[✔] ▼ 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚎 ▲ Miguel O'Hara x Reader▼ 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷/ 𝟸

▸ EIGHT ◂

The sirens echoed throughout the long, concrete halls. Flashing lights with alarms illuminated the dark corners. This underground facility holds the trainees and rookies who would later graduate to defeat Alchemax. Including you.

You sit on your thin mattress that rests on a small platform carved inside the concrete walls. You stare into space with your body hunched over as many soldiers rush past you. They all head down the corridor as protocol instructs them to do. 

You've been in this exact situation before. You knew this place like the back of your hand, and you knew what the alarm meant. As you stand, the setting shifts and you now stand in the rain with your sniper in your hands.

Was this a dream?

"Reap here. Do you read me?" The man in your earpiece spoke.

In pure instinct, you reach up to press the voicecom, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Eliminate the target quickly and quietly. Try not to make a scene. Got it?"

Your eyes lock on the man behind the lectern giving a speech to the people. You slowly raise your gun and get on your knees, into position. As you prop your sniper against the raised ledge of the building, you let a breath out to steady your aim. You lean your eye closer into the scope, and your finger ghosts over the trigger.

"We're running out of time, his speech is nearly done. What are you waiting for?!"

The small red dot in your scope hovers over the man's cranium. You take heed of your captain's orders and apply pressure on the trigger.

"Killing would cause a major blow to fate." You hear a familiar voice echo in your head.

"Do you . . . enjoy killing?" Miguel's voice says.

You lower your weapon and stare out into the distance as Miguel's troubled face appears before you. Your heart clenches at his pained expression, as though your response could kill him on the spot.

"(Y/N)?! What are you doing?!" Your captain shouts in your ear.

You close your eyes with a deep frown and respond to the hallucination of Miguel, "I am not proud of the lives I had to take . . . But . . ."

The words got caught in your throat, you did not want to say what you told him back then. Your mind filters through many visions of your bullets penetrating so many heads. Their head destroyed in seconds. The uproar and cries of the public. You were so used to the devastating sights that it no longer effected you. Miguel appears before you again as you patch up his wounds. His expression is pleading to you.

". . . it had to be done," You say begrudgingly and aim your sniper once more.

You feel Miguel's large, warm hands hold your shoulders, slowly sliding down to your grasp on the weapon. You shiver at his hot touch against your icy skin. His lips come close to your ears, and his chest presses against your back.

"Does it?" He whispers.

You grunt in frustration and shake him off, quickly aiming your fire at the target. Without a second thought, you pull the trigger and the target falls to the ground. However, just before you look away, you see that the man is now Miguel. You had just shot and killed Miguel--

Your eyes open with a jolt and you lie in your bed for a long time, processing the dream you just had. It was . . . so real, such an eye-opener. You did not know what to think, you were still in the process of waking up.