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It was a simple task. Get in, take no hostages, secure the data or whatever they were after, leave no witnesses, get out.
Nothing special, yet so important to you- it was your first assignment after Perseus accepted you back into his ranks... Or more like found you, bleeding and barely holding onto the life someplace close to the Solovetsky cliff side, while the base you've just helped destroying was still partially standing in flames. When masked operatives with misterious badges arrived to assess the damage Hudsons team was gone already to report, pack their stuff, gather any evidence of what occurred in the safe house and bring it back to hide it somewhere safe.
You understood and wasn't angry at them, not at all- you've made your choice, became a sacrifice to save a lot of innocent people. You were a hero no one would ever hear about. So who would've cared about burying you at least anyway, right? Yeah, maybe you did pulled out a gun on Adler, and maybe you did pull the trigger but he did so first- you've just allowed your self preservation instinct to take the wheel.
You still did, every day- joining Perseus was a great example.
It was Stitch who have found and patched you up, thus that 'Perseus' fella, as Adler called him, placed you in your saviors tender care. Under his stern, one-eyed gaze you were supposed to be re-educated after your betrayal, un-fucked after your little adventure with MKUltra, and then, once they're sure you could be trusted, you'd become an agent of Perseus once again. Easy, right?
It seemed like Grim Reaper wasn't in rush to take you in since he stopped both Arash and Russel. Perseus, on the other hand, was in a rush to get you back- wasting resources in the middle of war wouldn't be wise. And with you on their side he had the strongest set of cards in his hands.
That's how you've found yourself here- hiden with a bunch of mercs and three Perseus agents in the middle of abandoned military base. What brought you there together was a rumor that Americans were sniffing around it recently, clearly looking for something in the middle of the night for the past few days. They were supposed to be here that night too so Stitch decided to give them a little welcoming gift- firstly he took you, Knight, Wraith and a small group of his men to the safe house nearby to regroup and prepare, then you all travelled on foot for past hour, not wanting to blow the surprise and alert those thieves.
Now you were awaiting orders, hidden from the moonlight in the shadows that overgrown trees provided.
- Knight, watch our backs.- Said man whistled sharply but quietly and mentioned the three of his men to follow him. One group of mercenaries moved into the darkness and you could only hear their fading footsteps as they walked further.- Wraith, search for hostiles, no witnesses, no captives. Get moving.- She also gestured mercs to follow her and the last two joined her as she started to move on silent feet in the direction of empty barracks where you thought you could see occasional flicker of torchlight. She winked at you and patted your back before taking her leave and you countered her friendly farewell with a simple wave.
You watched as Wraiths squad sneaked through the shadows, their backs soon vanishing completely into the night. Now it was just you and Stitch left and it wasn't very reassuring position to you- last time in situation like this you've heard short monologue and barely managed to pull the trigger as the whole world faded around you. This time it was Stitch though, there was no chance of waking up if he'd decide you're not useful enough.
It wasn't the case, you tried to assure yourself, he wasted too much time and effort on you to throw it away.
Stitch rolled his shoulders and the muted pop of joints pulled you out from bad memory back to reality that wasn't much better.
- Bell, follow me. We're going to the main area.
He mentioned the building that was barely peeking out from above the line of trees. It was the most important place in here, no question, but it also meant that most activity the spies in the area noticed may be going on in there. Or not- from the reports, or the scraps of information provided to you, the group that was sniffing around here was small. Small enough to handle them alone, let alone with a partner, or a group.
Was it to monitor you then? See how you'll behave while hunting the same allies you've fought alongside not so long ago?
Before he could move any further you decided to test your luck and gripped his arm to prevent him from walking. He stiffened but complied and you had to immediately let go, since pushing his patience too far wasn't something you'd like to try. At least it worked though, and you got his attention. He even turned around to face you with his brows furrowed in clear irritation, his gloves squeaked when he tightened his grip on the gun. Uh-oh.
You wondered how huge was your mistake. Because there you were- a defector, taken back under Perseus, given a second chance while you should've died the day Solovetsky was destroyed but somehow still alive. And now you were feeling bold enough to question the authority of man who was responsible for 'saving you' and held all the power to cut your existence short.
You even gained enough of his trust to be let out into the field with a fully loaded gun. Not only that, he had no second thoughts about turning his back to you while you were alone and it made you both somewhat ashamed and relived. Ashamed that he no longer saw a threat in you even if you had a loaded gun, relieved that you may be able to stay alive after all.
Hell, you've just made a surprise contact and there was no knife in your throat.
