Hotel Six: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Chapter 8: Gauntlet

"If the enemy is in range, so are you." — Infantry Journal

There was a blend of unnerved "ooh's" and nervous chuckling. Price squared his shoulders to her. "Really? I'm amused."

"Yeah, really. I want to go a round with you."

Price looked at Stevens. "You broken?"

Stevens shook his head, lifting a thumbs-up. "No, sir, I'm good."

The Captain nodded. "Alright. Everyone out of the ring; Soap, ref our match?" He walked backward to the center of the ring, his arms hanging loose at his sides. "Fair warning, Gal, I'm not pulling my punches today."

"And, what, the rest of us were?" called Ghost, cupping his hands around his mouth from his post on the fence. 

He smirked. "I know you can fight harder than that, Ghost, Shepherd showed me some of your kills." Price's cold, steely blue eyes fixed on her. "Gloves are off; fight me like you mean it. Soap, on your go."

When he hesitated, she lashed out with a fist, aiming for his ribs. Price grabbed her arm and pulled it across his body, wrapping his leg around hers so she was stuck with her back against him. A pang of terror cut through her as she realized he could- and probably would- break her arm in that position. With a husky breath, he murmured into her ear. "You're not fighting very hard." He used his other hand to press against her elbow and he felt her struggle. "Don't let me break this..."

She turned her head and snapped at his face, her teeth just barely raking his cheek. He jumped back and she shifted, wrenching free of his grip. Teeth bared, she charged toward him, only for his hand to come down over her snout, and he picked her up by her scruff to throw her. She landed clumsily, her shoulder starting to fall out of joint, and rolled, somehow getting her feet back under her before he could advance on her again.

"You're still going easy, Gal, fight harder!" Price drew his knife and swung at her, and she scrambled away, her legs hardly able to keep up.

Roach's eyes widened. "... Are you supposed to use real weapons in practice?"

Ghost shook his head. "No, we're not. What the hell is he doing?"

Desperate, she snarled and snapped at his inner thigh, her long, curved teeth catching the fabric of his trousers. She grinned when he reeled back. 

"Easy! I need those!"

"I thought you liked to fight dirty?" She licked her lips, coiling her tongue around one of her fangs and lunged again, aiming for his knee. His foot came up to meet her first.

The team made a collective gasp of shock as she was sent into the sand howling in pain and clutching her nose. Soap was tense, almost ready to call the fight to a close, but knew that Captain Price wouldn't take it that far... Right?

Price paced toward her, a frown etched deep in his face. "You haven't gotten the upper hand since this fight started." He picked her up by the scruff. "Are you going to make me watch you die in the field?" He tossed her into the sand and she struggled to her feet, dizzy from the blow. "If you can't fight to save yourself, fight like you're saving someone!"

Ghost exchanged a glance with Roach. "That sounded personal..."

"Think he's referring to the Battle at the Bridge Soap was telling us about?"

Price advanced quickly, rage of the fight blazing in his eyes. "Come on, FIGHT HARDER!"

Her tongue passed over the blood on her nose and she spat it in the sand and turned her azure eyes up onto the Captain. When he was about a meter or two away, she shifted and grasped a handful of sand, throwing it into his face. Though he shielded his eyes, it gave her just enough time to shift back and sink her teeth into his arm, her weight throwing him to the ground.

Price winced but forced a smile. "There it is!" His fist came up into her ribs but she refused to let go. "Fight like you mean it; fight to kill!"

He bristled when he punched her again, but when she released his arm, she pushed up to his face, her teeth setting into his neck. Price pushed up on her torso and fought to get to his feet, but collapsed to his knees when she dragged him back down. He could feel her biting harder, pressure building in his temples. Hearing her growls in his ear, he knew she wasn't letting go. Panicking, he pressed his forearm into her throat and wrapped his other arm around her neck, squeezing tight. She choked, but eager to win, she picked them both up and shoved him against the ground. He grunted but didn't relent, and she picked them up again, slamming him harder against the ground. Finally, she raised up high on her back legs to throw him down one more time.

Soap frantically chirped the whistle and grasped her scruff. "Alright, enough!"

Price let her go, dropping to the ground and they both coughed. In spite of the pain, he was beaming with pride when he looked at her. "Atta girl; that's how you do it."

She tucked her ears back with a solemn nod. "Thank you, sir." 

He noticed a trace of discomfort in her eyes and his eyes lowered. "Alright, show's over, team; Soap, take this lot up the short trail, be back in ten. And Jess..." She raised her brows as if to inquire. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I got you good, didn't I?" A medic handed her a clean rag and she pinched it tightly around her nose. 

"It's not that bad. I'm sure it's nothing a little pressure won't fix." She sighed through her mouth. "Somehow I didn't expect you to kick me in the face."

Price sat beside her, folding his hands in from of him. "If I'm honest, I didn't actually mean to kick you that hard; I thought you'd stop before it connected."

She shrugged and looked at the rag, putting it back up to her face when she saw a thick, red stain. "It's my own damn fault, I thought I was gonna take out your knee, no problem."

He chuckled, leaning back against the fence. "I've watched you do it to a few of your kills; I was ready for you."

They were both quiet for a few heartbeats when she spoke up again. "What did you mean by 'make you watch me die'?"

Price tilted his head uncertainly. "Say again?"

"Well, when you were trying to rile me up, you asked, 'are you going to make me watch you die in the field.' Why? You've seen me die before..."

He folded his arms, resting his head against the fence. "I don't know what there is to be confused about. I don't want you dead. And if that means I have to fight you like someone who does, then so be it."

She grinned and pulled the rag from her face again, happy to see it was less bloody this time. "I appreciate it, sir. If I have anything to say about it, you'll never have to see me die again."

When the day was over, Price was waiting at the car with the passenger door open for her. "Thank you again for the ride, sir. Tomorrow, I'm going to actually be on time."

Price started the car, but before he put it in reverse, he looked at her, a devilish smile on his face. "Ghost tells me you like apple whiskey..." 

She buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God..."

"If you promise not to get drunk again, would you be in the mood for a drink?"

"I think I'll stick with water." Her hazel eyes turned to him in a delighted expression. "But I wouldn't mind stepping in for a minute."