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

Chapter Fourteen

The guard only left temporarily, leaving the medical team to take over my care and health. I genuinely appreciated the adjustment of my wrist and the cast around it. My ankle was only secured with a boot, not much damage done by the bullet. 

    Once finished being touched up and cleaned by a female nurse, I was given a fresh set of clothes to change into. They were a simple blue t-shirt and tighter pants. I didn't trust the extra care going into my comfort yet I had to remind myself of who I was supposed to be pretending to play; I had to keep the façade up as long as possible until I could figure out where Logan was and what Rorke was up to. 

    Protect your identity. Find Logan. Take them down. 

    I followed the guard waiting outside the double doors of the medical facility. He gave me a once-over and then jutted his chin toward the way we were to go. I silently followed, making sure to stay nervous and keep my hands clammy. My eyes were darting everywhere as we walked, memorizing every hallway and room. I knew each one of them led to an exit, a room full of data, another step closer to Logan, and so on.

    "Through here," the guard caught my attention as we reached the end of a main hallway. 

    Inside the double doors was a rec-area type of room with smaller tables and trinkets on the walls and in cases. At the endcap of the room and up two steps higher was a grand desk. Rorke sat behind it, scribbling on a tablet. 

    As I came closer, I examined the room in interest. It was peculiar that Rorke had so many oddball objects. Whether they were collectors or expensive, luxury pieces of art, the vibe didn't fit him. I had expected his office to be dreary and bland with a fully automatic gun propped on his desk. 

    The corners of Rorke's eyes were creased as I closed the distance. I was careful on my boot as I stepped up the two stairs and stood by one of the two chairs opposite of Rorke. He didn't look up as he motioned to one of them. 

    "This room is grand," I kept looking around. 

    No sign of weapons or anything up that alley...what's up with him? 

    "It's a comforting office," Rorke's words made me want to barf as he looked up and set aside the tablet. "How are you feeling?" 

    "I'm all right...your team did well at fixing me up quick." 

    "Of course they did," Rorke spoke smugly, as if he didn't expect anything less. "Accept my deepest apologies for what you've had to go through Miss Hurst. I suppose, for once, I made a mistake." 

    No, you're just being outsmarted and it's a little too difficult for your old man brain to calculate. "Who are you trying to find anyways?" 

    "My closest enemies have recruited another newbie," Rorke didn't hesitate to explain which told me he was trying to make up for the things he'd done to me. "Just like the others, I plan to intercept the actions of this new soldier of theirs. Her name is Ashlyn Acker." 

    "Do you mean to kill her?" 

    "Of course," Rorke sat back in his chair, studying me now. 

    I made sure to hide the shiver down my spine and avoid the twitch at the corners of my eyes. With Rorke's dark eyes watching so heavily I was worried he was waiting for anything in my façade to give. I only stayed silent, looking up from my hands to his steady gaze. 

    "I plan to torture the little thing and then make sure my enemy knows their mistake," Rorke continued, removing his persistent gaze to the tablet and papers on his desk. "I'll send them her head if I have to."