"Go, go, go!" roared Ghost.
The van's tires screeched as they sped away, making their way to the warehouse. Once there, Ghost and Roach carried the HVT inside and cuffed her to a chair. MacTavish gave Shepherd a SITREP and proceeded with the interrogation.
He glanced at her, head hanging still unconscious. She might have looked petite in the photo under the suit, but analysing her closely, he noticed that her build was quite muscular and toned. It wasn't the only feature that drew his attention. Scars mapped her body, silent testimonies of battles survived, one even distinctly from a gunshot. The sight unsettled him, and he knew then he would be a fool to underestimate her further.
Ghost took a swig of water from his bottle and threw the remainder into the HVT's face, drenching her. She woke up startled, gasping. Her eyes fluttered, clearing the water away observing her surroundings.
Two men were standing on the side wearing plain, black ski masks but her gaze hovered over the man in front of her. The skull mask framed his piercing, blue eyes conveying a calculated and detached demeanour which worried her even more.
"I am going to make it extremely simple for you to understand," skull-mask started as he put on a pair of leather gloves. He had a thick British accent which perplexed her. "We ask you a question, and you answer it. Understood?"
The HVT kept gaping at him. He backhanded her across the face, and she spluttered.
"Understood?"
"Yes," she replied in a small voice.
"You are affiliated with a well-known fugitive; a terrorist known to supplement armaments to other extremists."
Her brow furrowed, confused at what he was insinuating.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She felt the storm of his fist before she even saw it. Her head hung on the side, blood mixed with bile dripping slowly from her mouth and splattering on the ground. She spat multiple times trying to clear it all away.
Ghost grabbed her face and drew her eyes unwillingly to his.
"Wrong answer. Let's try again."
She was resilient, MacTavish had to give her that. Blow after burning blow struck her, but she refused to fall.
"Ghost, take it easy."
What the hell was that accent? She could not identify it, was it maybe Irish?
Reluctantly, Ghost had to take a break as the HVT was starting to lose consciousness. Her eyes would briefly roll into her skull till Roach and MacTavish would freshen her up with cold water through some waterboarding.
When she came to, skull-mask's colleague took his place. His eyes were like two chips of ice, with a faint scar passing through the right one. He grunted at her lack of cooperation.
"Listen here lass, 'cos it seems that you misunderstood my mate over there," weird-accent dude hissed. "We are in a hurry here, so when we ask you a question, you bloody answer it!"
She mustered the last strength left in her to straighten herself up on the chair and spat in his face with conviction.
"Fuck off."
"You bitch –"
Without warning, the warehouse side door opened, and Shepherd strolled in. It was peculiar seeing him in civilian clothing, clad in a dark grey suit with a light shirt underneath.
Holding a manila folder in has hand, he dragged a chair in front of the target and took a seat. One look at her bruised, bleeding and puffed-up face, he shot a glance at the others, annoyed at them overworking the HVT. Without a care in the world, Ghost leaned against the table with his arms crossed against his chest, while Roach and MacTavish stood at the back.
Shepherd leaned over, a few inches away from her face and calmly asked, "Do you know who I am?"
She shook her head.
He took out a photo of Al-Jabbar wearing the typical Middle Eastern insurgent uniform.
"Do you know who this is?"
"No."
He switched to another photo and the HVT's eyes widened. It depicted the same man alongside a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to her.
"How about now?"
She refused to answer. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by an intermittent buzzing noise coming from her side. Skull-mask was touching two jumper cables together which were connected to a car battery sending sparks flying everywhere. A lump caught in her throat as she battled the nausea forcing herself not to vomit all over her interrogator's expensive suit.
"Let's try this again. Is that you alongside the man in the photo?"
She tried to keep level-headed, but her body betrayed her. Her chest heaved frantically, breathing fast and shallow. She tried force herself to keep calm but to no avail.
"Focus!" Shepherd yelled, snapping his fingers in her face.
How could she? Ghost was approaching her with the cables and she grinded her teeth, eyes wide filled with fear. Instinctively, she pulled away from him as if it will distance her from him as much as possible. Shepherd raised his hand and Ghost stopped in his steps.
