Author's Note: Hey guys! Hawkeye here! You may be wondering what this story could possibly be about so let me tell you! (:
It's a new, and totally improved version of The Unloved (hence, take two.) In this version of the Unloved, I'm going to play the plot out a little differently, Vade's going to make some different choices, and I may totally change the ending up on y'all! (:
I hope you guys enjoy this version just as much as you have enjoyed the original story. (: Thank you so so so much for staying with me. :)
Please enjoy! Please favorite, follow, and review and please leave some suggestions for chapter two! :D
-Hawkeye33
I sit in the middle of my bed, letting the music on my iPhone play through shuffle as I absently mind-idly drummed my fingers along with the beat on my stomach. My foot, as if it had its own mind, tapped along too with me hardly noticing at all. The noise of random automatic gunfire and yelling was loud enough to be heard over to music blasting from my earphones and causing me to leap quickly to my feet and peer carefully out the window.
Outside in my yard, well, I guess what used to be my yard, is about nearly a dozen soldiers advancing their way through the guards my dad, I clenched my teeth at the word, had kept around. It's no doubt that they are here looking for my father, maybe even me too. What I know that they don't, is that my dad is long gone.
And if they can't get to him, then I'm next. Because I'm his daughter. Vladimir Makarov is my father.
And my name is Vade Makarov.
But even as unfortunate as it is, I must even take a moment to remind myself sometimes. It's more than likely that this team know my father isn't here, they may just be here to get me. Because it's highly possible that I may have information on him.
Information they can use.
And even I know that they aren't just here to rescue me from this hell hole.
I know that it's highly unlikely-more like impossible- that I am going to be going in along as a teammate, or a squad mate.
No. I know I'm going in as the enemy. Because that is what Makarov has made me.
I get my already packed duffle bag out of my closet and quickly dig through it making sure that I have what I think I'll need. Afterwards, I sit on my bed with two stacks of pictures; one of those which to keep and the other of which to destroy.
The pile to keep I carefully place inside an envelope and place in the inside pocket of my jacket. The second pile, I begin to burn.
When all the pictures are burnt, I sit on the edge of my bed listening to my music, once again. I have one ear bud out so I will be able to hear the soldiers when they approach.
The gunfire has died down, I notice with a slight tilt of my head. I listen carefully holding my breath trying to pinpoint their movement. No use.
I'm seventeen years old. I shouldn't have to worry about the stuff I worry about. I want to have friends, go out, have fun. Instead, I have to be sneaky and cross my fingers that he wouldn't catch me as I snooped through his stuff, day after day, the whole time pretending to work by his side, pretending to be the enemy.
Now, just the idea of even being near my father makes me sick.
This had been going on since I was fourteen years old. After I found out the truth about my mother...
I tilt my head again as I hear footsteps on the stairs. They're almost here.
I wish he wasn't my father.
I wish I was any where but here.
I wish my last name wasn't Makarov.
I wish...
I run my hands through my black hair before turning to the mirror to stare at my pale blue eyes.
I ignore the feeling of dread that settles in my stomach as I reliaze exactly how much I resemble him.
Just my fucking luck.
I don't know what my mom ever saw in him. Maybe he was different then...
I put my laptop and cell phone into my bag along with something else.
A letter. Written by my mothers hand, instructing me to open and read the day of my eighteenth birthday.
I check the chain on my neck. Still there. It's his wedding ring from when he was married to my mother. I promised myself three years ago that I would never take it off until he was dead.
I also twist the turquoise ring around on my finger. It had belonged to my mother...
My breathe catches in my throat as I hear a gun cock and my door swing open.
"Vade Makarov?" I hear a rough, Scottish accent ask.
"That's me." I say maybe a little bit too sarcastically as I turn to face man.
"Don't move." The guy who spoke this time has a deep southern British accent. He's wearing a skull print balaclava and dark red, crimson tinted sunglasses. It doesn't bother me though. I've seen worse before.
"My name is MacTavish. We need you to come with us." I don't move.
"Your gonna catch him, right? Soon? Before he kills more people?"I ask a nervously, but not letting one bit of my fear show. I hear Skull guy scoff.
