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As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Paszek fucking hated this place.

There wasn't a more polite way to state it. That was just how he felt about this godforsaken Ethiopian prison. The place would forever be tainted in painful memories…and even more painful realities.

Despite this, though, the plane ride over there had him feeling considerably less anxious than the ones preceding it. Maybe it was just the leave of absence he had taken…but it seemed that this operation was not nearly as urgent as the last few he had undertaken. This was just a simple search and rescue mission. Sure, it had its consequences, but on the whole it remained relatively unimportant on the international scale. In fact, Paszek thought that this mission, from just about every conceivable angle, was identical to their objective just over a half decade ago.

Rescue the VIPs, try to stay, quiet, and don't do anything to compromise.

Of course, they had broken the latter two rules, by both engaging in some (rather brutal) firefights with the NRC, and by lobbying Taylor to save the remaining prisoners.

Hendricks was the only officer there without a DNI at the time…and the only one to even consider saving those doomed men. Paszek hardly said a word during the entire mission, but he remembered wanting to do the same…wanting to help those men out of there. It confounded him as to why Taylor and the rest of the team had been so cruel…but the ways things ended seemed to remind him.

He still had the nightmares. The chopper flying out into the distance. The damp soil on his face. The flashing red lights. The cold steel appendages on his arms. And again on his legs. The absolute searing pain. His screams were animalistic…a reaction to a fate worse than any other.

He remembered how hopeless he was. How he sat there, staring at the sky and feeling the rain on his eyes, if only because he dared not look at the bloodied mess that used to be his limbs. He wanted nothing more than for than damn grunt to stomp on his head. To end it all. End the suffering. He cursed those men they had saved. Why did they have to rescue them? There were safe, and he was the prisoner now. It was selfish, but they were the thoughts of the man about to die without purpose.

"You told us it was a bad idea, and we did it anyways. Are you happy now? Are you going to say you told me so?"

That was what he had wanted so badly to ask the man who stood in front of him after that robot fell to bits on the ground. Maybe he'd see the stubborn bastard laugh just one time before he died.

He remembered that voice telling him that it would all be okay. He told him he would be okay. Fine. Alright. He'd live. He would make it. The cries of pain continued. Loud. Thrashing. No, no, he continued. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

Taylor may have saved his life…but he didn't make it okay. There was most certainly a difference.

Was a DNI really the only chance Paszek had at surviving? There weren't any surgeries that didn't involve rewiring his brain? They weren't any prosthetics that didn't come equipped with hacking systems and grenades?

Initially, Paszek was grateful for such "upgrades"…they made him faster, stronger. He was also given the impression that a DNI would make him smarter. That simulation they put him in during the surgery was…dare he say it…fun? Jumping 15 feet in the air, running across walls, taking down drones with a wave of his hand…it made him feel like a new person. Like more than a person. Like one of those superheroes he read about as a kid.

But not even 15 minutes later he was already seeing the side effects. It didn't matter how many times Diaz told him otherwise…those grunts were alive. Alive and hostile. They surrounded him…piled on him…trapped him.

"Hey, man! Snap out of it!"

Diaz seemed much more understanding in that moment than he normally was. For once, Paszek could tell that he felt some level of empathy. He must've known what it was like. Paszek could only wonder what bogeymen Diaz had seen. And what about Maretti? Taylor? Hall? What were their nightmares like? Paszek knew they saw something. Hall had her Bastogne. Did everyone else have one, too?

And those voices…those voices he had heard the day before…what the hell were those? He played the scene over and over again in his head. He swore that they were familiar…he had heard them before. But what was the point? Is his mind just playing more tricks on him? They had hallucinations before DNIs, right? Maybe it was that.

Did these voices expect Paszek to know what to do with the information they gave him? Everything was vague and…oddly fragmented. He just wanted answers. All the voices did was raise questions. Maybe that's what they wanted. To drive him crazy. To push him over the edge. To make sure he'd never be the person he wanted to be.

