Chapter Text
It was a different kind of quiet out here. The wind being the only constant sound, howling through naked trees. A branch snapped somewhere, snow crinkled beneath animal feet. The moon was the only light this far from the warehouse.
Spider had been crouched for too long, her knee starting to send old aches through her leg. She desperately needed to move.
“Status report,” she called through the mic attached to her gear on her shoulder.
“ Freezing my tits off ,” responded Soap.
“That makes two of us,” Spider called back.
“ Target is spotted inside. Soap, move left around the building. Spider, go straight. Stay hidden .” Ghost’s voice was barely audible, nothing but a low humming. If Spider hadn’t been so damn tense she might’ve fallen asleep to the sound of it.
“ Always the cheery one, Ghost ,” Soap replied. “ Moving now. ”
Spider rose slightly from her hiding spot on the edge of the woods. She had to be careful. The parking lot surrounding the warehouse was littered with guards, guns at the ready. Headlights from cars sent horizontal pillars of white at random towards her location.
To her left she sensed Soap moving further away from her. To her right, she figured Ghost was doing the same, though the man was damn invisible.
She kept low, ignoring the ache in her right knee. The wind picked up any sound they made, so she kept her movements minimal as she walked ahead. Voices became louder, clearer. They spoke in a language she didn’t understand, mixed with english of a thick and brutish accent.
“ Target’s deep inside. Near the back wall. That’s yours, Soap .” Ghost sounded in her ear.
“ Copy that .”
Spider kept moving through the howling wind. Her heartbeat was quickening. Ghost would’ve scolded her for something as pathetic as nerves. She shook the thought off her and continued.
A beam of headlights roved over her and she fell flat to the ground, snow hitting her face. The cold bit at her skin. For agonizing seconds she waited, listening with one hand locked around the knife strapped to her thigh.
Nothing.
Slowly, she lifted herself up and continued.
“ Shit, do not engage. I repeat: do not engage. There are too many of them- ” Soap’s voice died out, a loud pitched screeching filled her ear.
“ Soap ,” Ghost hissed. “ Soap, do you copy ?”
Shit , thought Spider. She kept moving, waiting for Ghost’s decision on what to do.
“ Spider, fall back .”
A pit dropped in her stomach. She was so close, could practically touch the damn wall of the building.
“I have direct access to get inside. Let me engage.”
“ Negative. Fall back. ”
She swore under her breath. Voices were muffled through the metal wall. To her right sat massive, wooden crates, piled invitingly for her to climb. A few quick moves and she’d be inside with a perfect view of the layout. She could get Soap, get the target, too.
“Ghost-”
“ No fucking discussion. You have orders. Follow them .”
“I can get Soap-”
“ Follow your fucking orders, Spider. Fall. Back. ”
She cursed again and turned towards the forest when an ear splitting scream filled the air.
Soap .
Without hesitation she climbed the crates, leaping to catch a hold of the ledge. She peered inside. The room was vaguely lit up, men surrounding Soap in the middle who’d been tied to a chair. He was bleeding from his forehead and right hand, but seemed awake.
Alive , she thought with relief.
“ Fall back, damnit ,” Ghost sounded again, voice slightly raised this time, meaning he was getting farther away from the warehouse.
“Negative, sir.”
“ God damnit, Spider. Listen to me. Follow your fucking orders. Soap is compromised. You know the deal -”
“It’s a shit deal, sir. I’m taking out the target and getting Soap.” She understood the logic behind their work rules. If anyone was compromised, you left them. The mission was more important than the man. Every single person on their team was expendable, replaceable. There was no reason to waste time and bullets saving someone who was already as good as dead.
But Soap .
He’d been the first to invite her to the team, to actually listen to her when she spoke. He’d trained with her repeatedly, before and after her injury. When the others had told her to give up after she fucked up her knee on a mission, Soap had been the one to insist on her getting back on the force.
She couldn’t leave him. It was as simple as that.
“ You go in there and you’re dead, Spider. ” She knew Ghost didn’t just mean that she’d most likely lose her life, but that she’d be off the team if she even managed to survive. There was no way she would ever get back her spot when she disobeyed direct orders.
“As long as Soap gets out,” she responded and clicked off her mic.
Spider maneuvered her way up and onto the roof. Clear, plastic windows lined the roof. She’d taken off her boots to keep her steps silent. She left the big gun somewhere behind her, not being able to climb properly with it.
