Hello, fellow readers! Here's Chapter 3 of "Through the Lens". Thanks to all the readers, but I would love more reviews as well. Thank you to Frittlecakesgalore for the last one. :3

I don't own Call of Duty. Enjoy!

Through the Lens

A Call of Duty and OC Story

By SamuraiWriter

Chapter 3: FNGs and Deja Vu

Brenda's alarm clock sounded and the Black woman's eyes shot open. She reached a lazy hand over and slammed the alarm clock repeatdly until the ringing in her ears had stopped. Brenda ran a hand over her eyes to wipe the tears before they could travel down her cheeks. Her fingers clutched onto the bed sheets as she remembered the last images of her recent nightmare. Brenda stared up at the ceiling in an attempt to forget the dream. The ceiling fan was moving silently and Brenda watched as a speck of dust flew off one of the blades and floated to the floor. Brenda did not rush out of bed like before, she knew it was Sunday. Without turning, Brenda reached over to the nightstand and felt around for her cell phone. She grabbed it and pressed a button to activate it. She frowned.

"Damn...no texts or missed calls." she muttered, her voice hoarse and dry from her slumber.

Brenda expected a call or a text message from Brionna, as she had promised to call before she started her mission that day. Brenda shrugged it off; Brionna would, hopefully, call later on. Brenda forced herself out of the bed to use the bathroom, bumping into the nightstand and the dresser on her way out of the bedroom. She partially limped out of her bedroom and made her way to the bathroom. Brenda pressed a hand against the bathroom door and pushed it open more, and she stopped when she spotted Joanne curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. Her curly, brown hair was sprawled all over her head, with several strands of the corkskrew hair sticking out in an innocent fashion. Brenda immediatly grew alarmed and she lowered down closer to Joanne. As Brenda grew closer to the girl, she could see that Joanne was holding onto an object. Brenda placed a gentle hand on her head, and Joanne slowly lifted her head to stare into her aunt's eyes.

"Joanne? What's the matter? Why are you on the floor?" Brenda asked.

Joanne sniffled, but Brenda saw no signs of crying. Joanne unfolded her arms and fully revealed a stuffed, beat up teddy bear. Its fur was originally brown, but the fur had become discolored in some places due to the lack of proper cleaning of the teddy bear. White stuffing stuck out of the hole that was ripped in the stuffed bears right paw, and another hole was forming on the belly of the teddy bear. After close examination, Brenda had recognized the bear. It was the same bear that the Campbell's had given to Brionna for her 2nd birthday, and Brionna had passed it down to Joanne on her 2nd birthday. Brenda remembered how defensive Brionna had gotten when the teddy bear was threatened, placed into danger, or taken from her by her brother. It was Brionna's best friend, and it comforted Brionna whenever she was alone. She had passed it down to Joanne for the purpose of curing her lonliness whenever Brionna was away on business.

Joanne held up the teddy bear to Brenda, as if the answer to her question was within the stuffed animal. "I went to the bathroom, and I suddenly started to miss Ma, so I was hugging Brownie like Ma told me to whenever I missed her." Joanne said.

Brenda smiled. 'Brionna didn't even change the bear's name.'

"Well, you don't have to do it in the bathroom." Brenda said.

Joanne shook her head violently, her curly hair flying all over the place. "No. Ma said that I should hug Brownie whenever I missed her. No matter where I was." she said.

Brenda turned and sat next to Joanne on the floor, looking down at her as she hugged the stuffed bear more. Joanne stopped and looked up at Brenda.

"Do you miss Ma, Auntie Brenda?" she asked.

Brenda smiled down at her and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Joanne nodded and lifted the teddy bear towards her. Brenda gently took the stuffed bear in her arms and looked over it. She had noticed that one of its eyes hung from a small string on the bear's face, and Brenda had the urge to pull it from the string, but allowed it to hang. The fur was rough, but still in good condition considering how long the bear had been around and abused. She smiled at the bear, as memories of a small Brionna running around with the bear in her arms. Brenda closed her eyes and brought the bear to her chest, hugging it softly yet firmly.

