Captain John Price x Reader

Forty-Eight

The radio turned off with a soft beeping sound.

Silence of the night spread inside your head.

Now there was nothing left that could make you hesitate or turn back.

Price couldn't call out for you, it would only alarm the people who were walking around the area.

Neither Gaz nor Alex would be able to call you back since they only had a connection over the radio which was now turned off.

This was a one person mission now.

It wasn't your first mission, but considering that you decided to go in all by yourself with almost no info at hand, made it seem very likely that it might turn out to be your last.

No matter the outcome, you needed to make sure that nobody else was out at risk.

Gaz and Alex were great allies and they'd make the international cooperation of armies better.

As for Price, only thinking about him getting hurt send a cold shiver down your spine.

You didn't knew why nor what it was, but every time you thought about the grumpy Brit, your body reacted in some kind of way.

Whenever you were made at him there were goosebumps growing all over your body. Thinking back to the elevator incident made your core shiver and whenever his cocky smile lit up before your inner eye your heart skipped a beat.

Physical relationships had always been something you didn't dare to care about. Feelings were even worse.

But with Price it felt like the most natural thing.

You had to think about a relationship with him. It didn't necessarily had to be a romantic one, but some sort of relationship was already established.

He had angered on being partner for the time this mission took, but it didn't feel like just a work arrangement.

Was he your friend?

Your lover?

A fling?

Quickly, you shook your head and jumped into the shadows before the group before you could notice that someone was following them all across the abandoned property.

No matter what Price was to you or what you felt towards him, he couldn't get hurt under any circumstances.

You would have rather taken a bullet yourself before that happened.

He was a good soldier and Britain needed him back, alive and in one piece.

You on the other hand, knew that you were replaceable goods.

Of course, with your death, a lot of years and resources would go to waste. But in the end there was always some idiot like you who imagined being a nameless face without a citizenship would be the highest of honours to reach.

Truth was, it was a lonely job.

And it was ruthless to add to that. Nobody would thank you for getting shot.

If you died on this mission, nobody would even find out. Your name wouldn't be in a newspaper, your passing wouldn't even be mentioned.

You'd just disappear as one of many case files on a shelf.

Taking a deep breath in, you closed your eyes and pushed the thoughts into the back of your head.

Not the right time.

Not the right place.

The unit of people came to a stand.

They seemed to be patrolling, but the pattern in which they walked was odd.

It wasn't a linear one, walking two routs up and down and ditching positions after meeting up with another patrol.

They walked in circles around the buildings.

It was as if they were scanning the area for intruders before doing what they wanted to do.

Two of the people exchanged a few words.

They spoke French.

That in itself was huge indicator that they were terrorists.

Otherwise, maybe the French units on top of the hill had pushed the lines and were already sweeping the field for enemies.

Slowly, you dared to take a few more steps into their directions.

The night was almost as black as sin.

Only the silver light of the moon made it possible to see a few crooked outlines and details.

One of them was wearing a helmet.

The others weren't.

Dull voices reached your ears.

With bated breath you dared to walk closer.

One step.

Two steps.

Three.

The voices grew more persistent.

It was hard to tell what they were talking about. But they definitely talked in French.

Wrinkles appeared on your forehead as you stretched your neck and managed to catch a glimpse of the unit.

All of them were men.

So they weren't the allies. The French unit has had appeared to be a good mix of men and women, all equipped roughly the same.

The people in front of you didn't seem to be organised at all.

Their equipment was loosely placed, not fit to their bodies and the helmet also appeared to be an older model, one that could be found in those military shops for the civilians.

The only thing that was consistent was the professional level of firearms.

One of them was holding a shotgun while another carried at least two handguns and a rifle.

You were well equipped, but those people looked like they wanted to fight the devil himself.

Getting too close could have meant instant failure.

You needed to keep an eye on them and see what they were about to do.

If you'd be able to follow them right into the heart of the organisation it would give you the golden opportunity to take them out all at once.

Most of those organisations had a fundament that was standing on one person's existence, a boss or a leader with high authority.

This one surely wasn't different.

All you needed to do was to find the snake and cut its head off. The rest of the body would die on its own.

A deep breath escaped you.

Your entire body was as tense as a brick as you watched the group get going again.

They were uncoordinated, you noticed. As if they wanted to appear like a well put together military but didn't had the proper training.

"Alright...", you mumbled to yourself and dared to move on as well. "Show me your nest."