Owen hurled a grenade, killing a distant RPG gunner.
"Move, go, go!"
Just as the team was about to evacuate the house, the sound of rotor blades thudded from above. Through the gaps in the window frame, they caught sight of a Mi-171 helicopter circling overhead, its downdraft bending the nearby grass and foliage.
It wasn't an armed variant—no weapon pods on the sides—but the wide-open cabin doors revealed Serb soldiers manning machine guns, which immediately began raking the house with gunfire.
The roar of the guns, combined with the whirling blades, sent shockwaves through their ears. Omega's team quickly pressed themselves against the walls as bullets tore through the roof, leaving the interior shredded and filled with smoke and dust.
The roof was in tatters.
Owen knew they had to take it down. Helicopters were the natural nemesis of infantry. The surrounding forest wasn't dense enough to mask movement. As long as that helicopter was in the air, they'd never escape—maybe not even make it to the trees before being gunned down in the open.
RATATATATA!
A burst of fire cut down several Serbs trying to rush the building, but things were getting worse. The helicopter had given the Serbs air superiority, and Omega's ammo was running low. It was only a matter of time before the house was overrun.
"Sharpsight, cover me! Diviner, clear the perimeter! The rest of you, draw the chopper's fire!"
Owen shouted orders, then sprinted for the side door. His target: the RPG lying next to the corpse of a Serb soldier he had killed earlier.
RATATATATA—Ghost and Heartbeat opened fire on the belly of the Mi-171. Their 7.62mm rounds pinged and sparked off the armored hull but did no real damage. The Mi-171, capable of being armed, shrugged off small arms like pebbles in the wind.
Nearby, several charging Serbs were picked off by Fred's VSS. He had long since switched to full-auto. This suppressed sniper rifle earned its nickname for a reason—no muzzle flash, and its shots sounded more like mechanical clicks than explosive cracks.
Rounds continued to bounce off the Mi-171 as it wheeled away in a tight arc, reorienting to face the building. The open cabin door lined up with Ghost and Heartbeat's position, machine gun spitting fire directly at them.
Seeing that they'd successfully drawn the chopper's fire, Owen dashed from the side door, firing as he moved. Several Serbs ahead of him dropped under a coordinated assault—Swagg had already slung his SVD and switched to his AK-12, maintaining deadly precision.
Shhhk—
Owen dove sideways mid-run, sliding perfectly up to the RPG. He dropped into a crouch, hoisted the launcher onto his shoulder, and activated bullet time—aiming.
He waited. Steady... steady... He was watching for the moment the helicopter stopped to hover.
Swagg provided overwatch, picking off any Serbs that got too close to Owen. His job was clear: keep Owen alive while he aimed.
Owen tuned out everything else. Right now, his life was in Swagg's hands. His focus was absolute—on the helicopter.
In slow motion, the Mi-171 settled into a hover. The door gunner's weapon flashed as it raked Ghost and Heartbeat's window.
"NOW!"
With a roar, Owen pulled the trigger. The backblast launched dust and a corpse into the air. The rocket trailed fire as it spiraled upward.
He knew RPGs weren't sniper rifles. They had basic sights, no guidance, and poor accuracy. But he'd done all he could to maximize the shot.
Without missing a beat, he tossed the spent tube aside, grabbed another RPG from the same body, aimed again, and fired.
Two explosive bursts sounded in the sky.
By sheer luck—or skill—both rockets hit the Mi-171. The first rocked it, damaging the fuselage. The second slammed in and detonated, turning the aircraft into a spinning fireball that crashed to the ground in flames.
With the helicopter destroyed, Owen sprinted back toward the house. Swagg laid down covering fire, dropping two Serbs with pinpoint bursts.
"Fall back!"
Omega began their retreat. The squad dashed out the rear of the house into the open wilderness. Owen brought up the rear. Before leaving, he rigged a grenade at the front door as a trap.
Herman's radio screamed with Croatian chatter—reinforcements were here.
They moved fast while the smoke and debris still masked their withdrawal. A loud boom behind them confirmed someone had triggered the booby trap.
The enemy gave chase immediately. Owen and Heartbeat turned, firing as they ran to cover the squad's exit.
Owen activated bullet time again, but fired only single shots. He had burned through too much ammo already and had to conserve. Two pursuers dropped from precise headshots. Owen backpedaled as Heartbeat set up the next cover point. Then he turned and ran, swapping in a fresh mag as he moved.
When he reached Heartbeat, Owen dropped to one knee, took aim, and let Heartbeat move back. The two leapfrogged in coordinated withdrawal.
At the rear, Bayev dragged Herman along, sprinting hard. A stray round struck Bayev—but it hit the armor plate in his vest and stuck there, spent. He kept going.
Herman stumbled constantly, still bound. His balance was off, and he fell every few steps. Bayev, encumbered by dragging him, had dropped to the very back of the formation.
Ghost and Heartbeat fought hard at the front—enemy troops weren't just chasing from behind. Some popped out from the sides as well. Omega was retreating under fire from all directions.
Owen emptied another mag and kept running, reloading on the move. Suddenly, something smacked his backpack—like someone shoving him hard. He stumbled but didn't fall. It felt like a stray round or shrapnel had hit him.
Bullets buzzed past like hornets. Owen ducked low and sprinted, quickly catching up to Bayev and Herman.
"Any terrain ahead we can use to shake them?" Owen asked as he and Bayev paused to fire another volley, momentarily slowing their pursuers.
Owen didn't wait to confirm hits—he turned and ran again, calling out to the guide beside him.
"To the west—downhill. There's a suspension bridge there…" Herman replied breathlessly.
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