The first part of this chapter is still in Ela's p.o.v., but the rest of it will be from Blitz's p.o.v. There will be a note telling you when that starts. After this chapter, it'll be back to Ela.
Thanks for continuing to read.
Chapter 7
At Thatcher's command, we all went to our rooms to get geared up. After a few more beatings to the already battered-and-bloodied doctor in the main room, he also went to his room to get prepared.
Blitz was now wide awake in our shared bed. He was sitting up, alert. His face is still wrapped up.
"What is happening?"
I look at him with a small sigh, "Doc… he's been working against us. We're heading out to find Caveira and another OPFOR,"
I hastily changed into my tactical uniform and gear as I caught him up on the situation. But I stopped when I saw Blitz pull the covers off of himself, moving to leave the bed.
"No, no," I grab his shoulders as his feet touch the floor. He looks up at me.
"Ela, I can help," he pleads.
"Blitz," I try not to sound so mean, but, "I'm sorry, but you can barely even walk! You were in a coma for a while,"
He removes my hands from him and pushes himself up to his feet with a wobble, but manages to balance himself and stand up straight.
He looks at me, almost a sad look in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he sighs.
"I know I'm not in any shape to fight," he goes on in his soft German accent, "But I vant to help,"
"You can," I smile, "Someone has to watch the medic,"
He returns a small smile, "I've been demoted to babysitter?"
I put the last piece of equipment on, my headset around my neck, and give a small laugh at Blitz.
"I don't even know what to say to that, Elias,"
He chuckles, then returns to a serious tone, "I assume he is tied up?"
I nod.
"Follow me," I wave to him as I exit our bedroom and lead him to the livingroom.
We meet the others in the main room, everyone antsy and ready to go. Doc is unconscious with small puddles and spatters of blood all over him and underneath him on the floor. His wrists were zip-tied behind him again. If I couldn't see his chest slightly heaving, and hear his ragged breath, I would have thought I was looking at a corpse.
Blitz looked down at the bloodied man, "I see he got the SAS treatment…"
Mute cleared his throat before speaking beneath his gas-mask, "Blitz, you know I am not as brutish as this. This is uniquely the "Thatcher treatment,"
"I'm happy ta take the credit, mate," Thatcher proudly stated, wearing his gas-mask as well.
"So," Pulse started, looking at Blitz, "You know I don't mean to baby you, but you're gonna have to stay here,"
Blitz nods and looks at him, "I know. I can keep watch here,"
"Good idea," Pulse responds.
"How's your pain level?" Mute asks.
Blitz responds, "I'm still in a lot of pain, but nothing I can't handle. I'm sure I can find some morphine in Doc's belongings if needed,"
Mute gives a small chuckle and nods.
Thatcher scrolled through his phone. I remember how much he complained when he got a touch-screen phone, but now he uses it like a pro.
"We're headed to the bank. Before the bloody bastard passed out on me, he told me this mystery OPFOR 'Kapkan' will have undoubtedly set up traps around the building. He did not go into detail on what kind of traps they are, so we need ta be exceptionally cautious,"
We nod in unison.
The senior SAS operative looks at Blitz, "You didn't happen ta hear anything about this person when you were held hostage, did ya?"
"No. They mentioned they had a 3rd member, but they had talked as if they didn't know where he was, or if he was even alive,"
Thatcher nodded, then continued, while tapping at his phone, "Of course, we expect Caveira to be there as well. So, in conclusion: watch your fuckin' back," he put his phone in his pocket, "We'll go in together, and we'll take it slow. Let's go,"
Blitz and the rest of us wished each other good luck before we headed out to the vehicle. My adrenaline was already flooding through my body.
O
O
O
Blitz's p.o.v.
I was left in an uncomfortable silence, alone with the beaten medic I barely knew. As I looked down at him lying there unresponsive, it was hard to believe he was the one who took care of me. He saved my life. But all this time, he was the enemy. It filled me with anger, mostly from knowing he could have gotten my teammates injured, killed, or taken hostage like I was.
After sitting on the couch for only a few minutes, making sure to avoid the blood-stained cushions, the doctor began gently moaning and coughing. He was slowly but barely moving. He was waking up.
Since he was on his side, facing me, I watched his eyes open and look into mine. My hazel eyes held no pity for him, while his dark-brown eyes were exhausted and red.