No. Nope. His mind was drifting too far. There was a mission. A mission to do. That was important. Mission. Mission. Objectives. Mission.

Rescue VIPs. Don't compromise mission. Stay as quiet as possible. Don't compromise mission.

Don't compromise.

Don't.

Kane, too, was having a moment of disdainful nostalgia…though not quite for the same reason. Since the prison was too far behind enemy lines, she was delegated to the closest CIA black site, which just so happened to be Al-Arish, where they had operated during their time in Egypt.

Just about every one of these covert buildings was designed on the same model, obviously with a few exceptions for the environment. But Al-Arish's layout remained very similar to all other bases…including the former Singapore location.

It was still an experience that she couldn't quite process. She had a surprising amount of foresight on the situation; she knew the 54i were coming…and about how long it would take. There just wasn't enough time to do anything. She knew that Paszek and Hendricks were simply too far away and in front of too many hostiles to make it there on time.

She told them not to come for her.

And when the militant group rolled in and started shooting, she expected nothing less than death. She remembered hearing gunfire one floor down, then in the hallway over, then in the next room, and then right outside her door. She remembered the explosion that rocked the upper levels-the glass that rained down from above and shot itself out into the night sky. She remembered the black-haired vixen busting down the already worn door and grabbing her by the neck.

But what Kane remembered most was the way Paszek looked when he rushed into the room.

The absolute fury and rage and distress that she saw on his face was something she would both never forget and pray she'd never see again. This was a man unhinged. A man with everything to lose. A man with no filters and no restrictions.

She swore she could almost hear the gritting of his teeth as he tackled Goh Xiulan and pinned her to the floor. She could almost see the bloodlust in his eyes as he forced her head into the scorching fire. She knew that he held the warlord's head within the flames for much longer than was necessary…but he seemed to take an odd pleasure out of it. Revenge? Finality? She never could exactly figure out why.

Kane speculated that perhaps that was the moment in which Paszek truly lost himself. He hadn't even contracted the virus at that point…Corvus wasn't doing the deed. But maybe Paszek had stepped out of the shallows far before he found a vengeful AI in his brain.

It was all Paszek. The anger. The violence. Though she couldn't discount that conversation that had but two days later. Yes, there was Paszek, the killing machine, the unbridled beast…but there was also Paszek the soft-spoken partner, the hopeless romantic…

She just hoped that their return to battle would not unleash the former for any longer than he needed to be in control. But she wasn't going to get too optimistic. There was still something…off about him. Paszek had something lingering somewhere in his head…Kane just couldn't put her finger on it. Sure, it could just be something harmless, or even trivial. His history, though, didn't seem to support that. Despite how much Paszek had opened up to her, Kane still knew that his shell was tough. It took a lot to reach his core…to really unnerve him.

If there was one thing Kane was sure about Paszek, though, it was that he comes back.

He always comes back.

Fear in numbers was the name of the game for the NRC, and it seemed to work for them. In a world governed by free speech and tolerance, there are always going to be those who are afraid. The scared joined the NRC hoping that it would unite everybody. And all it took was guns, machetes, and a bit of chemical persuasion to flip the tables. Now the people of Africa were scared, and NRC was to be feared.

From a purely historical perspective, the fact that the NRC ditched the long-tenured practice of child soldiers was rather interesting. It seemed that their leaders had very…optimistic views regarding the solidity of their ideology. Rather than recruit boys at a young age and indoctrinate them…the NRC knew that the threat of not joining would be motivation enough, and that wasn't dependent of anything, age being the least of worries.

Despite the barbarity of the coalition, they did recognize that, on their own, they stood no chance of sustaining themselves. The WA was already starting campaigns against them, both on the ground and through word of mouth, so it was only a matter of time before they found themselves tucked under the wing of the CDP. However, it would be a mistake to signify the CDP's acquisition of the NRC as an acceptance of their policies; just like in the 20th century cold war, the CDP simply took the side against their rivals in order to make a political statement. But the bottom line remained the same for CDP; they wanted to control as much territory as possible. No human rights violations were going to change that.

