#billy four

Solo han pasado seis horas desde que te metiste en y te quedaste dormida, es humanamente imposible levantarte tan pronto para hacer ejercicio, y menos para ti, que en la vida has sido una chica de hacer ejercicio. Si no fuese por la seriedad y el miedo que te produce dos, te hubieses tumbado de nuevo a dormir otras seis horas.

"Te has sobrepasado 10 segundos" Murmura apoyada en la caravana cuando abres la puerta.

"Siguen siendo las cinco de la mañana, ¿qué quieres?, ¿quitarle el sitio a los cangrejos?" Puedes atisbar a ver una media sonrisa en su rostro, pero rápidamente se pone en marcha. Tienes que correr un poco para ponerte a su altura, definitivamente tienes las piernas más cortas y ella además es más veloz.

"Hoy seré suave. Pero no esperes que sea indulgente contigo."

"Mi objetivo es no vomitar, por mi está bien" Te arrepientes de decir eso en cuanto encuentras su mirada.

"Cuatro vomitó dos veces" Tiene una sonrisa que te horroriza mientras entráis en la sala de entrenamiento. Lo llama sala, pero en verdad es un almacén equipado.

"¿Y los demás?" Si el récord es solo dos veces y de un chico que está bastante fuerte y musculado, ¿que puede esperarle a una chica tan pequeña y delgada?"

"Cinco no entrena conmigo, tres ya estaba instruido cuando llegó, pero el récord lo tiene seis" Te sorprende un poco que hable de seis, y te sientes un poco incómoda cuando ves su sonrisa triste. Por un momento ha bajado su guardia de chica súper dura, y es para estar un poco triste, y como no sabes su reacción si haces un comentario empático ya que es algo obvio que a seis le ha pasado algo, te hace sentir incómoda la situación. "No diré cuántas veces vomitó pero casi se desmaya."

Te quedas sin palabras y estás a punto de salir corriendo cuando vuelve a sonreirte. No sabes si está bromeando o pretende asustarte.

"Bien. Empezamos. No haces ejercicio así que lo que primero que trabajaremos será tu resistencia. Quiero que aprendas a correr, y que tengas resistencia. Aprender a respirar y que seas veloz. Ese será el primer paso" Bueno, nadie ha muerto corriendo, ¿verdad? "En la mayoría de las veces tendrás que salir corriendo, y depende de ti, y solo de ti salir con vida."

"Alentador." Te muerdes la lengua con fuerza. Nunca sabes cuando quedarte callada.

"Hablo en serio." Dos frunce el ceño y coge un silbato. "Iremos fuera, vamos a correr"

No sabes cuantas vueltas a todas las instalaciones te hace dar, estás agotada y medio ahogada desde que empezaste, sientes como tus pulmones arden en busca de oxígeno, y no sientes tus piernas. No quieres dejar de correr en ningún momento porque temes que de parar, no sientas las piernas y caigas al suelo. O algo peor, que te baje tanto la tensión que simplemente te desayes, y eso ya es más de lo que pasó a seis. No quieres ser la ridícula del equipo.

Pero se vuelve peor cuando coloca dos conos a una distancia de diez metros y te indica que tienes que correr de un punto al otro, e intentar llegar a cada cono antes de que ella toque el silbato. De no estar tan agotada y al borde de perder el conocimiento hubieses hecho un comentario sarcástico sobre ese ejercicio. ¿Que estás?, ¿en el instituto? Si vas a ser una súper espía, o un agente secreto esperas tener que superar pruebas súper duras e ingeniosas. No correr entre dos conos.

"¿Qué tal os va?" Tres se acerca a dos. Parece recién levantado y está de buen humor. Seguramente haya podido descansar más y tomar un buen desayuno.

"Peor de lo que esperaba. No tiene resistencia y corre como los patos. Necesitaré trabajar mucho con ella" Bufas escuchando la conversación. Al menos podría ser discreta cuando te critica.

