A/N: *Long exhale* I have no idea what I'm doing. But, here it is, the prologue to my new fanfiction, Red. Feel free to review and read and stuff. Expect random updates. But hopefully Chapter One will be up by around New Year's.
Prologue: Those Lost and Gone
There was blood everywhere.
It coated her hands, giving the appearance of dark gloves in the poorly-lit room she lay in. Of course, Valerie was no fool, and she knew the harsh truth; it was blood and it was hers.
Well, most of it, anyway. Some of the metallic tasting liquid was from the bullet wound she had attempted to wrap up for her partner, Cross. A sniper managed to place a well aimed shot to his chest, almost lining up to his heart. He barely had time to fully hit the ground when his heart stopped. Then, like that, she was alone.
Captain Sayle had thought that only the two of them would be perfect for the mission. After all, her and Cross were the top candidates for a mission based solely on stealth and luck. The two of them were as thick as thieves, and worked together long enough and well enough to easily take care of anything thrown at them.
Apparently Cross wasn't very lucky. And neither was Valerie, considering she was bleeding out, alone, and most likely in the center of the enemy's hiding hole.
It wasn't a surprise that she had no hope. There was no sign that reinforcements were coming. From the little amount of Russian Valerie learned from Abram, she knew that they were surprised at how small the enemy numbers were. But, they were also wary, and that made Valerie more or less satisfied.
The familiarly faint sound of a key being turned in a lock made her senses perk up, and she focused her dwindling attention on the large, metal sheet door across the room. Any small flame of hope that Valerie had for help was quickly distinguished when a large figure stepped into the room. The short dark hair, tall and lean figure, and missing fingers clued Valerie in on the identity of her visitor.
Valentin Yeltsin.
The long, pencil thin scar that ran from his face was the final distinguishing mark, and she had to grind her teeth together to kill the string of curses on her tongue. The air of authority around him was almost suffocating, and Valerie involuntarily wrinkled her nose.
Great, she thought. The last thing I need is this big-shot Russian arse giving me a speech.
That thought quickly vanished when she noticed the glint of metal from his side before the gun was hidden behind his back. She locked her eyes on Yeltsin's face, the childish idea that looks could kill being the only thing keeping her from showing worry.
"Глупые American," Yeltsin muttered. She could see him moving his right arm from behind his back, and one word left her mouth before she heard a loud bang.
"Shit."
Pain flashed through her chest, like someone shoved a burning piece of metal through her skin. Numbly, she reached up and gently probed the gushing hole, confusion washing over her like a wave.
Why am I bleeding? She thought. Why-
Everything - her thoughts, her fears, her heartbeat - was interrupted by the growing darkness around her, which came as silently as her reinforcements.