Chapter Text
1,015, 5th October
The Desert Settlements, far west Istra
22:36
A duo of pale-haired soldier-mercenaries dressed in dark grays with black bullet-resistant vests stepped into the darkness of a house’s open garage. One of them reached a hand up and flicked on her shoulder-mounted flashlight on to illuminate the room. Yellow light sprung to life and revealed the garage, which lay empty from top to bottom.
The lavender haired woman’s expression turned to something between confusion and repulsion.
“(I was joking when I said empty earlier.)” She said to no one in particular, drawing a grin and a reaffirming noise from her partner. His brows furrowed as he tilted his head in perplexity. The walls of the garage were a dull white with empty shelves lining them. No tools. No car. No junk.
Just...nothing.
Except for a pull-down attic staircase, already resting on the ground.
“(I’ll take the attic.)” The redhead said, breaking the silence while walking over to the ladder/staircase. He planted a single foot on the bottom rung and watched the wood remain sturdy under a portion of his weight.
“(Alright.)” She affirmed aloud, drawing her firearm and stalking through the door leading into the house near silently. He watched his partner go, waiting a brief moment to listen for initial combat noises but heard none, so up the creaky fusion of a ladder and staircase he went. His hand passed his line of vision and reached up to flick his flashlight on. Once he could see into the room from the light of his flashlight, he whipped out his weapon and pointed the muzzle up into the attic.
Unlike the barren garage, this room actually had proof of life in it. While one half-and the pitch-black space where the roof’s support beams lay- of the room was completely empty, the other half had quite a bit of stuff in it. The empty half was just that, the floor blanketed in dust yet again. A few old, ornate rugs lay flat on the floor. Some merely peeked out underneath various old furniture and random boxes, both labeled and not, while others were exposed entirely to the darkness. Once the light shone on each object and the open air of the attic, he could clearly see the thick layer of dust covering just about everything, except a few disturbances on the floor. He stared hard at the spots before continuing to map the room out with the light mounted to his shoulder.
His steps lead him to the only other source of light in the largish room, a surprisingly large window that didn’t quite match the look of the house, rather the design of the furniture assortments hidden away in the attic. He carefully watched the street for any visible changes for a few seconds. Nothing. He turned his back to the window and looked over into the empty half of the attic once again.
The distinct sound of a pair of boots thudded against the wooden floor as a solid form obstructed the faint light peering through the window.
Before he could react, some manner of semi-malleable, jagged cord snapped around the front of his neck. The abrupt force caught him off guard and dragged him back into the chest of someone behind him. He let out a strangled yelp, barely feeling barbed metal start to gnaw at the skin of his throat, more so the pressure of the wire start to cut off his air. The gun in his hand clattered to the floor. Without a clear line of sight to where his hands were for the moment, he threw his legs out from under him and bucked both them and his hips, forcing all his weight onto his attacker. They only staggered back a few steps and barely laxed the murderous vice on his throat. He took a harsh gasp of air, cut off again by the tightening of the wire. It jolted up and shredded into more flesh, blood beginning to pour out of the wound at a much faster pace and stain into his vest and shirt. Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He threw up his right arm in a blind swing, guessing from their height compared to his height and the position of the wire in hopes of hitting his opponent’s face and freeing himself. It was almost impossible for him to land a successful hit in his current predicament. His left hand reached down to his belt and grabbed the hilt of the knife he kept in the small of his back-the exact place it’s been in since the day he was allowed to keep one on him-, the act only proved once he raised the blade up into his line of sight.
All the while, his attacker had grown impatient and pulled one side of the wire, before switching to the other then back again. The barbs now literally ripping into his throat exploded panic and pain into his head, suffocating all thoughts except one word.
It screamed at him on rampant repeat.
His eyes ignited in fiery white and he jammed the knife behind him, electricity sparking violently from his fingertips and into the blade in on hand. He couldn’t care less where he hit, so long as he landed a blow. They grunted upon the first impact of the blade ramming into their side, going silent once the electricity shot up their body. Their grip went limp. The wire clattered to the floor and the pale redhead pitched forward, leaving his once electrified weapon behind in efforts to grab his gun. He rolled over onto one shoulder. With his attacker standing in the light of the window, he could see their outline clear as crystal and raise the gun to aim for center mass.
BANGBANGBANG!!
He wasn’t taking any chances. The person choked loudly at the first gunshot, each one knocking them back some steps until they crashed through the window only a short distance behind them. Now that they were out of mind, he looked down to ensure what he had just experienced was in fact real despite the panic smothering his senses. His eyes widened a little in surprise. Blood...everywhere. In his mouth, on his hands, covering his shirt and vest, running down his chest and even dripping onto the floor. He could stand a little blood, combat did that to you, but this...He screwed his dark eyes shut and dropped his weapon, weakly beginning to shrug the jacket on his shoulders off to hopefully help with the blood raining down the front of his body.
“CITO!” The voice of an angel called out-followed by the sound of feet frantically pounding up the attic stairs. Warm, soft hands pressed against his cheeks and rubbed gently before his partner took the jacket on his shoulders and pressed it to his gaping wound with one hand. His hand gently clasped around hers and she swallowed hard to keep a sob from escaping her lips.
“(Stay with me, alright?)” She begged, grabbing the radio device on her belt and raising it to speak into. “(I have a man down-requesting immediate medical assistance. I repeat, man down with a high risk, fatal wound, he needs immediate medical attention!)” Screw stealth- she had to get him back home alive. Cito’s hand holding hers moved to point to the remains of the glass window.
Her head followed his shaking gesture and their thoughts seemed to connect. She looked back “(Are you sure?)”
He nodded slightly, mouthing the words ("mission comes first") like he’d said so often before.