Debug is a reformed cyber-terrorist with a computer engineering/coding background. After a very unpleasant experience overseas she is recruited to work for the government while trying to cope with her mental trauma and the physical scars. Through he...
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Summary: Upon receiving terrible news you come to the realization that you're truly on your own and go off the grid. Ghost and Soap go to your flat looking for you but you're long gone.
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Something seemed off when you were asked to report to the task force base. No specific reason given besides that it was urgent. Going as far as to send someone to pick you up, needless to say you were already on edge.
So here you were in the office of your brother's Captain with someone you don't recognize sitting beside you. Attempting to calm your raging nerves with a deep breath in, waiting for the man across from you to speak.
The breath leaves your lungs as the words leave Price's lips. Your brother was gone and they couldn't even bring his body back with them, They left him behind... The breath didn't return, feeling as though the room had filled with water, your chest clenched painfully, you were drowning.
Wondering if this has any parallel to how your brother felt learning of your capture those years ago. All the times he told you of the fear, the irreparable fear of loss, and now the tables were turned. The suffocating feeling of the world caving in around you, helpless to do anything.
There's a split second of silence before it begins, deafening static slowly building deep in your skull. Numbly watching Price's lips moving but unable to make out the words.
Static still building, the room suddenly feeling all too bright as the back of your eyes ache. Not this again, not now, exhaustion beginning to overtake you, senses overloaded. You need to get out of here, to regain your breath before it all becomes too much.
Quietly excusing yourself to the bathroom with all the energy you can summon in the moment. Catching fragments of pity and regret spark in Price's eyes as he gives you a curt nod.
You make your way out of his office, heartbeat in the back of your throat, hands shaking. Catching sight of Ghost and Soap leaning against the far wall, you can't bring yourself to meet their painful stare. That in itself would send you plunging over the edge of your oncoming panic attack.
Eyes meet the gray of the bathroom door, a sanctuary for the moment. You can feel your pulse building again, the tightness of holding back a sob ready to erupt from your throat. Shakily grasping a sink and turning on the water, desperate to wash the sweat from your trembling hands.
