Rora was on a special mission now: her goal was to find a Shadow, kill him, and take all his weapons so she could stand a chance out there. And the mere thought of finally letting her anger out was sweet like candy.
The rain started pouring heavier, but it still wasn't enough to drown out the panicked yells of civilians who were executed one by one by the hand of Shadow Company. A woman was yelling only a few houses down, pleading for her life, but a gunshot put an abrupt stop to her pleadings, chills running along Rora's spine. For a moment, her legs stopped carrying her onward, taking a moment of silence for all of the lost lives.
If I don't hurry the fuck up, maybe I'll be the next.
So clenching her jaw, she cut her path down in an alley, darting towards an ajar door of a shop. Looking around in the dimly lit shop, she walked past a topped-over dress rack on the floor, shoes littered beneath the busted shop window. Her eyes lingered on an emerald green handbag, which was awfully nice, but this wasn't the time and place to look for bags.
She started looking through the remaining shelves in hopes for a weapon, maybe a left-over pocketknife or a screwdriver, anything. She would be even happy to find a pen at this point.
„Fucking nothing," she huffed out, throwing her hands in the air as her eyes scanned the place again. And that was when her paranoia wasn't for nothing, because from her right, she heard something move.
Her senses heightened, all of her muscles flexing as she softened her steps, holding the pistol with both of her hands in front of her, ready to use her gun if it was necessary. She would rather not, though, because a gunshot would gain a lot of attention probably, and making noise wasn't the best decision right now. She had to stay low, with meant going stealth was her best chance at survival.
At that thought, she holstered her pistol, needing both of her hands for the thing that just came into her mind. She had many stupid ideas, and this one was probably one of them, but fuck it. She would only live a few more days or die tonight, she didn't have that much to lose after all.
She picked up a big enough glass shard from the ground, which was the shop window before. It was a thick glass, and even despite her gloves protecting her skin, she could still feel that it was sharp, too. Rora picked up a turquoise blouse from the ground, ripped it in half, and wrapped it around her new weapon for a more secure grip. She was trying to kill others with it, not cut herself in the middle of it.
And then, the steps grew closer.
Lowering herself into a mid-crouch, trying to ignore the way her thigh burned and cried in protest, hiding in the shadows as her back pressed against the cold wall behind her. Her heart started to beat a mile a second, her blue eyes snapping from one corner to the other in a frantic motion as she tried to listen to whoever was coming her way. By the sound of it, she could only hear one pair of footsteps, meaning that whoever was approaching her hideout, they were alone. Which was good news for her, and bad news for them.
The steps were so close now, it was almost like they were standing right next to her, her heartbeat drumming in her ear almost as loud. Her grip tightened around the glass, already seeing the shadow of a man in the doorway, which lead to the streets. They were probably patrolling at this point, checking if they have killed anybody, not wanting to leave any witnesses. It only fueled her anger more.
And then there he was, completely oblivious to her frame hiding in the shadows, ready to kill. She took a moment to look at the Shadow in front of her: his face was completely hidden by a black balaclava and his tactical gear made the illusion that he was so much bigger than her. Which, in the end, he was, but she had the element of surprise and a very sharp glass in her hand. She only had to wait another few seconds till he turned around just a tad bit, his attention occupied by some random piece of souvenir behind the counter.
„Wells, what's your position?" Ghost called through the comms, her heartbeat quickening not only because of the adrenaline, now.
This was her cue.
With a quick and long stride, she jumped the Shadow from behind and slammed the piece of glass shard into the side of his neck, her other hand quickly muffling his cries. Her rage took control of her actions as her hand pierced through his neck another three times, his knees buckling under her sudden and brutal attack. Her injured leg was not capable of supporting both of their weight, so she dropped his body on the dirty floor, dark red blood oozing out from his neck like a fountain.
His hand desperately tried to cover the wound on the side of his neck, his panicked eyes looking straight at Rora as she towered over him, blood dripping from the edge of the glass in her hand. Her face was emotionless, blood splattered across her face, his blood, to be exact. It only took a few more seconds till he bled out and his eyes lost their shine.
She didn't feel any remorse as she reached down to take away his combat knife and two of his throwing knives. And even though his rifle look really good in the moonlight, she just couldn't risk getting compromised because of her hot temper. She knew that she would shoot at any Shadow that happened to come into her view.
„Rora?"
„Sorry, Lt.," she pressed down on her radio, her eyes still lingering on the Shadow in front of her. „Got a little busy down here."
„Are you okay?" Soap's voice rang through her earpiece, the sudden silence falling around her like a ghost. She looked around the room before her eyes wandered back to the body, but only an empty pang greeted her back.
„Just killed a Shadow," she reported, stepping over his legs. Poor bastard had no chance, but at least he went out quickly. „Took his knives."
„Good work, Wells."
„Wow," her eyes widened in surprise, barely believing her ears. „This was the first time you have ever approved of my work. War really does changes you, Ghost."
„You didn't do anything approve-worthy," was his reply, earning a small chuckle from Soap. Since they were out here, this was the only sound that didn't give away his panicked state, and deep down, Rora was proud of herself for making him feel better.
„Fuck you," Rora quipped, rolling her eyes at him. That was just a blatant lie, some of her works were truly good, he just didn't want to admit it. Or that was what she told herself to make herself feel better.
