Scorned (Rainbow Six Siege Fanfiction)

Champion

"Attackers need to locate and defuse a bomb." The preparation phase is announced, cueing the group to send their drones in. Ritual is quick to find both bombs, being in the first floor Kitchen and Service Area, as she knew they would be, and drops her phone back into her pocket with a deep breath. She sees the timer on either sides of her and swiftly grasps the inner railing, hooking her rappelling line and drawing her leg over. The Stadium is nearly silent as she descends. She turns upside-down, making her line creak with strain, a serenity sweeping over her as she enjoys the suspension for just a moment with closed eyes. She turns fully around until her feet meet the painted roof.

"You know what to do." Ritual affirms her teammates and draws her gun. The crowd roars. Listening closely, she can hear hushed footsteps just below her on the other side of the barricade. She draws her line again and hooks it firmly in place on the yellow tab mounted to the roof, taking a running start before leaping over the edge.

"Team Ritual has breached the map!" The voice announces as the woman kicks through the barricaded window to the Hookah Lounge, landing onto the floor and quickly sweeping the room. A few bullets fly through the soft boards under her feet, grazing her form and prompting her to quickly duck out of the way. They follow wherever she steps, so she grabs the bar beside her and swings over the couch frame, then diving over the counter that divided the room. She can hear the barricade on the other side of the floor being torn down, knowing Jackal was coming to cover her flank. Footsteps approached her other side, coming from the stairs and being matched by a voice.

"Clash, in there." She can hear the source, Ela, informing the other woman, who stands in the doorway and locks eyes with her. Ritual, gripping her gun tightly after being spotted, positions herself behind the counter pillar and holds the angle, knowing the colorfully-haired woman would try to peek around the shield. Clash shouts over the sound of her shield trying to shock the black-clad Captain, but she can't hear it. Ritual can feel the static charge on her clothing. She quickly leans around the corner to try and shoot her, but the chalk rounds only dust the clear cover. Taking a deep breath as she hides around the pillar again, Ritual counts her bullets mentally before trying to get a visual on the two defenders again.

"Jackal, two hostiles on Hookah door." The woman whispers to her teammate. Glancing around the corner again, a choked gasp escapes her as she is met by Ela, quickly dodging the pistol that is swung at her. She twists the woman's arm to disable her weapon, watching her grit her teeth and drop it. Ritual tries to maneuver her small machine gun to tag the Polish woman, but she grasps it and pushes it aside so that the sling wraps around to her back. They push off of each other and make eye contact for just a moment.

Clash takes the opportunity while the two are separated to deliver a shock to Ritual once more, making her lock in place as she tries to charge her opponent with her fist raised. The woman frantically tries to escape the strange, painful sensation coursing through her body, watching helplessly as Ela moves to reclaim her pistol. She starts to break free by shaking her head, reminding herself that she had control, and then thrashes and throws herself through the door beside her, just out of their range.

"Ryad..." She pants out, reaching for her gun and prying herself from the floor. As Ela tries to charge her again, Ritual sweeps her legs and grasps the top of the doorframe, letting her lower half swing down on top of the woman's shoulders as she falls. She squeezes her legs around her neck like a snake, making Ela panic as she chokes and struggles.

"I've got your back," Jackal comms in to her, peeking from the office doorway down the hall perfectly onto Clash's exposed back, "And hers." As he lifts his rifle to shoot, the woman stows her shield onto her back to help Ela with covering fire, and his shots land on it. Rather than reload the empty magazine, he slides his shortened shotgun from its holster and peppers the British woman's legs with it. Her knees give in, making her groan.