Thought I'd try something a little different. This is a Splinter Cell fanfic, takes place sometime between the events of the multiplayer campaign and single player campaign of Conviction. Sam Fisher will be in this but not a main character. Anyway, Enjoy.
Sao Paul 200 hours
"Alert! Alert!"
"Intruders! Intruders!"
I sat up on my small bunk groaning heavily. The one time I have gotten drunk in two years and they have finally come for me. Fuck. I stood up, boots already on and grabbed the shotgun in the crevice between my mattress and the wall. I had started sleeping fully clothed simply for safety reasons and after that, pure laziness. I should have known that they would finally find me, I just did not expect them to find me so soon! I turned to my dresser and grabbed my "To-Go" bag and my night vision goggles, I looked out of the window and I could see the hit squad coming up the steps towards the shack.
There was no way I could climb out the window without them seeing, and killing me, or capturing me which would actually be worse. I would be made an example and those damn scientists would perform those dreaded "Operations" that they were so fond of. The fuck I was going to let that happen. Luckily for me, chances are that they were told "No Collateral Damage" and would try to take me out silently. I cocked my shotgun, the satisfying sound bringing a grim smile to my face. I am hell-bent on causing problems, and my dear pump-action friend Cassie is always there to help.
I could hear them outside my door so, as quietly as possible I walked to the door and placed the barrel of the shotgun to the very thin wooden door and waited. I then could hear the footsteps stop. Bingo, I thought before pulling the trigger. That gave me the element of surprise, as well as knocking one down for the count. If I remembered correctly, usually hit teams went in groups of five and this was no different. Using the momentum I had from the first shotgun blast I also buried the machete I had next to the door into the head of another member of the Splinters.
They hadn't been expecting that. Calculated the risks and my best bet was to distract them and run. There was no way I could survive an all out firefight in this small of an area. I pulled the pin out of a flash bang and dropped it at their feet, trying to stay close enough to them that they couldn't risk shooting me, but far enough away to where I wouldn't be affected by the flashbang.
Fuck, miscalculation. Blinded by the flash I continued pumping rounds from my shotgun towards the Splinters. I backpedaled to the window while still firing off shots. I was almost out of shells for my shotgun so I dropped it and started firing with the SW1911. Once I made it to the window I rolled out of it (as favela windows do not have glass) and ducked under it, reloading. I judged my time and then sprinted towards the center of the favela blending in perfectly with the crowd that was constantly in the streets. I began relaxing because I felt relatively safer. I ducked into a bathroom and washed my face of the sweat that had gathered there.
I grabbed a long sleeved flannel shirt from my bag and put it on over my dirty tank top and looked into the mirror. I kept my hair close cropped for practicality, and had five o'clock shadow that I probably would never shave. My brown work boots and dirty jeans made me fit in better with the other inhabitants of the favela, which are very depraved places. I definitely enjoyed my time here, the people were friendly and they made delicious food from practically nothing.
I hoped that the Splinters would not harm any of the other people because of me. With a sigh I turned around and walked out of the bathroom, upon doing so I was immediately looking down a barrel of a .357. "Get on the fucking ground now," came the Splinter's voice, an American. I dropped down to one knee.
"Shit."