To her left were a set of open windows, barely cracked to let in the cold air, but enough for her to squeeze her way inside. She dropped down on a set of massive, metal shelves. Her fingers and toes were numb. The warmth of the building slowly made its way to her, thawing her frozen body.
Spider was hidden behind more crates. She took a moment to survey the room, keeping her breathing low, her movements slow.
Soap was being tortured in the middle of the room, repeatedly beaten and asked questions in that same, gutural language she didn’t speak. With each scream from her teammate, Spider moved forward, using the sound to cover her own.
“Who do you work for?” An interpreter had entered the room and was translating one of the men’s questions. It seemed like something out of an action movie. Spider almost wanted to laugh.
Soap, of course, sat completely still, not moving a muscle. He’d emptied his mind, separated himself from the physical pain as best as he could. There had been hours, days, of learning how to deal with torture. Soap had been the best of them at it. Ghost followed him right after.
“How did you learn of this location?” The translator asked, his voice oddly calm, factual. As if this was just another job, another day at work.
Soap simply stared into space as they slowly began to rip off another one of his fingernails. When the pain was too much, he thrashed against the ropes that tied him to the chair, his voice breaking into another ear splitting roar.
Spider moved quicker now. She climbed her way across the shelves, trying to find the best angle to take out the men around her, but there were ten, no , twelve of them. All held guns except for the translator and the man asking the questions.
Their target , she realized.
If she shot him now, the others might panic and kill Soap on the spot. It was too much of a risk. Panic rushed through her brain. She didn’t know what to do. If she waited too long to do anything, they might move Soap somewhere else, might just kill him if they rendered him useless.
Spider kept moving, climbing lower until she was just a jump away from the ground. She grabbed one of the smaller knives around her waist, readying a desperate throw, when an explosion was heard outside.
The target yelled something and half the men disappeared out a door just beneath Spider. She held her breath as she heard gunshots firing just outside. In the chaos, she grabbed her gun from her waist and locked onto the target.
“Don’t you fucking move!” She yelled. Heads whipped towards her voice, not able to find her exact location. “Lower your guns and step away from him or we’ll shoot.” The guards looked anxiously from Soap to the target to wherever Spider was hiding.
The target spoke to the interpreter who translated: “Drop your weapon or we’ll shoot the man.” Then, slowly translating each number, they started counting down from ten. when they reached five, Soap called out.
“Damn it, get out of here!” He was blinking through the blood that covered half his face. One of the guards pushed the barrel of his gun against the side of Soap’s face. Spider loaded her gun, let the clicking sound of her weapon fill the quiet room.
“So only one?” The target said in broken english. His face split into a wide, sickening grin.
She’d given herself away.
“Kill her,” he said, nodding for the guards to move towards her.
They took their guns off Soap and headed for her direction. With two quick fires she shot one of the men, then another. They didn’t move. Then the others started firing wildly, puncturing the wooden crates, sending bullets through the metal walls.
The target yelled something, which seized their firing. Spider figured he didn’t want whatever was in the crates to be ruined. The men started climbing the shelves, which gave Spider plenty of time to shoot them down. Two more fell, leaving her with just two left. They’d gone a different way, and she sent a knife flying towards one of them, missing by an inch.
She jumped down, landing on the shoulders of one of them, pulling him with her to the ground. The last man sent bullets flying, each landing perfectly in the manmade shield, killing him. With a swift move, Spider pushed the dead body off her and sent another knife flying. This one hit the remaining man in the neck, blood splattering on her front. The metallic taste of it made her gag, but she kept running.
Soap’s eyes were wide as she ran towards him. The target was out of sight, the translator gone too.
“What the hell are you doin’?” He asked, accent thick through his anger.
“Getting you out, idiot. Sit still.” Spider slashed the ropes around his wrists and ankles, careful not to touch his bleeding hand.
“You’re a damn fool for doing this,” Soap said, but she was certain there was relief on his face. They were both aware of the pain she’d just saved him.
Another explosion sounded outside and they both flinched.
“Ghost?” Soap asked, rubbing his wrists as they ran for the door.
“Probably.”
Soap grabbed the gun off one of the dead guards, reloading as Spider listened by the door. “They’re close. Just outside.”
“The roof, then.”
“Can you climb?” She asked, eyeing his head injury.
Soap lifted a hand toward his forehead. It came away bloody. “I’ll manage.”
Spider let Soap get up first, not wanting to turn around and find him passed out. He grunted, arms weak, as he lifted himself up shelf after shelf.
“Almost there, old man,” she mumbled.
