Chapter Text
Being the Watcher is not an easy job and, although you usually stay away from the field, leading an unknown team during a life-or-death mission is mentally challenging. That’s why Laswell suggested you go on one of 141's easiest missions, just to observe them in action, gather intel about the team, and learn their preferences. Of course, there was one voice of objection—Ghost—telling you it was an unnecessary risk. After many heated negotiations among Laswell, 141, and Shepherd, you were in the car, heading straight to Las Almas to be in Alejandro’s base. The job was certainly not easy, but you could watch them from afar, safe in the base. Sitting between Soap and Ghost was uncomfortable; you were almost squished by the two of them. Avoiding Ghost's eyes, you regretted cutting your hair to a short bob just yesterday, so now you couldn't hide from his sight. Focusing solely on Soap and his voice of concern about Las Almas, you smiled widely, thinking about how this man would fight the world barehanded. You heard from Laswell that Ghost is the hardest one to get along with, but if you are reliable, he’s no threat and will eventually trust you.
You doubted that.
Firstly, he's always there, standing in the shadows whenever Laswell is teaching you anything about 141. Though it seems logical, the second argument is worse when you have the pleasure of being their Watcher-in-training: he’s always asking for confirmation from Watcher 1 and won't do the job unless it's confirmed. His hostile attitude towards you was impossible to ignore. You catch him staring sometimes, his gaze intense, as if he was testing your barriers. He never turns away, making you lose the staring contest. You wonder what you've done to earn his disdain. Most of the time, you are perfectly informed, having plan C to plan B when plan A fails. Checking everything twice after your previous supervisor made you clean bathrooms for three months after one minor mistake in your report.
“You know Spanish?” Alejandro smirked, looking at you three squeezed in the back of the car. He was a handsome man, his dark hair just highlighting perfectly the color of his skin and eyes. The smile was overconfident, bringing back memories from dating some douchebags, but there was something hypnotizing in him. Probably a very dangerous man yet charming.
“No,” Soap answered, looking through the window, his mohawk perfectly styled, looking crazy in comparison to Alejandro and Rodolfo’s hair.
“You will.”
“Si.” You answered shyly, reminding yourself of the basics you knew. Normally, you were waiting for the occasion to surprise someone, but knowing foreign languages was always your pride.
“Eso es sorprendente, pero no te preocupes, no diremos cosas malas sobre tus compañeros.” ("That's surprising, but don't worry, we won't say bad things about your teammates.")
“Oh, me preguntaba si tendría que traducirles "pendejos".
(""Oh, I was wondering if I would have to translate "pendejos" for them.")
“I know this one.” Ghost interrupted the dialogue, his husky voice making you silent.
Alejandro laughed, looking back to the road you were heading, enlisting to others how cartels are winning kids through their generosity. You feel your cheeks flush under Ghost’s gaze, his eyes lingering on you with, what you think, was disappointment. You looked at your simply manicured nails, cut short, painted in almost non-visible beige, suddenly self-conscious of your unimpressive look, under the weight of his attention.
"You've cut your hair," he stated, observing people on the road. You couldn’t see how Soap rolled his eyes, embarrassed by this tragic attempt to flirt made by his friend.
"Yeah, yesterday. As much as I like them a little longer, I prefer to be pulled by them sexually rather than by an enemy to kill me, and as you know, wearing a mask is already taken." You laughed awkwardly, trying to hide that you weren’t planning to share that kind of information with him. Your response earned snorts from Rodolfo and Soap.
"Reasonable, I guess."
Unknown to you, he couldn’t stop looking at you, trying to remember every inch of your ashamed face. He saw that one side of the hair was a little bit longer than the other, leading him to assume that you cut it by yourself. He analyzed your profile, nose, eyes, and lashes, thinking about you like a piece of art. Hidden beneath his guarded expression wasn’t hate but deep admiration for your skill and fear of how you would manage in the field. He wasn’t even sure why he felt that way, he barely knew you beyond the profession. Every interaction between the two of you was laced with tension as he tried to push away all his thoughts about you. You probably noticed that when he speaks to you, his voice is measured, as though he's holding something back. You can't shake the feeling that he’s always judging you. Each encounter leaves you more confused, more convinced that he harbours some animosity toward you. But what you don't see is the way his eyes soften when he knows you're not looking, the way his fingers sometimes brush yours, how he remembers and deciphers the fresh smell of your perfume during your workdays and a citrus one on weekends. He’s fascinated by you, your kindness, resourcefulness, and skill.
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Gaining each other's trust was not easier in a foreign land, especially when boys were almost always on the run, working alongside a private company employed by Shepherd to assist them. You learned a lot from Shadow Company Watchers and Phillip Graves. He was kind and patient with you, navigating you through some processes characteristic of a private company, distinguishing their roles from the military. You were coming back from a short one-to-one conversation with Graves when Soap and Ghost informed you about their immediate departure.
