I can't deal. I officially CANNOT deal. 14 hour work days and Graves brain rot. Hopefully my days die down so I can write more. 🥵🥵🥵😁😏😅 to those who read my Somewhere Only We Know preview: SPOILER
This is part of a series: Long Way From Home. Graves gets ahold of 141's translator and demands she give up information she knows about 141.
Ok, so here is chapter one of I don't know how many. I have 25 pages of this. My goal is to immerse the reader in this world and put them in
Graves still has Val in this continuation. This continuation includes the events of MW3 so 141 will find out Graves is alive and they will learn where Val has been this whole time ;) MW3 SPOILERS Thanks to @unicorngirly1 for talking ideas with me!
Taglist!
@bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl. If you'd like to be added and/or if I left anyone off, please let me know!
Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of torture, dubious consent, brainwashing, mentions of suicide. More will be added as the story develops.
-
“Un-fucking-believable,”
You were across the dark room, not visible to the camera, but Soap’s voice drew your attention and your head snapped in that general direction.
You’d been given orders by Shepherd and Graves: you can be in the room but you were not to move, not to make a sound and certainly not to approach the camera. 141 still thought you were dead, remember?
Consequences for approaching that camera? A return to a room similar to that cold, terrifying room where you’d spent your first week with Shadow Company being tortured for information that you eventually gave up. That was all you needed to hear. You in no way, under no circumstances, wanted to go back there so you’d do what you were told. Besides, you’d been more tired than usual, not feeling like yourself, like you were on the verge of getting sick, so it’s not like you even had the energy to put up with that. You wouldn’t be able to mentally handle it, either.
You’d make a third attempt on your life if you were returned to that room. Of that you were sure.
“Soap!” You heard Graves respond. “Ya miss me?” Graves laughed coldly. “Well technically you did, didn’t you?”
“Laswell, if you’re tracking this,” Ghost’s voice interrupted, “let’s call in an airstrike.”
“Ghost that is not nice,” Graves chided, almost as if he was speaking to a toddler. It made you wonder how he would be around kids.
“And Val?” Soap demanded.
“Now her ya did kill, Johnny,” Graves sneered. “Shame. I liked having her around.”
“Go fohck yerself. What’re you up to?” Soap’s voice snapped at Graves.
“I’m up to doing my fuckin’ job, kid. Maybe you should try it sometime,” Graves shot back.
“My fucking job is to kill the enemy. Guess what you are,” Soap spat back.
“Let’s keep this professional, boys,” Shepherd interjected. “Cap’n let me pain you the bigger picture. You need Makarov in a pine box. I’ve got the nails.”
The rest of the conversation was faded out because that name, Makarov…Makarov scared the shit out of you. Graves had told you that Vladimir Makarov liked petite, little, innocent-looking things and that like they’d done before with other male targets they might use you to help draw him in or distract him. You were Shadow Company’s femme fatale after all. You’d drawn in men before.
But the idea terrified you. Makarov was a different kind of monster. A psychopath. What was stopping Makarov from taking you like Graves took you? And Makarov you knew would not be nearly as ‘nice’ as Graves had been. Makarov would haul you to Russia and torture you himself. And he would get off on it. Unlike Graves Makarov wouldn’t hesitate to use rape as a weapon.
“Val,” Graves’s voice drew you back to the present.
“Graves,” you responded, shaking your head of the chilling thoughts that had occupied your mind only seconds before.
“We gotta meet 141,”
You sighed. Got teary eyed. What if they took you from him? So you said something. “They’re gonna take me from you,” you sniffled.
“We’re gonna have a fucking problem if they do,” Graves snapped. “We’re not moving forward until I get you back if that happens. They think you’re dead, Val. Remember that.”
You sighed again. “They better. I’ll raise hell ‘till they give me back.”
“I know it sucks,” Graves conceded. “But this is moving quick. We need Makarov. The quicker it’s done, they quicker we never see any of ‘em again.”
Makarov. That name. It gave you chills. You had the worst feeling about him.
Graves then gave a series of commands: wear both vests (we don’t know if they’ll try to kill you), wear your mask, wear your combat goggles, wear a helmet, wear a uniform. Do anything you can to hide your identity. Do not come within an arm’s length of them. You’re going to have a sidearm, your rifle, and a knife. And it all else fails? Run.
You followed orders and got dressed exactly how you were told to in the morning. You were exhausted. You hadn’t been sleeping well and your body ached.
-
It had been decided to meet in an abandoned warehouse. No electricity so it was easy to sweep for bugs. That meant no heat. It was raining and the dropping temperatures promised snow. It was miserable but at least all the layers you were wearing kept you warm.
You could feel 141’s eyes penetrating you.
You tried to tell yourself it was because out of a group of men you were by far the smallest one. The only female, obviously.
Price, Laswell, Shepherd, and Graves were in a room sealed off from the rest of you. Shadows were in that same room protecting Graves and Shepherd. Graves had wanted you in the same room as him but that risked Price recognizing you since the room was so small. The meeting would be quick, Graves promised. You only hoped it wouldn’t be drawn out.
That left you in a large room with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. You stayed as far away from them as possible. You had your rifle hanging from your shoulder. You had your sidearm ready to go. The only problem was there was no damn way you could shoot any of them. You only prayed they’d stay across the room.
You didn’t like this. In fact you hated it. Why couldn’t another Shadow have stayed with you? Actually no. That Shadow might shoot at 141 and the last thing you wanted was to have them hurt.
Soap met your gaze. You had a soft spot for Soap. You two had been close. A little more than close but that was a story for another day.
“What’s your name, lass?” Soap called out. “Didn’ know he had female Shadows.”
You didn’t answer. You were scared your voice would give you away. You just pointed at your tag: P-80.
You shook your head no. Duh. Of course you could talk. You just chose not to. Your voice was a lot softer than any of these men’s. It stood out. And they’d recognize it for sure.
“Your mannerisms remind me o’ someone I was close to,” Soap added. “Real pretty lass. Had a lotta fun wit her. But smart as ‘ell. Dangerous, too.”
“That you, Val?” Ghost asked.
“L.t.,” Soap whined. “I was gettin’ there.”
“I think it is,” Gaz added.
You shook you head no again. Tears pricked your eyes. This was getting to be too much. You didn’t care that you’d been told to stay out of that briefing room. You wanted to be in the same room as Graves.