“You’re gonna pay for that one,” he replied, pushing against the plastic window to let him through. “Clear,” he said and climbed through.
Spider jumped and grabbed onto the edge, Soap turning around to help her through, when something sharp and burning hit her thigh. The pain pierced through her, sending a spasm through her arms and she let go, landing on the shelf with a hard thud.
“ Shit , Spider!” Soap cursed.
“No, no,” she mumbled and turned. Her thigh was gushing blood, making her dizzy in seconds. Her eyes landed on the ground far beneath her. Men were flooding the room, more than she could count. Yells landed her way, bullets firing wildly.
Soap had to back away from the window to not get his face blown off.
“Go,” she mumbled through the pain. “Soap, go!” She called louder.
“Damn it, Spider. How many?” He asked just out of sight.
“Too many. Soap, get away!”
“As if I’d leave you now-”
“I’m not fucking kidding, Soap. Leave right now!” She screamed.
His face became visible again, eye widening at the sight beneath them. It was clear to him, she could tell, that there was nothing he could do. If he jumped down he’d be full of bullets before landing. Plus, Spider had been shot in the leg and there was no way she could climb her way out of the warehouse, possibly even walk .
“Shit,” she heard him curse. “ Shit .”
“Just go,” she croaked. “I’ll manage.”
“Spider-”
“You’re so fucking sentimental, Soap. Get out of here. Now .”
One last look through the window. Spider’s eyes meeting Soap’s. She managed a smile and a wink, and then he was gone.
Slowly, she lifted her hand to the mic on her vest and flipped the switch back on.
“ Spider !” Ghost roared. “ What is your position ?”
She coughed, spittle and blood flying. “In a bit of a messy situation here, Ghost.” Her voice was already growing weak.
“ What. Is. Your. Position. ” He repeated the words carefully.
“If you’re not careful, Ghost, I’d almost say you’re a bit worried about me.”
“ Damnit, Spider .”
“I got him out,” she replied quickly. She took another glance over the side, and saw the men make their way towards her. They’d stopped firing, possibly already thinking her dead.
“ Spider- ”
“Soap is heading towards you. Make sure he makes it in one piece, please.”
“ Your position .”
“Quite comfortable, actually. Considering the bullet in my leg.”
“ Fuck ,” Ghost replied. “ Can you move? Walk? ”
“Negative, sir.”
“ Not acceptable. Get your ass out of there. ”
She croaked through a laugh. “Negative,” she repeated. “Sorry, Simon.”
Hands grabbed at her, pulling her from the crate and down on the shelf. She shrieked in pain and heard Ghost yell something in her ear. She tried not to move, the pain in her leg exploding through her body. A blunt hit to her head made her vision blurr. She embraced the blackout, eyes rolling comfortably back in her head.
Then, the silence, the snow crunching, the animals shuffling in the forest. Peace, finally.
Fire burned along her skin. A thousand needles poking in and out of her. Bullets paving their way through bone and muscle.
Her head swam from the pain and she silently begged a god she didn’t believe in to let her pass out again, if only for a minute, a second. Any kind of break from this, she pleaded.
Voices growled but she wasn’t awake enough to understand what they were saying to her, asking of her.
Someone grabbed her head, fingers digging into her jaw and cheeks, and lifted her face to meet theirs. She tried to open her eyes, she really did, but every movement hurt. A backhanded slap hit her hard across her face. The pain was a searing burn on her cheek.
“Wake up!” Someone yelled. A man.
Spider opened her eyes, face turned to the ground. She saw blood, her blood, splattered on the ground by her bare feet. Her clothes were tattered, bloodied and dirty. At least they’d left her dressed.
“Wake up!” The man yelled again and she mumbled something close to a reply.
Spider lifted her head to meet his stare. His eyes were bright, alive. He was enjoying himself, beating up a stranger.
“Name. Now.”
Spider shook her head, letting her body collapse against the restraints holding her up. Her hands were tied above her head, suspending her body from the ceiling. Her toes could barely touch the ground, which was slippery from her blood.
Also, she’d pissed herself at some point.
The electric thing , she remembered. They’d been at this for hours, she suddenly realized. They’d brought some kind of long stick, poked it into her sides repeatedly. She’d damn near bit her tongue clean in half from the shock it sent through her body.
“ Name ,” the man roared, grabbing some metal tool from his pocket. It was a small knife, dirty and dull. His hand found her throat and squeezed until her eyes bulged from her skull. “Give me your name, girl.”