"Good morning, doctor," I joked.
He licked some of the blood that had streamed down over his lips from his nose. We looked at each-other wordlessly for a while.
After the long silence, he weakly began to speak, his voice soft, "I didn't want to 'urt any of you…"
I said nothing, curious for him to continue with his vain excuses.
He swallowed hard, "I could 'ave killed you all… I was supposed to, but I refused,"
"Why vould you refuse?"
"I am not a killer,"
"But you work for killers, and you said you were supposed to kill us. I am not convinced," I'm glaring at him, challenging him to explain himself out of this hole he's dug.
"I took the 'ypocratic Oath, I would never—"
"Your oath means nothing in a war-zone, Doc,"
He sighs, straining to find the energy to continue speaking. But he does.
"Right… okay, you're right… What I mean to say is,"
He's panting a little bit and it's visibly obvious to see it's painful for him to move or vocalize.
"Zey 'ired me to infiltrate your squad and relay information. We 'ad not agreed for me to physically 'arm any of you,"
"If this is true, what do you benefit from them?"
The look in his eyes changed. He looked at me with genuine horror, "Ze safety of my patients,"
"Your patients?"
He takes a moment to catch his breath again, "Oui, I work in a small 'ospital outside of ze evacuation perimeter. Zey must 'ave followed me 'ome after work and came into my 'ome. Ze woman, Caveira… she 'eld me at gunpoint and told me if I did not cooperate zey would blow up explosives inside ze 'ospital…"
Tears were leaking from his eyes, joining the bloodstains under his head.
"Why vould they ask you instead of another doctor? It is too much of a coincidence,"
"I am ze only medical personnel in ze 'ospital zat 'as a 'istory of military and police training. I believe zat's why,"
"Nobody noticed you missing? What about your family, roommates?"
He paused before answering, "I live alone… But ze 'ospital must know. I'm sure zey 'ave reported it,"
I sat there in contemplative silence. If what he's saying is true, I can confirm it with a phonecall.
And, if what he's telling me is true, either Caveira has destroyed the hospital by now, as she promised, or she was lying all along. I don't need to tell him this. I'm sure he's already aware of it.
"You have police training…" I start, "The GIGN have a very good track-record of anti-terrorism. So you should have known better than to comply with Caveira,"
"I know zis… I did not want ze patients to be in danger… all of our patients are children…"
I was taken back, "You work at a children's hospital?"
"Oui. It is much 'arder to resist terrorist demands when zey are threatening young children,"
I could empathize with him on that.
"Can you tell me about Kapkan?"
"Kapkan is a Russian Spetsnaz officer… I told ze Brit about 'im,"
"Yes, but what do you know about his traps?"
"I don't know what zey are or 'ow zey work. Caveira only told me 'e utilizes traps. Since I could not kill any of you myself, I was ordered to trick your teammates into rushing into ze building where, as she said to me, 'Kapkan's traps should stop some of zem'. Zen she assured me she would kill ze rest,"
"You could have let me die and my teammates never would have known it was intentional," I think aloud.
He watches my face for a moment before responding, "Oui. I love my work. I am a doctor above everysing else. I would try my best to save you, especially for Ela,"
"What do you mean?"
"She cares very much about you. I couldn't bear to see 'er cry and beg me to keep you alive,"
"You came into this situation knowing we would die. You wouldn't care about her feelings,"
He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Zat is correct, but I do care about 'er. I am still a doctor, I still felt obligated and determined to save you,"
"You have feelings for her?" I ask bluntly.
The look he gave me made me think he was nervous about answering. Which, in itself, answered my question.
I continued, "You're kidding me!"
"It just—"
"Does she know?" I interrupt.
This is completely ridiculous.
"Oui,"
"Das ist schlect (this is bad)…" I mutter and shake my head.
I knelt down to help him sit up against the wall by the couch. I stayed crouched in front of him, looking into his eyes firmly, "You fell for a woman that you may have potentially gotten killed tonight,"
The young doctor watched me with watery-red eyes, horrified by the truth, speechless.
I continued, "I wish you had not made your romantic feelings clear to her. The ones you work for have ruined my body, and I am terrified to see these bandages come off of my face. My body is broken and ugly. It is ruined. I'm in so much pain and I don't know how I will be able to enjoy life after this is all over. I don't know if I want to be alive anymore,"
I was glaring at him, feeling increasingly angry and defensive of my sister-like teammate Ela, and simultaneously reminding myself how scared I am of my own fate.
