition. With no hesitation at all O’Neil dived out from behind the mound of snow there in front of him stood the attacker fumbling hastily with another magazine but it was too late O’Neil launched himself at the soldier sending both men flying. Unfortunately the Russian got up quicker than O’Neil and delivered a Steel toe capped boot straight into the side of O’Neil’s head. He fell face down struggling to find his feet after such a blow. The attacker delivered a series of violent kicks to his mid section. O’Neil was spitting blood now he could see the man aiming up another kick and took advantage, just the man went to kick him he rolled out the way and kicked the leg that the attacker was using the support himself sending him to the floor. O’Neil got up quickly despite the pain, the soldier still on the floor, pulled out his pp9 pistol screwed on the silencer and pressed it against the mans head.
“No, don’t shoot “ he pleaded, “I’m just doing my job”
“So am I “ O’Neil replied and pulled the trigger.
O’Neil wiped a spec of blood from his forehead and continued. Not much further on and he came across the pumping station, old and ruined in its appearance but nevertheless would provide a decent shelter for the night. He pushed aside the crooked door and entered cautiously. The room in which he entered was not very welcoming with dark dull walls and shabby furniture; there were a set of stairs leading down into a dark basement, which was the only other visible aspect of the room. O’Neil decided to venture down and see what he could find. The stairs where groaning under the weight. O’Neil found his torch and shone it around then stopped, aiming at a drying puddle upon the floor, then he swung the light upward.
“OH MY GOD” he said.
Suspended from the ceiling where a row of corpses, four in total each one hanging there lifeless. Iceicles of blood and sweat hung from them giving them a surreal appearance. “What kind of a monster could have done this? “ he said to himself. There came a groaning noise deeper within the basement, shadows where being cast around from the torchlight. O’Neil scrambled for the stairs, kicked open the door at the top and sat with his back to it trying to catch his breathe. On the other side of the door he could hear something trying to climb the stairs slowly, without hesitation O’Neil pulled out the plastic explosive devise that he was supposed to use on the chemical weapons facility and stuck it firmly on the wall next to him. Quickly he fumbled with the certain attachments and connected them all, the thing still climbing the stairs. There finished, all he had to do now was to press the detonator button. O’Neil scrambled to his feet and ran outside, the freezing night wind and cutting snow attacking him from all directions. He dived behind a giant jagged rock sticking out of the ground and pressed the button. The horizon glowed orange and he could feel heat as if from an immense fire. After about a minute O’Neil got up from behind the rock and approached the black crater, which he presumed, was the remains of the station. The ice in front of him glistened with a slick wet gleam due to the heat of the explosion.
