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

Penultima

Lilies. They were white lilies, crumpled slightly in the months since they had been placed onto the cold earth. Kneeling down, you placed the pieces of fabric next to the gravestone, slightly discoloured by the weather. The father, the grandfather.

And Zofia Bosak.

Her husband put his hand on your shoulder reassuringly. "You did good, kid. She can rest easy now."

You nodded, but you disagreed. You knew she wouldn't rest, that you wouldn't rest until something was done. You had a mission to finish, a job to get done. People to save. Although it went against your better judgement, and your gut instinct, you'd bring back Ela, for her.

The sound of the chopper starting up pulled you from your thoughts, unclenching your fist. "I'm sorry," was all you could make out - a pitiful goodbye - as you boarded the chopper.

"(Y/N)?" Jäger asked through comms as the helicopter flew away. You were staring at the gravestone, as if letting it out of sight would make the memories disappear. You caught a glimpse of Zofia's husband saluting before the door closed.

"Just get us out of here Marius," Valk answered, looking at the floor. She was cleaning her .50 AE, out of nervousness and perhaps irritation. Clearly she hated funerals.

"13-21 to 20-5, you are clear for take off. Destination, Jersey, Channel Islands. Operation Blind Breach is go," Jäger spoke into his headset.

You slumped down next to Bel. Her eyes were red and swollen due to sleep, stress and other things you were helping her with. You slumped down next to her, devoid of energy. She looked at you, sad, and perhaps a little regretful, before pulling you into a tight hug. Nobody in the chopper said anything, because there was nothing else to be said.

It was a long ride.

***

"Thirteen, twenty-one, twenty, five."

The room was white, blindingly bright and reeked of antispetic. It was a familiar sight - you had been here numerous times.

"It is almost time. The Stag is ready."

Everything was a blur: but it was coming into focus. The disordered colours were binding and splitting and sharpening slowly, patiently.

"Focus on the numbers," the pounding voice told you. "The numbers will tell you what to do."

The image was clear now. You spat pathetically on His White Mask that hid his perfect face, but nothing changed. Brother or not, you hated Him more than anyone.

"The day is almost upon us."

As He spoke, the colours started to blur again, shifting out back out of focus and into the form of a blinding light. It soaked and converted everything in front of you into clean, scalding white.

"What day?" you scowled, trying to avert your gaze from the burning brightness.

"The day of divine betrayel. The day of death."