Chapter Text
3rd pov
A loud pop is heard before the man running stumbles up the stairs. Pain shoots through his thigh, and he spins around, still sitting on the stairs, before raising his pistol - the shot hitting clean between the eyes of the man pursuing him. The body crumpled at the base of the stairs. Quickly as he could, he pulled himself back up and turned the corner, panting heavily. He panted heavily as he pushed forward, every movement sluggish from blood loss. He was about to pass an open door when instinct stopped him short. He turns, stepping inside.
The room had been abandoned - the whole building, technically. Slowly, he crouched down, setting his pistol beside him. His eyes softened at the small snake slithering toward him. The chaos outside the room - the betrayal, the bloodshed - faded from his mind for a moment. He coaxed the viper onto his arm, running a careful finger along its back. The warmth of the snake grounded him.
He uncapped a bottle from his pack, pouring a little water into the lid and setting it on the floor for the snake to drink. He eased for the first time in a while. Just slightly. He stood up, grabbing his pistol, ready to leave.
Then a soft click cut through the silence.
He froze, turning slowly to find the barrel of a rifle trained on him. The man behind it had a trimmed mohawk, his expression wary but steady. "Get down," the man ordered. "On your knees." He hesitated for a moment. He was weighing his options- should he run? he was never confident in fighting too much. Or he could submit. The pounding of boots further down the hallway sealed his fate, though. Slowly, he sank back down on his knees and set the pistol down before lifting his hands back above his head.
More men entered. One wore a battered boonie hat and a heavy beard. There were two others but the large one caught his eye - he seemed to tower over them in a skull-face mask. The man with the beard assessed the situation quickly, approaching them. "Who're you working under?"
He didn't respond, only keeping his glare steady. "Nothing, huh?" the man sighed. "Tie him. We can take him back to talk."
Just as the others moved to secure him, the bearded man noticed the snake. "Is that a viper?"
"Shit - aren't they venomous?!" The man with the mohawk stumbled back, bumping into the skill-masked figure who grunted in irritation and pushed passed him. As soon as they started moving closer, the man on his knees backed up, almost shielding the snake from them.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be," The man growled, approaching. "You're injured. Outnumbered." Still, he tried to back away when the man grabbed him. It was no use. This man was stronger and soon had him face-down on the floor, wrists yanked behind his back. "Stay. Still."
Someone muttered about killing the snake. That - more than anything - broke his cold exterior, and he thrashed again, desperate. "Fuck's sake," The man above him snarled, tightening his grip and pushing him further down. "It's just a god damn snake."
"He actin' like it's his pet or somethin'," the bearded man observed. He only glared up at them. "Good god. Actin' like a child over a stupid animal." The man above him muttered as he tied him up.
They searched him, taking every weapon that was hidden from him. He was hoping they would miss at least one knife, but they were thorough. He was standing now, trying to put all his weight on his left leg. They had been talking, but he stopped listening long ago. He couldn't even tell if they were talking to him or not, so he decided to just ignore them. The snake stayed in the corner, wary of the new people in the room.
He hears something about a mask, and before he even realizes what's happening his mask is being yanked off. His eyes widened, and he tried to back away, but the skull-masked man had a harsh grip on his arm. "Nah, doesn't look like anyone important..." One of them mutters aloud.
His skin itched.
The feeling of being exposed like this terrified him. He couldn't even react properly before they were pulling him out of them room. He grunted as he put weight on his right leg. He glanced back at the snake once more before he was pulled out of sight.
The entire ride, he kept his head down as he was no longer under the safety of his mask. He had nothing right now. It was bothering him, he hadn't let someone see his face in years - hell, he hadn't let himself get caught like this. Ever. He had never been betrayed by his own thought-to-be comrades, either. He never felt like he really belonged there, in the military in general. But he was there. And he did what he was told, so why did they hate him? Was it the way he acted? It's not like he was the only one like that.
He snapped out of his thoughts at the rough landing, the bearded man standing to get everyone off. He took him off somewhere else into the building ahead of them. He's taken into a room with a bunch of empty jail cells, the man lightly pushing him inside one before closing and locking it.