“I know that’s you, Val,” That person, Ghost, calling your name was like someone lighting a fire under your ass. Graves had conditioned you to RUN from them if he wasn’t close by. You shook your head before taking off running, following Grave’s orders.
You were so frazzled that a flight of stairs presented too much of a challenge for you and you tripped, hitting the landing hard and slamming into the wall sideways, your head hitting the wall with force. You had a helmet on thank God but the hit still rattled you. Voices were scrambled and everything got blurry for a few seconds. You were about to get up and keep running when someone grabbed you by your vest and dragged you back up the flight of stairs you’d just tripped over. You fought not to scream to be let go.
Ghost had grabbed you. You knew because he was the roughest one out of the group. Only because he was incredibly protective of his men. After dragging you back up the flight of stairs he released you onto the concrete landing.
You tried to get back up. You were shoved down.
“On your knees,” Ghost demanded. Rifle raised.
“Ghost,” Soap started. “Don’t—”
“I’ve got this, Johnny,” Ghost retorted.
You sighed and dropped to your knees with hands held out.
“Helmet,” Ghost demanded.
You unclasped your helmet and took it off.
“The goggles and the mask,” came the next command.
“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself.
You complied and took both off, dropping them to the ground next to you.
“Hoooly shit,”
You recognized it as Soap’s voice.
You shook the bangs from your eyes and glanced up.
Gaz was not far behind and approached. And you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t. You decided long ago you would never go back to them. They’d either kill you or send you to a military prison for the rest of your life.
Worst of all, Graves had said, you’d never see him again. You knew for a damn fact you couldn’t handle being separated from Graves.
So you pulled your sidearm and put it against your head.
The effect was instant.
141 backed off. Ghost dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang off his shoulder.
Immediately.
“Back off,” you stood up slowly.
They were speechless.
“What happened to you?” Gaz asked, eyeing you with stunned, wide eyes.
“Nothing,” You responded.
“Val, we’re not leaving,” Soap stated simply, his hands in front of him to show he was not reaching for a weapon. “Put the gun down, Jesus Christ.”
You didn’t respond. You lowered the gun from your head. Little did they know you’d rather die than be separated from Graves. In your panic you didn’t notice Soap was no longer in front of you. You raised the gun in their direction.
Yet not one of them reached for their weapon. You wondered if it was because despite how much you had changed they could see it in your eyes that you couldn’t shoot any of them.
“Let me go,” you warned, taking small steps backwards. “I’ll call him and they’ll come running.” Your mind flashed to that first night in Las Almas when Graves had ordered you to call out to 141. You being your stupid self had refused. Now you were actually threatening to scream to get Graves’s attention.
Then.
Your worst nightmare.
Someone grabbed you from behind. He placed a heavy, calloused hand over your mouth preventing you from screaming, from calling out to Graves. His other hand gripped your right wrist on such a way that you dropped your weapon. Your gun dropped to the ground. Soap expertly kicked it away from you. You were then flat on the floor on your stomach, the sudden movement aggravating the ribs that had been broken several times over now. Your rifle was taken. Your knife was taken. You were about to say, “Fuck you, let me go.” But duct tape replaced the hand that had been on your mouth.
They were treating you exactly like Graves warned you they would. You screamed into the tape because what else could you do? You were flipped onto your back and you immediately starting swinging fists, kicking, trying to scratch, anything to get them away.
Soap clearly was overwhelmed because he just stared in horror and how hard you were fighting. For what? To go back to Graves? To go back to the man who had inflicted that cut on your face that had scarred?
“Thas’ enough ‘o that,” Ghost said lowly. You’d forgotten how big he was because when he stood over you, he terrified you. He looked like the grim reaper. Zipties went around your wrists after your arms were pulled in front of you. But not before you put up a hell of a fight. You tried to scratch but only got Ghost’s Kevlar and uniform. Zipties brought back bad memories.
“You swing at anyone again,” Graves knelt in front of you while a Shadow ziptied your hands in front of you. You were lying on the floor, beat halfway to unconsciousness by said Shadow. “I’m leaving you in those with a broken arm,”
“Fuck you, sadist,” you mumbled as you lost consciousness.
-
Price, Graves, Shepherd, and Laswell were still in that small room. Talking about what you had no idea. You tried to use your hands ziptied in front of you to break the window of the SUV they were dragging you to.
You struggled, tried to be dead weight. Your worst fear was coming true. You were being taken from Graves. And you couldn’t scream because they’d taped your mouth shut.
But then you got an idea. You got into that SUV willingly because you had a plan. They’d removed the tape from your mouth provided you promised them you wouldn’t scream. The skin on your face was still red, though. Just wait until Graves finds out what they did to you.
-
I feel like this isn't as good as Long Way From Home. :( Idk why! But please let me know what you think! If you have ideas, message me! I'm thinking of opening an ask box :D I wanted to post a longer chapter but character limits got me!
God I want graves so bad and the way you write him is so hot I love the manipulative smarmy bastard he should kidnap me and obsess over me next pls 😩
(Also I love ur fic sm it’s so good I love ur writing)
@sharksausages Thank you so much! Let me share a little something about how I developed my version of kidnappy/stalkery Phillip Graves. Ya know, I initially developed a crush on Warren Kole when he played Roderick, a serial killer, on FOX's The Following (pics below!). I had this storyline stuck in my head where he stalks a female victim and develops a relationship with her. When she notices a whole lotta red flags, she breaks it off with him. He gets so pissed he beats her half to death. He's arrested but released on bond because he's a cop with a spotless record. He focuses all his energy on finding this woman and eventually locates her. He takes her. He didn't want kids but when he thinks about the twisted fact that making her have his kids is just another way to own her and control her, he's all for it.
I have over 100 pages of this fic but it never saw the light of day because I was worried it was too dark. Now, see I'm on the spectrum so I get scared when it comes to sharing my writing because I'm terrified it could be too dark.
So that 100+ page never-finished fic has informed a LOT of Graves's possessive, stalker-like, kidnap-happy, abusive personality in my fics :D Pics included because THAT, my friends, is when I fist started crushing on Warren Kole <3
Alright, ya'll, second part! We start getting angsty. ;) There will be smut in future chapters ;) It's continuation of Long Way From Home. The link below includes the link to the previous series as well. Ummm HUGE twist and feel really insecure so let me know what ya'll think :)
Trigger warnings for: Mentions of torture, dubious consent, brainwashing, mentions of noncon but no actual noncon, mentions of suicide. More will be added as the story develops.