"Bueno ocho, llegó el mejor momento del día, vamos. Te enseñaré la mejor parte de estar aquí" Tres grita con demasiado entusiasmo. De estar de buen humor le hubieses sonreído.

"No dejes de correr de golpe, te marearás." Advierte dos mientras recoge sus pertenencias. "Mañana a las seis aquí. Ni un minuto más tarde, ¿entendido?"

"¡Vamos no seas dura!" Tres te da un golpe en el hombro que casi te estampa en el suelo. "Ocho es buena chica y obediente. No se meterá en problemas. Vamos niña, dos es demasiado exigente" Pasa un brazo por tus hombros y te acerca a su pecho mientras andáis. Tiene demasiada energía y anda demasiado rápido obligándote a casi correr, y gemir cuando das cada paso. "Es simpática, lo prometo. Solo es demasiado dura"

"¿Con todos o solo conmigo?"

"Oh, no lo lleves a lo personal. No quiere que mueras." Tres te lleva por la zona más alejada de las caravanas y el almacén. Tu corazón cae cuando se dirige a una pequeña montaña que da a un descampado. 

"Pensé que íbamos a desayunar"

"Aún son las 7.30 pm, y uno no se levanta antes de las 10."

"Si tengo que esperar antes de las 10 creo que moriré"

"Tranquila, ten" Saca del bolsillo una chocolatina de cereales. "No es mucho, pero te saciará un poco el hambre" Te ilusiona pensar que tres pensó en ti, y en que estarías hambrienta y cogió un aperitivo para ti. "Si te sirve de consuelo, ahora no tendrás que moverte mucho. Vamos a disparar"

Tres debió de ver el brillo en tu mirada cuando dijo esas palabras ya que niega con la cabeza. "No es ningún juego"

"Oh vamos" sonríes sabiendo que tres es un buen hombre y puedes confiar en él para mostrar tu verdadero yo. "Tiene que ser guay, ya sabes, seré como Angelina Jolie en Sr. y Sra. Smith, o Uma Thurman en Kill Bill"

"No menciones eso en presencia de uno." Te advierte mientras prepara las armas. "No es ningún juego, no quiero que amenaces con una a ninguno del equipo. Ni aunque sea en bromas"

"¿Quién bromearía con un arma?"

"No preguntes" Tres toma un arma y te apunta en el pecho.

"Me estás apuntando con un arma" La respiración se te queda atascada en la garganta cuando se pone en posición y parece a punto de disparar.

"No está cargada. Vamos niña, además no estoy bromeando. Quiero que me quites el arma." Tres no se mueve ni un ápice. Ve tu ceño fruncido y rueda los ojos. "Olvidaba que eras novata."

"Oye"

"Escucha, tienes que ser rápida. La persona que te apunte con un arma no se lo pensará dos veces." mueve el arma entre sus manos con demasiada facilidad. "Así que tendrás que ser rápida y ágil." Vuelve a ponerse en posición y el cañón vuelve a apuntarte en el pecho. "Un golpe fuerte en el antebrazo hará que el arma deje de apuntarte, y un manotazo en la muñeca hará que el arma salga disparada. Ahí tienes que ser aún más rápida y atraparla. Ganarás la ventaja ahí y dispararás"

Dicho parece muy fácil, pero cuando tienes a un hombre de metro ochenta y bien ejercitado frente a ti, apuntándote con un arma, las rodillas te tiemblan.

"Vamos"

Con inseguridad das un paso al frente, y notando la pistola en tu clavícula, le das un golpe en el antebrazo, pero tres es más rápido que tu, y te gira, mientras pasa un brazo por tu garganta y lleva la pistola a tu sien. Aprieta el gatillo.

"Muerta" dice contra tu oreja. "Vuelve a intentarlo"

Te deja ir y vuelves a tu posición. Te concentras en el cañón que te apunta, y cuentas tres segundos y medio para atacarle cuando no se lo espera. Pero tres vuelve a ser más rápido y cuando estás a punto de darle un manotazo en el antebrazo, barre su pie por debajo de los tuyos haciendo que caigas de espaldas, se agacha a tu lado y mientras con un brazo te sujeta por la clavícula, te dispara.

