The Task Force 141 was looking for intel on Makarov.
And, knowing his luck, Roach had gotten himself captured.
5 Minutes Earlier
They had split up to look through various rooms of the building. Roach had gone downstairs to a room that looked somewhat like a basement. Cement floors, one light above and at the other end of the room- a desk full of paper.
He had let his guard down, though. As soon as he walked towards the table, he felt something go around his throat. Roach fell backwards onto the ground, choking. The attacker loosened the grip on whatever was around his throat, but in that instance he felt something hard hit his head, and the world went dark.
Roach woke up groggily. The back of his head was throbbing, but that was the least of his worries. He was in a different room, same cement floors, one light, but it was much bigger. Near the door there was a metal table with multiple things on it. Roach couldn't see what as he was tied to a chair. His hands were tied behind him, with his ankles strapped to the legs of the chair. Roach realised there was a piece of cloth around his mouth, tied at the back of his head, restraining him from speaking. He also noticed the absence of his shirt. This can't be good.
Wow. They did a pretty good job of restraining me. Now what? Someone had taken his radio, so there was no chance of pressing the distress signal button.
At that moment, someone walked in. Two others came in behind, and the last closed the metal door behind him.
"Hello American." One of them said in a clear Russian-accented voice. The one who spoke took off the gag around his mouth.
"What do you want?" Roach asked. He knew exactly what they wanted. Information.
"Why are you and your team here?" he asked with a smirk.
"My team? I've no idea what you're talking about. I came alone." Maybe he could fool them.
"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "Then what's going on with this?" he held up Roach's radio. He could hear a voice coming from the earpiece.
"Roach? Do you copy? Talk to me, what's going on? Where are you?" Ghost's voice.
"Seems like they care about you." He smirked evilly. "While we're waiting for them to find you, I think we can have a little…fun." He emphasised the word fun, and that sent a shiver down his spine.
One of the other Russians grabbed a combat knife from the metal table. Ah shit. This ain't gonna be nice.
"I am going to ask you once. Who do you work for?" When Roach didn't answer, he placed the knife on Roach's forehead, and cut down his face and underneath his left eye and onto his cheek. He gritted his teeth. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of him screaming in pain.
"An easier question then. What's your name?" he placed the knife against his right shoulder.
"You heard it on the radio. Hope you were listening." The Russian sneered and pushed the knife through his shoulder. He couldn't stop a gasp of pain.
"You're real name." he pulled the knife out, making Roach wince.
"What you heard on the radio is as close as you're gonna get."
He turned to the other two Russians watching. He said something that Roach translated as "We won't get anywhere. Stab him and leave him to die.' At least, that's what he thought they said. Roach was now whishing he never took lessons on Russian. He really, really hoped he had translated that wrong.
One of them nodded, and the other two left the room. The one who remained picked up a wicked looking knife from the metal table. It was long, too. The blade itself was the length of his hand, with a serrated edge.
Turns out his Russian wasn't rusty after all.
He walked towards him, smirking like he was about to achieve his life's goal.
"Now, you die, American." he leaned in, and pushed the blade through Roach's lower stomach on his left side. He couldn't stop a sob from escaping his mouth. Just when he thought the Russian was done, he started twisting the blade around. Roach started groaning in pain. When the knife had gone all the way around, he pulled the knife out.
Blood went all over his uniform pants, and the Russian turned back to the door, put the knife on the table, and left.
Great. Now I'm going to bleed out. Alright way to go, I suppose. As long as it's painless. Maybe they'll come for me. Maybe they've forgotten me and left . Roach felt himself getting dizzy. His breathing got slower. He closed his eyes…just to rest.
About 10 Minutes later
He woke up to gunshots outside the door.
When all was quiet, someone kicked open the door, and found that the team hadn't forgotten him after all. MacTavish came up to untie him, while Ghost stared at the used knives on the metal table by the door.
"Oh Roach. What did they do to you?" his captain said as he saw his face dripping with blood. He saw the massive wound on his stomach, and gasped.
"Shit, Ghost, we gotta get Roach outta here. Help me." He gestured to his ankles, were Ghost got out his own knife and cut the restraints. MacTavish cut the fetters around his wrists. They lifted a nearly unconscious Roach out of the chair and put his arms on their shoulders. They walked him out the door and saw Meat and Royce and Worm watching for enemies.
Together they supported him down the hallway and outside, were the chopper was waiting for them. Ghost lifted Roach onto the chopper and started to tend to his wounds. The pain from his stomach and shoulder was agonizing, and his face stung. He coughed a bit, and felt a sticky liquid go down his chin.
As the chopper took off with everyone on, Roach wanted to sleep, but Ghost shook him awake.
"Stay awake Roach. You'll be okay." His voice was reassuring, but not believable. He started cleaning the gash on his face, but he would need stitches for his stomach and shoulder. Maybe more. The most Ghost could do right now was stem the flow of blood.
As the hours ticked by, Roach fell unconscious. He woke to a bright white light, and felt soft blankets beneath him. His stomach felt stiff, and his shoulder ached, while his face felt a bit numb. He noticed someone sitting in a chair next to him.
"Roach! You're awake!" it was MacTavish.
"Of course" he answered quietly. "How long was I-"
"Just a day since the doctor fixed you up." he cut in. "How do you feel?"
"Stiff and sore." He complained.
"The doctor wants to do a few eye tests, just to check there's no damage to nerves or anything."
"Hmrf." He grunted as he closed his eyes. MacTavish stood up.
"Well, I'll let you get some rest. I'll let the others know you're feeling alright." With that, he turned and left, closing the door on his way out.
About 2 or 3 weeks later- I don't know-I lost track of time
Roach told the doctor he was feeling ok, so he sat up while the doctor checked his eye, having him say letters that got smaller, reaction to movement and light, and so on. After he was cleared to go, he stiffly made his way down the cold and bright hallway to the rec room.
He walked through the doorway to find Ghost sitting on the couch, reading, Worm ,Meat and Royce were also on the couch, watching TV-not really watching it-but flicking through the channels mindlessly.
"Hey guys." He said from the doorway. All eyes turned on him, Ghost looked up from his book, Royce muted the TV, and they all looked at Roach.
"Roach!" cried Meat. "You're okay! And Awake! A-and walking…and-"
"Thanks Meat." He cut in.
"Got some new scars." Ghost implied.
"With a story to go with them." Roach said darkly. "Where's the captain?"
Worm rolled his eyes. "Sitting in his office. As usual."
"Probably paperwork." Guessed Royce.
"Or reading." Suggested Meat.
"Or drawing." Fathomed Worm.
"Well, whatever's he's doing. He's always cooped up in there." Ghost said as he went back to his book.
Well…I guess that's all I have right now.
A/N: I originally had Roach's recovery time as 'later' but changed it to a few weeks because I don't think anyone could walk the day after they got they're stomach patched up. And with Roach's injury, it would have been WAY longer than a few days…but I'm not an expert in medical stuff, so if you know the approximate time Roach should have stayed in bed, please tell me in a review.
-Stay Fierce!