@unicorngirly1 and I bounced ideas back and forth again and so I have to give her credit. Thank you, love!
Totally insulting the shitty-ass healthcare system we have. I'm an American and love my country! but FUCK I hate the healthcare system.
This is part of a series: Long Way From Home. Graves gets ahold of 141's translator and demands she give up information she knows about 141.
Graves had taught you how to bust zipties easily, even for someone of your small stature. He’d even taught you to keep paperclips or bobby pins in your uniform pants pocket to pick handcuffs, too.
The only problem with your plan was that the SUV wasn’t moving when the zipties finally gave way and snapped. Ghost’s eyes met yours in the review mirror. Gaz, in the front passenger seat, glanced back at you.
“Really, Val?” Gaz sighed when he caught sight of the busted zipties.
SHIT.
“Johnny,” Ghost said with his accent from up front. “Take care of it.”
Soap, sitting next you in the back, glanced down and he noticed the plastic zipties were broken right down the middle. “Serious’ly?” he said in his own accent. Soap handled you rougher than you expected when he shoved you forward, this time enclosing zipties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind you. You pulled but it was harder to break the ties with your hands being behind your back.
“Stop, lass” Soap almost chided. “Just relax,”
You remember Graves teaching you how to break zipties when your hands were tied behind you.
“It’s trickier when your hands are behind you but just do what I told you,” Graves prompted.
You waited for the SUV to be moving this time. You broke the zipties again but kept your arms behind you to fool them. No one noticed.
When you saw they were taking you to a hospital, you sighed in annoyance.
“Policy, Val,” Ghost said as he pulled into the parking lot. “Policy when a soldier is recovered from a pris’ner of war situ’ation.”
You wanted to saw that you had never been a prison of war. The US was not and is not at war with Shadow Company. You weren’t too worried. You and Graves had agreed on a story you’d stick to in just such a situation. You were sure he was working with Shepherd to get you back. Shepherd had friends in high places and tens of millions in bankroll. There was nothing he couldn’t do.
The police being outside the hospital entrance as Ghost pulled up into the parking lot riled you up even more because why?
The back door opened and when an unknown male, a police officer, armed with a gun and a taser on his duty belt, reached for you to yank you out of the backseat, you punched him in the face. The officer recovered quickly and grabbed your vest before dragging you from the car.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” you yelled at the officer.
No use because he hauled you from SUV so harshly you fell onto the pavement, the front of your thick vest being the only thing saving you from your face slamming into cement. It still wasn’t enough to prevent you from scraping your face onto cold asphalt. When you felt your face scrape the frigid floor, you snapped, “Motherfucker!”
Handcuffs enclosed your wrists after your arms were again pulled behind you. You were then yanked up to your feet so roughly you felt bruises forming on your arm and your already fucked up wrists.
“Easy, lad,” Ghost approached the frustrated police officer. “She’s prolly been through ‘ell.”
Ghost then approached you. The way he approached you was…somewhat aggressive and it triggered red flags and warning alarms in your head. Ever since you’d been through what you’d been through with Graves, you were hyperaware to body language. You could read people…especially men. You’d been around nothing but men for the last 3 months and you’d learned to read them without really trying to learn. You could tell when they were frustrated with you. And Ghost looked embarrassed and frustrated. Despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face.
“Knock it off,” Ghost said softly in your ear. “That’s an order.”
“I’m not yours to order,” you snapped back before the police officer shoved you in front of him, keeping a tight grasp on your vest as he then pulled you.
-
You picked your handcuffs in the emergency room. It had been difficult but you’d managed to get them off. You handed them back to the officer when he was handing you over to emergency room staff. His face went red and you knew you’d pissed him off and embarrassed him. It was the closest you’d come to some kind of smile in 3 months.
-
You were in a room when you saw Price walking in with a phone held to his ear. He was angry. His body language screamed his emotions. He was on the phone…
With Graves.
Graves’s voice on the other side of the phone was mad…from what you could hear. You didn’t hear the whole conversation but some of it involved you. You heard a few phrases from Graves, all with a more pronounced Southern accent. His accent got more pronounced when he was emotional whether he be feeling angry or sadistic. Where the hell is she? You had no right. She’s my prisoner. You planned this shit and kept us separated us on purpose. I want her back. NOW.
Price put the call on speaker.
“You tell ‘im that you’re safe and that you’re done with ‘im,”
“Val?” Graves’s voice his voice saying your name.
You reached for the phone.
“Nah’uh,” Price pulled the phone away. “Tell him,” Price demanded. “That’s an order.”
You looked at the phone.
And then at Price.
And then at the phone.
“Val,” Graves’s voice told you he was uptight, upset, and on the verge of throwing the phone in his hand through the fucking wall.
When it was clear you weren’t going to tell Graves what Price had ordered, Price took the phone back into his hands.
“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,” Price taunted.
“No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared. “I’m comin’ for her, Price.”
You asked to talk to Graves and were denied. “No,” Price said firmly.
You briefly heard Graves say something about Shepherd.
Price hung up.
-
3 days in the hospital. 3 fucking days of being taken for the endless tests they were requiring you do. One of them was a skeletal survey and it involved endless x-rays. You’d cooperated through most of the exams.
But then they brought a trauma OBGYN and you immediately said no.
“Why?” that cop that you’d punched in the face earlier in the day sneered at you. “Were you raped, traitor?”
The doctor’s jaw dropped at the inappropriate question from the officer.
You saw red.
So you lunged at the offending officer and swung on him again, this time catching him in the nose. The doctor screamed for security and you focused your rage on the aggravating man. You shoved him and he hit the wall behind him in the corridor. He tried to fight back but his skills were no match for yours: Shadow Company trained. A quick punch to the solar plexus left him doubled over and gasping for breath. His diaphragm was momentarily paralyzed and he could do nothing to defend himself.
So you punched him in the face repeatedly and then you grabbed his gun.
A familiar arm easily wrapped its way around your waist and pulled you away.
“Wut the ‘ell?!”
Soap.
“Would ya have shot ‘im?” Soap asked, horrified.
Soap paused before asking, “Who are you?”