"Muerta" Dejas escapar un gemido cuando notas el dolor punzante en la espalda.

"¿Era necesario?" Te ayuda a levantarte tirando de tu brazo.

"Es divertido." Se encoge de hombros con una sonrisa. "¡Posición!"

No sabes cuantas veces te obliga tres a humillarte de esa manera. Cada vez te sientes más dolorida y enfadada. Ni siquiera una vez te deja tomar la ventaja, aunque sea para darte confianza. Y siempre acaba diciendo 'muerta'. Ya empiezas a cansarte. Por eso decides cambiar la táctica. Es fácil que siempre encuentre la manera de defenderse si siempre sabe que movimiento vas a tomar.

Te pones en posición de ataque, pero esta vez haces contacto visual con él y no con el cañón de la pistola. Cambias el pie de apoyo y te acercas rápidamente. Tres sabe que algo va mal cuando estás a punto de darle un tortazo en la cara. Intenta echarse atrás para evitar el golpe, pero lo que no sabe es que no es tu objetivo. Cuando echa la cabeza atrás, le das un puñetazo en el estómago, y mientras se dobla con un gemido, te das la vuelta dando una patada a la pistola que sale volando y cae con un golpe seco.

"Brillante" tres te mira con la boca abierta. "¿Dónde aprendiste esas patadas?"

Te encoges de hombros. "Soy fan de kárate kid" No pasan ni dos segundos cuando sientes la pierna de tres en tus talones, y lo siguiente que notas es tu espalda de nuevo contra el suelo y el cañón de la pistola en tu sien.

"Muerta" Gruñes de frustración y das un manotazo a la pistola. "Nunca bajes la guardia, niña"

"Te he desarmado."

"Pero has bajado la guardia" Tres sigue encima de ti con la pistola. Frunces el ceño y finges querer patear sus partes íntimas. Tres intenta protegerse y aprovechas para darle un golpe seco entre sus cejas con la palma de tu mano. Cae a tu lado y sin esfuerzos te subes en su pecho y le quitas la pistola. Apuntas a su frente.

"Eres rápida" tiene una mirada de sorpresa en su rostro. "dispara"

Sientes como el dedo que aprieta el gatillo pesa demasiado, y sientes que la pistola se resbala por tus manos sudadas.

"Hazlo" Pestañeas varias veces y tus manos tiemblan. Tres lleva su mano a la pistola, y con su pulgar tira de tu dedo y aprieta el gatillo. "Pum. Muerto"

Sales de encima suyo dejando la pistola en el suelo y te sientas. Tres se levanta y te extiende su mano. "Vas a tener que jalar del gatillo, niña. El que esté al otro lado no se lo pensará dos veces antes de matarte."

"Pero yo no quiero matar a nadie"

"A estos si, te lo aseguro" sin ningún esfuerzo te levanta del suelo. "Vamos a desayunar niña, si me prometes jalar el gatillo mañana, te dejo ser la que despierte a cuatro tirándole un vaso de agua"

Sonríes agradecida por intentar hacerte reír. Todo el camino hasta la caravana te lleva con su brazo sobre tus hombros.

"¿No me dirás ninguna frase motivacional de maestro a alumno? Algo como '¿Qué le decimos a la muerte? Hoy no' esa es una gran frase"

"No tengo ni idea de que estás hablando"

"¿No has visto juego de tronos? Pero... ¿Cuánto tiempo llevas muerto?"

"Preparo las mejores tortitas, verás."

"Que no intente impresionarte, es lo único que sabe cocinar." Cinco os encuentra por el camino.

"¡Oye cinco!, realmente es una chica de patadas. ¡Me hizo lo mismo que a ti antes!, fue alucinante" Tres está realmente emocionado mientras cinco parece estar demasiado desinteresada.

