CASUALTIES 2: Of Wolves and Chameleons
CHAPTER ONE: Viper
Zanya sat on the marine's chest with a bored look on her face, shoving her gun down the man's throat. He gagged, bile rode over his lips as he stared wide-eyed up at her, frantically twitching the ropes binding his arms down to the wooden arms of the overturned chair he was trapped in. Her feet were on either side of his head, fixing his gaze on her cool green eyes, even her dreads were tinged with green. In any other situation, the marine would've found her gorgeous but he'd heard the other two mentioning the fact that she was seventeen, seventeen and hell bent on something.
He hadn't even seen her coming, he'd been surfing in the dark, cruising over the dark waves like a shark in the darkness. It was in stark contrast to that time in that tiny little sub, bumping shoulders with traitors and watching his superiors dump their bodies in the ocean. Hadn't they had families? They were misguided to follow Cobra, yes, but they were still people, still people with people waiting for them.
He swallowed awkwardly around the barrel of the gun, thinking of his young family at home who were probably wondering what had happened to him. What will happen to him; he knows how this ends. He's seen their faces, heard their voices, maybe even picked up on something he shouldn't have. They have to kill him, they will, it's only a matter of time.
"Listen, mate," she drawls thickly, lifting the gun up an inch. "I don't want trouble, not yet anyway. Was wondering if you could maybe get in touch with some of your friends for me."
"Didn't keep in contact, ma'am."
She laughs. Oh God, and its music for all of five seconds until she shoves the gun as far down as she can, leaning over him with a sick look of fascination. Not smiling, but her eyes zero in on the sweat beading down his brow, how wide his eyes are, how small his pupils are. She slowly moves the gun up and down, rhythmically, sensually, and he groans despite himself.
Her lips twitch.
"You a father, sir?" she parrots back at him, mimicking the baritone tremor in his voice. "I had a father once," she continued normally, pulling the gun out and letting his gasp for breath.
She waits for him to catch his breath, repeats the question, and then he nods obediently. Zanya smiles this time, he doesn't know her name and he never will but for a little while, she pretends they've known each other for years. She dips the gun back into his mouth, surprised as he allows the action, almost welcomes it, and she gently flutters it up and down his throat.
She lets this go on for a while, tipping her head back and gazing through the space between the door and wall; white lights spills out from the TV, illuminating the shadows of her aunt and uncle lounging on the couch. They looked nothing like their older brother, and look too much like each other. She doesn't count them as especially smart, not by a longshot, but she needs them for this to work. Well, maybe not Aunt Zarana who flaunts her newly dyed pink hair as if she served Cobra the head of every G I Joe in hiding. Zanya does not like Zarana and Zarana does not like Zanya, but the girl does not care. As long as they all have the same enemy, they need each other. That and Zarana, for all her faults, is a master of disguise and small arms. Zanya does not like changing her appearance so much, constant dyeing ruins and thins hair, and Zanya is damn proud of her dreads – Father loved them so.
Speaking of which, from her seat on the marine's chest, she can feel his cock poke against her back, a wetness soaking through his pants. Zanya scowls immediately.
"I had a father once," she murmurs again, pulling the gun of his mouth. She grimaces at the stream of saliva dripping off the barrel, sliding the gun across the floor as the man gasps. His eyes are glazed, his hips thrust vainly behind her and Zanya steels herself against the urge to turn around and claw his gonads off.
"And if you were my father," Zanya purrs, "I would be so disappointed."
She plunges her fingers directly into his eye sockets, listening to him scream and feeling him thrash wildly beneath her. Her guardians are at the door in an instant and she looks coolly over her shoulder, warning them not to come inside. Zarana makes a face and turns around with a curse, but Zandar lingers for a while, curious.
Zanya prefers her uncle, he keeps his mouth shut and allow his actions to speak for themselves. His hair's still recovering from Zarana's horrid dye work, it's a pale red too close to pink for his taste. He uses holographics for his disguises, and prefers knives to guns. The face tattoos help make him look more intimidating because he's so damn lanky, unlike his older brother.
Once the marine quits squirming, Zanya stands up and washes her hands in the dirty sink, sighing heavily and pulling the chair back into a standing position.
"Nothing from him either," she laments and Zandar casts an arm around her shoulder.
"Someone has what you need, baby girl, I know it."
"I know, Uncle, but its so frustrating. She isn't helping." Zanya growls, eyeing the silhouette of her aunt with distain.
"Oh, come off it, princess," Zarana sneers. "What were you expecting? Having everything handed to you off the bat? How pathetic."
Zandar grabs Zanya's upper arm before she can take a proper swipe at Zarana, giving his twin sister a stout glare as Zanya takes a moment to steady herself. She doesn't grace her aunt with a retort, moving instead to the pantry and thrusting it open. Inside is another man, similarly bound with a rag stuffed down his throat, he looks wildly from Zanya to the twins and finally at the dead marine. He wails from behind his gag as Zanya pulls him into the kitchen area, having him face the dead man whose eyes drip like mucus down his face. Zanya sighs deeply and puts a hand on the soldier's quaking shoulder.
"Now listen hear, sailor boy, because I have a few questions for you."
Fenris feels a knot in her stomach forming when she wakes up, clutching her head next and groaning. Something been bothering her for a while, but she can't quite place it. She knows it's a memory, something she's been repressing which probably explains the unconventional pain – her brain must be asking her why the hell she wants to remember something so traumatising – but still.