You could hear him blowing some air through his nose underneath the mask like an angry bull but it seemed to help him calm down. You almost sighed in relief once the anger shifted into questioning gaze and he nodded at you, allowing you to speak up.
And you did, trying to reason with him as politely as possible to not rile him up any further. You were shot once by ally (well, twice) and the wound was still hurting, you were in no rush to check if third time's really a charm.
- Why can't we split up?- You nodded towards row of abandoned buildings, probably garages or something alike, that Stitch ignored.- That would be faster.
You've shifted nervously, clearing you throat and trying to hold his intense gaze with your own stern, but unsure one. Seconds felt like hours while you were waiting for any reaction on his side.
To your surprise he chuckled, thankfully your own mask prevented your confusion from being seen. Vikhor clasped you on the shoulder quiet hard, the sound of jiggling gear cut through the silence but you were too focused on him to notice. Now you were the one to stiffen under the touch.
You've panicked inside- maybe he thought you want to run off? Or contact someone? Or try something stupid? How could you not think it thr...
He noticed your distraught, of course, and patted you a few times before grasping his gun again and speaking up with voice dripping in sarcasm.
- Isn't it obvious? You're my favorite.- Since he turned around already he missed your annoyed expression... But maybe that was for the best. Next time he spoke his voice had its commanding tone back.- Now move it!
Barely holding in sounds of pure annoyance you did as he said, with your gun ready and mind focused on every sound and movement.
You've found trouble once you got to the basement- the trouble had his face hidden under a dark balaclava and a gun in his hands. Familiar badge on his uniform told you everything there was to know. He was guarding the door on the other side of the room, destroyed lock and chain lied beneath, indicating there was something important (and some of his friends) hiding behind.
You looked at Stitch (hidden behind nearby pillar) with unspoken question, hand laid over knife holstered to your chest but not quiet gripping it yet. It faltered slightly when the man gave you shake of a head and gestured you to stay low. Sounds of steps indicated that the guard was getting closer and closer but you nodded back in agreement nonetheless, trusting that Vikhor knew what he was doing. Your palm still laid over the holster though, better safe than sorry.
The steps were louder and louder and then you saw the soldier walking out from behind the wooden crate that served as your hideout. You held in your breath, hoping that he'd keep walking but lady luck decided otherwise- he stopped with his back turned to you and started humming softly, banging his hand against the butt of rifle to the rhythm. No matter which way he'd turn he'll be met with either yours, or Vikhors masked face.
You wasn't sure what to do and you were too focused on the hostile to look at Stitch for answer. You gripped your knife instead and raised yourself slightly to prepare for a command that should come soon.
It didn't though.
Guard turned his head to the side slightly...
...Then looked down over his shoulder, directly at you.
Fuck me, right?
Before the operative could do anything more than turning around fully, dark shadow suddenly yanked him back. Forearm covered in tattoos darted out to strangle the soldier with such force it made him let go of his gun in attempt to at least try to loosen deaths grip. Another hand sneaked up to cover his mouth, familiar ink vampire smiled almost innocently as the operative clawed at it, desperately trying to fight his assilant off. But it was no use, not against the far more experienced operative.
Without waiting for Stitch to finish the job and break poor bastards neck, or worse, torture him (he likes to take his sweet time) you instinctively grabbed the knife and, as swiftly as you could, jumped closer to both men.
One big step later the blade, pushed with the power of your whole body, sank with ease into mans uncovered flesh. All while being careful to not even scratch the person holding it. You knew better than that. Stitch let out a grunt when you crashed into both of them with full force. Luckily, Stitch took only one step back, still not letting the trashing man go until he stopped moving. Which wasn't that long, considering the amount of blood gushing from his open neck onto you.
It took a few long seconds but the opertive finally gasped out their last breath into gloved palm, blood still spilling from open throat, coating Vikhors uncovered arms and your own in fresh, red and still warm liquid. Your loud, angry panting ceased once the merc trapped between the two of you went limp, your slick fingers loosened a bit and you had to let out relieved sigh.
You could almost feel the way Stitch eyed you up and down with approval, not really caring if you saw the glint of hunger in his eyes. It wasn't new, no. But it was the first time it was so open, and the very first time you couldn't ignore it.
You hoped he missed the way you shivered in... What exactly? Embarassement? You tried to tell yourself it had to be, but the warmth spreading through your limbs proved otherwise. I don't like it, you also tried to tell yourself, I don't care.