"No luces por ningún lado la nariz hinchada"

"¡Me quitó la pistola! Salió volando" Tres se adelanta con cinco y entran en la caravana. Tu prefieres recuperar un poco el aliento y no hacer sufrir a tus músculos. Vas mirando el suelo, por eso no ves que cuatro también se acerca a la puerta quién está mirando el móvil, haciendo que ambos choquéis y casi salgas disparada.

"Wow, perdona" Cuatro te sujeta por los brazos. "Casi sales disparada como un muñeco" Cuatro se ríe haciendo que ruedes los ojos con una sonrisa.

"Bonita metáfora" Te hace un gesto y te deja pasar primero.

"¿Ya hizo dos que vomitases hasta la primera papilla?"

"No he vomitado" No querías hacerle saber que sabías que él si lo hizo, para no hacerle sentir mal, pero tampoco especificaste que tu organismo no te permite vomitar, por mucho que tu quieras, eres incapaz de hacerlo.

Os sentáis en los sofás individuales sobre una mesa justa para ocho personas. Cuatro se sienta frente a ti poniéndote un poco nerviosa, tener a un chico tan guapo frente a ti debería estar prohibido cuando debes lucir unas pintas terribles.

"El secreto de las tortitas de tres es que son precocinadas, solo tiene que ponerlas en la sartén. Realmente no sabe cocinar" Cuatro juega con una servilleta mientras te habla. Cinco toma asiento en la zona más alejada mientras dos entra.

"¿Y por qué cocina él?" Te apoyas en la mesa con el ceño fruncido.

"Porque nadie más quiere hacerlo" Sonríe de esa forma tan peculiar obligándote a soltar una risa. Rápidamente averiguas que no es una persona capaz de quedarse quieta por mucho tiempo, está rompiendo una servilleta en trocitos y sientes como mueve las piernas debajo de la mesa.

Te fijas en los tatuajes de sus manos en los que no reparaste ayer.

"Tortitas" Tres acerca la sartén y sirve varias en cada plato. Intentas no parecer muy ansiosa por el desayuno pero llevas sin comer casi un día, y después de varias horas de ejercicio.

Mientras intentas parecer una persona normal comiendo, estás demasiado ensimismada en tu comida, pero puedes notar como cuatro no para quiero, sirviendo zumo, agua y removiendo algo con una cuchara.

"Toma" Levantas la cabeza mientras aún masticas un trozo de tortita. Cuatro te sonríe mientras empuja un vaso de agua hacia ti.

"¿Está envenenado?" Muerdes tu lengua. Odias eso de ti, el hablar sin pensar y el intentar hacer de todo un chiste. Solo está siendo amable. Pero te relajas cuando te regala una de sus sonrisas

"¿Crees que de estar envenenado te lo diría?" Se apoya en la mesa para mirarte. Entrecierras los ojos pero llevas el vaso a tus labios. Sabe demasiado dulce. "Solo es agua con azúcar. Te ayudará con las agujetas, mañana me lo agradecerás"

"¿Qué tal?, equipo" Uno entra en la caravana seguido de un chico moreno. "Esta es ocho, ayer se fue temprano. Ocho este es siete."

"Encantado" Extiende su mano en un saludo.

"Oye chico, enséñale luego todo esto, ¿vale?" Uno deja caer una palmada demasiado fuerte en el hombro de cuatro.

"¿En qué habíamos quedado?" Cuatro gruñe realmente enfadado. "Es skywalker"

"No pienso llamarte así" Uno toma asiento y bebe de su zumo.

"¿Como Luke Skywalker?" preguntas "¿Tenemos también nombres en clave? ¡Yo quiero ser black widow!" Cuatro sonríe

"Decidme que la novata no está haciendo referencia a la cultura pop y a películas de los 2000'?" Uno parece realmente ofendido. "No pienso llamarte black lo que sea, y es cuatro, nada de skywalker"

"Aburrido" cuatro rueda los ojos. Sonríes. Es de los tuyos.