"Turn, I'm going to untie you." Hesitantly, he turned and backed up toward the bars so he could be untied.
It gave him a moment to look around the cell, but it was just what he'd expect it to look like: a crappy-looking bed with some sheets that looked equally as uncomfortable, nothing else. His hands fell to his sides, and he looked at the slight red marks around his wrists, rubbing them softly as he limped to the bed and sat. The pain in his wrists didn't compare to the pain in his thigh, and he was getting a little light-headed.
"I'll get a medic down here soon." If he didn't know any better, the bearded man would think he was being ignored - and maybe he was. The one on the bed wasn't even looking at him.
"Let's start easy," He walks over and pulls a chair from a desk off in the corner toward the cell and sits down, crossing his arms to get comfortable. "What's your name?"
No response. He sighed heavily, "My name is Price. What is your name?" He asks again, with more force. "You do understand me, correct? You understand English?" He nodded slowly. "So then answer me-" He gets a glare in return. "Are you mute or something?" Price is clearly getting aggravated as he's continuously met with only glares. Price leans down on his elbows, rubbing his temples. He looks as though he's going to speak again before he gets up and leaves the room.
Around 15 minutes go by before the man lying down on the uncomfortable cell-bed hears the door open again. This time, a woman who looks like a doctor walks in holding a tray of sorts, Price and the men he saw before following behind.
Price unlocked the cell, and he and the doctor entered. He sits up hesitantly, backing away slightly. The doctor kneeled down, setting the tray on the bed next to him, to inspect his wound on the back of his thigh, and he leaned over for her to see better. "Why wasn't I called down sooner?"
"We needed to focus on our men getting help." Ghost spoke stiffly before the doctor sighed. "It's not bleeding, and he doesn't seem to be reacting poorly at the moment." She has him remove his pants, and he does so slowly, trying his hardest not to push up against the wound. She picks up what looks like some type of tweezers and pushes them into his bullet wound to retrieve the bullet. He gripped the sheets under him, brows furrowing. After she pulls it out, she works on stitching it up after cleaning it.
The eyes on him were a sort of nice - but uncomfortable - distraction from the pain in his thigh. After a few more moments of silence, the doctor finishes wrapping his wound and stands, "Okay, my work here is finished." She quickly pulls her gloves off and takes the tray, leaving the room.
He stands hesitantly to pull his pants back on, taking caution, and sits back down. "How old are you?" The man with the odd hair blurts out. He looks up, thinking for a moment before holding up his hand, holding up two fingers, and then changing it to five.
"25? Definitely wasn't gonna be my guess.. Though it'd probably be easier to tell without all the.. scars." He mumbled to himself. And he's back to sending glares.
Price begins speaking, but he's interrupted by a rough, accented voice, "Viper."
He's met with shocked faces, and they all stare for a moment. "So you can speak. Were you just tryin' to mess with me before? What do you mean by 'Viper'? You want your snake?"
But it's back to silence, and Price huffs in annoyance. "Mask," he practically growled out." He was glaring at the skull-masked man now. "You want it back? Why should we when you won't even comply with us?" He crossed his arms as he spoke. He's only mirrored, the man sitting on the bed also crossing his arms and sort of turning away from them.
"Christ, this is going nowhere." Price muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then we should make him answer." Ghost spoke up, his eyes never leaving the man.
"Something tells me he'd rather get killed by you, Ghost." The man who'd yet to speak at the point spoke up, shrugging. Price patted Ghost's shoulder, silently ordering him, and Ghost only huffed before moving to sit at the desk in the corner.
"We're comin' back tomorrow mornin' to ask you more questions. You'd better be ready to respond by then."
He only lay back on the bed, shifting to face the wall. Price only sighed again as they all left after locking the cell again. It was silent now, but he could feel the skull-faced man's eyes on him. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, and he tensed briefly before feeling something light fall on his side. He looked over his shoulder, seeing his mask. He then looked over at the man who'd thrown it, and they locked eyes for a few seconds before he turned to go sit back down. He pulled his mask on and exhaled in relief, turning back over, trying to get comfortable.