It's been two whole years since that ordeal, and now she can converse with Storm Shadow sans killing intent. She hasn't socked him in the nose in a long time and nor does she long to, perhaps because he's a decent fellow without the mind control and the threat of exile. True, the Arashikage ninja haven't really accepted him but his decision to relinquish his status as heir certainly gained him points. Jinx, for all intents and purposes, is now leading the clan with some advice from her cousin. Wouldn't want anyone thinking he's influencing her or something stupid like that. No, Storm Shadow has been living with Snake Eyes and herself, the three of them an efficient three-man team.
Fenris likes it, their missions are simple and to the point: retrievals, tracking, and any real fighting is minimal. Not that she's has a problem with fighting, Fenris wields the chain Gleipnir with deadly precision that she doesn't even need to get close to her enemies to wound or kill them. The distance helps and Snake Eyes has been an excellent teacher of letting things go. If missions go south, if killing is involved, he'll stay up the entire night and coach her through the nightmares and her own insecurities.
As Fenris makes her way into the living room, she finds Erebus lounging on the sole couch, a laptop propped on his knees and his crimson eyes glaring at the screen. There are bags under his eyes, Fenris senses the lecture Snake Eyes is bound to give him, but her teacher isn't in. Erebus looks up blearily from the screen, his eyes open a little wider and he abruptly shuts the laptop and shoves it under the couch, bounding over like puppy who hasn't grown into his feet yet. Which could be considered ironic because Erebus is missing an arm.
Cobra shot it off two years, right at the shoulder area so poor guy doesn't even get a stub. At least when crossing his arms, it could've looked intimidating, yet it looks…romantic? Like he's hugging himself shyly in front of a crush, Fenris wisely keeps this thought to herself.
And as his hand comes down on her head, she readies herself for the morning greeting.
"Good morning, pup."
Oh yes, that.
Little tidbit: Fenris nearly bit off Firefly's arm. She managed to get her teeth around one of his arm bones as he was choking her, apparently everyone unanimously decided "Fenris" was an apt name for her (who knew they all had some Norse mythology knowledge?). And really, Fenris likes it too, it's the new nickname of "pup" that's the issue here. Doesn't help that Snake Eyes is starting to use it.
"Morning, where is everyone?"
"Playing ninja in the woods," Erebus replied, flopping back onto the couch. "Breakfast is in the fridge."
"You aren't game today?" Fenris asks, opening the fridge and pulling open a small bowl of sticky rice and salmon, a bit of miso soup, and even some dango (Snake Eyes knows Fenris likes something sweet in the morning).
"No, I actually have work to do."
"What kind of work?"
Erebus pulls the laptop back onto his lap and frowns, flipping it open and staring pensively at the screen. Fenris sits down at the table with her chopsticks, staring at him. Erebus shrugs and leans back a little.
"Nothing concrete, just whispers." He answers vaguely.
Fenris frowns.
"Can't be "just whispers" if it's keeping you awake."
"I'm sorry?"
"Dude," she gestures at him. "Bags under your eyes, hair undone, clothes look a little more rumpled, and you didn't have anyone tie your sleeve."
Erebus opens his mouth for a retort but closes it in the time it takes for Fenris to stride over and take his empty sleeve, tying it into a knot and patting his cheek. He smiles at her and sighs deeply, running his hand through his hair with his eyes closed.
"Want me to braid it?"
"Eat first." He relents, tapping his fingers on the keyboard.
Fenris obliges him, finishing quietly and jumping in behind him with a pair of clean chopsticks and a hair tie. She combs his fingers through his hair and fishtails it, tying the elastic around the end and then looping the braid into a circle on top of his head. Fenris sticks the chopsticks into the bun and tugs at his hair experimentally.
"Dude, we totally need beads for your hair." Fenris announces, resting her chin on his shoulder.
The screen is awash with code, a chatroom or something, and the word that keeps popping up is VIPER. She eyes Erebus and he groans, stretching his arm and leaning back against her. Fenris fondly remembers her brother Logan, how they used to do this all the time as kids when both of them had long hair. Fenris prefers her short hair now, no one can pull on it and its blue!
"Yeah, yeah, sure." He says distractedly.
"…would I be completely off to assume VIPER is related to Cobra?"
"Not entirely, which worries me. Cobra's been quiet, oddly quiet, and then out of the blue this group comes up sporting a similar name? I don't like coincidences."
"Do the guys know?"
"Do we know what?"
Fenris looks up at Storm Shadow as he pushes into the interior of the cabin, she raises an eyebrow at his bare chest. Without looking up from the computer screen, Erebus reaches over and grabs a towel from a basket next to the couch, throwing it at Storm Shadow's face.
Behind him, Snake Eyes slides inside and shuts the door behind him. He is also shirtless, and Erebus throws another towel blindly. Fenris smiles faintly at the two of them, more so at Snake Eyes as he shakes his lengthening blond hair. He'll likely cut it in the next couple of days, but will allow enough hair to tie a small ponytail because it amuses Fenris. Mask less, Snake Eyes smiles gratefully at Fenris and walks over for a quick hair before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
Erebus rolls his eyes and gestures to his screen. "It's this thing called VIPER…"