She opened her mouth to speak, desperately heaving after air. Slowly, he loosened his grip. Spider gulped down air in great, desperate breaths. “My name,” she croaked, “is… Go Fuck Yourself.” And she spat a thick clump of phlegm and blood at the man’s face, chuckling at his disgust.
“ Bitch !” He roared and squeezed her throat again. This time taking his time carving lines into her face. With his wicked smile, his delight in her desperate attempts to be free of his grip, Spider found herself to be scared.
She hadn’t felt fear like this in a long while.
When the man finished, he ran his tongue across her bloodied cheek, tasting her. “Disgusting,” he spat at her.
He left her in that room, blood slowly making its way down her cheek and neck. She tried, and failed, not to cry. Despite knowing it was impossible, she closed her eyes and prayed for someone to come help her. She didn’t care if she lived or died, really. She just wanted to no longer be here.
Time was moving in weird waves as she fell in and out of consciousness. Spider had no way of guessing how long she had spent in this windowless room. She just wanted to be free, wanted to see Soap one last time, and to truly know he had gotten out of here.
She didn’t ask for survival. Just peace.
The next time she woke, someone was sitting at a table in front of her. A plate had been filled with a stew of some kind. Spider saw the tendrils of steam, the delicious smell of it made her stomach cave in. She had no idea how long it had been. Days, she figured. She was beyond hungry.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
She recognized the voice, if only barely. Slowly, she lifted her head. It was the target from their mission.
“You hungry?” He asked in broken english. The translator was not with him, but Spider figured he didn’t care much about how well she understood him. The knife on the table seemed language enough. “You must.”
Slowly, he lifted a spoonful of the stew from his plate and towards her, letting the smell waft over her. She almost moaned at the chance to smell something other than her own piss and blood.
“Here.” Painfully gently he lifted her chin and let the food enter her mouth. It burned her tongue, but she welcomed it. The food tasted amazing. “See? Not bad.”
She licked her lips, eyes landing on the plate again.
“Ah,” he chuckled. “Greedy.”
The target prepared another spoon, this time blowing gently on it like a parent would for their child. “I ask you,” he said, lifting the spoon to Spider’s lips. “Your name, please.”
Spider opened her mouth, readying the flood of relief at food. She closed her eyes, which made the punch hit so much harder. Her body doubled over against the restraints.
“ Name , please. Then food.”
Tears burned her eyes. “S- Spider,” she replied.
“Again. Repeat.”
“Spider. My name’s Spider.”
The man lifted her head and fed her the spoon. “Spider. Like insect?”
She nodded her head, savoring the food.
“Interesting.” He fed her more food, asked her more mundane questions. Her age, her home country, her favorite color, the last movie she watched. And she answered. She’d been trained to not open her mouth under torture, but this was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Everything was hurting all at once, her mind could not rest because of the constant, agonizing pain. She just wanted rest, wanted sleep.
She just wanted to give up.
Somewhere, in the hours of him slowly feeding her, bringing more food when the plate was empty, Spider found herself wishing she’d never gone after Soap. A pathetic twinge of regret filled her bones.
They might’ve just killed him. Might’ve never done all of this to him. This is out of spite for the men she killed, the embarrassment she caused them .
When she finally felt full he sent the plate away.
“Now what do I do?” He asked, hand hovering over the knife that had been left uselessly on the table. It was serrated, sharp. “I have no food left. You ate my food. You owe me,” he drawled.
Spider felt panic and dread build in her body again.
“I ask you and you answer. If no, then I use this.” He held up the knife for her to see. It was simple in its design, but clear that the jagged edges would create nasty scars on her skin. “Your real name. Not Spider . What is it?”
She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes staying on the knife. It couldn’t be worse than what she already felt. There had to be a limit to the pain. It couldn’t keep hurting.
Gently, like a whisper of a caress, he rested the knife against her cheek.
“ Bitch ,” he chuckled. “Have you seen?” The man angled the blade of the knife, let the reflection hit her face.
The fucker from earlier had carved bitch into her cheek.
She felt a wave of nausea hit but decidedly ignored it.
“So… evil. I will fix. No worry.”
With his free hand he grabbed hold of her face and held it tight. Slowly again, he let the jagged blade rest against her face and began cutting twisted lines across her skin. The pain was unbearable. Spider screamed against it, tried to wiggle free, but it was never ending.