Suddenly anxious you've let go of the handle and wiped your palms against the material of your pants and tried not to cringe at the sensation. And to avoid the way he looked at you. To be honest you wasn't sure what to do in a situation like this, any wrong move and it could become even more awkward.
Corpse falling to the ground and immediately grabbed your attention- your knife was still in it. Before you could make an attempt to get it back Stitch went for it first- you've let him do that and didn't even try to hide surprise written all over your face. It stayed there until wet sound reverbeated through the silence and Stitch straightened up, familiar weapon in his bloodied hand.
He offered it to you politely, handle first, and you hesitantly accepted, despite the feeling of walking into the trap that was clawing at the back of your head. When your fingers wrapped themselves around it and tried to take it back his hand suddenly tightened around blade and pulled you forward, closer to him. So much closer.
Pockets and equipment attached to your chests made some noise at the collision but the impact wasn't that strong so there was no damage done. You were especially worried about the radio you carried in one of chest pocket but there was no breaking sounds, so it should be all good.
You on the other hand, suddenly felt nervous- was he about to kill you? Kiss you? Why? How do I fight him off? Maybe If I'd...
Hoarse chuckle made you frown and go rigid in his gentle but firm grip.
- So you do know how to follow orders. Good.
His free hand landed on your chest and pushed you backwards, not hard enough to be considered aggressive but hard enough to make you stumble back. You managed to catch yourself before falling but to do so you had to let go of the slick handle.
He pulled you in back again, not as close as before, by your armors pocket and with one move holstered it on its place. He patted it in friendly but stiff manner.
- We can still make something out of you.
This time it was you who pushed and he did let you do so without compliant. You cleared your throat and mentioned towards closed door.
- Let's go and find his friends.
Stitch nodded, took point and once again you followed obediently to see what's behind the door.
Behind the door lied one long corridor with a few rooms on its sides- walls, floors and furniture there was preserved very nicely, even dust here seemed to be lighter. But it was not the interior design that caught your attention. In one of those rooms you've found footsteps, scattered all over the carpet. They've all led to set of stairs hidden behind bookshelf that someone pushed aside- a basement under the basement. Clever.
From where you were standing you could hear energic chattering in English and familiar noise of zippers going up. Your eyes wandered to the packed bags near the door, you could see various books and cassettes peeking out. They were packing and moving data from here, if they were coming back here for past few days you've lost a lot of precious Intel already.
You've heard doors cracking open in the corridor and saw a familiar shadow, checking in for any sneaking hostiles. You whistled softly, careful not to alert people who were too busy with stealing, completely unaware of danger that lurked above them.
- Stitch, get over here!
He cautiously looked into the room he wanted to see but dropped it rather quickly once you called.
Vikhor practically barged into the room and you had to stop him mid-step, putting your fingers to your lips in 'stay quiet' motion and nodded towards secret room. Stitch hummed in affirmation before roughly pushing you behind him with his gun on ready to take a peek.
- Move behind me, ready your gun.
You did as he said, following him on your tippy toes, ready to pull him back behind any cover available if someone decided he wanted to come out.
All you could see from where stairs ended was another entrance, shadows moved fervently in light that came out from the room. Stitch hummed yet again, this time it sounded dangerous, predatory, whatever he planned was bloody. Soon he gestured you to lean closer, so you did.
- Any flashbang?
You shook your head but reached out to one of your side pockets, he followed the movement with anticipation. When you pulled out small container his eyes crinckled in grin hidden by the mask.
- Smoke grenade?- He chuckled darkly and took the container to examine it.- Even better.
- Mask on. Shoot anything that moves.
Oh.
That's what he wanted- a massacre.
You pulled up your gas mask, making sure it's good to go and cocked your gun before giving Stitch thumbs up. He nodded in return and gave you a sign to move down the stairs, slowly and carefully. Thank god they weren't wooden and there was a carpet lied over them, muting your cautious steps succesfully.
Lights, chatter and other sounds grew louder the closer you got, soon you were standing on both sides of the half-open door, waiting for Stitch to throw the smoke in and give you a signal. Before he did you overheard your unexpecting victims talking about Intel they were gathering for past few days. You saw how Vikhors fingers twitched around the grenade when they mentioned it was supposed to hold info about location of biological and chemical weaponry, one that was yet to be tested out in action.
They've abandoned both the base and the research.
Stitch gave you a look that indicated he thought about that too.
Then his brows furrowed and you could hear safety pin hitting the floor next to your feet. He quickly threw the container in before slamming the door shut, trapping those poor bastards inside. There was a slight chance of them having another exit to use, the chance for the room to have any kind of ventilation that wasn't clogged with layers of dust was even slimmer.
