"Agency Scum"

Captive... Again

//Warnings for blood, violence, gore, mentions of cannibalism

Previously...

Whatever. Its not that that all mattered  now. I let my eyes close as I felt his arms scoop me up into his chest. Maybe when I would wake up I'd be back at the agency, I wouldn't be stuck in a bandits nest, and maybe- just maybe Chris would still be alive.

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We continue...

    An unpleasant and foul smell greeted me as I opened my eyes. Disgusting. I sat up slowly, but to my surprise nothing hurt- not even my still fresh stitches. But I didn't wake up to face of hungry bandits like I expected- instead I saw a white sky and a slightly grey and soft grass beneath me. It surely wasn't my Nevada.

    I pushed myself up, confused, and jumped to my feet. It was then when I noticed that I  wasn't wearing my usual suit and tie, instead My torso was wrapped securely in a leather trench coat and heavy gear, with a soft bandana wrapped around my head. I was wearing Hanks gear... but why- how?
    I frantically started patting down my body, feeling every belt and leather strap. This wasn't right why was I dressed like this?

    "Ethan".
My head whipped around to search for who said that, and in the distance I could barely make out the figure of someone walking towards me from the white horizon.
    "Doc?" I yelled out as I stumbled towards him. My legs fell heavy and weak, and the restrictive gear I was wearing was hard to work around.
Doc stretched out his hand towards me, touching my face and furrowing his brows in some unknown emotion. Sadness? Disappointment? "You should've stayed with me Ethan" they quietly murmured out.
"I tried to! I tried to get back- to leave the agency!" My voice grew louder as I felt a lump form in my throat.
Docs two hands firmly held my face, and he pulled me down to his eye level, ignoring the blatant height difference between us. "Should I even take you back now? When you're just as bad as the men you were supposed to kill?"

I shuddered from his cold tone and quickly tried to pull back to no avail. Doc didn't loosen his grip on me and in the reflective surface of his tinted shades from his mask, I could barely make out my own face. Except it wasn't my face. It was his face- Hanks face.

I gasped and pulled myself out of his grip, tripping back on my own boots- Hank's boots- and onto the grassy floor. Reaching up to touch my face, my hands confirmed what my eyes saw. I could feel raw flesh and exposed teeth where my cheeks were supposed to be, and something heavy and smooth where my jaw once was. "Wh-why is this happening?" I tried to hide my shaking voice with no luck.

Doc moved to stand almost directly over me as he looked down in what could've only been disgust. "You have your own men's blood on your hands. Their damned spirits haunt you from the other side"
I looked up to Doc, confused, tired, and honestly scared. "Please... I had no other choice"

"Didn't you?"

Before I could respond Doc stomped down on my chest, knocking the breath out of me and pinning me to the floor. The once white sky turned red and Doc's glasses seemed to almost glow. I grabbed at Doc's heavy boot, trying to get him off when I saw him pull out a pistol- from where I didn't know. My eyes widening and I clawed at his boot, but he felt like a stone statue, unable to be moved.

"Doc please,,, I'm- I- I didn't want this" I struggled to speak against his foot on my chest and my pleads only came out as a small whimper.
"Until next time, Hank"

BOOM

Doc fired his pistol, sending a bullet straight through my forehead and into the ground beneath me. My head lolled to the side... but I didn't die immediately. My eyesight blurred and I could feel warm blood spread across my forehead and neck, pooling under me and spreading. Why wasn't I dead yet?