“Drop it!” came the shout from another police officer in the doorway. He had you and Soap at gunpoint.
“Give ‘er a chance,” Soap stated. “Don’t shoot. Jezus.”
You dropped the gun and it clattered to the hard floor.
So then you flipped the tables.
“Soap, they’ll hurt me, don’t let ‘em hurt me,” you whined, fake tears in your eyes.
“No, she’s being sedated,” an orderly snapped.
“I told you,” you whimpered.
“Hold on,” Soap attempted to speak to the two police officers, and several hospital staff approaching you.
It was no use. The last thing you saw before falling unconscious was Soap’s concerned face. You still had him wrapped around your finger though, didn’t you? And you could use that. When did you start developing such nefarious intent?
-
They sedated you after that. You woke up after sleeping fitfully. Your brain was woozy and it was hard to think clearly.
“The only reason you’re not in restraints right now,” Price’s voice got your attention and your tired gaze tried to focus on him from across the room, “is because I figured Graves put you through enough of that when he had you. Am I right?”
You didn’t say a word.
Besides, you passed out again.
-
That same doctor was back in your room again. You were alone with her this time.
“Don’t you understand ‘no’?” you groggily asked.
“Sorry but unlike you Americans, we care about healthcare.”
-
Price was in your room again.
At least they’d allowed you to get dressed in street clothes. You expected to be released. You wanted out. And your plans were to call Graves on a phone number you had memorized and have him come get you. You weren’t even sure he’d want you anymore but…it was worth a try. The drugs they’d use to sedate you a day ago had worn off and you were sitting on the bed.
Price told you a few minutes later that because you’d made a ‘suicidal gesture’ when you raised a gun to your head 3 days ago they were transferring you to a ‘secure facility.’
“Where?” you asked heatedly.
“Listen,” Price said softly. He looked tired, like he he’d gotten little to no sleep in the last few days. “I need you to be honest with me. You told me I’m like a father figure to you,”
“You were,” your sharp words cut into your former superior and you could see he was almost holding back tears.
“I need you to tell me what happened.” Price said. “Tell me something.”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been missing for 3 months,” Price countered.
“I was arrested,” you shrugged. You began rehearsing the story Graves had told you, conditioned you to say in the event 141 ever got their hands on you again.
“Why pu’t it like that?” Price asked, his accent growing thicker. “He had no right.”
Price always knew how to get others talking and you were no exception. “Graves thought I was with Hassan since we got separated.”
“But you weren’t,” Price added.
You again shrugged.
“He took you prisoner,” Price corrected.
Price paused before adding, “Tell me about the scars on your face.”
“I got them when I fell,”
“Graves had no right to detain you. You weren’t arrested, you were kidnapped.” Price then asked, “Who inflicted the injuries that caused those scars on your face?”
“They happened when I fell.”
“Domestic violence treatment team says you were hit. On purpose.”
“That’s not accurate,” you stated simply. You’d wanted to say, yeah well they don’t fucking know shit! but you held back.
“Domestic violence treatment team says they’re sure you were hit. Purposely. With a blunt object. In the fohcking face, Val. They said it probably ruptured your eardrum.”
So that’s why you had trouble hearing in your first weeks with Shadow Company…“That’s not accurate,” you repeated the rehearsed response. “And it’s not domestic violence, what the fuck?”
Price sighed hopelessly. He had training. He probably knew your responses were rehearsed and coached but there wasn’t much he could do about it, not now at least.
“Your ribs have been broken,” Price added, his voice almost breaking.
“Happened when I fell,” you repeated.
“Fell where?”
“It happened when I fell down the fucking hill, Price,” You hated how he always got you to talk. Always. In the past and now apparently. Like he was your damn dad or something…
“Ok, well your ribs have been broken repeatedly,”
You stayed quiet because what could you say?
“Jesus Christ, Val. Help me here. You sound like a domestic violence victim,” Price pleaded. “How were your ribs broken repeatedly over the last 3 months?”
You tried to redirect away from the question. “But I’m not a victim.”
“You were beaten, Val,” Price cleared his throat. “Tortured,”
“That’s not accurate,”
Price scoffed running a heavy hand down his face.
“D’ya love ‘im?”
“Fuck no.”
“Why’d you try to kill yourself?”
“Back then? 3 days ago?” You scoffed. “That was a ‘suicidal gesture’ or whatever the fuck they wanna call it. I just did that to get your boys to back off.”
“No, but the scars on your arm were from more than gestures,”
You stayed quiet. But you didn’t dare break eye contact. Graves had taught you that. One way to unnerve someone was to refuse to break eye contact.
Price sighed, glancing away before focusing on you again.
“All the fohcked up things he did to you made you want to take yourself out, ey?”
You left your captain in stone-cold silence for a few minutes.
“He said you’d put me in prison,” you finally said.
Price looked surprised. He looked surprised. It was an act. You could read body language, especially men’s, like a book.
“He’s right isn’t he?”
“I won’t lie to ya, Val,” Price started, “you’re in trouble. You went from KIA to AWOL. UK is pissed you gave up our homing beacons.”
“Under torture!” you yelled.
“Ah,” Price interrupted. “So he did torture you.”
“Fuck you,” you shot back.
“You’re going’ta respect me when I talk to ya, understand?” Price demanded. He paused before adding, “You’re probably going ‘ta be court martialed.”
A police officer, the same police officer who joked about you getting raped, the same police officer you’d beaten within an inch of unconsciousness stepped into the room after hearing you yell. “She need to be put down again?”
Price turned in his direction and simply said, “You or anyone else here so much as touch her again, I’ll kill ya,” and that was all it took for that police officer to go wide-eyed and leave.
“Wow, so fuck me, right?” you snapped.
“Val—”
“I’ll keep quiet for my protection, then,” you added before you stopped talking entirely. “I want a lawyer.”
-
The police told you that when the transfer paperwork was ready you’d be transferred in chains. They were planning on filing assault on a police officer charges. Price was doing everything he could to get them not to. That was a surefire way to end up in jail.
Price had told you that you were safe, to talk, say anything, but you refused to believe it and refused to talk.
You didn’t answer him. They were fucking court-martialing you. And it wasn’t the US but the UK. Because under torture you’d given up 141’s homing beacon codes. Graves has been right. They were waiting for any fucking excuse to lock you up. Well, you did answer him. Only to tell him, “I want a lawyer.”