Insertion into the NRC prison was easier than anticipated. As is turned out, they were so technologically underwhelmed that they hadn't the ability to rebuild the DEAD systems that the WA had destroyed 5 years ago. It was almost laughable to think that a militant group that controlled over half of a continent didn't have the resources to repair technology that dated back to the 2040s…but then again, computers weren't exactly their strong suit. The damage that had been done to the actual prison block on the facility was minor, and as such the building remained entirely intact, exactly where it stood before.

The CIA insisted on again using enemy uniforms in order to avoid detection. Of course, official records would state otherwise, as disguising oneself with another uniform is technically a violation of WA protocol, albeit a poorly enforced one. Paszek certainly understood their purpose, but he felt that going undercover gave too much of an impression of leeway; it left many with the mindset that they were simply incapable of having their cover blown. Hiding in the shadows, however risky it may be, was always more comfortable for Paszek. Instead of worrying what people should or shouldn't see, it becomes about what they can and can't see. It takes the speculation out of the equation.

Paszek and the small squadron assigned to him where able to enter the compound on one of its side entrances; the gatekeeper opened up, no questions asked when he saw the blue camouflaged vests, though the fact that all but one of the five were Caucasian may have been somewhat suspicious. In any case, it was preferable to their original plan of letting Paszek test out his new weapon on the poor soul that guarded the entryway.

The group strolled past the air runways, each clutching their KN-44s and remaining entirely silent; there was no way speaking English would go unnoticed with most of the NRC speaking Oromo or Swahili.

Large cargo planes both took off and landed, while jeeps drove by in both directions. It all seemed to have purpose-perhaps transporting ammo, rations, prisoners, or whatever else. Of course, Paszek had no real way of knowing whether any of that was true; the constant flow of resources could just be entirely random-moving just for the sake of moving. Foot soldier, too, seemed to be moving around as well nearly constantly, although this was probably in order to create some kind of patrol. The presence of the WA squad in the facility appeared to shine their system in a negative light.

Paszek noted a few changes in the layout; namely, a newer, much longer (and presumably, much sturdier) bridge linked the prison area to the rest of the compound. Most likely, it was to keep any escapees from reaching anything that could aid them in getting out. This did not bode well for their plan today…last time, the still managed to extract the prisoners after blowing their cover, but this time, there was no room for error.

Of course, Paszek wasn't too concerned about that. He repeated that mission briefing over and over in his head. Don't compromise. Don't compromise. Don't compromise.

It wasn't long before they had crossed over the bridge and reached the door to the prison. Paszek didn't hesitate; he removed a keycard that opened the electronic locks, courtesy of Kane. An equal lack of apprehension came from the two soldiers standing on the other side; if you could get in, you were supposed to be there, it seemed.

The group walked through the first hallway, which seemed to consist entirely of administrative offices, probably for security or intelligence; it would only make sense, considering that captured POWs were their primary source of info leaks. The men on the other side of the half-tinted glad windows paid no mind to them.

Paszek holstered his rifle, and the rest of the squad followed suit. They started to pass by a few interrogation rooms. A few were occupied, but Paszek couldn't see who was in there or what was going on…it was probably best that he didn't know. It would only distract him.

They neared the main control room, identical to how it looked on the previous mission. Two of the men, Reynolds and Coleman, casually walked over and stood against the wall halfway between the room and the door they entered from the hallway. Needed some cover fire if things got hot.

The remaining three entered the control room. There's an NRC soldier monitoring the screens. That's not good. They needed him out of there.

The group's regional contact, Mwangi's his name, walked up to the man and started speaking to him in Oromo. Something about a change in guard. They needed to swap duties; he needed to head out to the south side of the facility to watch over a different sector of the prison.

