Flew Too Close To The Sun

Chapter Two

words: 1110 |||| trigger warning for torture pt. 2

 Icarus stared up to the ceiling, his arms bound to the chair beneath him. It had been what felt like ages since he got captured, though if he had been counting correctly, it would be the 10th day of straight torture.

Blood already pooled onto the ground from how many times he was cut, sliced, and even shot. His body burned with pain and he breathed heavily.

The man brought his head back down to look at the man in front of him: Graves. Icarus blinked before smirking at the other American, "Wow, I'm still surprised." When Graves continued to stare, he explained, "You're actually getting your hands dirty." His head whipped to the side when Graves bashed it with a gun. Warm blood started to run down Icarus' face as his head dropped.

On the verge of losing consciousness, Graves shocked Icarus with a taser, bringing the man back to being awake, though groggy, "Icarus, all you have to do is answer the question. We'll put you out of your misery then."

"Okay, okay.." Icarus caved, earning a look of satisfaction from Graves. But when Icarus looked back up to the man torturing him, Graves knew from the look in his eyes that he was fucking around, "What was the question again?"

"You're really starting to piss me off," Graves leaned in, having a card to play that he'd been holding back, "Tobias." Graves' face twisted into one of satisfaction when Icarus looked shocked and uncomfortable, tilting his head down.

Icarus bit his lip, his face twisted in anger. That motherfucker! He gritted his teeth as his head was pulled up by his hair. Graves looked amused by the look of pure and unbridled rage on Icarus' face before holding his free hand out. A knife was placed in it by a nearby Shadow and Graves leaned in close to Icarus, lining the knife up with his stomach. Icarus felt the cold blade begin to pierce his skin. No noise escaped his lips except for a low growl that sounded almost inhuman.

Graves slid the knife into Icarus' gut up the hilt and twisted it, staring Icarus in his dark eyes, "Just answer my question Icarus."

"Fuck. You." Icarus smashed his forehead into Graves' face, sending him stumbling back. Icarus' own forehead dribbled with blood from the impact, and Graves' nose dripped blood.

"Motherfucker." Graves lifted his gun from the table and aimed it to Icarus' head, the other man just staring at the barrel. Icarus watched his finger tighten on the trigger, ready to eat the bullet up so he could finally get some goddamn rest. But the boom of an explosion made Graves turn his head.

Icarus smashed his head into the gun, knocking it from Graves' hand. He stood with the chair before dropping himself on it and shattering it. Icarus grunted in pain, but at least he could use his arms now. He rolled to his side and began to pull himself up but simply fell back down. As pissed as he was, a knife was hilt deep in his gut, he had a bullet wound in his thigh and he was covered in cuts all over his body.

Instead, Icarus watched as Graves picked up his gun and did a double take as if he were deciding on if he should kill Icarus or not. But the sound of nearing gunshots made Graves flee as he wasn't about to try and take on what he could only assume was the 141. Icarus watched in satisfaction as Graves ran and as Captain Price and the 141 stormed the room he was in.

Though only Captain Price had seen his face up to now, the others made no mention of it as they steadied Icarus, doing what they could to prevent him from bleeding out. He met the captain's eyes, blue against brown, and dipped his head. The captain dipped his back and began to lead the team to the exfil location. They needed to get there fast otherwise their rescue mission would have been for nothing. Icarus felt it, and he knew the others did too.

Icarus looked to the man who was supporting him, seeing the ghost mask he had grown familiar with, "Got a gun I can snag?" He asked and Ghost simply stared before retrieving a pistol from his side, handing it to the bloodied male, "Thanks, mate."

Ghost almost seemed like he was gonna roll his eyes but instead pulled Icarus behind cover and set him down, "Cover my six." Icarus nodded and leaned against the wall, counting the bullets in the pistol before slipping the magazine in and aiming down the sights.

His hands shook and his eyes were unfocused, but there was no way he'd let Ghost be snuck up on. The rest of the 141 had their attention on their front, clearing the way to the exfil zone. Icarus' eyes threatened to fall shut, his grip on the pistol loosening. His eyes began to shut, but slight rustling made him open them again.

A Shadow peeked around the door of a room, the light clinking of a bullet from his armor as it fell to the ground not enough to alert the others. Icarus raised the pistol, lining the shot up but faltered when he couldn't get a clear hit. He had to hit the head. He had to. Sucking in a painful breath, one that sent waves of pain from his side, and steadied his gun. He lined the shot up again, narrowing his eyes and squeezing the trigger. The gunshot rang throughout his ears as he watched the bullet hit the eye of the Shadow, causing the body to fall to the ground with a thump.

Icarus let out the breath he was holding, bringing a hand to his head where he was hit with a gun earlier and feeling the blood seep through his fingers, "Guys, no rush." He cackled lightly, trying to keep his spirits high as the looming pit of dread grew bigger in his gut. Wait. He looked down and saw the handle of the knife. Nevermind. It's just the knife.

The gunfire around him stopped, and Icarus' eyes fluttered shut. He felt someone lift him up, groaning in pain as the knife shifted in his gut. The deep voice he'd grown to know as Ghost spoke, "Price."

He forced his eyes open to look at the captain, who stared at him darkly. Icarus couldn't help but make a joke, "What? I don't look that bad, right?" He watched Price's face darken as Icarus' head dropped and his eyes fluttered shut.