"That is what you have done to her heart and mind. But there are no bandages or painkillers for broken trust," I finish before standing up.
Doc is staring off, in shock.
I left him alone for a moment, but he was in my sight as I went to get us both a glass of water from the kitchen.
When I returned to him, I knelt down before him again and helped him drink his water, but he turned his head in refusal. I set his glass on a small table beside us at the end of the couch.
"I am not unsympathetic to you, if you indeed agreed to work for them to save the children in the hospital. But I am not in a position to feel sorry for you or forgive you for putting my friends in danger,"
He nods, being unable to make eye-contact with me again. He's pale. All of his bleeding has stopped.
"Since you are a doctor, do you have to write a prescription for my painkillers, or can you just tell me where they are?"
He looks at me, a little confused at my oddly-timed sarcasm.
"Zere is morphine and syringes in ze basement. Zey are in a white, square container in ze large drawer of my desk…"
"Wunderbar," I say unenergetically before I go to the basement in search of the medication. My body is in so much blinding pain that my trip to the basement and back was rather slow and very exhausting.
Once I had gotten some of the wonderful liquid into my system, having learned from past essential medical training how much to safely use, I sat back on the couch near where Doc still sat on the floor. Both of us were tired and sore. I did not share the pain-numbing liquid with him.
We sat there for another long silence. My mind was racing with gut-wrenching thoughts. I was afraid for my team. I desperately wished I could go help them. It even entered my mind to gear up and head out to the bank, but I knew that would be foolish. On top of all of these worries, I couldn't help but feel nearly petrified by my damaged body. I am not a vain person, but I know that after what I endured, I was going to be disfigured for life. I know it's bad. I'm scared to remove the bandages from my face, but at the same time, I feel compelled. I will have to come to terms with it eventually.
"How bad is it?" I ask Doc without tearing my staring eyes off of the floor.
"Hm?"
"My face,"
"… It's…" he sighs, "The damage is severe. I tried my best,"
I look at his eyes briefly. His expression looks apologetic.
I stand up, feeling delightfully numb from the morphine. It didn't hurt so much to move around now, though there was always a dull soreness all over my body.
I went to the bathroom. I wasn't worried about leaving the doctor alone for a few moments while I tended to my needs.
After using the restroom and washing my hands, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I resembled a mummy. The bandages were nice and clean, but all I could see was my light-brown hair, my eyes, and my mouth. There was a hole under my nostrils so I could breathe.
I was so terrified to see myself without the bandages.
Shakily, I pulled up a pair of scissors and began cutting upwards at the side of my face, snipping carefully through the layered white cloth and gauze.
Once I had made a full cut through, I was able to peel away the mask, removing all of it from my head and face. I had my eyes shut tight, feeling my sweaty face exposed to the cool, fresh air. The bundle of bandages were now in the sink. I struggled to find the courage to open my eyes.
After giving a careful peek of one eye, my eyes widened at the sight in the mirror. The blood left my face and I was in danger of fainting. I was in disbelief as my eyes instantly filled with warm tears.
I was almost unrecognizable.
My entire face was crowded with deep gashes that had scarred over in glossy, raised lumps. Many of the deeper cuts – though they were all very deep – were still scabbed over, trying to heal. There was no area of my face that had not been carved up. It was not an exaggeration. The scars crossed over one another, diagonal, horizontal, vertical; there was no rhyme or reason to the pattern. It was as if I had been repeatedly smashed in the face with handfuls of broken glass.
I lifted my chin up to see the large scab under my chin. It was partially healed and scared, but since the knife that had went up into my chin went deep enough to pierce my tongue, it hadn't been able to fully heal yet. But it was already another large, awful scar.
I was devastated. I'm sickened by my own reflection.
Before I knew it, I was throwing up in the toilet.
Part of me thought I could tolerate it and accept it. I've been through a lot. But Sledge and Caveira have traumatized me severely in every way.
