Choices || Splinter Cell: Blacklist

Chapter One

Author's Note: A relatively short one, this time. I really loved Blacklist since it was the best Splinter Cell (in my opinion) since Chaos Theory. This idea had been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I had honestly forgotten about it until a couple of weeks ago for some reason. In any case, it's just my take on what would have happened at the end of the "Abandoned Mill" mission, after Sam has planted the bug on the nerve gas. There are a lot of similarities to the game, but I promise it is quite different overall. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Sam headed up the ladder. He was so close. He just had to take Sadiq out and it would all be over. But with every ascending step, his limbs grew heavier. His focus wandered. Grim's voice drew him back to reality.

"Sam, your vitals are all over the place. I don't like this. You need to get out of there."

Fighting back a grimace, Sam stuttered out, "I'm fine."

Finally reaching the top of a ladder that had seemed a lot shorter when he had started climbing, Sam hoisted himself over the edge less gracefully than he would have liked and landed in a heap on the floor. Though blurred, it was apparent that a lab was situated just ahead of Sam's position, given away by its white, plastic tents and occupants wearing outfits to match. His health deteriorating, it took Sam a few attempts just to stand up. The world swam around him as though he were caught in the middle of a shimmering mirage.

Sam headed towards the lab, now in a full-on daze. He stumbled onward, unaware of the people around him, and uncaring as to whether they saw him. He simply couldn't form a coherent thought. All he could do was blindly move forward in an effort to complete his one objective, the only thing left for his failing mind to grasp—to kill Sadiq. From far away, he heard a voice. It was somehow familiar though he couldn't identify its owner.

"Your O2 Sat is plummeting. Sam, get out of there now!"

Some ingrained convention dictated a response, but being reduced to a primordial being, Sam couldn't form any intelligible words, instead just mumbling a few syllables.

He had made it halfway through the lab, quickly being surrounded by confused technicians sounding the alarm. The lights around him blurred together with the faces popping in and out of his view. His footsteps faltered as his legs gave out beneath him, leaving him lying on his back. The moment he hit the ground, the voice called to him again in its seemingly endless effort to keep him awake when all his body wanted to do was fade away.

"Sam? Sam, do you copy? Sam?! Briggs, move in on Sam's position. Now!"

But Sam's body had won the battle, drawing him downward into darkness as masked faces closed in on him, arms outstretched.

~~~

Sam was jolted awake by the butt of a pistol colliding with his face. He groaned at the shock of it. By some miracle, his mind had returned, though his senses were still fuzzy. Whether it was the adrenaline surge caused by the blow or just some strange circumstance that allowed him the luxury of thought once more, Sam didn't know. He was simply thankful for it.

Unfortunately, there was nothing comforting about the situation Sam found himself in. He was seated in a folding chair, hands tied behind his back. On any other day, the restraint would have been insulting. Having his hands tied was child's play by Splinter Cell standards. But Sam was still in bad shape from the nerve gas exposure. He could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat, his hands and feet growing clammy. Breathing became more and more difficult. There was nothing he could do about his situation and he knew it. Not in the condition he was in. However, though his mind had been addled before he passed out, it had still registered Grim's last words. Sam knew help was coming. He only had to last long enough for it to arrive.