Eventually she passed out from it. She had no idea how long she endured it. Seconds, minutes or hours blended into eternity. She woke just to have him continue. She answered no questions, could barely find the voice to keep screaming. He didn’t care about getting information from her. He was simply enjoying himself, passing time.
Spider felt fear unlike anything she’d efter experienced before. She was hurting, breaking. Her mind was trying to get away from her body, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. There was no break from this. It just kept going.
She wished she would just die, didn’t understand why she couldn’t. Spider willed her brain to stop working and her heart to stop beating. It didn’t work.
She eventually stopped trying to remember the countless faces that came to see her. Some were simply guards stuffing their head through the door to make sure she was still breathing. Others were men dressed in dark clothing so her blood didn’t stain their shirts when they began cutting her open.
When a man came in wearing a makeshift doctor’s coat, Spider almost felt like laughing. She felt delirious from her blood loss and lack of proper food and sleep, and seeing the thin and fragile man dressed up, playing at being a doctor, was almost enough to send her laughing despite everything she’d endured so far.
The man placed a leather bag on the table left in the room and took out a series of things. Through her blurred vision, Spider saw a scalpel, a collection of bandages and cotton balls, a needle and some thread, and a pair of scissors. The man then found a small, plastic bottle of something and poured some over the cotton balls.
When he brought it towards Spider, she smelled the alcohol and was surprised to find the man cleaning her wounds.
It stung badly but she marveled at the amount of blood, dirt and grime that came off. Her skin seemed to pale beneath all the shit that had accumulated.
She hissed as he went in on the cuts on her face and he hesitated before going in again, leaving her some time to catch her breath.
The kindness this stranger showed was almost worse than the torture she’d been through.
With sympathetically slow movements, he cleaned her up. She was desperate for a bath of some kind, but figured that was lucky not to have her whole body become infected.
She’d spoken too soon.
The man clicked his tongue as he looked at her thigh. Spider remembered vaguely being shot but it seemed like a lifetime ago. So many new aches and pains had taken its place.
“That bad, huh?” She asked, looking down at herself.
The doctor took the scissors to her pants and began cutting at the fabric. The blood had dried, sticking the fabric to her skin as the wound had healed over itself multiple times. Spider whimpered as the man continued to cut away with gentle care.
She regretted having looked the moment she saw her leg.
Gagging, she kept her eyes away from her mutilated thigh. The skin was dead, almost black. A thick, white goo seemed to ooze from the hole in her leg whenever she moved.
He’s going to take my leg , she thought for a sickening moment.
The doctor seemed to be thinking loudly, looking from the wound to his supplies on the table. With a quick move, he grabbed another flask from his bag, ripped off the lid and lifted it to her lips. Spider struggled against it until she tasted the fiery burn of bourbon.
“What the hell-” she tried, but the doctor forced her to drink until the bottle was empty.
She had barely any food in her system and the alcohol seemed to settle her anxiety quickly.
The doctor took the scalpel, sterilized it and the skin, then began cutting away at the dead flesh surrounding the bullet wound. The bourbon did nothing to dull the pain.
Spider screamed as the doctor cleaned the wound, leaving the dead skin on the ground. It smelled horribly and she didn’t know if she could keep from being sick for much longer. She heaved in great breaths despite the stench, trying to will her body to relax.
Then the doctor brought out a small torch to cauterize the wound.
“Please,” she whimpered. “ Please , don’t-”
But the doctor had one job and did it thoroughly.
He wrapped her leg in thick, white bandages, then promptly set about stitching her cuts that were scattered at random across her body. Her face was the worst but by the time he was fixing her cheek, her body seemed numb from pain and she was barely awake.
The doctor surveyed her for a moment after packing up his things. The floor was littered with the used bandages and cotton pads, all covered in thick clumps of blood and puss and skin.
“I… Sorry.” He made an awkward sort of bow before knocking swiftly on the door. The guards let him out and Spider was, once again, alone.
The next time she woke it was to the sound of gunfire.
They can’t do this , she thought. They can’t just shoot me . She felt her body flinch at every sound, her cuts reopening. There was also a sense of relief at the prospect of simply being shot dead.
Looking down at herself, she saw that they had attempted to stitch her up, to keep her alive for a little longer at least.
Screaming and yelling filled the silence between bullets flying. She waited, hoped , for one to finish her off.
Spider was alone in the room but she knew there were guards stationed outside her door, could hear them shuffle around, discussing what to do, probably. The door slammed open. Two men filed inside and locked the door behind them. One of them kept his eyes on the door, gun at the ready, the other undid the chain that linked Spider to the ceiling.