"So, how do I look?" Joseph asked.

"Like one of the bad guys. Perfect for your undercover assignment." Shepherd replied, eyeing Joseph's appearance.

On the exterior, Joseph was prepared for his undercover mission. His sandy brown hair was brushed back and his face possessed a lingering 5 o'clock shadow. A small hint of cheap cologne squeezed through his clothes and the military gear that he wore over them. He gave off a rugged and cold impression, his presence overwhelming the room with pure determination and focus. On the outside, Joseph was Shepherd's well-oiled machine, ready to force his way through the line of war and casulty. On the outside, Joseph was Shepherd's eager and ready soldier.

On the interior, however, Joseph was a wreck. Brionna's sudden disappearance had left him curious and worried. Joseph had wondered if the previous night's sexual escapade was an influence, but he dismissed the thought from his mind when he could not uncover valid reasons for Brionna leaving at the motel. Regardless of her reason, Joseph missed her terribly, but summoned all the remaining courage he had to hide his sadness and bitterness. He had constantly called Brionna's cell phone, but he received no answer each time he called. The box that Brionna had left for her had only increased his curiosity, but despite his hightened curiousity, he refused to look inside. According to the paper, Brionna wanted the box to be personally delivered to the address written on the piece of paper. Unfortanetly, Joseph knew that he did not have enough time to drive to Bethesda, MD to deliver the package, and then drive back to Virginia and make it back in time to be picked up by General Shepherd. After some quick thinking, Joseph contacted a close friend in Fairfax, and in due time, the package was on its way to the designated address. The purpose of the box and its contents had bugged Joseph to no end, and yet he kept his composure as Shepherd was explaining the mission to him. While pictures of Makarov and info on the assignment had flashed on the screen that hung behind Shepherd, images of Brionna flashed in Joseph's mine in between Shepherd's words.

Joseph swallowed his uneasiness to Brionna's disappearance and focused on the information on the screen. "So Makarov is the prize."

"Makarov's no prize. He's a whore. A mad-dog killer for the highest bidder." Shepherd said. "Just remember your new identity. It'll keep you alive."

After Shepherd's words, a certain emblem appeared onto the screen. It was a combination of blue and gray. Joseph quickly admired the knife in the middle, along with its blue wings and the skull that hung ontop of the dagger. Joseph smirked. He could feel a certain aura that the image possessed. It represented a power that could have only been expressed through grit, blood, violent bitterness. Joseph appreciated that aura, as he was now apart of it.

"Welcome to the 141. Best handpicked group of warriors on the planet." Shepherd said.

Joseph nodded. "It's an honor, sir. When do I meet the rest of the team?"

The General smirked at his eagerness. "They're on a mission recovering a downed ACS module behind enemy lines."

Joseph chuckled and decided to add a bit of humor. "Their feet wet?"

Shepherd accepted this humor. "Imagine they're just about freezing right now."

"Sounds like a collective bunch. Can't wait to meet them."

"Don't get too attached to them, Allen. You're not staying with the 141 for long."

Joseph nodded. "May I ask how long I will be a Task Force member, sir?"

"One day, Allen."

Joseph eyes widened a bit. "A day? That's all, sir?"

"That's all you need. I told you, you aren't here to make friends, Allen. Get on the base, rest up, and prepare for your mission the next day. It's in and out, really. I chose you for this mission because I thought you could handle the pace of this assignment, and get done what needs to be done. Don't make me regret this decision, Allen. Not when it matters the most."

Joseph had seen this before. Shepherd was challenging him. Joseph gave the older male the satisfaction and nodded, saluting him with a stern look.

Another smirked crept on Shepherd's face. "Don't salute anyone when you get to the 141 base, either. It's not going to help your status as the FNG."

