Fallen Angel (A Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 5- Visiting Hours

"Where are we going again?" I asked Mason, looking across to him in the SUV.

"We're going to go see an old friend of mine for some information on the enemies," Mason replied, not looking up from a small tablet.

"And why am I with you?"

Mason looked up from a tablet with lots of file information on it, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "It's important for you to know about your life isn't it?"

"Answering a question with a question," I crossed my arms, leaning back. "What would this 'friend' know about me anyways?"

"He told me almost nothing, so I don't know," Mason blinked, shutting off the tablet.

"Does 'he' have a name?" I held up my fingers for quotation marks.

Mason opened his mouth to speak, but was prevented with the SUV coming to a sudden stop. I looked to where the back doors were being opened for us. Mason hopped out and then turned to offer a hand. As much as I didn't want to take it, I forced myself to accept the help down.

"Remember," Harper was next to me suddenly, "the mouth on this man is sharp. Be careful what you say to him."

"Mason told me there's nothing to worry about," I glared at the taller black-haired man walking next to me. "Mason?"

"Way to ruin it Harper," Mason grumbled and I thought I saw Harper smirk in triumph.

We walked through two large double doors and then started going down a long hallway to the right. Mason and Harper held up security badges here and there, as if proving this place wasn't just a retirement home. I tried to avoid walking close to Harper, but ended up doing it anyways- earning a worried glance from him.

"What took you so long?" there was an elderly snap-of-a-voice when Mason walked into a room.

I paused and Harper followed after Mason.

"Aren't there supposed to be three of-"

I stepped into the room behind Harper, seeing an old man in a wheelchair. His voice broke off and his eyes widened when he saw me. I shivered with awkwardness.

"This is-"

"Emma," I finished for Mason.

"Woods," the old man held out a slightly shaky hand and I took it cautiously. "Frank Woods."

"You remind me of someone I used to know," Frank Woods released my hand and narrowed his blue gaze at me. "What's your last name, Emma?"

"Reeves," I stated flatly, sitting in a chair. "Who was it you used to know?"

"She was just a soldier that tagged along with Mason's father and I sometimes," Woods explained.

Mason had told me a little of Frank's background. I knew he used to be in the military and was very good friends with Mason's father, Alex Mason. Woods seemed to think I already knew that, because he turned to face Mason.

"So, what the fuck do you want?" I see what Harper had meant by sharp-tongued.

"You're familiar with enemy activities we've been experiencing," Harper started. "A group of terrorist-like men attacked Emma not four weeks ago. They took her to their base and were questioning her. Our question to you is, would this relate to Menendez?"

"Worst fucking explanation ever," Woods faced me. "Tell me what you experienced Emma, everything."

"It won't make sense," I told the older man sitting in front of me. "You barely know me."