A/N: Hey guys! Here is my next Derek 'Frost' Westbrook story. My last one was fun to write and I hope to enjoy this one even more. Now this first chapter may seem unimportant or confusing, but trust me as the chapters progress things will line up, if they don't then…well I just hope they do! As for a few things you need to know is just this: James "Sandman" Mayer, Frank "Truck" Binninger, and Noah "Grinch" Swanson. That right there is important, because I'm staying with those names for the rest of time! If you don't like them or have complaints about them, then just hold it in and forget about it. Now then the first part, which is italicized, is in the near future and then the rest is what leads up to that point. So please enjoy and if you like it or love it, please do not hesitate to review!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
He was forced to walk forwards, never left or right, just straight down the seemingly endless hallway. Hands cuffed a little bit too tightly behind his back, and feet harshly extending forward, Derek was once again rethinking his actions. Step by step he was forced to march forward, and the men surrounding him on all sides, gave him no sympathy as his eyes scanned their faces.
Traitor, spy, terrorist.
Those words hit him straight on, as if a train had ran off its rails and crushed him beneath its wheels. No one believed him. No one trusted him. How could they? His past lead him to his own defeat. He knew it from the get-go. Yet, with his youthful mind, he knew exactly what he was doing, nothing mattered. And how could it? He lost everything he cared about. Well, almost everything. His family was still there to hold his hand when he needed it…right? Now that he thought about it, every time they reached out to him, he would simply slap it away without a second thought. So why would they reach out now? He hadn't talked to them in years. Did they know he was still alive? Probably not.
What about his other family?
Was he even allowed to call them that?
He'd only been with them for a few missions, so was he even allowed to call them friends? Friends. That word hadn't been used in a long time. He almost chuckled to himself if he hadn't been in this situation. Hell, he even had to keep his title going. They didn't call him 'Frost' for nothing. Thinking back to what had recently happened, had he mistaken his teammates? If they really were a part of his life, would they really let these men take him away?
His neck tipped downward, letting his head fall forward slightly.
He was right. The men that had quickly taken their place in his heart were nothing but liars. They never cared for him. Never in his life had he really felt a family connection with anyone he had worked with. But once he had joined the Delta Force, he felt that connection. He felt as if he could trust these men with his life. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.
He was warned as a child, to never trust anyone. But he had gone against that order, and now his heart was torn in two, the rip streaming out the last of his emotions that he had held onto. He learned his lesson, and he'd be damned if he went against it again.
"We're here," A man said, his voice carrying across the unnaturally long hallway.
A small click rang into the air, and then Derek's arms swung to his sides.
"This way Mr. Westbrook," the man said as he walked into a room.
The area was small, walls painted in a dim white, as the flooring held an unusual gray tint to it. The man in front of him ushered Derek over towards the only thing sitting in the room, a small white table with a poll strapped to the top of it. Once Derek sat down, the man tilted his chest over the table with a smile and clicked a pair of handcuffs on one of Derek's wrists.
"Can't be too careful," the man said as he inclined back into his chair.
Sitting down slowly, ice blue crystal eyes scanned the room.
"Now, Derek," the man spoke up, rendering Derek's wondering gaze back at his. "Can I call you Derek?"
Derek blinked, who the hell does he think he is? He thought as his facial expression detained its emotionless state. I could snap his neck in an instant and he thinks we can be friends?
Blowing the air out of his lungs, the man leaned further back into his chair and puckered his lips. "Alright, no first names got it. Well for you anyway, call me Luke."
Derek slowly raised one of his eyebrows, in small response he spoke quietly, "Why?"
"Just thought you should know my name, since, you know," He continued with a chuckle, "I'm going to try and get information out of you." With no reply coming from the solder, Luke breathed out loudly and swiftly leaned forward. "That is…if you talk. Do you speak English, or is Russian more your style? You do talk, don't you?"
"You sure do," Derek replied as he eyed the man coldly.
Luke gave a large smile and winked back at the solder. "Now, let us get back to the matter at hand. Shall we, terrorist?"
"Truck, Grinch, scout ahead and check the floor above us. Report when it's clear," Sandman whispered forcefully.
Grinch nodded firmly, as he and Truck pushed the door open. Once they left the room, the door behind them unhurriedly closed as if knowing the teams operation depended on the inaudibility.
Sighing to himself, Sandman turned around slowly, the darkness of the room cloaking over his form like a large blanket. Suddenly, the dim light from the screen in front of him shocked his pupils momentarily before he quickly blinked away the white light that layered over his vision.
Frost had been typing on the keyboard in front of him for some time now. Concern began to flow into Sandman senses as Frost cursed colorfully under his breath. Maybe the team wasn't right to push the new solder. Frost was the FNG to the group, and yet Grinch and Truck had started treating him like a little brother the moment he was put on the team. Of course Frost here hadn't liked it at all. Maybe his last teammates weren't the best. Maybe they treated him foolishly. Maybe they tortured the poor solder to his limits and he built walls around himself to protect anymore hurtful invasions. Sandman began to glare at the screen, those solders had no right. Hell they had no right to treat anyone like that, no right to treat Frost like that. He stopped before he got ahead of himself. Sandman sighed; he was being unfair to the other solders. Maybe they didn't treat Frost like that; maybe Frost was just like this for a reason. But it still didn't give Frost the reason to treat his superiors with no respect.
"What's taking so long?" Sandman asked as Frost, once again, cursed lustrously.
"Dammit, Sandman, will you shut up!" Frost hissed as he typed faster onto the keyboard.
"It's not rocket science, Frost." Sandman growled back.
