Ok all of your reviews made my day, seriously. I am very grateful for the lengthy reviews. They really helped me get an idea of where I should bring this story. Also this is the last warning for any people who are against mXm. I don't want someone reading than go…. "Wholy S***". Kay? Good. Any complaints pm me.
"Soap we have to go back for him!"
"Ghost get in the bloody chopper! You're full of shrapnel and we need to get you fixed up!"
"But Roach!" Ghost ringed his hands together, sweat running down the back of his neck.
"I hate it just as much as you do, but I really need you to work with me here!" Soap glanced over his shoulder as gunfire sounded closer. He looked back at the hectic soldier in-front of him, then at the medic in the helicopter. With a silent nod and a switch of his eyes the medic nodded.
"Oh God… he's dead… Soap, he's dead! I failed him I… ah fuck…"
Soap caught the limp body of Ghost with a grunt as the medic injected a sedative into Ghost's neck.
"I'm sorry Ghost, but we gotta get outa here."
With some help from the medic Soap lifted the limp body into the helicopter. As the aircraft took off he gave a sad glance back at the warehouse before watching the medic tend to his friend, ignoring the sound of gunfire.
Darkness. That was the first thing Gary noticed. The second was the throbbing pain coursing through his body. Gary groaned, only to realize it was muffled by a gag. His forehead itched where a cloth covered his eyes, his eyelashes scrunched.
"Fuck."
His ears perked when a Russian accent filled his ears, only with a slightly different ring than what he had heard before.
"Go get the boss. He's waking up."
He heard some shuffling before a door closed. It wasn't much later that he heard more footsteps. With a harsh movement the cloth covering his eyes was removed. Blinking as his eye's adjusted, Gary looked around and noticed he was in what he presumed as a single, underground safe house they were un-aware of. As Gary's gaze sweaped the room he looked up at the figure standing at his feet and into the face that belonged to non-other than Gonzorig.
"Ok American, we'll just get to the point. Where is your base?"
Gary sighed. "Seriously? Old school huh." Gary didn't say anything, just stared down at his feet.
Gonzorig grabbed a handful of Gary's hair and yanked his head back, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. "How about we start with something easier. What's your name?"
Gary glared at the man before spitting as much saliva as he could conjure into the man's face.
"Go fuck yourself."
He watched as the man smirked before drawing out a knife from his belt.
"Have it your way…"
"Wait!"
Both Gary and Gonzorig jerked their heads as one of the men standing off to the side spoke up. He was pale with thinning brown hair. Deep bags under his eyes and sunken in cheeks gave him the look of a man with many sleepless nights.
"I see this man before."
Gary's eyes widened and he twisted his tied hands nervously. "What the hell?"
Gonzorig jerked his head at the man. "Where?"
"Uh… computer. Yes, computer. I show you." The small framed man reached over to a small dusty laptop on a table in the center of the room. Gary, with his legs tied to the chair and his arms behind his back couldn't do anything but crane his neck as Gonzorig pushed the man aside. Gary felt the blood drain from his face as the computer was turned so he could see the screen.
"It seems, boys, that we have an American model amongst us. Though I am curious, how do you go from being a model to a soldier in the special forces?"
Gary could only stare at the screen in disbelief. "They should've cleared that last week!" Hanging his head Gary only shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He heard a tsking from Gonzorig, then without warning the man lunged forward and stabbed the knife he was holding into his side. Gary screeched as the pain radiated threw his body.
With a pained whine Gary whispered under his breath, shaking his head back and forth to clear the pain in his head as he tried in vain to stop the tears that swelled up into his eyes. Flinching as he felt a palm pat his cheek, his eye's raised to glare at Gonzorig.
"See, if you'd just tell me where you're stationed, that wouldn't have happened."
Gary groaned as the knife was pulled out from his side, only to be placed at his left temple.
"Now" Gonzolig paused and looked back at the screen, "Gary Sanderson, where is your base located?"
Whimpering, blood started to drip down into his eye as the blade dug into his temple, then dragged along his left brow where it paused just above his nose.
"You ready to tell me?"
Gary shook his head as tears dripped from his chin. With a quick jerk the knife raked down diagonally across his nose to his right cheek. Gary pulled and twisted his hands against the handcuffs that were holding his hands, causing his wrist to bleed from his efforts. Screams filled the room. Gary sobbed in pain, both from the pain bolting form his head and into his toes, but also from the severe heart ache that was brought on from the thought of never seeing Simon again.
"He left me. He probably thinks I'm dead…" At this realizations Gary's body was wracked with new sobs his body shuddering in painful spasms. All the while Gonzorig watched with interest.
"Will you tell me where your base is?"
Gary shook his head.
"Shame. You are just a boy."
Gary looked up in hopes of seeing a form of pity in his captor's eyes. Instead he found a mischievous glint. Just as he looked up, the knife that was cutting into his cheek was shoved threw his cheek and into his mouth, piercing his opposite cheek and scraping against his tongue. Gary's mouth opened wide in an ear splitting scream, only to have his skin torn even more from the stretching of his skin. When the knife was retracted he could taste the blood flooding into his mouth and gurgled as it ran down his throat. Without thinking he spat a large gob of blood out, only to watch in horror as it splattered all over Gonzorig's shirt.
At first the man just stood still, then looking down at his shirt he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at the blood. With a sniff of disdain he tossed the bloodied cloth to the side and turned back to his men speaking some words Gary didn't understand. He watched as the drawn man from earlier nodded slightly, grabbed a syringe off the small table at the side of the room, walked up to Gary, who was now sobbing uncontrollably and shoved the needle into his neck.
Gary flinched as he felt his body slacken. Failing at keeping his eyes open, he welcomed the darkness that surged into his mind, and as he felt his conscience slip away, he used the last of his energy to conjure up a picture of Simon.
*Russian is a minor language in Mongolia.
I know it's not very long, but it's been forever since I updated and I wanted to get this up for anyone who's still reading this.
I'm sorry for any typos, but I felt somewhat rushed.
Understand please that my life is hectic right now, and with little time on the computer, life isn't making it very easy for me to get on here and work on this story. I just want everyone to know that I haven't forgotten about this.