Ghost capturing Borbon was truly an unexpected bonus. Owen admitted he'd never had such ambitious intentions from the start. Ghost's face, hidden behind his signature skull scarf and goggles, revealed nothing of his expression, but Fred's exaggerated exclamation came blaring through the comms.
"Whoa! Ghost, looks like you hit the jackpot!"
Though they couldn't see each other, everyone chimed in on the channel to send their congratulations.
Owen glanced at the ashen-faced Borbon and smiled, patting Ghost on the shoulder. "Nice work, man."
Ghost nodded, accepting the praise in his usual understated way. Owen then turned to the visibly thrilled Snaidar. "Alright, get your people to clean up the battlefield. We're moving out."
Snaidar was pulled back to reality and nodded, going off to rally his troops.
Owen pressed his comms button. "Omega, all units converge on me."
They had just devastated Borbon's force and unexpectedly captured Borbon himself. But they needed to leave—immediately. Borbon's forces were far larger than this detachment. What they had just taken down was only his personal guard, and it had only worked because Omega struck preemptively and caught them off guard.
Much of this victory was due to sheer luck. Borbon had no idea they had such weapons. Their ambush had been calculated. Borbon had underestimated them, and the effectiveness of the Claymores had shattered his guards' will to fight. Ghost's bold and precise move then sealed the deal. Everything aligned perfectly for them to seize such a prize.
But Borbon wasn't just any warlord. He was the most powerful in Bosmia, strong enough to challenge NATO itself. Staying put any longer would risk Omega and the guerrillas being annihilated the moment Borbon's reinforcements arrived.
Omega regrouped quickly, forming a protective perimeter around Borbon, who now wore a look of utter despair. On the other side, Snaidar had managed to rally the guerrillas, who, despite looking longingly at the scattered spoils left on the field, obeyed his orders without hesitation.
The team began to move out. The clearing behind them was now devoid of wounded enemies—those injured by the Claymores had been given a swift end by the guerrillas during the cleanup.
As they walked, Snaidar kept stealing glances at Owen, clearly wanting to say something. After several failed attempts, Owen cut in preemptively.
"Not happening."
Snaidar paused, caught off guard. "What's not happening?"
Owen rolled his eyes. This guy just wouldn't give up. He got straight to the point. "Borbon. We're not handing him over. You know we're in conflict with the local warlord coalition. You understand the stakes. He's too important to us."
Owen had made it clear. Snaidar and Herman stayed silent. Of course, they wanted Borbon—he was a household name in Bosmia. Claiming credit for his capture would deal a massive blow to the Serb militia's morale. The guerrillas might finally shake off the crushing pressure they'd endured for so long.
But Owen had been clear. Borbon was going back to the U.S. base. They had use for him.
"Eagle calling Nest. Eagle calling Nest. Mission complete. Requesting extraction at Evac Point Three."
Owen made the call as they marched. Within seconds, the Carl Vinson's voice crackled through the comms. "Nest copies. Choppers will rendezvous at Point Three, 13:40. We're bringing you home."
The confirmation lifted everyone's spirits—even Chris, limping and sore from his gunshot wound, suddenly didn't feel the pain so much.
"Looks like this is where we part ways," Owen said, turning to Snaidar with a half shrug. This moment had always been inevitable.
Herman looked visibly upset, eyes red-rimmed. Snaidar, the seasoned fighter, was more composed. He simply nodded and slapped palms with Owen in farewell.
Hearing they were leaving, the guerrilla fighters came over one by one to bid Omega farewell. Though their time together had been short, this battle had been an overwhelming victory, and Omega had made it happen. The guerrillas not only dealt a devastating blow to the enemy but also looted enough weapons to brag about for generations.
"Cowboy—that's what they call you, right?" Herman suddenly shouted as Omega walked away. "What do you think of me? I want to join you…"
The Omega members turned and looked at Herman. After a pause, Owen smiled and gave him a small wave before turning back and continuing on.
Crushed, Herman lowered his head. From a distance, he watched Omega's figures fade into the forest, eventually disappearing beyond the trees. He sighed. These people were too strong. Each of them was a sharpshooter. He knew he still had a long way to go, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. Deep down, though, he already knew the answer.
…
In the woods, Omega moved quickly and cautiously. Though Chris was injured, he didn't slow the team down—each member took turns helping him along.
They pushed through the trees until Owen crouched near the forest edge, peering toward the open field ahead. He pulled out his GPS. This was it—the designated Evac Point Three.
They didn't move into the open. Instead, they remained concealed at the tree line.
Ten minutes later, the thump of helicopter rotors echoed through the sky. Three black dots appeared on the horizon, rapidly growing larger—one Chinook and two Black Hawks.
Through his binoculars, Owen saw the Stars and Stripes on the helicopters. He nodded to Heartbeat, who was already ready. Heartbeat pulled the tab on a smoke signal and waved it. A plume of yellow smoke billowed upward into the air.
The helicopters circled the area once, scanning for threats. Once they deemed it safe, the Chinook began to descend, while the two Black Hawks remained in the air, circling for overwatch. From the ground, the door gunners on the Black Hawks could be seen manning their weapons.
The wind from the rotors scattered the snow as the Chinook finally touched down. A U.S. soldier jumped down, crouched low, and ran toward Owen.
"Thank God we found you. We've been on standby since yesterday—cancelled leave, cancelled missions—ready to pull you out anytime."
He spoke directly to Owen, then helped support the wounded as they boarded.
General Edis had kept his word. Owen ducked into the aircraft, followed by the rest of Omega. Chris and Borbon were helped aboard as well. The inside of the Chinook felt oddly spacious with just a few of them inside.
The engines roared, the rotors thundered, and the Chinook began to rise, lifting them away from the battleground they had turned into a legend.
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