Grenade Pin - Far Cry 6 Fanfiction

Chapter 2

Camilla stood rooted to the spot, the quiet click of the door closing was like a defeaning sound in the vast space of the office. She was alone, the silence stretching into a roar of nothingness while shock set in. Every miniscule noise was amplified until it rang loudly in Camilla's ears.

The body of the former consulate general slid sickeningly slow down the leather couch. The hole in his head still weeping a bloody mush of brain matter along the corpses face.
How had things gone so wrong?

This was hell, a twisted nightmare of terror and despair threatening to swallow her whole on the isolated island of Yara. Was she stuck here now? Why hadn’t he killed her too? Would the El Presidente send her home, back on the rickety fishing boat to relay the death and failure of the American representative.

Camilla’s mind fluttered around with so many unknown variables, it was hard to get a grasp on any one question before she was asking herself more. None of which she had any answers too.

Seconds passed from the thunderous ticking of a clock somewhere out of sight in the grand room, Camilla’s thoughts had been running a million miles a minute until the door opened once more to reveal another soldier. The man was followed in by more military personnel, the uniforms a dead give away. She observed his ranking was high enough to be giving orders in Spanish to the other men. A few dragging away the deceased body of her former boss, while others cleaned.

“Excuse me, Miss Ramos,” the soldier intercepted her vision of the unsightly scene. Standing a foot away, the man was devoid of emotion, just as ridged in form as his leader, yet lacking the dangerous aura. He peered down at her, waiting for some inkling of acknowledgment from the stupefied women.

Camilla blinked at him, then everything came rushing back. It was like waking from a daze, the icy bucket of reality had her shaking like a leaf, but she stood her ground when all the woman wanted to do was crumple into a crying mess.

“Yes,” her voice held steady.

“Our El Presidente wishes to extend our hospitality to you. A room has been organised for your stay,” he inclined his body towards the door stiffly and held a hand towards that direction, “Follow me please.”

“No,” Camilla had to be crazy, she didnt know what she was doing, but she didn’t trust any of these people. Yet disrespecting President Castillo's orders knowing full well he’d just killed someone minutes earlier might have been a death wish on her part.

“No?” the soldier echoed back confused.

“No” she repeated sternly. There was no way they were getting her cooperation, “I am not leaving this room." Camilla’s arms crossed like a bratty child, doing her best to hide the fear. For all she knew they could take her out the back to be firing practice.

The man seemed to reconsider, glancing back at his fellow soldiers, none of them were willing to touch the woman. Although he disapproved, he was not going to risk his own neck by forcing the El Presidente's guest into her new quarters.

“Understood. I will pass on your reservations,” as quickly as they’d come, they all left. The room was clean, her paperwork gone, no trace of blood remained, just a stinging smell of chemical left behind by the efficient clean-up crew. It made her wonder how often the president would snuff out a life within his walls.
So Camilla waited. Not daring to sit down, she would not be the next victim cleaned of the chair.

It wasn’t long before an explosion rattled the windows and the woman dropped to the floor in terror. The blast was close, sounding like it was directly outside, yet there was no way for her to know what had transpired. Peaking around, there was no damage to be seen, was it even a blast she wondered.