The NRC guy didn't seem to buy it. He bites back, and a bit louder. Paszek can just barely make out what he's saying.

"That can't be right. Command hasn't said shit about post changes. Let me speak to the Sergeant…"

He started to walk out, and Mwangi steps in front of him to hold him back. Mwangi kept his cool, tried to talk about how the papers were on their way…he just needed to get to his new post.

Nope. That didn't work. NRC guy gets even louder. Mwangi kept trying his best, but it's clear that nothing is working. Paszek can see the sweat dribbling down his forehead.

That was it. Their cover was about to be blown.

Paszek tapped his right hand to his right temple three times.

The last WA, Brent, reached into the bag he carried over his shoulder. He saw the signal. He took out a small circular device, not dissimilar from an old landmine, and placed it on the ground.

Brent snapped his fingers once.

Paszek did the same, only twice.

Brent replied by repeating the action, but adding on a third.

And in cadence with the snaps, a faint booming sound is emitted. All the screens in the room shut down to black, and the ceiling lights dimmed down to almost nothing.

Before the NRC soldier can react, he is shoved towards the center of the room by Mwangi, who quickly dives for the door.

In a single swift motion, Paszek reached for his holster, took out the newly minted cyro-pistol, and fired one round at the stumbling hostile.

There was no sound. No scream. No echo. Just the sight of the NRC guy falling to the ground; there was only an unsatisfying plop as his forehead connected with the concrete.

Paszek had his priorities straight. He ran to the door, checking to see if anyone else had noticed. Coleman and Reynolds were standing exactly where they had been just a minute or so earlier. They hadn't even looked in Paszek's direction.

Paszek helped Mwangi get up off the floor, and then knelt beside the corpse of the NRC solider. He needed to see exactly what kind of damage the weapon could really do.

It was certainly something to see.

His face was something of an enigma-a bleary red in some places but a ghoulish blue in others. All of the extremities: fingers, ears, eyes…they were all encased in tiny ice crystals. Every inch of skin that was exposed was coated with a damp and cold mist. Upon turning the body over, Paszek could see that the parts of his body that impacted with the ground had begun to shatter; a small piece of his forehead, dyed a eerie violet, fell out of place, while both of his wrists had noticeable cracks in them. Had he not known any better, Paszek would have assumed the man had been buried in an avalanche.

Paszek wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of him was unnerved…something about killing a man with ice made him feel like he was dealing an unjust amount of pain…the relative quickness of the death couldn't shake him from the idea that there was an incalculable deal of suffering on this man.

Yet there was another part of him that took an immense amount of joy in his handiwork…pleasure? No…more like pride. Yes, a pride in what he had done. Something felt…right about killing a man with ice instead of lead. To make others feel the cold just as he had. To make others understand. He savored the grating irony.

No. No. No. That was not right. That was not what he was thinking. It couldn't be. Right? There was no way Paszek had actually thought those things. He was in a mission. Missions are not for thinking. They are for doing.

He holstered his pistol and stood back up from the body. While Brent picked up the device form the ground, Mwangi continued to stare at the fallen soldier, shaking his head.

Paszek was not paying the closest of attention to the younger African man, but he noticed an absolutely indistinguishable look of on his face-as if something had shaken him to the deepest part of his core. This was a man who had seen the NRC's machete work up close and personal. Who had seen the fall of the Eastern African Coast for everything it was: degrading and violent and savage. But this…this frozen dead man on the floor was either a total mystery or something he understood all too well. Paszek had no clue which on it was. He only had a single thought to express.

"They say, when a dead man turns blue, it is because he has no heart."

The distress in his voice was sharply distinct, even under the thick accent. He seemed to simultaneously nod and shake his head just after uttering the phrase - a strange conglomeration of disappointment and recognition.

He turned his head to look at Paszek, to see what his reaction would be, but there was none to behold. Paszek had that same stoic look plastered on his face. He simply picked up the body and walked over to the other end of the room, away from the door, and set it down in the corner. Anybody that would have happened to be watching likely would have thought that Paszek didn't seem to care about the ordeal at all.