"It may not be, but I'm sure it's just as hard. You try overriding Russian security while searching for chemical warfare information."
Sandman let the argument drop. There was no use fighting the FNG if he had to deal with more important things. But he'd be damned if he let Frost get away with it when they get back to the base.
Just then, a low creak reached Sandman's eardrums. Snapping his head around, he trained his ACR at the door. Low whispering erupted, but sadly, it wasn't what he had hoped for.
Four Russian guards steeped into the room, their guns grasped in their hands. As they poured into the room, Sandman stepped into the shadows. The first guard sprang up as Frost reached his sight. Bringing up his gun, the Russian was met with a slam to the temple and he fell to the ground, unconscious. The other three turned around quickly only to have Sandman darken their vision and fall to the floor in a heap.
"Truck, Grinch?" Sandman snapped heatedly.
Loud gun fire was heard in the background and then a few seconds later Truck answered with quick breaths. "Sorry, Boss, these guards spotted us before we could take them out!"
"We'll be down in a minute, contact Overlord for an evacuation!"
"Rog'," Truck replied then the connection fell silent.
Sandman turned towards the door, keeping his sight set on the wooden plank. "Frost," he started.
"I know, I know. 'Type faster,' ya, ya I got it." Frost breathed in quickly and ran his eyes across the page. Just one more word…and. "Done," he called loudly.
"Good, now follow me and keep that file safe." With that Sandman sprinted towards the hallway door, sliding next to the doorframe. Cracking the door open, Sandman poked his head through the opening and glanced down the hallway. Identifying nothing, he turned back towards Frost who had strapped the file to his chest and swung his assault rifle into his hands. Nodding to each other they sprinted down the hallway and raced down the large Mansions steps.
The steps that they ran down had an old red carpet plastered to it; the once ruby red was now dull to a dark beaten rose color and the gray swirls that made a soft design had sucked in dust, but the bottom of the solder's boots had kicked the dust back into the air and twirled as their figures raced by. The walls were torn in dissimilar directions; bullet holes knocked down some painted pictures and scratched the once golden paint that had designed the Mansion walls.
Quickly looking over the railing, Frost glanced down at the living room. The large, white, bullet holed couch laid on its side as the large once glowing TV that had projected pictures, now spat out orange sparks.
"Where's Grinch and Truck?" Frost asked firmly as he ran down the remaining steps and met up with Sandman.
"My bet is that they are outside, probably holding off the remaining troops that had hid here trying to protect the information we just stole." Without another word, Sandman rushed towards the large kitchen, which was littered with old and used food wrappers. "Come on, we can meet the others this way."
As they raced their way through and out the back of the house, Frost retained his assault rifle gasped tightly in his hands. Swiftly, they came upon doors that lead to the backyard. Opening the door slightly, Sandman unconsciously swung his ACR around his shoulder and pulled out his pistol, bringing it up and stepped out onto the vast lawn. The once luscious emerald lawn was now littered with limp tangled bodies and painted in a deep red paint. The pathway leading to a pool now windswept across the lawn, large white marble stones were thrown across the field as if men had took turns tossing the large stone in competition.
Shifting his dark blue eyes across the yard, Sandman set his eyes on lawn chairs which sat unharmed next to the tarnished pathway. Bringing down his pistol, Sandman shook his head and marched towards the men sitting in the seats.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sandman asked, his voice rumbling deeply.
Grinch smiled as he lifted his ball cap slightly then settled it back onto his head. "Nothin' much, boss, just loungin'."
"While there could be more tangos around here?"
"We took care of 'em," Grinch pointed towards the bodies on the lawn.
Cutting into the conversation, Truck leaned onto his knees and spoke up. "Sir, evac should be here in 3."
Sandman sighed, "Fine…Get on your feet gentlemen, we completed this mission."
Overlord marched down a large hallway, a file clasped insecurely in his hands. His eyes scanned the pages. Taking a right, Overlord turned over a page and his eyes scanned the writing. He was currently looking over the review of Team Metal's last mission, which was to retrieve Russian Intel on rumors of chemical storages. Before the teams briefing, Overlord had high hope of this mission and maybe slight anxiety. But all had turned out well, and that's all that mattered…right? Right.
Suddenly the paper that he had so loosely held in his grasp sprang up towards his face and his hands slapped into his chest. As the file fluttered towards the ground, Overlord blinked quickly trying to replay what had just happened.
"I'm so sorry, sir." A shaken voice sprang into the air.
Overlord blinked again, and then looked towards the ground where his file now lay. But swiftly, a figure raced down towards it and shaken hands collected the file then shot up with a smile slightly in the process.
"Sir, please forgive me," the small man spoke again. His hands held out the file and smiled.
Overlord looked down at the man, "No worry." He spoke taking hold of the file.
The man smiled then jumping slightly; he rubbed the back of his neck with a childish worried smile. "Oh thank goodness I found you, sir. I was running around this place trying to find you."
"Really?" Overlord cocked one of his eyebrows, "What for?"
Laughing uneasily, the man quickly reached into his left pocket and pulled out a flash drive. "This is the intel that Team Metal had retrieved from their last mission, sir."
Smiling, Overlord reached out and took hold of the small device. "Well good thing you retried it, I was about to go and recover it myself."
The man smiled and then with a small and shaking salute, he raced pass Overlord, who paid no attention to the man, his eyes only set on the small file set in his hand.
Thanks for getting this far. I hope you enjoyed it and if you want more, please do not hesitate to review. Thanks again and all will be revealed in the next oncoming chapters. Oh, and if you have a question please ask, I'll answer in the next chapter.
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