Cigarette smoke rushed out of John A. MacTavish's chapped lips as the Captain lounged in his office chair, staring up at the ceiling. He was brewing with irritation as he waited for the knock at the door that signaled the arrival of the new Task Force 141 member, Joseph Allen. John had just returned from a cold mission in the mountains of Kazakhstan with Sgt. Gary Sanderson, or "Roach" as known by the rest of the men. John did not take too kindly gaining a new member in the midst of such a strenious mission. John did not like the idea of making the new recruit feel acquainted with the rest of the team, when the rest of them teams' irritability could have been fueled by the drop of a spoon. John took another puff from his cigar and exhaled it out, but he awkwardly coughed as some of the smoke did not exit his mouth properly.

"Shite..." he muttered and he killed the cigar by smashing its lit end onto the desk.

Just as the ashes kissed the desk, a knock was heard at the door. John looked up slowly, as if he had just heard his doom. He sighed, pushed himself away from the desk, and walked over to the door. He opened the door and was immediatly met with bright brown eyes and a pale, Caucasian face. He raised an eyebrow and backed up a bit, eyeing the man up and down. He was dressed in civilian clothes and there was a luggage bag in one hand. He stared at John as well, but did not eye in him like the Captain had did him.

John released a sigh. He assumed the man was the FNG.

"Captain MacTavish?" Joseph asked.

"Unfortanetly." John replied. Despite his attitude, John extended a hand. "And you are?"

"Allen. Joseph Allen." Joseph said as he shook John's hand. "It's an honor to be here."

"Yeah, coming from the man who's only here for a sleepover. Anyway, I take it General Shepherd had other business to attend to?"

Joseph nodded. "He said that you could take over from here."

John rolled his eyes lazily and pushed passed Joseph. "Follow me. I'll give you the tour. Don't take it personally if the members give you a hard time because you're the FNG. They were FNG's once, and they were treated the exact same way, so their teasing is just a way to cope with their experiences. Oh, and don't salute anyone here. It won't help y-"

"My status as the FNG. Shepherd filled me in on that." Joseph said.

"Good. Less talking for me, then." John joked.

John guided Joseph through the base, repeating the same speech he made for all the new recruits. The base was relatively big and was located on an island in the Baltic Sea. Before the base was built, the island was inhabited by friendly locals and animals. There was an entire community built, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. The 141 base was completed around the end of 2014, and now the base took up a large part of the island, while still seperating itself from the community. Joseph was shown the barracks, the recreational building/gymnasium, the small cafeteria, the infirmary, and the shooting range. During the tour, John stole a few glances at Joseph to look at his reaction to the base. Joseph looked a bit impressed, but he lacked bursting enthusiasm. John did not mind; Joseph's enthusiasm was the last thing he wanted to endure.

Both men made their way back to the barracks, and John turned to face Joseph. "You will be staying here. Try not to feel too uncomfortable when walking in." John pointed to the front door with his thumb and smirked. "They can smell fear."

Joseph chuckled and nodded. "I'll try my best, sir."

John nodded and walked away, relieved to be done with the tour. As John walked away, he heard the sound of the barracks' door opening and the immature shouts of the fellow Task Force members inside. Joseph planted both feet onto the barrack floor and was met the looks of three different men. Joseph ignored the shouts and the looks and walked over to an empty bed. He flashed a look at one of the men, as to see if the bed was availiable. He was a Caucasian man dressed in a white T-Shirt and blue jeans. His brown hair looked messy and greasy, and his identical eyes held onto bags that appeared to bring the rest of his face down. The man had yet to shave, his facial hair curving and wrapping around his chin and lips.

He smiled and shrugged. "Take it."

Joseph nodded and placed his luggage bag down on the bed. "Thanks."

"So...you're the FNG?" the bearded man asked.

Joseph opened his suitcase and gazed at the things inside. "Want my autograph?"

Another man grunted. "He's a smartass, too."

Joseph looked over at another Caucasian male. This one was bald, clean-shaven. He sat at the end of his bed, legs spread and his upper body bent over with his arms in the open space between his legs. The man's bright green eyes stared at Joseph, a smug expression on his face. "But, we've had worse. People here call me Archer. You aren't priviledged enough to know my real name yet, FNG."