Puedes notar a tu izquierda como cinco resopla y rueda los ojos, pero no sabes si es por ti, porque obviamente le caes mal, o por cuatro que también parece que le cae mal, pero notas cierta tensión en él cuando ella está cerca, lo que te confunde.

"¡Ya sé lo que se me olvidaba!" Uno grita demasiado cada vez que habla, y con demasiado entusiasmo, como si todo lo que sale de su boca fuese oro. "¡Hoy es tu funeral!" Dejas caer el tenedor con el trozo de tortita. "Tienes que prepararte para las tres, te acompañaré"

"¿Quieres que vaya a mi funeral?"

"Todos hemos ido" tres le quita importancia mientras come "Una manera de cerrar el ciclo. Tu vida pasada acaba ahí"

"A mi me parece demasiado tétrico" frunces el ceño. "De todas formas no iré"

La mesa se queda en silencio cuando hablas. Miras confundida a todos, que te están mirando con una cara de sorpresa.

"¿Qué?"

"Es la última vez que verás a tu familia." Dos intenta razonar contigo, y simplemente mencionando la palabra familia hace que se te revuelvan las tripas.

"¿Y?"

"¿No quieres despedirte?" Cinco te mira con una de esas caras suyas.

"¿Por qué iba a querer hacerlo?"

Rápidamente en la mesa hablan todos a la vez, solapando conversaciones.

"Oye, huí de mi casa por una razón, ¿de acuerdo? prometí que para hacerme volver sería con los pies por delante. Y no pienso hacerlo." Con esta conversación te amargan la comida y el hambre que tanto tenías.

Te levantas de la mesa rápidamente y dejas ahí el resto de desayuno.

Se te escapa una carcajada mientras llevas una mano a tu boca. Desde el incómodo momento en el desayuno, pasaste toda la mañana recluida en tu caravana haciendo espacio. Y entre las viejas cosas de seis encontraste un proyector con una nota pegada. "No tocar a no ser que seas seis. En caso de que haya muerto te perseguiré y haré de tu vida un infierno. Y si eres un viajero del tiempo o de una línea temporal diferente, úsalo pero tío, ten cuidado de no encontrarme, no quiero entrar en un bucle temporal" te pareció algo divertido, aún así lo usaste. Un seis en modo fantasma persiguiéndote no parecía demasiado.

Unos golpes en la puerta hacen que pongas en pausa tu maratón de series.

"Está abierto" Cuatro asoma la cabeza por la puerta con una sonrisa.

"Te has saltado la cena"

"No tenía hambre." Miras confundida como sigue detrás de la puerta.

"Te he traído un sandwich"

"Sabes que puedes pasar, ¿verdad?" Te cruzas de brazos mientras pasa y cierra la puerta tras él. "Pensé que solo tres cocinaba"

"Bueno es un sandwich, no es papa a la huancaína, no me llevó más de dos minutos" Ruedas los ojos y le quitas el sandwich de la mano. "De todas formas venía para saber si te apetecía jugar a la switch, pero... ¿qué haces?" Pregunta viendo la vista desde tu cama.

Habías arrancado los muebles frente a tu cama con un destornillador. Te había llevado horas, y has puesto una sábana blanca en la pared, para poder reflejar el proyector de seis. Y has pasado toda la tarde viendo malcom in the middle.

"¿Es el proyector de seis?"

"Supongo que el fantasma de seis hará de mi vida un infierno." Bromeas probando el aperitivo. "Es broma." Rápidamente te das cuenta de su cagada. "Lo siento mucho, a veces hablo sin pensar y..."

"A seis le hubiese gustado que alguien usase sus cosas" Parece sincero cuando habla. Te sientes tan arrepentida y mal contigo misma. Le habías puesto triste.

"¿Quieres unirte?" Haces espacio en tu cama para que pueda tumbarse contigo.

"¿Es Malcolm in the middle?"