As I sat on my feet, resting my arms and head on the toilet seat, I felt utterly lifeless. My wrists had scars from rope burns. My knee is in pain, even with the morphine, and it is also scarred. There are wounds all over my body that have healed into visible, permanent reminders of my torture. My genitals are intact, but I can't even entertain the idea of any kind of sexual encounters ever again without feeling crippling anxiety at the mere thought.
But I could never show my face to anyone. I can't. There is no way I can stomach it.
Although I had the tightness in my throat and the tears in my eyes, I couldn't cry. I blamed it on the shock.
After I was finished vomiting, and was able to work up the energy and mindset to get back up, I put the bandages back around my face. I didn't dare look back in the mirror before I went back out to the medic.
I refused to look at him as I slowly walked back into the livingroom. My mind felt blank now, and I felt soulless.
"Elias…"
"Don't call me that," I weakly spat.
"Sorry… Blitz, I can put new bandages on,"
I shook my head as I stood there, holding the bandage-mask on with one hand, "I am ashamed you know what I look like now. And I can't trust you right now to help me,"
"Ah... Right... I do 'ave one ozer sing you can try…"
I said nothing, prompting him to continue.
"In ze basement zere is a backpack, black and blue, next to ze stand wiz ze record player. Inside is a mask. It should fit you,"
I almost laughed, though it wasn't in amusement. It was more of how random a coincidence it was that he would have a mask for my situation.
"Why do you have a mask?" I ask.
"It belonged to a close friend of mine from South Korea. Chul Kyung. We worked a few missions togezer. Ever since 'e was killed in battle I 'ave kept 'is mask in 'opes to return it to 'is family. But 'is family refused it. So I 'ave kept it…"
"You brought it with you here?"
"Oui—yes. It 'as become somezing of a 'lucky charm',"
"It's not very lucky," I gloomily respond.
He gave a small chuckle.
"Not for me. Not for Chul Kyung. Maybe for you, it is lucky?"
I hummed at his somewhat cryptic response before once more going down to the basement. I found the backpack right away, exactly where he said it would be.
What I pulled out from the backpack was a thick, black mask. I immediately recognized the material was kevlar; it was a ballistic face mask. There was black padding of some kind on the inside for comfort. It had holes for the eyes that were somewhat shaped like a cat's eyes, and the entire mask was shaped to wear comfortably over the mouth and nose, but there were no other holes in the mask. It was smooth overall. There were six points for straps to secure it to the wearer's head. There was a little wear and tear on it.
Was I supposed to wear this for my entire life? A part of me was actually excited, perhaps relieved, that there was something I could use to keep my mutilated face hidden. But I couldn't hide forever, could I?
This is silly...
I put it on, doing the straps to get a real feel for it. It was very comfortable. I bet it was designed this way for long-term use. Despite my worries about the absence of nose or mouth holes, I could breathe fine with it on.
I stood up and looked around the basement, trying to get a feel for wearing the mask as if I was trying on a new pair of shoes. I left the bandages there by the doctor's backpack before I returned upstairs to him.
When I walked back into the main room, he stared at me. I stopped in my tracks, looking down at him.
"'ow does it feel?" He asks.
"It is surprisingly comfortable…" I admit, running my fingers over it, feeling the curves.
"Vigil wore it a lot. Chul Kyung, I mean. 'e 'ad identity issues, in a way. 'e was not 'appy with 'imself or 'is life. 'e was very troubled. Vigil felt much more at ease underneath ze mask. Does it 'elp you, too?"
I thought about it before giving a reluctant nod, "It does,"
"Keep it," the Frenchman offers.
I nod again before sitting back down on the couch.
"I would thank you for this, but I feel like you have created a villain you see in the movies…"
"Heh, I'm ze 'bad guy' 'ere, not you…" he frowns.
"Ja, but I'm the good guy who got hurt and now has to live a bitter life of solitude under a mask. It is definitely the making of a villain, if this were a movie," I feel slightly like myself again, but a little strange wearing the mask so casually.
"I am glad it 'elps you, Blitz," he looks at me, returning to a gloomy expression despite his small smile.
I sigh, "Alright, you can call me Elias, in exchange for the mask. I don't like freebies. I'm going to make a call to see if what you told me earlier about being abducted is true,"
He nods, "Please do. If you can… if you would, please, tell me if ze children are okay?"
"I will let you know, Doc,"
He smiles as I head to the kitchen to make the call, where I would be surprised to learn that his story is actually truth.
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