Of course this mission would go to shit. They countered their movements just like she had warned Talon that they would. After the failed mission in Russia their impatience had gone dangerously high, putting their best agents in unnecessary danger. Her vision was blurry from the explosion of fire and metal but somehow she had survived. Blinking slowly she looked up to see how she hadn't been buried alive. A dark figure had put himself around her, shielding her from most of the blast. "R-Reaper?"
The thick haze had long enveloped his physical form before Reaper thought to render the decision as, against all odds, his shadow preceded every conscious thought circulating in his head in a remarkable exercise of control, throwing not only caution, but years of conditioning that had taught him to avoid playing hero in critical situations to the wind.
Within a hair's breadth of the explosion, a shower of debris rained upon them, metal groaning as it unhinged and collapsed, blowing a blast of scorching hot air across the area in its wake. Reaper only shifted when their surroundings stopped quaking and the fine graphite dust settled, a ringing of distant screams and the roar of blood in his ears.
This time was different, he reminded himself as he rose to his full height, cautious, gathered in one piece despite the chaos in his head and the feeling of tremors adamant to subvert his volatile core. Yet the voice mirroring the one in his head daunted him, calling his name, the wrong name -- Gabriel? --, before a violent lurch in his chest pulled him back into reality, Reaper twitching into life once more.
“Get up,” his rough voice commanded none too gently all at once, a hand shooting out to assist her despite himself. Curse his commiseration.