All of them came by and tried to talk to you at least once over those three days. More than once. Price, the father figure you never had growing up was getting on-edge. He’d asked you where the bubbly, talkative soldier in you had gone. Tried to ask you about why you’d assaulted a police officer so viciously. You were looking at jail time he’d told you. You’d wanted to tell him that the bastard had made a joke about rape, which was so not fucking okay.
But you had determined you hadn’t been raped. Hell, you’d approached Graves more than a few times and basically asked him to fuck you. There was no way that had all been rape. You’d lose your mind if someone ever convinced you it was. Being repeatedly raped was not something someone could survive, especially not for 3 months straight. You weren’t sure why that ‘joke’ had pissed you off but it did.
“Val,” Price called your name one rainy afternoon. He had to call your name more than once because your had spaced out. You spent almost all your time now in your head and away from reality.
“What?”
“What do the 15 tally marks on your vest mean?”
“War has casualties, Captain,” you responded in a daze. If you’d been fully present in the moment you would’ve kept your damn mouth shut because you just admitted to killing 15 people.
Soap, your friend, sometimes with benefits way, way in the past, didn’t get you talking either. He’d tried his best. You’d been spacing out and didn’t realize he’d been talking to you. So when he raised a gentle hand to place on your arm, you jumped almost a mile high. You flinched so badly Soap retreated, almost expecting you to hit him. But while you couldn’t hit Soap or any other of 141’s members, you still couldn’t stand to be touched. Not by anyone besides one person. Besides, you were sure Graves would kill them and you if you let another man touch you. And while you weren’t as close to 141 as you used to be, you sure as hell didn’t want them dead or hurt.
“Don’t touch me,” you muttered.
Gaz, being one of the most expressive of the group sat and stared. “You don’t want me to—”
Hug me, hold me, tell me it’s all gonna be okay? Your mind asked in a mocking tone.
“No, don’t touch me,” you’d repeated.
Ghost was brief. He didn’t have much to say. You knew he had been taken hostage himself.
“You know what it’s like then,” You said to him.
“Oh, I know,” Ghost replied calmly.
You met his gaze. You wondered what he looked like under that mask. Not ugly, apparently.
“But what scares me the most?” Ghost’s voice brought you back to the present.
“Hmm?”
“The look in your eyes, mate,”
“Why?”
“B’cuz there’s nothin’ there,”
-
It was another long, restless night. You were exhausted but scared to sleep. At least they hadn’t sedated you since you taught that misogynistic cop a lesson. You were dozing on and off, every little noise making you jump. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t sleep without Graves. The hospital had taken everything from you. Your vest, the clothes you had on the day you were admitted, your watch, everything.
Plus one of the doctors you’d spoken to had told you something about yourself that you in no way were expecting. It gnawed at the back of your mind. And while there was a lot not letting you sleep, that was the main thing keeping you up. At least it was your secret.
You happened to hear Price’s voice and you wondered if you dreamt this or if it really happened.
“I heard a song once,” Price’s soft voice emanated from the hallway. In the past his voice could be rough, demanding.
“Yeah?” Gaz asked.
“It was ‘bout a man who brings a ‘package full of wishes’.”
“What abou’ it?” Soap asked.
“One of those wishes was a time machine.” Price paused. “Can we go back to before all this shit happ’nd?” he sighed heavily. “She might be goin’ to prison.”
-
You finally fell asleep that night at 3 in the morning. But when you dreamt, you didn’t dream of 141. You didn’t dream of Graves. You didn’t dream of Las Almas or the torture you’d suffered in your first week at Shadow Company.
No.
You dreamt of Makarov.
-
You woke with a start at 4 in the morning. Now why in the hell was Makarov in your dreams? And worst of all, why was he taking you when you were only supposed to be baiting him?
“Pretty little princess. I can see why Graves likes you so much. What’s your name? Don’t make me ask twice.”
In the dream you begged him not to hurt you. Not only because you were terrified of him but because you were--
His voice echoed in your head after waking up and you stopped reflecting on the dream. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the sound of his voice, that accent. About how if he did take you, you’d have no clue what was going on because you just knew he would speak Russian to everyone around him. You hoped and prayed Graves got you back. But if you did, you knew Graves wanted to use you to bait Makarov. But you had such a horrible feeling about it. Yet there was no way you could tell Graves no.
-
You refused a psychological evaluation the next day. You’d said no. That was it. When they continued insisting you just stayed quiet.
“Don’t make us get a court order, Ms. Valdez.”
You scoffed. That still wasn’t going to make you talk. You’d eventually broken under questioning, yes, but you wouldn’t break this time. Of that you were sure of. You wanted to yell at them to get the FUCK out of your face but you knew it was only going to be used against you. And you’d be sedated again. That and anything in that report if you cooperated.
-
So they decided that because you weren’t communicating they were indeed going to transfer you to a more secure facility. They took Graves’s threat of him coming to get you seriously.
It was revealed to you later that the more secure facility they’d been talking about was a detention facility.
“So you’re really gonna let them lock me up?” you asked Price when he walked into your room. There were more people behind him but you couldn’t see who they were. Police radios told you exactly what you needed to know.
“I can’t help you, lass,” Price responded softly.
“I should’ve fucking offed myself,”
“Don’t say that,”
“When’d he start tryin’ ta brainwash you?” Price signaled to the waiting group outside. He wanted a few minutes with you before they chained you up and locked you away. Possibly forever.
“He didn’t brainwash me,”
Price laughed but it was a noise void of humor. “When’d he start fuckin’ you?”
You snapped to look at Price. He looked angry. Time was running out. The cavalry was here to get you and if he didn’t get you to talk now he might never see you again except inside of a courtroom. Testifying against you.
“None of your business,” you shot back.
“Val I’m this close ta losin’ my shite,” Price stated heatedly. “You two had all kindsa inappropriate shite goin’ on from the moment ya met and they’re gonna use all that against ya.”
“Captain,” you almost growled. You couldn’t yell because the last thing you wanted was to be drugged. Again. “Respectfully, sir, it is none of your business who I sleep with.”
“You were messin’ around with Soap when you were assigned a year or two ago. You want what happened then ta happen again?”
“Graves and I hung out. I’ve never slept with him. I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.”