After a few brief moments, Paszek heard a familiar ringing sound in his head.

"I saw the blip from the equalizer. Everything alright?" Kane's voice was a welcome one to hear again, equal parts collected, warm, and invested.

Paszek didn't need to speak out loud. That's what the DNI was for.

"All good. Had to take out a hostile. No alarms tripped. The weapon does its job just fine; I'll give a more detailed analysis later. Good work on that equalizer, too-that thing really saved our skins."

"Glad to see everything's working out. Call if you need anything."

It was an entirely mundane exchange between the two. Paszek couldn't really tell if it was just them being caught up in the mission, or them just trying to ignore their fears. Either way, Paszek was just happy to know she was there. Living with a guardian angel, whether in your ear or by your side, was something he could always appreciate.

No. No. Happy was not what he needed to be. He needed to be focused. Focused. Don't compromise. He almost did already. Don't do it again. Don't.

The computer screens started to boot up, and the lights returned to their normal brightness. The device responsible for the crashing of the electronics was known as the equalizer. A product of Kane's design, it was meant to knock out power to remote areas for a short period of time before returning everything to normal. The timer on this particular one was set at a 17 seconds, a seemingly random number; but it had its significance. 17 seconds could give the squad enough time to take out a handful of hostiles, but was just under the standard camera recalibration period of 18.6 seconds, so the outage would not be considered unusual by anyone monitoring them. Though it was very useful in some very particular situations, it couldn't feasibly be activated in a CDP controlled building, for example; their cameras were far more advanced, having little to no calibration time. Thankfully, the NRC's technical ineptitude made this mission a prime example of the effectiveness of the device.

Paszek waved his arm at Brent to tell him to stand outside the door, and he obliged, lightly jogging past them with the bag in tow. Paszek stepped up to the large computer console and hovered his arm just over the holographic keyboard, activating the DNI interface.

A rush of information. Prisoner numbers. Cell combinations. Guard postings. Intelligence reports in four different languages. He scrolled past them all. That's not what he needed. Interrogation guidelines? Closer. Camera operating systems? Warm. Live Surveillance Feed. Bingo.

Paszek quickly cycled through the different rooms…he didn't have time to see what was going on in the rest of the prison, or to stop it. They were there for a very short list of people-four, to be exact. Paszek had their names and faces memorized, but with the exception of Khalil, knew absolutely nothing about them.

More scrolling…more scrolling…more scrolling…something was not right. None of the VIPs were there…he swore he had gone through all of the cells and interrogation rooms…no Khalil...none of the other three…just the usual…

No. Wait. Maybe not everything was usual. He went back to one of the cells. Cell B4. It was a larger one, meant to hold…4 inmates. It looked empty. A closer glance. There were definitely some people inside. One guard standing near the back. Just barely visible in the low lighting. But he looked different. He had a mask on. Something was unusual.

Wait again. That wasn't not all. Mystery guard wasn't alone. On the floor, just behind his left foot. What is that? Oh. No. That wasn't good.

A hand sprawled out, palm down on the ground.

"This is urgent. I need Sector B of the prison cleared. There's a guard in there with some prisoners. At least one casualty - possibly a VIP. Anything you can do?"

Kane was a bit startled by Paszek's calling, specifically because it happened so shortly after his last.

"Yeah, yeah sure…just let me see…Yes, that's good. Okay, I can report an incident in a different sector to draw attention…Code 49 in Sector E. No guarantees, but it's the only way I can do it without triggering any massive alarms. Sound good?"

"Affirmative. Sending squad to Sector B to investigate."

"Stay saf-"

Paszek cut off communications before Kane could finish.

She hoped he needed that extra half second.

Paszek and the four men under his command reached the cell with no issue, and there were no klaxons, proverbial or not, sounding in the facility. The hallway that held the cells of Sector B remained entirely devoid of NRC personnel.

