𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇, simon riley

neuf

He grunts and hauls them both to a stop in front of a large window. "Don't move." Mari nods in compliance as he moves a few paces down the hall, looking back as if paranoid they were being followed.

Rolling her eyes, Mari slips away through a door at the end of the hallway, darting from room to ornately decorated room to try and gain distance from the asshole who's left indents of his fingernails in her arm.

She hears him gaining on her, slamming open door after door as she darts through to another room, one with a desk. A desk, that maybe she could get intel from.

Now, Mari's not expecting to find anything truly helpful in a room that isn't locked or guarded— but the cartel are just transport. So she takes a chance, ducking inside and crouching behind the desk.

"Searching a desk in the... what looks to be the South Wing."

"Roger," Ghost replies, peering through the scope of his sniper. "Got eyes on you." For a split second, Mari turns to the window, hyper aware that he can see her from where he is. Her lips curl up slightly, but she quickly turns away, wondering if he saw.

He did.

Angry footsteps pass her in the hall, and she figures she's got about three minutes until her oh-so-gracious chaperone has men with guns looking for her.

Drawer after drawer, and the most incriminating thing she finds is the remains of an opioid stash. But this isn't a drug bust, and Mari leaves everything where she found it.

"Hey! Don't fucking move!"

Mari stands up, facing the man who escorted her down the hall earlier. He moves towards her in long strides, fingers moving along the body of the M-4 he now holds.

"Woah, woah, cabrón. I've got this one, comprende?"

Mari recognizes the voice immediately, forcing down her smug smile. The cartel worker mutters some sort of expletive under his breath, and retreats.

Alejandro crosses the room in his balaclava, laying a hand on Mari's shoulder as he does so often. "Ay senora. Going well?" Mari grins wver so slightly. "Ill let you form to own opinion on that."

He laughs under his breath, slipping a handgun into her hand, sensing the question she's going to ask. "Met up with Soap. He's going to get eyes on Sun Nombre. Look for intel. You're the expert here."

She nods, reassuring him she'll communicate over comms, and sets down another hallway.

Five more minutes of digging in another office, yields nothing. It's what one could expect from a cartel-ran establishment, disorganized and covered in a fine layer of dust and cocaine. She is neither impressed, nor alarmed, until sudden gunfire erupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Mari hisses into the comms, ducking behind a corner as shots sound from the other room.

"Sorry," Soap replies, yelling something inaudible as a hand snakes around Mari's neck.

"Don't fucking move, furcia." Cold metal presses itself against her side, and Mari stands stock still as the man behind her presses the gun harder into her flesh.

She figures the cartel has caught on, and Soap had something to do with it. Gunfire moves down the corridor, and Mari makes a sudden move, gripping the barrel and wrenching the gun from the man's grip.

She pulls the trigger, one bullet in each of his knees. She empties the ammunition from the weapon, before casting it aside. He yells out, Mari taking her opportunity to duck around a corner. "What's the plan," she shouts over the noise, heart slamming against her chest.