Cold-hearted (fem!reader x Call of Duty)

Chapter 2

(Author's note: shout out to my Scottish friend for helping with Soap's lines)

You woke up in what seemed to be a hospital room, but it didn't seem quite like one. Your whole body hurts as if you had been hit by a car. That's because you did. The last thing you remember was running away from some military men and then a sharp pain before blacking out.
You looked around the room for a while. This would be a great time to make your escape (and hopefully not fail like last time due to an unforeseen turn of events).

You lifted the blanket that was covering you to assess the injuries. It would seem that thanks to your thick fur coat, the damage wasn't that bad. Looking further down, you concluded that the worst injury you got was a sprained ankle and some bruises, and that someone changed your clothes...

You struggled to get out of bed and stumbled when you tried to stand up. Escaping would be complicated, especially since you didn't know where you were.
You made your way to the door, ready to leave this place.

You opened the door slightly and peeked outside. Looking to the right - nothing - looking to the left - nothing. Perfect. You awkwardly ran out of the room like a penguin. So far, so good; no one to stop you. But just then... just when you thought you escaped, you bumped into someone. Someone who was very obviously much MUCH stronger than you, and for some reason, he had a skull mask. You fell on your butt (which hurt), and you cussed under your breath.

The man you bumped into grabbed your arm and helped you get back up. But he didn't let go after you were standing again.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. He had a British accent. God damn it, the Brits got you...

"Да. Я ухожу отсюда." you replied snarkily knowing damn well he won't understand you.
(translation: Yeah. I'm leaving this place.)

You looked to his right and realized there was someone else with him. A dude with a dope mohawk.

The man holding you was dragging you back to the room you just ran out of. "Нет! Нет, нет, нет! Отпустите меня! Let go of me!" you yelled at him to no avail, using all your strength to resist. Eventually, he picked you up because you kept fussing.
He placed you back on that uncomfortable bed. You crossed your arms like an angry toddler.

"What do you want from me?" you snarled at them, purposely making yourself have a thick Russian accent. You didn't want them to know you could speak perfect English.

"Look, lass. You're gunna wunna listen to us here. We know what you're capable of. We know who you're working for. You don't wunna know what we'll do if you don't comply."

"Ooooo sooo scary. I am shaking in my boots." You replied sarcastically and scoffed. "Ты думаешь, я тебя боюсь? Веселый."
(Translation: You think I'm scared of you? Hilarious.)

The man with the mohawk got closer and grabbed your shoulder, which undoubtedly startled you, but you quickly laughed it off.

"I'd watch those lips carefully if I were you, if you still want em."

"I'm just a kid. I don't even know what you want from me."

"We want what you know- simple ain't it?"

"What I know, huh? Which means what exactly?"

"We want a lil insight on your lil side gig with the terrorists."

After the Scottish man said that you couldn't help but burst out laughing. These men thought that you worked with the terrorists just because you're Makarov's daughter. That was the hardest you've laughed in ages.

"Whoever told you I worked for Makarov must've loved pranks."

"What was your relation to him?" the man with a skull mask chimed in.

"He was my father."

"Did you used to live with him?"

"Does it matter?" you groaned.

"Yes." he sounded angry this time.

You glared at him for a bit before you spoke again.

"For the past 10 years. And no, no other relatives were living with us. Just me and my father."

"And before that?"

"I lived with my mom and stepfather."

It continued like this for a while until you basically told your entire sob story. You saw how the more you said, the more they seemed to pity you. It was disgusting. You don't need anyone's pity. You don't need their empathy or their mercy.

After they were done interrogating you, they left the room. You were alone for a while. You knew you couldn't escape, so you just listened to your own thoughts. Making up plans to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved.

While staring at the ceiling, you realized someone had entered the room. You groaned. "What now?"

"You must be Y/N, right?" you heard the man ask.

"Да. What do you want?"

"I'm captain John Price. It's nice to meet you." he said as he reached to shake your hand.

You just stared at him, and he sighed.

"Look, kid. I know this situation isn't ideal. I know you must hate us a lot after what happened. But, unless you want a war to start, you'll have to help us."

"Why would I do that? Ты убил моего отца. Он был единственной семьей, которая у меня осталась."
(Translation: You killed my father. He was the only family I had left.)

He put his hand on your shoulder, and you glared at him.

"Y/N.. I'm sorry it had to be this way. I really am. No kid deserves to lose their parents. But you have to understand where we're coming from. You do know what your father was doing, right?"

"Да... I know..." you looked down.

You realized you were on the verge of tears. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." No. You didn't want to. You shouldn't cry. You mustn't let them see you vulnerable. They're your enemies. They took away from your only fam-

...

He hugged you. He hugged you and softly caressed your head.

"It's gonna be alright, kiddo... How about you come with me to meet the others? After all, you're gonna be part of the team for a while."

You sighed and nodded.

(Author's note: Woooooooow this took a while to write. Sorry about that, guys. I had writers block for a while but I hope you'll enjoy in. It's gonna get REALLY messy. Remember taut trigger warning from the beginning? You'll thank me for it once you see what's gonna happen in the near future)