Cell B4, as its designation would apply, was located rather early in the sector, Paszek knew from searching the cameras that there were a total of 80 cells in the sector, so the fact that the one they needed to infiltrate was close to the exit was nothing more than a stroke of luck.

The area itself was rather unremarkable; dull blue cell doors ran parallel on both sides of the hallway, and a single long-ways fluorescent illuminated the entire room. Each door had a small keypad next to it, with glowing number buttons, an intercom for communications, and a slot for a card.

Paszek quickly reorganized his party of four into a more tactical arrangement. Reynolds and Brent stood on the right side of the doorway, the latter with a gas grenade primed. Coleman manned the left end, while Mwangi stood with his back to the opposite cell door, prepared to assist if any of the VIPs made it out, or if the assailant was able to slip past the others. Lastly, Paszek himself hovered just to the left of Coleman, with both the encrypted keycard and his cyro weapon in hand.

No words needed to be said. They all knew the drill. Paszek looked around and made eye contact with each one before beginning his snap cadence.

One snap. They all nodded their heads. Brent replied with a second.

Paszek lifts his index and middle finger to make the final affirmation…

"Don't even think about it."

He paused. Brent gave him a confused glance.

"I have hostages in here. I know it's your mission to save them."

There was someone directly communicating to him. The voice was muddied….altered with some sort of artificial modulator…there was no way to tell who it was.

"Tell your men to put down their weapons. Come inside alone. Then we can talk."

Paszek reluctantly raised his arm and slowly lowered it, indicating that he wanted the soldiers to place their guns on the floor. He could clearly see both Brent and Reynolds across from him raise their eyebrows in suspicion. But a stern look from Paszek coupled with a repeat of the arm gesture seemed to convince them to do it. Shortly after, Coleman followed suit.

Mwangi, however, refused to waver, still aiming his MR6 pistol directly at the doorway. When prompted by Paszek once more to comply, Mwangi only stood by and shook his head. Paszek walked over to the young soldier and said but two words to him.

"Stay quiet."

The three WA men backed away from the cell door as Paszek returned back to his original position. He removed the keycard from his pocket and swiped it across the reader, causing a confirming beep and a faint green light to emit from the panel.

As one would expect, the door quickly shut behind him after entering.

The cell was actually quite large-about twice the size of a standard janitorial closet, but something about it still made it seem cramped. Perhaps it was the grey cracked walls or the intentionally poorly-lit bare center. Of course, none of that was really relevant to what was going on in the back of the room, just in front of a set of two small bunk-beds.

The figure was not physically imposing, at least not to Paszek. He appeared to have a rather average weight and build. His indistinct look, however, applied to more than his size. He wore a black wool mask around his face, obscuring any and all facial features. His NRC uniform was altered to have long sleeves, and his socks were pulled all the way up, leaving not a single inch of skin exposed.

He was the first to speak.

"I have to say, it is rather refreshing to talk to someone face to face. I always despised using your communications systems. They're so…unreliable…" The voice modulator was still on, leaving his voice sounding entirely synthesized. There was also a sort of calmness present in his speech, as if he had rehearsed it twenty times over.

"The POWs. Hand them over." Paszek said, characteristically unwavering.

"Yes, yes, I know that's why you're here." He reeled back a bit. "But there's a bit more to discuss than that."

"No, there isn't" Paszek's tone remained the same. "Give me the hostages, or I will use deadly force."

"I figured you'd stick to the script. That's what you always do. Consider this…"

The man held up his right hand to his temple.

"Within ten seconds, I can have 30 guards in this sector. Maybe a few grunts, too."

Paszek silently sighed, and his face slightly dropped. He can't have that happen. The figure removed his hand from his head.

"Good? On the same page?" He paused, like we actually wanted a verbal response.

"I'm certain you saw my little news broadcast…people thought it was a pretty big deal. As it turns out, people don't like it when their governments keep secrets from them."