"I wasn't really bending over backwards to know it, either. I'm Joseph."Joseph said, taking out a shirt from his luggage bag.

"I'm Royce Phillips, but just call me Royce." the bearded man said. "Nicknames aren't really my cup of vodka."

Joseph nodded to Royce and turned to the third man, who was seemingly asleep on one of the beds closest to Archer. The sleeping man was dressed in dirty black jeans and and much cleaner black T-shirt, and the man's shoes were still intact on his feet. Joseph assumed the man was too tired to kick them off.

"And who's he?" Joseph asked, pointing towards him.

Royce turned over to the man and sucked his teeth. "That's Gary Sanderson, or Roach. He's a bit tired from his last mission with Captain MacTavish. Killing a bunch of Russian troops does that to you, ya know?"

"Uh, yeah." Joseph said. "I suppose I could relate."

Joseph continued to most of his things silently, and in the midst of unpacking clothing and small firearms, a small photo had slipped away and floated to the bed. Joseph immediatly stopped unpacking and reached for the photo, but Royce's fingers were much quicker than the Private's. Joseph made an awkward attempt to make it around the bed in time to get a quick snatch of the photo, but Royce moved without taking his eyes off of the photo. Realizing that it was a defeated battle, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks and watched as a mischeveous grin crept onto Royce's face. In the corner of Joseph's eye, Archer was edging off the bed as if to get a peek at the photo, despite him being a good few paces away from it.

Royce licked his lips and turned the photo around to Joseph. "And who's this beautiful woman? Your girlfriend? You into the brown sugar?"

It was as if Joseph could actually feel his cheeks rise in temperature as he forced himself to calmly take the photo from Royce's fingers. It was a picture of a smiling Brionna that Joseph had managed to take during a night between the two agents. The more Joseph looked at the picture, the more he remembered. In the photograph, Brionna was giving him a defeated smile, her white teeth glowing with a playfulness that erupted from Joseph's own acts of naiivety. While laying on a couch, Brionna held her hands up, an attempt to block her face from the shot. A joke from Joseph caused her to break her defensive nature, and a timeless smile was the result. In that second, Joseph took the picture. The picture came out blurred, a bit distorted, but still quite recognizable. Brionna's smile stuck out the most, and it was that smile that convinced Joseph take the picture just about wherever he went.

In the midst of reminiscing, Joseph had not noticed that Archer had eased his way behind him to look at the picture. "She's pretty. Girlfriend? Wife?"

With a smile, Joseph shook his head with a kind of pitiful gentleness. "She was my goal."

Secretly, Brenda was on the edge.

She had not heard from Brionna since she had woke up. She called Brionna's cell phone numerous times, but recieved only her voicemail everytime. About every now and then, Joanne asked if her mother had called, and Brenda would force out a smile each time and tell her in the sweetest voice she could make, "Not yet".

Everywhere Brenda walked around the apartment, her cellphone was surgically attached to her. The kitchen, the bathroom, the couch. Brenda held it close to her, but she never felt it buzz in her pants pocket. Brenda's nerves were starting to act up. She had devoured her fingernails in order to feed her anxiety, plucked out small, loose strands of hair that were suddenly an annoyance to her, checked up on Joanne an unnessecary number of times just to find an excuse to get up. Brenda even washed the dishes that had been placed in the sink from the day before, a task that was often not executed due to procrastination. After there was nothing left to ease her anxiety, Brenda sat at the dining room table with her head buried in her arms.

There was a knock at her door, and Brenda sprung up from her chair, her heart beating faster than normal with the hopes of Brionna appearing magically behind that door. Not even asking who it was, Brenda undid the lock, gripped the doorknob, and tore the door open with the most hopeful look that Brenda could concox.