“Now thas’ a fuckin’ lie,” Price shot back.
“What do you know?” you heatedly asked. “You lost me, abandoned me for 3 fucking months.”
“Because I know you’re fuckin’ pregnant!” Price yelled.
And with that…you were done. You knew about the pregnancy. Hell, you’d made the decision to keep it and they’d made the decision then to remove your IUD to prevent complications. So not only had you lost your freedom…you’d apparently lost your privacy, too.
So you cried. And you didn’t protest or move away when Price sat next to you and held you.
-
So NERVOUS! Please let me know what ya'll thought of that twist ;)
Part threeeee! I feel kind iffy about this one. Smurt starts so MDNI! 18+ I feel like the smut is not my best work but there will definitely be more smut in the future chapters :)
Taglist! @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you'd like to be added, lemme know! ;)
Val feels like she has no choice but to return to Shadow Company for numerous reasons.
EDIT: Forgot to add! Q and A. Will Graves get more affectionate? I've gotten that question a LOOOT. Yes. But like all men he just found out and is a little overwhelmed 😉
-
You didn’t know how much time had passed when Price excused himself to take a phone call. Someone had called him three times back-to-back.
You knew who it was didn’t you?
-
Price wasn’t allowed to wander off very far. That small wing of the hospital you were in had been sealed off. No one enters or exits except for the police and the military.
Your suspicion was confirmed so were you really surprised when you heard Graves’s voice on the other end of that phone? Years of explosions and gunfire didn’t allow Price to turn the volume low enough that your younger, less exposed ears couldn’t pick it up. And because of how close the perimeter of that hospital wing was you heard every…word.
“Price,” Graves’s voice was tight, on-edge, dangerous and you wondered if someone had pissed him off right before.
“Graves,” Price spat back. “Was beginnin’ ta think Laswell had finally approved that airstrike you were nothin’ but ashes.”
“Haha,”
“Sorry,” Price added, “but I constant’ly fantasize about ya dying.”
“Knock this shit off,” Graves warned. “You have two people I’m interested in.” Graves paused before adding, “One I haven’t quite met yet.”
Price’s silence told you he was in shock.
Why did Graves sound so fucking terrifying today?
“Bloody ‘ell,” Price gasped. “How’d you—”
“I have eyes everywhere,” Graves said darkly. “A thing you might not know about southern culture, ya Brit. We like to keep our families together.”
“And you see Val as family? She’s not your wife ya fuckin’ psycho’.”
“No, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
And you don’t know why that line made your breath catch in your throat. You knew Graves was obsessed with you but what exactly did he mean by that?
“You’re such a sick fuck,”
“Get her back to me.”
“I can’t override an arrest warrant,” Price shot back.
“Figure it out,” Graves snapped. “Or Makarov wins and World War III starts. I have the money and the connections to hide me and my family. Do you?”
-
You didn’t know you were still crying until the tears rolled down your face as a female soldier (no, not a police officer but a soldier) patted you down. The UK military was pissed enough to detain you because you’d released the codes to 141’s homing beacons. You had denied torture and refused to say anything against Graves or Shepherd. So they saw it as you betrayed 141 and willingly gave them up. You and Graves had worked together that night, hadn’t you? At least that’s what it looked like on the outside looking in. All the digging they’d done had revealed hushed secrets of how you two had been inappropriately involved with each other pretty much since you’d met.
You had mugshots taken for the first time in your life. They took pictures of every visible scar. You wondered why this wasn’t done at the detention facility and you were told it was in case you or someone who fancied you just happened to bust you out from the facility or even got to you before you even got there. So they’d have pictures of you to show the world and help re-capture you.
You were given a bulletproof vest because you’d made the news and had been labeled a traitor. You were loathed. There had been threats on your life. The news loves making people look horrible don’t they? You wondered if the news knew about your situation. Graves knew. And you really didn’t know how to feel about that. You couldn’t even get away from him by being arrested and detained.
You were never going to get away from Graves were you? You didn’t exactly hate it, though. But it also scared you, didn’t it?
You were chained like you were some outlaw (you kinda were though, weren’t you?). The fact that you could pick handcuffs and liked swing at authority figures had gotten around and so your cuffs were anchored to a chain around your waist. Not too tight. They didn’t want you, a sue-happy American, to sue them if you just so happened to lose that pregnancy.
“You’re really gonna let yourself get locked up instead of sayin’ somethin’, anythin’ against that son of a bitch?” Price asked.
“Just watch out for Graves and Shepherd, Captain,” you stated. “He might like me. But he won’t think twice about killing you. Make sure you and your boys stay safe.”
“You make it sound like you’re sacrificin’ yaself.”
“I can keep him distracted just enough.”
-
The sunlight was bright and it reminded you of how much you hated sunny days. The noise was overwhelming. News crews, people shouting at you, calling you a traitor. So you just glanced down, using your hair to hide your face. 141, for all you had done against them in the last 3 months, shielded you as best as they could.
Soap even pulled your hood over your head and you almost cried at the kindness of it. Also, pregnancy hormones.
It was cold.
You were about to be put into a military vehicle when a familiar voice, a demanding voice, told them to stop and turn around.
It was impossible to understand what was being said outside with all the noise. So you all went back inside, into the warmth of the hospital.
Granted you couldn’t move much. Cuffs anchored to your waist and leg irons. That thin bulletproof vest was tight on you, straps drawn snug. Graves indeed hadn’t been lying that they were going to treat you like a fucking prisoner, a good for nothing. And that was one of the reasons you kept your faith in Graves. You were weirdly bonded to him. You didn’t love him and you were sure he didn’t love you. But it seemed like you both were stuck together for the time being.
Maybe forever. You were obsessed. Maybe just as much as he was. Maybe a little less, though.
But the man here in person? General Shepherd.
“Graves told me what happened,” Shepherd stated. He removed his sunglasses.
“It’s none of yer business,” Price snapped.
“No, it is because she’s mine.”
“No, your Shadow piece o’ shit kidnapped ‘er. And now he’s fuckin’ stalkin’ her.”
“We had reason to believe she was collaborating with Hassan as she was the only one we found. Wandering all alone.” Shepherd paused before adding, “Like an abandoned puppy. That’s the term Graves used. And abandoned puppies need new homes, don’t they?”
Price full on growled. “Thas’ some bullshit excuse ya have. It won’t make sense on paper.”