He paused.

"But you would know about that, wouldn't you? They never told you what that DNI would do to you. It was a secret. A lie of omission. And look what it's cost you!" He gestured towards Paszek.

"Why? Why would you want to leak the details of the attack? There's no way the NRC could benefit from it."

The man let out a hearty laugh. "Oh! The NRC! That's priceless! My loyalties don't lie with these obsolete…factions."

"Then who do they lie with?"

The figure nodded his head. "Now you're asking the right questions."

"You've been in the game a while. You've seen your fair share of political moves and coups and recoups and re-recoups. All people seem to want is to control the castle or the high office. Aren't you frustrated? Don't you see the pointlessness of it all?"

Paszek didn't respond.

"Really? What is it that drives you? Patriotism? Morality? Love? All fleeting sentiments. The only solution is no solution at all. No rule. No law. No boundaries."

"Anarchy?"

"I prefer 'primal instinct'."

"Then what are you doing here? What do you need me for?"

"Have you learned nothing from your experiences? Are you truly so ignorant of your own power? Your…brief compliance would all but guarantee the liberation of the human species."

"I don't…understand…"

"You will. In due time, my friend."

The figure cocked his head to the side, as if he had just realized something.

"It certainly is strange to see you alive, Paszek...what are you now? Captain, is it? God, that's weird. Even weirder is seeing you alive, and your leading lady not."

Paszek's eyes quickly narrowed. He reached for his cyro-pistol and swiftly aimed it at the figure.

"Where is she?! What the hell did you do to her?!" Screw the mission. That was the line-the one line that no one could cross, WA protocol be damned.

Underneath the mask, the figure's eyebrows could be seen visibly arched.

"I swear to God, I'll tear your fucking skull off if you don't tell me right now!" Inhibition was an afterthought. He was running of off fury, and nothing else.

"I'm not sure what you're accusing me of…I didn't have anything to do with that…that was all you…"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your companion, Paszek. I didn't kill her. You did."

"What? Stop…stop spewing bullshit!"

The man sighed. "This isn't going anywhere, clearly….just allow me to…"

"Fuck you! You still haven't told me where she is!"

The man simply shook his head and placed his hand back on his temple.

"Need I remind you?"

Paszek could only grit his teeth and clench his fists. If he tripped an alarm, he and the others would surely be dead.

The man turned around, so that his back was now facing Paszek.

"As promised, I shall hand over what you came here for."

Paszek gave a confused look, but continued to aim.

"Here, I have Commander Grieg, Minister Ahmed, and Mr. Reis. I hope you don't mind, they appear to be a bit…mishandled."

In a single thrust, three dead bodies were tossed across the room, landing near Paszek's feet.

"You…"

The man finished Paszek's thought for him. "…only saw what the NRC were doing to completion. Nothing more."

A beat.

"Just remember. I've been your savior once before. I can do it again. You just have to let me."

Paszek only hesitated for the slightest moment before firing his weapon.

As the smoke cleared, it became known to Paszek that he had hit nothing but the cement wall that laid behind the mysterious figure. The man himself? Gone. Without a trace. Paszek looked back-the cell door hadn't even been opened.

What the hell was going on?

A sound croaked out from the corner.

"Paszek…you there?"

It was a familiar voice.

"Khalil?"

"Help me up, man…I can't move my legs…can't feel my legs…"

Paszek scampered over to the corner to find the upper half of Khalil protruding out from underneath the bed. He quickly grabbed hold of the Egyptian man's shoulders and dragged him out, now revealing his entire body.

No wonder he couldn't feel his legs.

There were nasty bullet wounds, placed precisely in each kneecap. It was blatantly intentional. Someone wanted him to never walk again.

"Is it bad?" Khalil sounded like he was struggling to keep his composure. He was one tough guy.

"No. It's okay. You're gonna be just okay." Paszek cursed himself as he said it. It was a lie. Maybe it could be a good one.

