WARNING: this chapter contains mild descriptions of gore and rape attempt.

"Private, this will be the last time I'll repeat my orders. Return to the APC immediately." Flynn's voice came through Vasquez's ratio. She snorted, gripping the knife's grips she continued her way through the poorly illuminated corridor.

"I am not taking orders from a fucking smug machine."

"Well, this 'smug machine' as you said, is your superior, who is now giving you a direct order to…"

"Forget about that shit and do something useful for once! Can you tell me where are the others?" there was only silence, but she could make out the sound of the chair being dragged around and keyboards being pressed.

"I'm receiving multiple signals from the complex's cafeteria, 50 meters ahead of your current position, but private…"

"Yeah, thanks a lot by your help. I'll be back with my guys before lunch time. Adios." She felt a bit of satisfaction as she pulled her headset off, moving faster and with lighter steps. She leaped back as she crossed a corridor corner, sighting a muscular man standing with a rifle in the middle of the corridor she'd almost walked in.

"Frank? Is that you'" he asked, and Vasquez could hear his footsteps as he approached slowly.

"Mierda." She muttered, as the man got closer.

A couple more steps and she could see the rifle's muzzle, which made her clutch the grip and flex her legs. With a quick stretch of her legs, she leaped into the man's left side like a canon ball, throwing both into the ground.

The man screamed as he felt a sharp pain in his side, and seconds later on his elbow. He squirmed, trying to reach the fallen pulse rifle, a few inches from his hand. Then, he felt something squirming on top of him, felt a small hand cover his mouth and saw the cold glisten of a tactical knife.

"Don't even bother, pendejo." Vasquez spat as the man's fingers brushed the rifle. A splatter of blood covered Vasquez's front and face, already stained with drying blood, as the knife sliced his throat open in a moment.

Guess I'll really have to take a shower when we get back to the Sulaco. She thought.

She really hated the showers on the ship; the water was always cold and smelled like chlorine. Oh well…

Just now did she realized how light the rifle was, as she strapped it to her back. Dragging the body behind her, she entered a closed lab, climbed on top of a table and crawled inside the ceiling with the corpse slowing her down a bit.

She moved slowly, stopping now and then to readjust the strap of the rifle or to get a better hold on the dead man's arms. Panting, she stopped as she reached the cafeteria's door.

She could see a large number of colonists, cuffed and restringing against a wall. At the end of the group of civilians, she recognized her team, also cuffed and in the same position as the colonists.

Mierda. She immediately noticed that Drake was missing.

Two patrols walked back and forth, holding rifles and with attentive expressions.

Making an effort to hold her panting, Vasquez crawled a little more inside the room, crouched silently, and pulled the man to her front, panting as she threw him, right on top of the spot the two patrols were standing.

The silence that ruled over the room was taken as the two raised their rifles and shot unstopping the shadow they could see on top of them. Cryes and whimpers left the colonists mouths, while the marines had the most shocked face she'd ever seen on anyone.

Vasquez pulled the borrowed rifle off her back and aimed for one of the two shooters head. The other didn't even noticed when his partner's head was blown to pieces, and kept firing until his own head was blown as well.

The bloody scene didn't help much to the shouts of the crowd of civilians that were now covered in blood and brain matter.

Pulling a panel up, Vasquez dropped to the ground, and her theatrical entrance also didn't make much for the screams.

"Jesus, Vasquez, what the hell happened to you?" Hudson inquired, scanning her bloody clothes.

"Business obligations." She replied, drawing out a key from a dead patrol's pocket.

"Flynn's probably pissed at you right now, you know?" Apone raised his eyebrow, but he did have quite an impressed expression now.

"Who cares really?" she shrugged. It took her almost ten minutes to get out all of the cuffs to everyone. "Where's Drake?" she asked to Hicks.

"A guy dragged him out. I think he took him to one of those rooms over there." He pointed to the corridor where the man had been standing with the rifle Vasquez now had.

She nodded and walked out, the sound of her footsteps barely audible even to her with all the high toned conversations and whimpers of the youngest colonists.

She went straight to the middle of the corridor, making an effort to remember which room the man had been standing in front of.

"Hello honey. How have you been?" she felt the round muzzle of an handgun against her ribs, seconds before she recognized the voice.

"Hey there Timmy. How's the eye going?" she grumbled, feeling the small gun she now identified as a revolver pushing harder against her back.

"You haven't gotten much smarter since the last time we meet, did you? Did no one told to never walk alone in a place like this?"

"I don't have time for your bullshit. Where's Drake?" she didn't fear the guy, he was a sad excuse for a rat, and she could kill him right there if she wanted. All she needed was an opportunity.

"You want to see your little friend? Very well." He literally dragged her to a close door.

She could see Drake, still laying in the bed, the sheets stained by the blood that flowed from his temple, his breathing was barely noticeable.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" she almost screamed, feeling more angered than scared. Timmy's chest vibrated as he chuckled.

"Me? I did nothing. I was just showing him what a person's choices can bring." His voice was childish, but the grip he maintained on the gun was still firm.

He pushed her further into the room, closing the door and getting the gun out of her hands, throwing it into the bed, a few inches from Drake's back. He opened his eyes a little, and Vasquez could see the confusing mix of hatred, pain and fear in his eyes.

She almost walked forward when a large hand wrapped itself around her chest, playing with her breasts. She didn't have to look up to see Timmy's teasing face, directed to Drake's, she could see his eyebrows frowning and his eyes turning dark as he started shaking with rage.

She ignored the feeling of repulsion that grew inside her, bearing his sick game, as she imagined how great it would feel to break his damn neck.

Not yet… she told herself, as the gun's muzzle stopped pushing against her ribs so hard.

If he fired at that range, she'd still get hit.

She still felt the gun when the hand started to head lower, past her pants edge and eventually her shorts.

"Let her go ,Timmy. Please." Came Drake's low beg, as he saw Vasquez involuntary struggle.

Come on Vas, it's just a goddamn finger. She told herself, breathing deep. It still brought an unpleasant burn on her entrance.

"Damn, you're tight." Timmy chuckled. A gasp finally left Vasquez lips as he pulled his finger harder and deeper. The pain was dim, but was there, just like the gun, that started to drift away from her back.

Now!

She ducked down, away from his hand and from the bullet that left the gun as he reflectively pressed the trigger.

With all the rage and strength that she had, she leaped to his legs, throwing him off balance and knocking him flat on the ground. She grabbed his wrist, as he started to raise his arm to shoot her. With a strong twist, she forced him to drop the gun, and punched his face with all the strength that she had.

She felt bones breaking as she sank her fist into his face. She still felt it wasn't enough, so she pushed him again and again. She stopped when there was nothing left worth to punch.

Panting and even bloodier than she had been before, she got up.

Drake was observing from the dusty bed, forcing his eyes to keep open. Vasquez flew there, getting out the cuffs key with shaky hands.

He grunted as she helped him up, putting all she got in her legs as she carried both to the cafeteria.