“But it will,” Shepherd grinned that shit-eating grin he had. It was the same grin you imagined him having when Graves took that initial hostage video all those months ago. “And it did,”
Price was handed papers. What they said you couldn’t read. The print was too small.
“Val here was abandoned by her task force. We took her in, interrogated her, revealed she had nothin’ to hide.” Price signaled at the documents in Price’s hands, shaking with anger. “We did not, under any condition torture her.”
Shepherd looked at you, smirking before adding, “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
“They didn’t hurt me,” you confirmed. You lied. You lied to protect Shepherd, Shadow Company, and most importantly, Graves. Something deep inside told you this would not be the last time lying for them. If this shit was brought to court or congress, you’d keep lying to protect Graves without a second thought.
“Val, ser’ously?” Price glared and if looks could kill, Shepherd would’ve died on the spot.
“She’s been with Shadows for 3 months. She’s mine now.” Shepherd demanded. “Hand ‘er over,”
“She’s not goin’ with ya,” Soap snapped. “Ya’ll done enough.”
“Don’t make me get my boys. You sure as fuck don’t want me getting Graves. He’s pissed. Has been. And when he’s mad he gets trigger happy.” Shepherd smirked. “Now go on ahead and get Graves’s little miss outta those cuffs. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t why ya’ll would treat a lady like that.”
“You’ve lost your mind…again, Gen’ral,” Price snapped. “She’s lookin’ at a court martial. US and UK want her here.”
“Let me put it in simpler terms for you,” That smirk never left Shepherd’s face. “Give me the girl. Give me my soldier or we all lose.”
“You don’t have to go with him,” Price muttered from next to you. “We can get a court to look at this,” He signaled at the pages which you still hadn’t bothered to try reading. “You have a choice,”
“I want Graves,” you said confidently.
The police officer, a new one, looked at Price, his gaze asking what he should do. Release, not release? Detain?
“You’re gonna go back to the company that fucked you up so bad you tried to kill ya’self?” Price paused before adding, “Is’ not jus’ about jus’ you anymore, Val. You have someone else to think about. Don’t do this.”
You shrugged. Because it really was. The bond you had with Graves was intense. Plus, you’d stay out of prison. You did have a child to think about. And the last fucking thing you wanted was you in prison in the UK, Graves in prison in the US, and your child in that horrible foster care system. You’d run before you let that happen.
“We’ll get them after all this, Val,” Price muttered so only you could hear. “They’ll rot in prison.”
“Release her. Now.” Shepherd demanded of the officer. “They’ve removed her AWOL status and transferred her to Shadow.”
“You better sleep with one eye open, mate,” were the last words Price said to Shepherd before you walked out of that hospital with said general free of restraints.
-
Shepherd didn’t say much in the truck. At least not at first. You rubbed your wrists because they cuffs on your wrists had been on too damn tight.
It was you and Shepherd. That was it. You wondered where Graves was. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Graves asked for you by name. Pulled a few strings and got this done because Graves is my best.”
You didn’t say a word. You’d thanked him earlier anyway. Well, that is except to ask, “Where’s Graves?”
“A safehouse,” Shepherd responded. “What’d you tell ‘em, soldier?”
“Nothing, sir.” You responded. “They threatened me with prison but I didn’t say shit. Respectfully.”
“We’ll pull the hospital records,”
“I’ve nothing to hide, sir.”
Shepherd paused before adding, “Don’t disappoint my top man,” Shepherd warned. “He’s gonna be your Shadow for the rest of your life. Told me he’s not letting you go.”
“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”
“He asks you to get on your knees, your response is how low, understand?”
“Yessir,” you felt like he was selling you to Graves.
“Ya ever thought about letting him fuck a kid into ya?”
Your head snapped to look in his direction next to you. Did he know?
“Would be nice to leave all this to family,” Shepherd stated simply. He saw you as something to be used. Was that why he’d said all those months ago he wanted you specifically working for them? A female? A female Shepherd knew Graves had a thing for?
Shepherd chuckled that cold laugh before adding, “I know ya’ll been fuckin’ since you met pretty much. He’s been obsessed with you.”
Was he kidding? And at that second something deep inside you told you Graves might like that you’re carrying his kid. There was no getting away from him now, was there? Even if you wanted to. Where the hell did you think you were going to hide with his kid?
“No offense, sir,” you replied after catching your breath, “That’s not why we—”
“That’s it’s God-given purpose,” he interrupted. “He’d be perfect.”
Who--? Hell, Shepherd was already obsessed with the kid and Shepherd didn’t even know the kid existed. Right? And you didn’t like that, not one bit.
“Product of two of my best soldiers, raised by Shadows, in the field.”
You weren’t sure if Shepherd took your ensuing silence as a form of defiance or as a form of acceptance.
You wished it was just you. Just you going back to Graves, no kid. But you were stuck now, weren’t you? You didn’t think your IUD would fail. But it did. You had less than a one percent chance of getting pregnant but here you were. And that was why you’d made that decision, amongst other reasons, sure. The decision to keep him. Him because you felt it was a boy.
Because maybe while you distracting Graves wasn’t enough, maybe you and his kid would distract Graves enough for him to leave 141 alone.
You just hated an innocent life was involved.
-
“Did you really raise that much hell?” Graves’s voice from behind you light a fire under your heart. He must’ve noticed your brief injuries.
“You told me to raise hell so I did,”
“Atta girl,” Graves smirked.
You couldn’t help it. You reached out and hugged him, gear and all.
And surprisingly?
He hugged back.
“Good ‘ta have you back,” Graves said, his voice tickling your hair as he rested his chin on your head.
-
You hoped into a hot shower the second you could. You scratched your skin raw trying to get those tape marks off your arms from when the hospital had started an IV sedated you that one day. You had tape marks all up and down your arms from all the times they’d drawn blood, marks around your wrists from the handcuffs and restraints.
“Don’t make yourself bleed, darlin,’” Graves chided. He’d been watching you through the clear glass shower door.
“I want it off,” you almost pouted.
He was naked when he joined you and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down shamelessly. He did the same to you. His eyes stopped on your breasts and on his favorite spot between your legs.
“They hurt you, didn’t they?”
His eyes lingered on the tape burn on your face from the duct tape pulled off your mouth three days ago. On the scrape your cheek showed after being yanked onto the ground face first when you hit a police officer in the face. And finally, to those scratch marks on your arms from trying to take the medical tape residue off.