"Kane? Kane? Rachel? Is everything okay? Where are you? Is everything okay? Rachel? Everything alright? Are you safe? Rachel?" Kane jumped a bit in her chair as Paszek's voice burrowed over the comms.

"Hey, hey, calm down! I'm still in Al-Arish, haven't moved. What's going on over there?"

Kane heard Paszek breath a deep sigh.

"Oh God…look…it's a…long story…just…oh my God…" He was out of breath. Exhausted? Pained? Relieved? Hallucinatory? Kane hadn't the slightest idea what was going on with him, and it worried her.

"Paszek! Tell me what's happening!" She knew very well what was in her voice: desperateness, confusion, and panic.

"I…I…thought…just wait until I get back…I'll explain…just…stay safe…" Thought what?! Thought what?! What did he think?! Kane was cripplingly frustrated, but tried to reign in her tone a little bit, if only to calm him down.

"You don't sound well...are you alright?"

"I'll be back…don't go…just…wait…oh God…" No. No. Something is not right.

"Don't you dare shut off your comms."

"It's too much…Rachel…just stay safe…I'll be back…don't go…I'll expl…"

Static.

Goddamnit.

Shortly after having her frantic exchange with Paszek, Kane was able to call in to their extraction jet, and spoke with Reynolds, who cleared up a few details. Three of the VIPs were killed, and Khalil was wounded - Coleman (a medic) labeled his condition as stable. Paszek's mental state, however, remained unclear.

"How is the Captain?"

"I couldn't tell you if you I wanted to, ma'am."

He paused.

"He's just sitting there, staring at wall. He hasn't said anything; no one's said anything to him. Kept his hand on his gun the whole time."

Another break.

"He usually like this?"

Kane closed his eyes and rubbed them with her hand.

"…don't worry about him….thanks…"

She disconnected.

Kane was going to have a lengthy talk with Ignacio.

Clearly something was wrong - either he or the mission or both had been compromised, but he wasn't willing to admit anything. Hell, he could barley form a coherent sentence. He never even confirmed how he was doing-just kept backing off - saying he would "be back". She had a strange suspicion that the mantra didn't mean exactly what it was supposed to. Kane wanted Paszek to "be back"- as in, here in Al-Arish-right then in that moment - safe and sound. But she wasn't going to get that.

He called to frantically ask where she was? But why? Kane hadn't said anything that would indicate she was leaving, and there wasn't a single incident reported within 10 miles of the WA black site. Not that he would have known if something did happen. Was it some kind of misplaced instinct? Sudden fear of separation? With, Paszek, she could never really tell.

From Reynolds' description, Kane could tell that Paszek was not in a good place; he was in his own little shell, speculating everything and resolving nothing. It was exactly the kind of rut he had proved himself incapable of digging out of; the kind of situation that Kane often found herself trying to fix. But Paszek still kept his direct communications off. There was no way to reach him, for now, at least.

She was his handler, right? She was supposed to make sure he was on the right path. Doing the right things. Thinking the right things. But she couldn't help but feel that her…other attachments to Paszek made that job impossible to do correctly. Kane wasn't too convinced that the deal they made with the CIA was worth their while, but a good handler would never even question it. Kane knew that Paszek should stop doing these missions if either of them wanted a future…but she couldn't say that when his physical presence alone was vital to roughly a third of the WA's successful operations.

Didn't the job also entail that she looks out for his "overall well-being"? How was she supposed to hold up both ends of this? It would be in Paszek's best interest to pull him out of combat all together…maybe get him to some medical professionals...see what they can do about making him better.

And if it was in his best interest, it was also in hers, right?

I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! I know it takes me a while to get these chapters out, but I'm really trying the best I can to write as efficiently as possible.

As always, I thank you for reading, and appreciate reviews, PMs, or whatever else you want to do! Have predictions? Idea? Comments? Criticism? Feel free to let them be known

Until next time,

HopelesslyLonelyWriter