However, the hopeful look slowly withered away, and was replaced with a more confused expression when Brenda locked eyes with an unfamiliar face. It was a balding, Caucasian man who, Brenda thought, gave off the aroma of a serial killer or a sociopath. Little beads of sweat slid down from his head, and he wiped them away with an awkward hand. His clothes looked wrinkled and slightly dirty, with sweat spots curling from under his armpits. The man looked terrible hot, and Brenda almost convinced herself to offer the man a drink of water. Brenda took her attention from the man to the box he was carrying, as Brenda heard the contents rumble a bit by the friction of the man's shaking hands.

Despite the surprising sight, Brenda managed to spit some words out. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man nodded and shoved the box towards Brenda and she grabbed the box with firm hands. "Joseth told me to give this-th to you." the man said, a lisp swimming from his mouth.

"Who?" Brenda asked, an eyebrow rising.

The bald man said no more and scurried away, Brenda's eyes never leaving him as he quickly walked. She looked down at the box, and stepped back inside the house and closed the door behind her. The box seemed a bit light, but Brenda still placed the box down on the living room table gently. Grabbing some scissors from the kictchen, Brenda stabbed the box and tore through the brown tape that previously sealed it closed. Once the box was completely free from the tape, Brenda set the scissors down and quickly dove into the box, pulling the flaps up and staring at the contents inside.

A camera, an adaptor or charger, and a small piece of paper were the only contents in the medium-sized box. The piece of paper was ignored and Brenda's eyes stared at the prestine features of the camera. With slightly shaking hands, Brenda picked the camera up in order to get a better look at it. It was a Nikon D3100, an older model, but still worthy type of camera in Brenda's eyes. Her lanky fingers traced over the huge lens as she experience a strange feeling of power crept over her body. Holding the camera in her hands brought back both good and bad memories, but it all mixed together to create one euphoric, yet silent sensation in Brenda. Brenda cautiously turned to her old, broken camera that sat quietly on a shelf, collecting dust. She took a second to stare at the old, smashed camera until she turned to the new camera that sat anxiously in her hand.

A laugh of both disbelief and happiness slipped from Brenda's lips and she placed the camera carefully down onto table. She reached back into the box and pulled out the small piece of paper.

Turn the camera on and watch the video.

Brenda stared at the message for another moment before finally complying to the orders. 'That handwriting looks familiar.'

Brenda took a seat and turned the Nikon D3100 on. A second after the button was pressed, the camera screen flashed bright white, and a menu screen appeared displaying several options. One option was labeled "Videos" and Brenda pressed it with a delicate finger. The screen shifted and Brenda saw that there was one video already set in there. Brenda pressed onto the video and the screen turned black for a second, and then the image of a bathroom was shown on the screen. However, Brenda's attention was completely savaged when Brionna's face appeared on the tiny screen. Brenda grabbed the screen and her brown eyes widened at her sister, the light of the screen reflecting on her eyes.

In the video, Brionna let out a, soft pitiful laugh and stared at Brenda through the screen.

"Brenda. It's me, your big sis. I, uh...*sucks teeth*...got things to tell you. First off...I love you. Um...I say that because...I have a VERY strong feeling that...my life is in danger. Brenda, I...I heard something that I wasn't suppose to here. Something bad, and one of my friends is in grave danger. Um...*sniffles*...the reason why...why I'm making you this video is because I want you to get this out there. On this, uh camera, there are some pictures of my partner's files that explain details of his mission with this man named General Shepherd. Remember that name, Brenda. Shepherd. I got a feeling you will be hearing alot about him from now on."

Brenda continued to watch the camera screen, a single tear falling from her left eye.

"So, yeah. Oh, by the way, this camera is a little gift for you from me. It's for taking care of...of Jojo. Brenda...*sniffles*...my baby. I'm...I'm not gonna be seeing my baby. Atleast *sniffles more*, not as of now. But...I just want to tell you. If I do die...take care of Joanne. Heh, shit. I'm probably dead already by the time you hear this video. But yeah..."

