Ghosts of the Past (A Call Of Duty: Ghosts Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight

When I came to, the left side of my head was throbbing. I sat up on the hard surface of the stone bed and rubbed my tired eyes. In the center of the room, Rorke was sitting on a stool in interest, his lips quirked in a friendly smile. 

    "Sorry about your head. We had to get you here without you knowing the way." 

    I grunted and swung my legs off the bed. "W-Where am I exactly?" 

    Rorke motioned to the cell around us. "Currently in our small prison chambers on the grounds of the Federation base." 

    "Your base?" I widened my eyes. "Why would you bring me here?" 

    "You seemed genuinely interested for your paper's article," Rorke stood, offering a large calloused hand. "Let me give you a tour." 

    I reluctantly let him help me up. My bag was still around my body as I'd carried it. Nothing felt missing, yet I also doubted they'd let me in without checking my bag first. If that was the case, they'd seen the pistol tucked away inside. 

    Why was I still alive? 

    "You're rather quiet compared to earlier." 

    "I'm just confused," I gulped and continued to follow him up some winding steps. "I need to be back at the dorms soon and—" 

    "Relax, dear Kayla," Rorke chuckled. "I'll have you back to your car before the sun is down." 

    Relief spread through me. Keegan would still be at the motel room by then. I'd be able to drive there, hunker down, and then return with him. This was, after all, a mere trial of getting into the Federation's secrets. 

    The building we were in was long and bright. There were glass windows revealing large rooms with machinery and people working consistently. This part was clearly a factory—smaller than the one Hesh and I had found yet still dangerously busy. 

    "First stop, the weaponry," Rorke paused, letting me look at the activity. 

    "Weapons?" I cocked an eyebrow, pushing my glasses up on nose. "What for?" 

    I could feel Rorke's calculating gaze on the side of my face as I looked at the rifles being manufactured in rapid motions. Soldiers were watching over the workers on taller balconies, their own weapons in muscled arms. 

    "I guess you can't tell me that," I chuckled and looked to him with a smile. "What's the next thing?" 

    He hesitated for a long moment before turning on his heels and leading me another direction. I adjusted my façade once as we moved through, reminding myself that getting through the tour meant being released without compromising the mission. If it were to be compromised at this point, the Ghosts were doomed. Not only would they lose one of their own, unhelpful as I was, but any leads on the Federation as well. 

    "Mr. Rorke," I spoke up as we exited the small factory into dim sunlight. "I feel like there are a lot of things prepping. As a nervous college student," I huffed, "I'd like some reassurance." 

    Rorke didn't look at me as the pair of us circled around a training yard. "There are people who want another war Kayla. People who need to be stopped." 

    "Who?" I raised my voice in interest. "Why would anyone want another war?" 

    "Some people can't let go of vendettas long since dealt with." 

    Logan. 

    "It's those people who only start things out of vengeance and pain that have to be watched," Rorke faced me with narrowed dark eyes. "They're already lost in a battle they haven't even started."