You had indeed made yourself bleed.
“Only a little,” you contested.
“They’ll never have ya’ll again,” Graves promised.
And that confirmed he knew. He knew it wasn’t just you anymore.
You got on your toes. The hot water had you both sweating. Your hair was in loose curls over your shoulders and his blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair almost looked light brown when it was wet and hanging on his forehead. Your lips met his briefly before he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively. You raised your hands to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, the strong stinging pain of scratch mark wounds forgotten.
He placed two strong hands on your hips before gripping your ass and effortlessly lifting you. You, out of habit, wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you onto the cold tile behind you, making you gasp and hiss and arch your back.
When you arched your back, you felt him, hot and thick and hard, at your entrance.
“That desperate are we?”
You gave him a lustful glare and an exasperated huff while he scoffed in response.
Graves ran his teeth just along your jawline, making you moan. You caught yourself and reminded yourself to be quiet. This was a safehouse, not a black site. It meant noise traveled through the walls like they weren’t there. It wasn’t like back on base where the walls were concrete. And absorbed all the sound.
“We’re alone,”
You moaned more at his words.
“Lick my fingers,” Graves commanded. He had you pinned against the wall, his hot, thick cock just touching your entrance. You mewled, trying to get him inside you.
So you obeyed. You ran your hot tongue over his fingers as he held them in front of your face.
“Show me how you’re gonna take me,” Graves added in a low growl.
Graves suddenly released you and your knees almost gave out.
You wanted him. You needed him.
“On your knees,”
You obeyed instantly. You fucking loved that despite your delicate situation he was still willing to insert at least a little dominance in the bedroom.
Without him asking you to, you took his hard length into your mouth.
Graves gasped and moaned, throwing his head back and catching his hair in the hot spray of the shower.
-
It wasn’t long before Graves was on top of you, in bed. You were both still drenched from the shower but it wasn’t like either of you cared. You’d started sucking him off and after pulling you off of him he’d started to work his fingers inside of you before he’d abruptly cut off the water.
Now here you were, drenched hair sprawled out behind you while Graves had bruising grips on your thighs as you felt him mercilessly use his lips, teeth, and tongue to taste you.
You felt like you needed him to totally own you. To take your mind off that burning pain from where you’d scratched yourself so hard you’d cut yourself open earlier, from what you’d learned from your hospital stay, from all the shit you’d been through. So you said those key words…the key words that let him know you wanted him to fuck you almost into unconsciousness, that gave him permission to leave marks on you.
“Graves, show me who I belong to,”
But to your surprise?
“No,” came the growled reply from between your legs.
“What?” you glanced down and the sight that met you almost made you gasp. Graves, his hands still grasping your thighs, his pupils wide with lust, his chin damp from your arousal, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.
You wondered if maybe you tasted differently. Could he taste that he completely owned you, marked you forever? You were carrying his child. How much more could he own you?
“No, Val,” Graves repeated, his gaze not leaving yours. “Tonight I’m just gonna relearn every fucking inch of your body.”
So after he’d edged you twice and finally let you cum on his lips, he was finally inside you.
And that’s when time seemed to slow down. It felt like you had been apart from Graves your months when in reality it had been a few days. You wondered if this is what addiction felt like. Every time he moved inside you it was like you both moaned in unison. You heard him say something but you couldn’t quite decipher it. Your brain was jelly.
You could feel yourself getting close and he would stop. You whined at the feeling. You wanted to beg him to continue, to fuck you until you couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk.
But every time you’d open your mouth to beg, he’d seal it with his own. And you’d feel him smile, chuckle. The bastard knew what he was doing. So instead of getting rough, he was edging you. He was relearning you and ensuring himself he still knew every inch of you by making sure his cock reached so deep inside you until it could go no further.
“Say my name,” finally came the command. Apparently your ears had stopped working because you knew that tone of voice. Graves had had to repeat this command more than once.
“Fuck me, Graves,” you gasped as his hips stuttered, making your insides flutter.
Graves talked again, but you had trouble hearing him over your own moans and filthy words begging him
Fuck you harder.
Graves grabbed your shoulders and shook you hard enough to get your attention. Not nearly as hard as when he’d fucked you before you were ‘rescued’ by 141. There was a gentleness to his motions that he’d never shown before and you wondered why. Before reminding yourself: you’re pregnant. He was still buried inside you and you arched your back, trying to get him deeper into you.
“Say my full name,”
So that’s exactly what you did.
You said his full name, Phillip Graves, as you came a second time, this time around his cock and felt as his thrusts got sloppy and rough and hard while he came undone inside of you.
-
End notes: This is gonna get soooo complicated! :o
Summary: What exactly happened to Val between days 6 and 10 after she was captured? Why did she suddenly become so compliant? From Graves’s POV. Because, well because Val doesn’t remember. For the simple reason that Graves doesn’t want her to. Maybe out of kindness (because those days were rough), but maybe because generally, a brainwasher doesn’t want their target to remember being brainwashed.
OR
Graves does what he has to in order to keep Shepherd from killing Val. And...well...to make her his forever.
Notes: Y'all, this idea has taken over my mind like nothing else! It's going to be on the dark side. ;) Related to Long Way from Home.
Tags: @c0d-lvr, @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1 - I lost my taglist :( please let me know f you'd like to be added :)
-
It took 6 days to finally break Val. She finally let go of information that wouldn’t have harmed anyone anyway. Those homing beacons we got from her were old, and she knew that. She refused to give them up for the simple fact that she was defiant. Shepherd’s happy she broke. But he said he’s still flying down. He said he wants her actively working for us.
He told me I have 4 days. 4 days to bring her to our side. I told him that’s impossible, that it took a lot longer than that to essentially brainwash someone. He told me I knew what to use to do just that. I know what he was referring to. But no. I didn’t want to. It might kill her.
“Ten Minutes to Midnight,” Shepherd told me.
He told me to do it or he’d kill her. In front of me.
So I relented and went to a computer with some heavily encrypted files. The kind of computer that had a case designed to live through nuclear war and electromagnetic pulse attacks. I pulled up something I learned from the CIA in my dealings with them.
The file titled 10 Minutes to Midnight: The Brainwasher’s Handbook.