"I hope you noticed that small piece of paper in the box. There's a number on it. It's an apartment number. Heh, yeah, it's actually in your apartment complex. There's this guy named Blix. Take this camera to him and show him this video and the pictures. Blix knows people, and he can get this info out better than I can, but it's all up to you, Brenda."

There was a pause, and soon enough, Brionna's eyes had released tears. These tears were countered by her younger sister's own tears.

"Be careful, Brenda. Tell Joanne that I love her...and that Mommy is sorry."

After a few seconds of shuffling, the video had shut off, and Brenda was left holding the camera in her hands as numerous tears quickly dropped from her eyes and smacked onto the wooden table. She was upset, worried, but most of all, confused. Brenda did not know why Brionna would entrust her with such a serious task, but there was a sense of duty in Brenda that had suddenly awaken, and Brenda knew that she had to get this done. The likelihood of Brionna's death swam around in her head, along with the sudden responsibilty of Joanne that would be bestowed upon her if Brionna's death was confirmed. Brenda could not even begin to image the grieving expressed by her mother, father, and brother if they found out that Brionna Elizabeth Campbell was dead over some government secret. Joanne would be left heartbroken and empty, Brenda thought. Joanne's father was already an absent figure; a dead mother would do absolutely no good to the poor child's pysche. However, the saddest point in the situation was not the possibilities of Brenda and the others, but it was the ignorance that Brenda obliviously demonstrated to it all, as Brenda's worst thoughts had already came to life.

Brenda wiped away her tears with a nervous, shaky hand and she pressed the screen again to get the menu again. She scanned the screen and located the pictures. She clicked on the tab and saw that there were 7 pictures in the camera. Brenda pressed on the first photo and scanned over the text. Brenda saw terminology that she did not quite understand, pictures of a Caucasian male, and specific blocks of texts that were marked and circled in red marker.

"What's that?" a curious voice asked.

Brenda turned and saw Joanne staring up at her, the child's eyes filled with innocence and a certain shine that Brenda had instantly noticed for some reason.

Despite Brenda's highly emotional state, the distressed woman managed to force out a smile for Joanne. She raised herself from the chair and stooped down to Joanne's level, planting a gentle, yet shaking hand on the girl's head. Joanne slightly grimaced at the sight of her aunt; pink, saggy eyes and a slightly sticky face.

"Jojo. I'm taking you over to the neighbor's apartment. I've got to...run a few errands." Brenda said.

"Can't I go with you?" Joanne asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

Joanne was starting to get on Brenda's nerves. "...Joanne, please. Just do what I say."

"I don't wanna be over that lady's house. I wanna-"

"JUST DO WHAT I SAY!" Brenda shouted.

Joanne jumped back a bit and her face twisted with fear and shock. Brenda herself was shocked by her own tone of voice, and she gave Joanne an apologetic look. Brenda's lips parted to say an apology, but Joanne walked away before Brenda could get one word out of her mouth.

Brenda sighed and stood up. Great. She already felt distressed about her new troublesome situation; Brenda did not need Joanne's silent treatment added to it.

It was reaching around 11AM when Brenda completely summed up the courage to walked over to Blix's apartment. Joanne did very well indeed give Benda the silent treatment after her outbursts at her, and Joanne gave her aunt a deep stare before entering her neighbor's apartment. Brenda took that stare and took it in stride. She deserved it, and Brenda felt like there would be more of those stares when everything that was going on was finally laid out on the table.

With the box in her trembling hands, Brenda stood infront of Blix's apartment door, staring at the apartment number that was engraved onto the door. Brenda continued to count to herself, promising herself to knock on Blix's door when she reached 10. The number 9 constantly repeated itself.

"Come on, Brenda. Pull it together. Brionna said that this guy can help..." Brenda told herself aloud. "He's a friend of hers. Brionna knows nice people...what could go wrong?"

There were several scenarios in Brenda's head that detailed the possibilites of something going wrong, but Brenda forced herself not to let that overpower her. She carefully took one hand off of the box and balled it into a fist, and prepared to knock at the door. As if the door itself knew that Brenda was there, it swung open with a loud creak, and Brenda stared at the sight that was on the other side.