She cried out at the pain as she landed hard against the floor. Her shoulders were in extreme pain from suddenly moving, her hands numb from the days without proper blood circulation.
“Quiet!” The man next to her hissed, kicking her in the stomach.
Spider writhed on the ground, breathing through the pain. She waited. She didn’t know what for.
Slowly, she wiggled her fingers, moved her wrists, then her arms. She got onto her legs despite the shaking. The man next to her had turned to the door for a moment, about to say something to the other guard, when Spider grabbed the knife strapped to his thigh and twisted it into the side of his neck. The blood splattered everywhere but she kept pushing the knife deeper and deeper.
The other man turned at the noise and yelled something at her in that unknown language. He hesitated when it came to shooting her, which was all Spider needed to know they’d had gotten clear orders to keep her alive for whatever reason.
She pushed the dead body forward toward the remaining man, earning her a moment to kick out against his gun. Shots were fired wildly against the walls and ceiling before Spider rammed her elbow into the side of his face. She was weak and the punch barely landed, but it was enough for her to send the knife flying securely into the man’s throat.
He was dead within seconds.
Spider landed on the floor next to the corpse. Her body screamed in pain as she tried to stand. Tears were falling.
Pathetic , she cursed at herself and stood again.
She grabbed a gun from the dead man. A small hand pistol was all she had the strength to carry. Quickly, she slipped out of the room. The hallway was long, quiet. She had no idea where she was. If she was even still near the warehouse. Guns were firing somewhere nearby. Whoever that was, she figured she needed to use the distraction to get the hell away from here.
On shaky legs she stumbled away from the room. She barely reached the first corner before she slid to the ground, heaving for breaths. Useless. This was useless. She could barely move and was attempting to escape from somewhere she had no idea where even was.
She was as good as dead. She knew that.
“In here!” Someone called and Spider had barely time to register the perfect English before a door burst open to her right.
Out stormed a team of six people, all decked out in gear, guns held ready before them. She crawled back around the corner, hiding from them. With one hand on the gun, the other flew to her mouth to stifle the ragged breaths that risked giving up her location.
It couldn’t be them. It couldn’t be 141. There was no chance. Whatever they had done to her in that room had ruined something in her head, because she simply could not be seeing her team in here.
Another door burst open. This one was far behind her near where she came from. A handful of guards stormed on, nearly stumbling over each other to move forward. Spider cocked her gun and shot wildly at them. Three dropped dead before she even had time to think. The other two reached her.
One grabbed her, trying to angle the gun from her hand as the other ran around the corner and was filled with bullets. The team moved forward.
“Drop your weapon!” Ghost roared, rifle cocked in front of his masked face.
“I shoot! I shoot!” The guard called loudly. His own weapon was pointed towards Ghost and the others, a knife in his off hand pressed against Spider’s throat.
With great difficulty she lifted her pistol up, the barrel resting against her own temple.
“Drop your weapon!” Ghost called again, slowly advancing.
The guard didn’t seem to know what was really happening. Everything was moving too fast for Spider to follow. All she knew was that relief was right at her fingertips.
“Sorry, Simon,” she croaked through tears. A deafening click sounded as she pulled the trigger.
There was no more ammunition in the gun.
Ghost fired straight at the guard who’d lowered the knife for a split second at the sound of Spider’s weapon failing. The man fell dead beside her.
Spider dropped her gun, falling to her knees with exasperated cries. “No, no, no ,” she mumbled, hands scrambling for the knife that had fallen somewhere.
“Hey, hey ,” someone took her hands, gently, painfully, guiding them away from the weapon. “You’re alright. It’s alright.” Ghost’s voice was not enough to snap her out of it. She needed to end it, couldn’t be taken somewhere new. She couldn’t deal with the thought of another room, another place to be, another battle to fight through.
“More are coming, Lt.,” someone said. “We need to move.”
“I’m getting her out.”
“Target’s still not secured-”
“Then secure it. I’m getting her out.”
“Sir-”
Ghost let go of Spider’s hands and whipped around to whoever had spoken. “Do your fucking job and I’ll do mine. Secure the target at any expense. Finish this fucking mission. I’m getting her out of here.” The room went deathly quiet.
“Yes, sir.” Then the men filed out.
“Can you walk?” Ghost asked. “Spider, can you walk? Shit .”
He moved quickly to catch her head before she completely collapsed to the ground. The calming peace seemed to find her again. She welcomed it gladly.