"¿No te gusta?"

"Supongo" Se encoge de hombros mientras toma asiento. "No lo veo desde los 12 o así"

"Es una de mis series comfort"

"¿Series comfort?"

"Cuando me siento mal, triste o ansiosa. Entonces pongo estas series y me hacen sentir mejor" Te encoges de hombros "Hacen que no piense y pase un buen rato."

"¿Estás mal?, ¿es por nosotros?"

"Oh no, quiero decirte, golpearía a uno pero no es culpa de nadie. Todos los nuevos comienzos me hacen sentirme así, se me pasará cuando me acostumbre a esta vida"

"Te acostumbrarás rápido. Ahora somos amigos"

"¿Ah si?"

"Te he traído un sandwich, y vamos a ver esta serie para niños. Hay cosas que unen menos que esto" Coge el ordenador y vuelve a dar el play.

En el proyector vuelve a ponerse en marcha, y Dewey aparece en escena tumbado en el suelo, pesándose la cabeza.

"¿Cuanto pesa mi cabeza? Cero"

Cada vez que levanta la cabeza del peso para ver lo que pesa, el peso se pone a cero.

"¿Cuanto pesa mi cabeza? Cero"

Cuatro es el primero en reírse, lo miras. Tiene una gran sonrisa en la cara mientras ve la escena. Tiene una sonrisa preciosa y es una persona muy simpática y divertida. Y a parte de tres, la única persona que parece querer conocerte. Somos amigos ahora.

Llevaba una tarde miserable, sintiéndome muy ansiosa y triste sin ningun motivo aparente. Ni siquiera escuchar mi música favorita podía calmar mi nudo en el pecho, pero llega cuatro con una sonrisa y olvido todo lo mal que pude sentirme. Con un simple gesto amable como traerme algo de comida y querer pasar tiempo conmigo, a una persona que a penas conoce, alegra mi día. Por primera vez siento que puedo encajar con un completo desconocido, y no por interés. No hay nada sexual, económico o de algún tipo que pueda beneficiarse con mi compañía.

Y estar tirada en la cama con él, viendo una de mis series favoritas me hace sentir más en casa de lo que me había sentido en mucho tiempo.

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****  

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead.  “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?”  One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”  

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital.  A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****  

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick.  Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

Four Eighths taglist (If you would like to be added, please let me know!) @sj-thefan  @not-the-cleavers  @jinxfirebolt18902  @softnorris  @dear-vista  @mixer2b  @rintheemolion  @shane-isa-shame  @keithseabrook27  @tammykelly  @himarisolace​  @buckingpeterparker​  @cailin-lefantasy​  @riddikuluslysirius​  @vivalakatee​  @pxroxide-prinxcesss​

"Es una chica que está huyendo, si fuese cauta, sospecharía"

"¿Nunca nadie te ha dicho lo paranoica que eres?"

"Nadie que actualmente siga con vida. ¿Por qué?, ¿tengo que matar a alguien?"

"¿Podéis mantener la boca cerrada? La estoy viendo." Uno toma un sorbo de su café y finge discreción. "Acaba de sobrepasar a cuatro, y se dirige a cinco."

"Lo tengo" susurra la morena. "No parece muy peligrosa, ¿actúo?"

"Espera"

Mackenzie recorre las calles con la pesada mochila a sus espaldas, y una bolsa mediana. Solo tuvo 15 minutos para recoger todas sus pertenencias más importantes y escaparse de casa. Por experiencia sabe que debe darse prisa y tener cuidado si no quiere volver a ser descubierta. Preferiría morir antes que volver a su casa. De hecho, la única forma que tienen de volver a llevarla es muerta.

Lo más importante es tener cuidado con la gente con la que se cruza, cualquiera puede reconocerla o acordarse de ella cuando aparezca en las noticias, así que ajusta su ropa y se pone la capucha por la cabeza.

