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

Chapter 21- Mistake

When faced with the idea of death even the toughest fall short of being brave. While some act brave as they die, others become the weakness bubbling inside them. They whimper, maybe even cry, and hold those closest to them- even if those people are gone already.

I saw a lot of brave men die. I saw most of them turn into that weakness inside. I watched as they clutched onto another soldier trying to keep them awake for the medic.

I knew these men. They represented my country, my home, my family. Yet there I stood, a bloody rifle in hand, and watched them die. I observed their suffering and didn't do anything about it. I didn't defy Menendez by running to their side. I didn't move.

Their screams went right through me, chills hammering my spine as my mouth gaped open. Strands from my ponytail stuck to my face, as the dust from fallen concrete and shifted earth ran through the air. My body, supposedly ripped with muscle, now felt weaker than ever. I felt as if I was letting myself down- something I hated to do to others just as much.

So why did I stand there?

Was it the idea of possibly being shot down from our own snipers? Was it the fear of failing everyone around me, enemy and ally? It was none of that.

It was the heavy stare down happening from across the open courtyard. It was his eyes that scruntuzied me, ushered me to move.

Neither of us knew what was happening.

I bolted for the man, my arms opening wide to give him a sense of comfort. It was a hug. And the man returned it eagerly.

"Mason," my voice was a murmur as I wrapped arms around his waist.

Mason only dropped his weapon, pulling me tighter against him. It felt good...that little hug in the middle of a battlefield, yet it didn't last long.

Something came over me. That predatory sense smacking my subconscious from constant reminders that I was evil now. I was an enemy to the man that I held and my insides hated it. Every lesson, every beating and those hard missions were for this moment- this moment where I had to decide who I really was and who I'd become. Those hardships were for this one, this final one.

"E-Emma," Mason gasped out.

I only dug the knife lodged into his back deeper. Twisting, I made Mason let out a groan and sigh as one horrific sound. I backed away to allow Mason to collapse to his knees.

"W-Why?"

I said nothing, my instinct only urging me to rip the knife from his side; I did exactly that. Mason let out a tentative growl as he slumped to the ground, dark crimson blood seeping out below him.

I put a foot on his heaving chest, gaining his continuous death glare. If it hadn't been for my adrenaline, that glare of his would've halted me, but I continued to draw the pistol Menendez had specifically said to use.

"EMMA!" a voice boomed, drawing attention to further down the opened hallway. "No, stop!"

Suddenly my body was thrown off balance and I hit the jagged edge of a broken stone wall. I let out a grunt and felt my shoulder in frustration, glaring to the soldier who dared to disrupt my main mission.

"Section!" Harper leaned over the bloody commander, his hands roaming to find the source of the wound.

I could only gaze in horror at what I'd mindlessly done. It was an automatic feeling of remorse, complete regrets. If it hadn't been for Harper, Mason would've been gone forever.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," I could only muster a shaky whisper as tears broke down on my filthy cheeks.

Harper continued to fuss over Mason as the raid made its way through dust and smoke closer to the base. Shots ricocheted off broken pieces of the building, whizzing past my head. Harper only ducked to examine his best friend even more.