Locked With No Key (Rainbow Six Siege OC X Male Reader)

Three Men Down And None Saved

Drip. Drip.

You awoke to the sound of blood, your blood dripping off the rusted copper handcuffs that bound your hands to the decaying wooden chair. Looks like that shard of broken glass from the mirror you used wasn't sharp enough.

Drip. Drip.

You grimaced as you tried to get comfortable in a dank, depressing and mostly congealed pool of your own miserable blood. You reached up to your right shoulder and touched the outline of the 5.56 that had embedded itself into the malnourished bone. Dammit. Still there.

Drip. Drip.

You looked over at your squad mates clean, hygienic skeletons with every bit of meat picked from them. You fought to hold a tear back. Shit. You let the salt flow into your wounds and stifled a moan of pain.

Drip. Drip. Thud. Thud.

You could recognise those steel-toecapped boots from a mile away. He was back and He was going to hurt you. Again. You shut your eyes and desperately pretended to go to sleep, hoping He would leave you in peace.

Drip. Thud. Drip. Thud.

You could smell the alcohol in his breath as He came closer. The door opened, and then was slammed shut. Thank God. It looked like He was going to leave you alone.

Drip.

You opened your eyes and got a boot to the jaw, the impact making your head hit against the back of the chair.

"Wakey wakey!" came the voice like nails on a chalkboard. "Miss me?"

You spat at His perfect jawline, the blue eyes, the wavy blonde hair. His grin grew grotesquely wider.

"Is that any way to treat your caretaker, especially after all the work I've done for you?"

He put on his favourite mask, a white featureless one with only holes for eyes and grabbed the metal extendable police baton. Meanwhile, you picked up his pocket knife He had dropped when He booted you. The worn metal was easily torn away with the sharp blade. You freed yourself and gave Him a powerful punch square on His nose, causing Him to clutch His face in pain. "Getting cocky now, huh? Let's see how you like this!"

He drew a jeweled golden sword from a scabbard in His torn hoodie and swung it at you. You dodged but your strength was draining and you were running out of room to maneuver.

He sliced again and the steel tip made contact with your chest in a burst of pain. You tried one more time to land a hit on His side and heard a sickening crunch as you broke His perfect jaw. His body slumped to the floor in an unnatural pose.

He was dead. You had just killed Him.

You felt darkness closing in as reality crumbled away and you fell into the void. You swear you could hear someone calling your name. You closed your eyes and....

Woke up in the seat of a moving train, clutching the arms of the leather chair so hard your knuckles turned white. Mark was looking at you from the seat across with concern.

"I'm fine," you spoke at last. "Just a bad dream, it's nothing. "

"You sure mate? It didn't look like nothing," the concerned look still on his face. "I'll get you some water."

"Thanks."

You sat up in your seat and looked around at the other passengers, then smiled. You and Mark had been selected by the SAS to join counter-terrorism group Team Rainbow in their upcoming recruitment program. Mark was the obvious choice, his intelligence and ability to work with technology was unmatched by anyone in the SAS, maybe even the world. You had been chosen for you hi-tech gadget that could help the team a lot. It was alright, but nothing compared to rumours you had heard about a drone that could concuss people, a woman that could walk in dead silence and a man that electrify a wall with only a car battery.

"What are you smilin' about?"

"Jesus Mark. Don't sneak up on me like that again," you said angrily as he gently handed you a plastic cup full of ice cold water. He put his hands up in mock surrender as he sat down. "And to answer your question Mute I was thinking about Rainbow."

"Ha. That nickname is definitely still funny after three years. And to be honest, I'm kinda nervous mate," Mark mumbled, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the lump of used gum on the seat beside you. "What if they don't like me?"

You took a sip of the water and looked out the window. "Of course they'll like you, you just have to... open up to them," you replied. "And you really don't think me, the king of stuttering in front of strangers, won't be nervous?"

Mark smiled and said,"You're right about that."

You sat in silence for the rest of the journey, playing Hungry Shark on your phone until you heard a ticket-collector shout "Stop for Mark 'N' Co?"

"That's us," Mark shouted back. You turned your phone off, collected your cases and walked to the door.

"Why do I have to be 'and Co'?" you asked. "Clearly I am the superior life form. Intelligence considered, of course."

"Very funny," said Mark with a grin as the train slowed down. "Are you the one that went to MIT?"

You groaned as the train stopped. "Mark, I really don't need to hear the story about the girl you liked for the bajillionth time."

"So I was at her birthday party..."

***

"...and I never saw her again."

You sighed with relief as you reached the front of Hereford Base, which looked a bit more like an abandoned warehouse than a room you would want to stay in. Still, you taught yourself to never judge a book by its cover after the time when...

"Mate! You gotta stop do that daydreaming thing man it's freaking me out," you heard Mark say. "Sorry, I think it's just nerves," you said while looking at your watch. "When is this guy supposed to be here for? They said they'd send someone to give us a tour."

Mark ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "Haven't got a clue. Maybe in the next half hour he'll turn up."

"I think you will find I am female, mes copains," spoke a quiet and foreign voice. The oak doors creaked open and a woman in combat uniform stepped out. "Salut, my name is Twitch but you can call me Emma," she said as she put her hand out. Mark was the one that shook it. "Nice to m-meet you," you stuttered, your face turning red from embarrassment.

"Shall we start the tour?"

Author Note

Just a shortish chapter to start off. Should I call you (the reader) Y/N or a name/callsign you make up? I'll leave it up to you guys.

Thanks so much for reading.