Se fija en la gente que hay por la calle, está oscureciendo y a penas puede distinguir caras, pero no sabe si es por ser demasiado observadora, o por tener demasiado miedo, pero siente como su corazón martillea más rápido cuando ve a un chico sobre un skate rodeando una pista. Es el único que parece ir más a su bola, además de vestir completamente de negro con un golpe casi morado en su mandíbula.

Acelera el paso cuando se da cuenta de que hay una furgoneta con las luces apagadas, es imposible ver si hay alguien dentro, pero puede escuchar la música desde fuera. Y todo se vuelve aún más raro cuando pasa por una terraza casi vacía a excepción de algunas personas de la tercera edad y de un hombre con gafas de sol. Es prácticamente de noche, pero aún así puede sentir su mirada.

Sujeta bien la bolsa y echa a correr a una tienda de ropa que aún está abierta. Quizá pueda escapar por la puerta trasera, o robar ropa nueva, cambiarse y esconder sus pertenencias, así puede escapar sin llamar la atención, quizá otro día pueda venir a recuperarlas.

"Chicos, ¡se ha dado cuenta!" Grita uno.

"¿Veis?, ¡chica lista!" Dos chasquea la lengua. "Nunca me hacéis caso!"

"Lo tengo uno. Está en la tienda frente a dos. Estoy dentro" La voz de cinco se escucha de fondo mientras Tres arranca la furgoneta, y cuatro patina hasta el punto de encuentro.

Antes de que pueda pensar cómo y donde esconder las mochilas, Mackenzie siente una mano sobre su hombro. Casi se le para el corazón cuando se vuelve y encuentra a una chica morena con una sonrisa amigable.

"Perdona, ¿me dejas coger la chaqueta esa de ahí?" La chica señala un ropero a sus espaldas, pero cuando se da la vuelta no hay ninguna chaqueta, todo lo que hay son camisetas de manga corta.

Dos está a punto de inyectar el sedante en Mackenzie cuando la chica se da la vuelta y sin titubear al ver que está en peligro mientras se gira, impacta con toda su fuerza una patada en su cara, y sin tiempo de ver si ha podido hacerla el suficiente daño sale corriendo de la tienda 

"¡Me ha dado!" murmura dos llevándose una mano a su nariz. Siente como le gotea la sangre por la mano.

"¿En serio cinco?" se burla cuatro. "No parece muy peligrosa" repite sus propias palabras con una sonrisa.

"Cállate cuatro."

Mackenzie corre hasta la puerta de la tienda hasta que casi choca con una mujer rubia. Esta le da una sonrisa.

"Lo siento cariño." Cuando está a punto de gritar, en menos de un segundo le clava una jeringuilla en el cuello, cayendo dormida casi al instante. "Si tan solo me hubieses dejado actuar desde el primer momento."

"¿La tienes?" pregunta uno con ansiedad.

"La tengo." En el momento en el que acaba la frase, tres aparca la furgoneta a su lado, y aparecen cuatro y cinco para ayudar a subirla dentro y subir ellos detrás.

"Uno, ¿seguro que no te has confundido? Parece una cría" pregunta cinco mirando ahora a la chica dormida sobre los asientos.

"No. Es ella. Llevadla al refugio, nos vemos en media hora." Y después de decir eso se corta la comunicación con uno. Los demás siguen el plan, que es llevarla a salvo.

Cuatro deja el patinete sobre el suelo, y lo empuja un poco con el pie, haciendo que del otro extremo de a cinco en el tobillo. Cuando sus miradas se cruzan le da una sonrisa mientras ella rueda los ojos y mira por la ventana.

Cuando Mackenzie despierta se siente aturdida. No recuerda nada, pero un miedo terrible se le instala en el pecho cuando ve donde está. Es una clase de almacén, y está atada al suelo. Aún lleva la ropa que tenía, y no siente dolor, así que de momento está bien. Empieza a gritar.

"¡Socorro!, ¡ayuda!"

"Adorable" Uno sale de entre las sombras con una sonrisa.

