It's a little while later, Ludmila knows she is probably going to die. Especially with that bullet in her arm.
The first part was a trip to the park. She shot down countless enemies, all with their guns locked and loaded. They seemed wimpy in comparison to the other comrades that she'd shot down, and her adrenaline was only building. Now, she is surrounded by soldiers who are probably twice her own size.
They aim for her with their bazooka-sized guns, probably savoring the moment before they finish her off. Her vision is blurry from pain. The excitement has throbbed away, and all she is left with is a searing pain in her left arm. She glances down at the gash and winces. It doesn't look good.
"Hey, guys," she tries with a winning smile. Seductive techniques sounded really good right now. "Would you mind giving a girl a hand?"
They all laugh at her. The pathetic way that she's standing is probably the cherry on the cake for humiliation.
"Nice try, girl," one says, his gun lowering, knowing she'll probably bleed to death from her wound (and frankly, it feels like it too). "How old are you? Sixteen? Fifteen?"
"Twenty-two," she growls. Screw the seductive act.
They all laugh again.
"'Twenty-two'," another one mimics in a high-pitched voice. "How pitiful. Maybe we should you her right now, to end your suffering."
Suddenly, she can hear a voice. "Ludmi? How are you doing?"
She nearly cries from joy. Federico.
"Not good," she says from under her breath, grunting from the pain that even this is causing her. The men surrounding her are looking at her, deciding that she has finally gone delirious from the blood loss.
"Well, I found the disk in the East Wing, and deactivated all the security cameras. You coming?"
"Well aren't you the little fix-it," she mutters. "And I'd love to come. Only there's a bullet in my arm and there is security surrounding me."
Ludmila knows that - naturally - Federico will panic. "Shit, what? I'm coming to get you. Uh, act hurt and pathetic or something. Like you're going to die."
She grunts. "Believe me, this isn't an act sweetie."
"I'm going now. Hang on." And then the mic is silent.
Ludmila doesn't know how much longer she can hold on to life.
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When Federico does come, he makes an entrance.
Ludmila watches as he bursts into the hallway and single-handedly shoots down every guard. They all shout as they go down. Federico runs over to her, where she sits, slumped. After many minutes of pain, she is standing up, next to Federico, who is supporting her as she walks.
She blinks away the stars from her eyes and comments dryly, "Now you've had your badass moment, Granera."
He gives a little laugh, his eyes trained forward. He almost looks a little upset. "Not my worst."
"Hey. It's not your fault I was shot. I'm not indestructible," Ludmila tells him. He's still not looking at her.
"I know," he says. "It's not completely that. I just thought, if you go down, what are the chances of us surviving the mission?"
She ponders this for a moment. They continue on in silence. Ludmila feels sharp stabs of pain every time she makes a move, and can't help but let out small, whimpering sounds each time she takes a step. Despite it, she chides herself for being weak. She can't baby herself right now, even judging by the wound's condition.
"Hey, you okay?" Federico says, pausing to look at her. The concern in his eyes is so earnest and palpable, she has this weird feeling where she wants to kiss him and punch him in the face at the same time.
"I'm fine," she says, gritting her teeth from the new wave of nausea. "We don't have forever. Let's keep moving."
"If you're sure..."
"I'm sure," she lies, and gently extracts herself from him, already missing his warmth. "Also, I only hurt my arm, Federico. I think I can handle walking."
She takes a few steps away, but almost immediately she stumbles, falling to the floor. He scoops her up, and says, "Really, Ferro? Didn't peg you as a liar."
"You'd better get used to it," she mutters, but she loves the scent of him so much, she almost doesn't bother arguing with him. His cologne is definitely a turn-on, and the scent of fresh cotton is almost irresistible. Ludmila stops herself from snuggling closer.
"I suppose I should." He smirks at her, and Ludmila almost has the feeling that he's reading her thoughts. "You're right, we need to get moving. Also," he rips a sleeve from his shirt off and wraps it around the wound, "you'll need this. Damn, you're losing a lot of blood."
She barely has time to reply before she collapses in his arms. All she can see is spots, and before she knows it, he's muttering, "Closing in? Already? Crap. Crap crap crap," and he's carrying her and running and running, and her mind goes completely blank.
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There you have part 4. I hope you're enjoying this extremely long oneShot.
Anyway, thanks for reading ;)
Lots of Love,
Emily
xoxo