"I'm not on his side! Believe what the hell you want but I did simply what I had to do to survive!" I growl trying my best not to yell.
"I've heard that story only bout over a million times already. Captain, are you sure..." Skull face asks to what seems like no one in particular.
"I'm sure." The Scott says, then turns back to me. "Are you going to come with us or do we have to take you?"
"I'll come. That's my bag right there. Check it if you'd like." I shrug trying to keep calm as I kick my duffle bag over to them.
"Roach, grab her arm. Just in case if she try's anything funny. Meat, get the bag." Skull face instructs and the first one he pointed to, a young boy with chocolate brown hair and green eyes gently grabs my arm. Without meaning to, I flinch back. He raises an eyebrow.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to do my job." Roach says softly and I just reliaze that everyone in the room is staring at me as I try to level my breathing. "Vade right? You can call me Gary."
"I'm sorry, Gary." I say softly as I step back over to him and let him gently place his hand around my bicep. He leads me outside to an awaiting helicopter where we all climb in.
I sit sandwiched between Roach and Skull face. Without meaning too, I fall asleep leaning against Roach.
Seven Hours Later...
"Makarov. Wake up, your home." Upon hearing the name Makarov, I shoot straight up. I clench my teeth and fist at the name, at the fact that he just called me by my fathers name, damn well for sure that he just called me the fucking enemy.
I look around the small space to see who made the comment but there's no mistaking that southern British accent. I glare at Skull Face and I swear he's smirking underneath that damned mask.
"Ghost, Roach, take her to room one. Chemo, take the bag. We'll do a thorough search of it then." I freeze halfway out of the helicopter.
"Room one? What does that mean?" I ask. Instead of getting an answer, they all share a quick glance before looking back to me. So I raise my voice. "What the hell does room one mean?"
Again, I'm met with silence. I bite my lip hesitantly as I debate whether to comply or bolt. I guess Gary- or Roach rather- notices this cause he reaches for my arm. I jump away and pull my arm back. The team shares a look as I glance around the area. I take a deep breathe as I reliaze that it's better to comply.
"I'll follow. Just- just show me where the damned room is." I walk silently behind Ghost and Roach as they lead me to room one. I follow them into their base and downstairs into the basement to a concrete wall with a window. Which I know is actually a one way mirror.
Room one is an interrogation room.
I sit in the chair and tap my foot impatiently. Roach stands off to the side, as if he's hiding in a corner. Skull Face walks around me, like a shark circling it's prey.
"Again, Makarov. If you knew was Papa Makarov was planing, why didn't you make a move to stop it?" Ghost snarls as he finally takes a seat across from me.
"How could I? I had no way to. He made me do it! He made me go! My brother was there! I watched him shoot my brother in cold blood!"
"There's no record of another kid, Makarov. Next lie." Ghost says impatiently.
"He was my brother. I didn't say by blood." I growl. "And again," I say mocking him, "I was forced to. I didn't have a fucking choice you bloody bastard!" I yell, my voice getting a little higher pitched then I would've liked. I'm met with a fist to the face, causing my head to snap back. I hold in my grimace of pain and spit the blood out.
"Ghost stop. I know she's Makarov's kid but bloody hell. She's a kid! Whatever she did, it couldn't have been that bad!" Roach speaks up. I let my gaze flicker over his face before returning them to the floor.
"Oi, bug. Captain didn't tell you eh? She was at the airport with her father. Accepted the rifle from him and is even shown giving covering fire to his team."
I watch as Roach's- Gary's- face falls. He's just a kid too, I remind myself. Maybe he's one of them who believes the bad guys aren't really terrible people and haven't done bad things... I stare as he leaves the room and Ghost chuckles before heading to the door.
"Everything's about to change."
Hello! Oh my! This is so different from the first chapter of The Unloved! Hmm... What else do I have planned? Can you guess? ;) Ok, so you can feel free to leave me suggestions for chapter two.. Or I'll do an AU chapter for valentines day! You all pick. :) Please review and thanks for the support!
-Hawkeye33
-Over and Out