At first someone screamed in warning, then there was a sound of people scattering, soon it changed to painful coughing and choking sounds. Yep, you thought grimly under comforting barrier of your protective gas mask, no air flow at all.
Stitch checked up the mag in his rifle, gave you a nod to get you ready, and once you were he kicked the door open.
You didn't know who fired first but it didn't matter, not at all. You managed to kick the door closed so no one could sneak out and then pulled the trigger.
The coughing was replaced by short sounds of pain, short sounds of pain were completely silent under the sound of machine guns mowing down everything on their way- flesh, wood, metal, precious data you two may or may have not damaged.
You ceased fire only once your mag went empty, so did Stitch.
He sighed and then chuckled, sounding content and unbothered by the way the thick mist in the room suddenly became reddish, truth be told you've barely seen him and he stood pretty close.
He patted your shoulder and holstered his gun to his back, yours remained in your tight grip.
- Now we go.
- But the Intel...
He scoffed and laid a hand on your shoulder in gesture that supposed to be reassuring.
- Leave it, I'll send my men to pack it up and transport it to the nearest base for examination.
You squinted and tried to look around but with no avail- it was one good smoke you had. With a sigh you turned around to face him.
- I'm afraid the most important Intel is already gone, though.
He just shrugged, not really caring.
- Ha! No doubt it is. We'll get it back, don't you worry.- He gave you an approving nod.- You did good, I'll make sure to inform Perseus about your progress.
Someone survived. And he jumped at Stitch with a knife, appearing from the mist like a ghost.
Your body acted long before your mind did- you pushed the man aside to the safety the smoke provided while your other hand swung the rifle back before bringing it back with full force- straight into hostiles masked, but unprotected head. You did it so fast and clumsily the weapon you were wielding was knocked out from your grip and landed somewhere far away from your position. Sound of grown man falling to the ground was rewarding enough, though.
Vikhor barely spared the unconcious body a glance (if he'd seen it) before pulling out the pistol and before firing one single bullet supposedly where the back of their head was.
You could tell the bullet hit its mark when there was a splattering sound all around. Some of it probably landed on your shoes and pants but how could you care.
Stitch was giving you the look again.
You gulped nervously before blindly reaching out, searching for the door with your head low to hide your embarassement.
- Let's go.
You've barely managed to touch the handle before two hands pulled you back by the arms and turned you around. Your back collided with the wood so hard it shook in its hinges, air was practically pushed out from your lungs on impact. Clouds of dust settled in your eyes as you desperately tried to blink them away, at least your mask will keep it away from your nostrils...
If it wasn't yanked away from your face with brutal force and thrown somewhere into the mist.
Before you could gasp and inhale all the dirt in the mask was replaced with a pair of dry lips, pushing themselves onto yours roughly, probably breaking them in the process. Your eyes widened in shock, but all you saw before you was Vikhors face, his scarred eye screwed shut in concentration as he moved aggresively against you. Instead of feeling your lungs filling up with scratchy, old smelling dust you caught a good whiff of Stitch whos forearms you've just gripped desperately, trying to remind yourself to breath through the nose. Sweat. Deaodorant. Musk. Detergent. The smell of aftershave, the way his chin felt against you indicated he recently shaved, probably a few hours earlier, back in the safe house.
Speaking of his face, where did his mask go? It's not like you've never seen him without it, but it still felt wrong to see him like that, and to feel him so close, in a situation that wasn't sparring, felt wrong too. Wrong, but not unpleasant. Far from it, actually.
Stitch nipped at you roughly, parting your lips under his but not pushing any further, demanding your attention and direct answer to his actions. You wandered what did he expect- that you'll push him away? What would he do then? What if you accepted? Is it a trap to mock you later?
Now, now you were paranoid.
Maybe I should...
Instead of pushing him away you experimentally moved your hands to his shoulders, caressing his arms in the process and moving your lips shyly- too unsure to pick up his pace. It didn't matter to him, he could keep up for both of you now he got his answer loud and clear.
Both of your vests grinded against each other harshly, digging into your ribs, scratching clothes and skin underneath when he pushed himself onto you. Wood underneath your back cracked in protest but you paid no attention to it- one hand just vanished from its place on your shoulder in a blink of an eye but you quickly found it, or more like felt it, on your upper tight, holding it in iron grip and hiking it up to make some space for Vikhors hips to slither in. You knew the way he handled you would leave finger shaped bruises but you couldn't care less- even when he squeezed you harder, swallowing your gasp and pushing you further into the door.