The evening was warm but rainy, so you decided to stay in your room, continuing your training via comms with Laswell. Finally, closing it off and earning the last needed confidentiality pass, you screamed out of joy, ready to step into the true Watcher world. Kate was congratulating you, feeling like a proud mother, when the line went dark, and the electricity was off. You stood up, looking out of the window. Electricity was out everywhere, and searching for a flashlight in your desk, your eyes were slowly adapting to sudden darkness. Your mind was racing, but you closed the distance between you and your bed, picking up the gun from under your pillow. It was stupid to have it there, but better to be safe than sorry.
Your hands tremble slightly as you hold the metal grip of the gun. Counting to five, you try to calm yourself. It feels foreign in your grasp as if your combat training never happened. Of course, training and real-life situations are different, but you hoped that as a watcher, you wouldn’t have to use it. Shouting was getting louder, a reminder to stand up and run as danger loomed ahead. Your breath quickens, each inhale feeling like a battle against the panic attack rising in your chest. You glance around, unable to believe that this moment has come—that you're holding a weapon and preparing to defend yourself. You checked your comms, but it was still not working.
Going down a long, dark corridor, hearing screams and shots in the background wasn’t on your bucket list.
“Listen, you need to hear this.” Kate’s voice was serious, she held her cup, looking at you with sad eyes. “If they discover you’re the Watcher, they will try to capture you and take you as a hostage, and being a hostage is awful.”
Stepping carefully, you tried to put the small flashlight behind your ear, stabilizing it with a strand of your hair, accidentally pulling out a few of them. You planned to head for the nearest emergency exit, hoping this would be a clear path. The once friendly environment was now cold and unwelcoming, as though all the conversations had never happened. You turned left, seeing some of Alejandro’s men and Shadow Company members on the ground. There was one person, clutching their hand at their abdomen. His breath was steady, and he seemed more pissed than in pain.
“Watcher, you’re ok, good God, I couldn’t contact you. Fucking Graves, he betrayed us.”
Seeing Rodolfo was the best thing that happened during the last twenty minutes.
“Let me help you with this,” you said, pointing at his abdomen.
“No, hermosa, they will come back any minute. I need you to get out and contact Alejandro. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I think. But you…”
“Don’t think about me. I will kill all of them.” He pushed you to the nearest window, standing up. “Go there, all exits are secured by those fuckers.”
You grip the cold, wet metal of the rain pipe, sweat and rain making it slick under your trembling fingers.
“I will bring the cavalry, just stay alive, Rudy.”
Fear tightens your throat as you realize there is more than one story to go down. Slowly, you ease yourself out the window, hearing the gunshots stop. You slide down inch by inch, taking a deep breath each time. Every muscle in your body is tense, praying the pipe holds long enough for you to run. You saw a car near the main gate, someone getting out of it, but it was too far away to see who it was.
As soon as your feet hit the ground, you hear the vicious barking, and you completely forget about the dogs placed in the facility. Panic surges through you, and you take off running, to the nearest fence to jump through it. Meeting with an aggressive dog that wants to eat you alive. You push forward, adrenaline driving you through the fear. Your boots slide on muddy ground. You can't afford to slow down, not with the threat of those fierce, determined dogs right behind you. Jumping through, you go down by the slope, sliding through mud, you hit... everything.
“Fuck.” You cursed, seeing your dominant hand bleeding. This shouldn’t happen, now your aim may be even worse. You assessed your state, flashlight lost, your cargo pants and green t-shirt completely muddy and wet, and hair that was once silky smooth is now a chaotic mess, matted together and streaked with earthy brown stains. You could feel blood on your cheek too.
Barking reminded you about the necessity to run, taking off again you stopped, feeling dizzy.
“Fuck, not now.” you cursed, slowing down your run. You hold onto the nearest tree and vomit into the bush.
Adrenaline was kicking in, your ability to think straight going away, running slowly through the woods, you stopped at a machine landfill that was located about a mile from the facility. Not too close and not too far, probably one of the first things Shadows would check to search for fugitives. You tried to change the frequency on your comms device, hearing that it was working again, looking at your watch you saw that it was no longer than half an hour after your mission changed from reconnaissance to survival.
“Watcher 2 to anyone, can you hear me?”
The landfill looked scary, all the machines creeping on you like a shadow, trying to bite you. In the distance, you heard voices of Shadows sent after you. The muddy ground was unstable, and your steps were slow and calculated. You remembered from maps that after the landfill there was a road and then a restricted area crossing that led to the town. The town was now your only chance to survive.