The door was opened by a harsh looking, bald man with two scars on his face; one big horizontal scar stretching over his left eye, and a smaller scar slashing a corner of his mouth. He was dressed entirely in black, and his green eyes stared Brenda down, breaking the woman down with every passing second. Behind him, however, was truly a gruesome sight. Behind the scarred man were 3 other figures. Two of those figures were masked, and appeared to be in the same attire as the man at the door. The third male was, unlike the other 4, dressed in civilian clothing and tied to a chair. Brenda could not get a good look at the man's appearance, as the man's own blood dripped and leaked from the openings of his head. Though it was a reluctant assumption, Brenda assumed the bloody man was Brionna's friend, Blix.

Brenda's eyes shot to one of the men in the back when he shouted something and pointed at her. The man at the door reacted instantly, wrapping his huge, gloved hands around Brenda's arms and throwing her inside, closing the door behind him. Brenda landed on the apartment floor with a loud 'thud', the box scurrying away from Brenda and out of her reach. The scarred man stepped over Brenda and reached for the box, but an unrecognizable feeling of boldness rushed in Brenda and she she grabbed the man's feet, an awkward attempt to prevent him from grabbing the box. One of the masked man moved up to handle Brenda, but the scarred man beat him to it, turning around and kicking the Black woman hard in her face.

Brenda immediately released her grasp and she cried out in pain, rolling over and holding onto her face as if that were to ease the pain. The taste from the scarred man's boot was fresh in Brenda's mouth, along with the taste of her own blood. She spat out a bit of it and she turned around to see that the scarred man had already freed the box from the tape Brenda had placed on it and had taken out the camera. The masked men and the scarred man looked rather confused.

"What the hell? A camera?" the scarred man asked himself, his gruff, scratchy voice ringing in Brenda's ears.

"Is that it?" one of the masked men asked.

"Shepherd didn't really specify."

Brenda twitched at the man's sentence. 'Remember that name, Brenda. Shepherd.'

Brenda grunted and began to crawl to the scarred man. Her blood painted her teeth red as she gritted. 'I got a feeling you will be hearing alot about him from now on.'

Not a word, but a sound had eased between Brenda's teeth, and one of the masked men grabbed a handful of her hair and stood her up to her feet. "So what do we do with her?" the man asked.

A droplet of blood fell from the corner as the sound of Brionna's video rang through her ears again. The scarred man turned to the video, and he grinned at what he saw. Anger swelled inside of Brenda, but she could only stand there and watch him grin like a mad man. After a few more seconds, the scarred man paused the video. The scarred man turned to Brenda, his grin almost cartoonish.

"Well, isn't this your lucky day." he said.

He turned to the masked man who still stood by Blix, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout this entire ordeal. A nod of the scarred man's head, and the masked man revealed a pistol from behind his back. It was long and black, with a silencer attached to it. At the sight of the gun, Blix started to tremble and made a useless attempt to try to get away. He shook his head in defiance, a few drops of blood splattering off of his head and onto the rug. The armed man grabbed Blix's face to keep it still and pressed the tip of the barrel against the man's temple.

Brenda did not want to watch this murder, but her eyes did not want to close. She could only watch as Blix desperately pleaded for his life, his pleas only sounding like slurred words or made up vocabulary. He looked and squirmed like a bloody pig, his squeals not too far away from sounding like the respective animal. Another few seconds of Blix's quealing went by, and he was suddenly silenced with the pull of the trigger. Brenda stood motionless as blood rushed out of the other side of his head and splattered onto the carpet and nearby furniture. Despite the shock, it wasn't surreal to Brenda. Her days of a conflict photographer exposed her to many acts of violence and undeserved deaths. She would snap pictures of the aftermath of the consequences of war, the people that were affected by the war, the places that were destroyed and stripped away of their orginality by the war. However, there always came a time when Brenda would see some of the events firsthand, and it was the cries of pain and assistance that would roam in Brenda's ears and haunt her as punishment for not helping.