"What mission were you on at the time?"
MacTavish and Roach glanced at each other, their eyes conveying confusion at the rather strangely phased question Shepherd just asked.
"You know who I am, don't you?" asked the HVT faintly.
He shuffled through the papers in the manila folder and leaned back in the chair.
"Sergeant Christianne Reynolds of the United Stated Marine Corps. Codename 'Raven'. Three deployments, one in Iraq and two in Afghanistan including Kabul, Helmand Province, and Kandahar. Assigned to the Lioness programme and later to the Female Engagement Team. During these deployments, your heroism awarded you the Silver Star and the Purple Heart."
Ghost looked at MacTavish, his eyes displaying shock. Did they just torture a Marine veteran?
"I am not a Marine anymore."
"Well, you know what they say; once a Marine, always a Marine."
"If you know who I am," mumbled Reynolds, "then you know that you are interrogating a US citizen, who happens to also be a veteran, on US soil. That is a fast-track pass to Guantanamo."
"Not to me."
"Of course not, you're American. Your British mates over there are the ones who should be worried."
"Let me worry about them," he said coolly.
"I did not catch your name."
"You will know soon enough."
Like thunder booming, multiple explosions echoed through the warehouse leaving behind a deafening noise. Smoke billowed around them, masking every shadow. Reynolds closed her eyes tight, her face twisted in pain trying to block the dinning noise in her ears. The others pulled their pistols out shifting around them. Conversely, Shepherd was the only one that remained seated, legs crossed as if he was attending a formal dinner.
Soldiers donning a dark grey assault uniform, black helmets, and black tac-vests shuffled inside the warehouse roaring orders, armed to their teeth. Shepherd instructed his men to lower their weapons and to comply. When the last speck of dust had finally settled, a man wearing civilian clothing stormed inside, looking absolutely livid. His light blue shirt was unbuttoned halfway through his chest, stuffed as neatly as can be into his black trousers. He scratched his short brown hair and beard in frustration and came to a halt in front of them.
"Shepherd! What the fuck is this?!"
He finally got up from his chair and turned lazily towards the man.
"Matthews," he simply said.
"Just because I rejected your proposal does not give you the right to kidnap one of my own!" he spat.
Roach had his arms raised as three soldiers jammed their MP5s in their noses. They forced them to remove their mask, which they conformed, but not Ghost. He challenged them to shoot him rather to take off his mask. They let him be.
Roach snuck a look at the badge on the soldier's arm through the heated exchange. The black badge bore a vertical cobalt-blue dagger at its centre, encircled by the words 'Cobalt Strategic' embroidered in sharp yellow thread.
Matthews looked over at Reynolds, rage coursing through him, emitting a low growl. "Can someone cut her free, please?"
One of the soldiers took out a tactical knife from their vest and cut the ropes. Reynolds rubbed her wrists and ankles and sighed in relief. Matthews took a closer look at her and groaned.
"For fuck's sake Shepherd, she needs to deploy in a couple of hours."
"She'll be fine," he said dismissively. "I have a new offer for you."
He reached inside his blazer and handed him an envelope. Matthews snatched it and read it carefully. His eyes glossing over the lines on the paper, widening with each passing sentence.
"Why all this effort?" he asked with forced calmness.
"I require Reynold's particular skill set and connections for this mission. She is the only asset known to have been close to Hadi Al-Jabbar and has experience in these particular covert operations."
"Al-Jabbar dropped off the radar. Are you sure your intel is correct?"
"Absolutely. He has been supplying our HVT with powerful armaments and we need to start cutting heads off the medusa or it will get out of control fast. And since you have declined my offer for her to join Task Force 141, I am offering you to simply attach her and utilise her when necessary."
"Very well. But we do this on my terms," said Matthews jabbing his finger in Shepherd's direction. The latter shrugged and agreed.
"I need her to be on base in the UK," he called after Matthews as he started walking away. Now it was his time to shrug.
Dragging her feet, Reynolds snuck one last glance at the men who captured her. Fury boiling in the pit of her stomach. She may be ordered to work with them, but she will make sure not to forget what they had put her through.