Parks disgusted face flashed before your eyes.
The vest you wore was digging into your back painfully now, and that was something you just couldn't ignore. You didn't know how Stitch noticed your discomfort with his eyes shut closed but he did and his arm, the one that was still on your shoulder, sneaked behind your back, underneath your gear and hoodie, to pull you closer to him. You whimpered into his mouth at the skin to skin contact his forearm made with your back and he hummed in amusement, almost making you regret letting out any sound.
What the hell am I doing?
The hand underneath your ass finally loosened, gave your hip an appreciative caress, and then moved to grip your jaw roughly to move it aside, exposing your throat in the process. Your lips departed with a wet sound and before you could inhale properly and realize the absurdity of this whole situation he bit down, just underneath your pulse point. Hard. So hard it managed to break through the clouds of lust swarming around your head.
You gasped, whole body jerking in shock at the sudden pain and eyes opening wide, not ready to take in the gore around you.
The dust finally settled, you noticed while the man was busy with the assault on your throat, even the smoke cleared out a bit. It cleared out enough for you to see through without squinting your eyes.
You wished it didn't.
There was a dead body lying in a pool of blood and torn insides so very close to you, the face (or more like unrecognizable mass) was turned in your direction. You gulped the rising nausea back down and gripped Vikhors hand tighter, completely stiff while he nipped and sucked the skin that was already bleeding.
You moved your head to the side, as much as his hold on you allowed, and peeked at your surroundings with horror.
This whole place was a mess. Bloody mess of limbs, empty shells and insides that was scattered all around., looking more like some sort of sick confetti than actual parts of human beings. Books, computers, floors walls... All covered in red liquid and bullet holes.
And in the middle of it- You. Dry humping the same man who murdered them while you helped, showing no mercy or respect even to the dead.
What the fuck is happening?
Stitch bit down on the same spot again and it hurt badly- it hurt so bad you growled and slapped his back a few times, angry words and curses finally slipping past your swollen lips.
- What the fuck- your hands gripped his shoudlers hard to push him away but it was no use, his own grip tightened, teeth sank even deeper, and you hissed in discomfort mixed with arousal.- Stitch, what the fuck?! Let go!
You didn't know if you were more relieved or dissapointed when he finally complied and let your abused flesh go. His hand left your jaw to wipe the spit and blood from his lower face lazily, not caring how it stuck to his glove.
You used his movement to crack your neck a few times, groaning in discomfort. Not only it was stiff from being forced in uncomfortable position, the bitemark stung badly each time you moved. You cringed when something wet and warm started to slide down your collarbone to vanish beneath the material of your clothes.
Stitch observed your struggle with a smug but thoughtful expression so you countered it with a glare- anything to not let him know how weirded out and embarassed you were in that moment. Anything to not look at the scene that lied behind him, you wasn't sure if you could stomach it again.
Your staring contest was cut short when the forgotten radio in your pocket crinkled audibly from where it was trapped beneath Vikhors chest, still pressed tightly to yours. He made no move to put some distance between the two of you, he was still pretty much glued to you- chest to chest, hips to hips, obvious hard-on pressed into your abdomen. Don't think about that, don't think about, don't thin...
- Bell?- Wraith hushed voice tore your gaze away from his, you looked down at the radio instead, careful not to look down any further.- Where are you? Can you speak?
Without moving an inch away from you, Stitch snatched the radio swiftly and answered the call himself, gazing at you with unreadable expression.
- Data secured, prepare for extraction.
Wraith hummed in acknowledgement, clearly not caught of guard by the voice that answered her.
- Good. We'll meet you at the extraction point, Roman will make sure there's a chopper waiting for us.- There was a second of silence, then she added- see you, Bell.
You muttered quiet 'bye', even though Stitch already ended the call and gave you back your radio, putting it back in the pocket. Vikhor finally straightened up, letting you breath without crushing your ribcage under him and untangling your legs. You stretched, trying not to appear awkward, while he retrieved his mask, that lied carelessly right next to your boot, and strapped it back. Yup, back to work. Yours lied a bit further, closer to the wall so you went to get it.
Once it was secured back on your face, succesfully hiding your bleeding lips but at the same time painfully digging into the alrady swelling mark, Stitch opened the door and gestured you to walk out first.
- Time to go, Bell.
You covered the 'wound' on your neck with the material of your hood and rushed forward, silently praying that this... whatever it was, won't make your situation even more difficult.