„Where are your manners, Sergeant?" Ghost's voice wrapped around her like a thick blanket, his accent brushing her ears like the sweetest melody. Maybe it was the risk of dying at any corner or the fact that she didn't get to talk to a male like this in a long time, but either way, she found his voice more attractive than she should.
„Fuck you, sir," she taunted, a smile pulling at her lips.
She emerged from the little shop, leaving the dead Shadow behind. She pulled him in a dark corner, they would never find him if they weren't looking for him specifically.
„Much better."
„Do you want me to leave, or what?" Soap interrupted, a light blush appearing on her cheeks.
„Found a prying tool yet, Johnny?" Ghost asked, and this time his tone wasn't as soft as earlier. Soap's moment of silence was all the answer he needed. „Then get working."
„Yeah, Johnny, get a grip, man," Rora joined in, pushing his buttons a little more.
„Only Ghost can get away with that name," came his answer instantly, earning another eye-roll from her. „Get creative, Wellsy."
„Cue the bagpipe noises then."
°•○●⸸●○•°
After a good several minutes of silence passing between the trio, each of them trying to survive out there, Rora just couldn't bare the silence anymore. The distant cries, gunshots, and the smell of death lingering everywhere she set her foot made her want to use one of her bullets on herself. And that feeling only grew with each silent minute.
„Hey, Ghost?" she checked into comms, keeping her voice down, barely above a whisper.
She just couldn't risk getting caught: she had to ditch her glass shard not long ago when she had to use a shortcut through a balcony because the Shadows were now just everywhere. And it seemed like the more she got closer to her destination, the more Shadows were lingering around.
„Talk to me, Rora," came his answer in an instant, like he was eager to talk to her. Which, she was sure not the case, because every time he had the opportunity to talk to her or remain silent, he chose the latter in most cases.
But still, the way his accent made her name a little more special as he said it, and it did something to her. Her heart did this weird thing when it started to beat more rapidly, that weirdly tight feeling appearing in her chest as thought about seeing him again, and the fact that for once, he was openly patient with her just did the trick for her. And she didn't like it.
She had to get a grip.
„That's a British accent, right?" Rora cleared her throat, trying so desperately to go back to her usual ways, which were platonic flirting with humor. It was the only way she could get all of this anxiety off her body.
„Yes."
„Are you James Bond, then?"
Her question was followed by a moment of silence from his end, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Of course, she remembered that he was British, she even remembered that he was from Manchester. The small amount of information she had on him was important, she just didn't want to let him know that.
And playing dumb was always more fun anyways.
„Focus on your task, Wells," came his reply more dryly this time, only fueling her amusement more.
„I can multitask just fine, don't worry," she said as she broke the lock of a door, entering another house on her right. She just didn't feel that comfortable running around on the open streets, cutting through houses and shops was the way to go in her book. „So?"
His sigh was so aggravated, it was almost comical. She let out a small chuckle as she picked up a bottle of beer, half of it missing because the top half was broken off. Probably by a stray bullet, as she saw a hole in the wall behind the bottle.
„No, I am not," Ghost retorted, the edge of his voice almost as sharp as her smile. The way his accent got the slightest bit thicker was a giveaway of his running patience with her. She loved it so much.
„That's a valid question, though," Soap joined their conversation, and now it was the two of them testing their lieutenant's patience. „You never saw them in the same room now, did you, Wellsy?"
Ghost rolled his eyes at them, happy to not see their shit-eating grin as they joked along. They were like the most annoying brother-sister duo that happened to disgrace Earth with their presence. It was annoying, but somehow he was slightly less irritated than in the past. Gloomy and silent Rora scared him more than her stupid jokes.
„No, I didn't," Rora sang, the playfulness of her voice so out of place. Ghost liked the fact that she was so quick to adapt to her environment and go back to her own ways midway. „I mean, they're both British, tall, and kill people for a living... Might as well be the same person, for all I know."
He wanted to take back that thought. Her jokes were starting to get on a war-crime level.
„Fuckin' hell..." the groan escaped his lips, contemplating just completely switching off his radio.
„And you, Soap?" Rora switched topics, knowing that she was on the edge of Ghost's patience. And in times like this, she was sure that he would simply leave her rot on the streets if she wasn't careful enough.
„What about me?" the Scotsman tone mirrored his confusion so clearly, she could almost see him knit his eyebrows at her, his eyes turning a shade brighter. They always did when he was confused, that was why his eyes were so bright all the time.
„What accent is that?" she asked, not being able to contain her smile. She knew what it was, she just liked to get the mansplaining from others. It made them look stupid while she had her fun.
„Scottish," Soap answered nonetheless, oblivious to her attempts of annoying him. God, he was so clueless sometimes.
„I don't know any famous Scottish men." Well, not one at the level of James Bond. The only man that came to her mind was Ed Sheeran, and she was pretty positive about the fact that he was not Scottish.
„You know me!" his voice rose a little, almost coming off as offended.
„I said famous. Or one that matters."
Next thing she knew, he threw a lot of Scottish curses her way, she responded with some more pipe bag jokes while in the middle of their banter, Ghost tried his best to remind himself why he was still waiting on them.
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my rora is in her element out there, i love that for her
and would you guys be interested in a somewhat light-hearted soap fic? let me know!