As for Blix, Brenda really couldn't help him. She wanted to, but Brenda knew that there was literally nothing she could do for him without losing her life as well. Selfish as it may be, Brenda did not really plan to die anytime soon. Not for herself, and not for Joanne. Brionna was enough.

"Let's go." the scarred man said, placing the camera back into the box.

"We aren't gonna kill her?" one of the masked men asked, turning to glare at Brenda.

The scarred man shook his head and gave Brenda the same grin from before. "If she has info like this on her, maybe we can beat some more stuff out of here." The word "beat" made Brenda cringe. "But not here." the scarred man added.

The masked man yanked Brenda's hair and pulled her towards the door, placing his free hand on her mouth to muffle in screams Brenda might express. His hand pushed Brenda's blood back into her mouth, making her gag slightly. The masked man opened the door and prepare to sprint out, only to be stopped by a small figure looking up to him.

Brenda's eyes widened, her tears sliding down and hitting the masked man's gloved hand. 'Joanne...what the hell?'

Joanne looked up at the man and Brenda, but mostly her aunt, as the blood on Brenda's face made the small child step back a bit and examine her. "Aunt..."

"Move, kid." the masked man growled, and he pressed a heavy boot against Joanne and pushed her down.

Brenda snapped. She began to struggle and try to free herself from the man's grasp. If she would have gotten free, she didn't know what she would do afterwards. Hit him, maybe. Yes. Hit him as hard as she could...and then get shot in the face right infront of her niece.

The masked man let out a laugh and smashed Brenda's face hard into the wall. Joanne screamed and grabbed the man's pant leg, hitting him with her teddy bear and yelling the meanest things that a 4-year-old could think of. The masked man turned around to deal with Joanne once more, but the scarred man reached her first. He picked her up by her dress and dropped her on the concrete from a relatively good distance. By this time, the masked men were already down to ground level, trying to push Brenda into the trunk of their car. Joanne was quickly on her feet, chasing after the scarred man. She sprinted as fast as her little legs could take her and she was soon chasing the scarred man down.

Hearing the pitter-patter of sandals hitting the concrete, the scarred man turned around and swung his heavy hand, hitting Joanne in the face and bringing her down to the ground. The collision of his hand and Joanne's face knocked the small child, an act that Brenda witness as she stuffed into the trunk.

"Joanne!" Brenda cried. "Fucking bastards! Who treats a little girl like that?" she shouted, blood shooting out of her mouth as she yelled.

Brenda tried to get out of the trunk, but was pushed back by the force of Joanne's unconcious body being thrown into the trunk next to her. Joanne's teddy bear was surprisingly thrown in as well, hitting Brenda in her aching face. Brenda wrapped an arm around Joanne and looked up at the man, a look of hatred in her eyes.

However, the look of hatred suddenly started to melt away, and a powerful feeling of disbelief overwhelmed her. The world had come to an erput stop as Brenda's eyes lock on the pitiful expression of her sister, Brionna. Brenda had the urge to say something, but the sudden appearance of her sister looking down on her froze her entire body. Her wardrobe was different from when Brenda last saw her, but it looked rather casual and different from the men that were also above her and Joanne. It had to be a hallucination, Brenda thought. Those men hit hurt way too hard, and she was now seeing things. Like her sister, who could possibly be dead.

Yes. Brenda agreed with her theory. She was now seeing the ghost of her sister, Brionna. Tears ran down her cheeks, feeling like acid when they ran across the bloody cuts and bruises on her face.

Brionna shook her head and both of her eyebrows raised. "It's like deja vu."

Brenda's eyes widened at her words, but everything turned dark when the scarred man's fist came crashing down on Brenda's face.

Oh boy. Brenda's starting to see Brionna's ghosts. Insane in the brain.

This chapter was a bit of a pain to write, but I'm finally glad I have it done. I hope you all liked this chapter, and I will get the next one up as soon as I get more ideas. Reviews are, of course, welcomed.

Thank you! :)