"¿Quién coño eres?, ¿qué coño quieres?"

"¿Besas a tu madre con esa boca?"

"¿Besas tú a la tuya? Capullo"

Al otro lado del almacén están los miembros del equipo, escuchando a hurtadillas con un amplificador de volumen.

"Tiene carácter" dice tres mirando a dos. "Os llevaréis bien"

"Solo es una niña, no sé en qué está pensando uno"

"Quizá parece más jóven de lo que es" apunta cuatro. "Tenía una amiga a la que siempre le pedían el carné cuando salíamos de fiesta. Era muy gracioso"

"Cuatro, recuérdanos la edad que tienes" cinco rueda los ojos molesta.

"¡Tío, suéltame!, estás loco" Mackenzie tira de las cuerdas que la atan, haciendo que se haga daño en las muñecas y los tobillos.

"¿Loco?"

"¡Eres un psicópata!"

"¿Tienes miedo?" pregunta agachándose a tu altura. "Estás atada, cansada y drogada con un desconocido en un almacén abandonado. Sin posibilidad de salida, y con la muerte pisando tus talones. Dime, ¿tienes miedo?"

"¿De ti?" la chica se ríe mientras sigue luchando por deshacer las cuerdas. "Agracede que esté atada, si no, estarías muerto"

Mackenzie siempre ha sido una chica muy peleona. Pese a morir de miedo, toda esa adrenalina la convierte a su favor, haciendo que parezca una mujer fuerte y dura, aunque por dentro sea todo lo contrario.

"Muy inteligente. Conviertes tu miedo en tu mejor ataque." Uno de levanta y da vueltas sobre el almacén. "Solo una persona con muy inteligente puede hacerlo. He conocido a muy pocas."

"¡Me importa un culo de mono mojado! Tío si me vas a matar, hazlo. Pero al menos deja que tu asquerosa cara de psicópata no sea lo último en ver antes de morir"

"No voy a matarte. No, no, no." Uno vuelve a ponerse a su altura, con las manos sobre sus rodillas. "Bueno, o quizá si" sonríe haciendo que Mackenzie se estremezca.

"Estás como una puta cabra"

"Dime una cosa... ¿Esto es lo que piensas hacer si te dejo con vida?, huir, de forma muy patética todo hay que decirlo. Vivir robando, delinquiendo, siempre huyendo. ¿Eso es lo que harás?, huir toda la vida."

"Nadie huye solo a ratos"

"Pues al rítmo que llevabas te iban a pillar enseguida" Uno se sienta en el suelo junto a ella haciendo que frunzca el ceño. "Entonces... ¿qué piensas hacer?"

"¿En serio me estás dando la opción de morir o huir?"

"Huir no muy lejos, muy a tu pesar"

"¿En serio vas a matarme?"

"Puede que sirvas más muerta que viva" un escalofrío le recorre la espalda. Cuando huyó de casa sabía que había muchas oportunidades de que la encontrasen, y probablemente se mataría antes de volver a casa. Pero viendo ahora a la muerte a los ojos sabe que aún no quiere irse. Quiere vivir.

"Aquí todos estamos muertos"

"¿Estamos?"

"Somos fantasmas. Dejamos de huir de nuestro pasado para poder vivir. Y para eso solo puedes morir. Dejarlo todo."

"No entiendo nada"

"Te garantizo seguridad, tener un propósito, dejar de huir y de tener miedo. Te ofrezco una vida plena donde puedes sentirte útil. Lo único que tienes que hacer es morir."

No sabe si aún está algo drogada, si en el fondo sabe que ese tío tiene razón, o está tan cansada que simplemente quiere morir.

"De acuerdo. Acepto." De todas formas, ella ya está muerta.

Mientras uno desata a la chica de las cuerdas, los demás miembros del equipo huyen a sus puestos, fingiendo que no estaban escuchando.

"No puedo creerme que sea un miembro del equipo" murmura cinco en el sofá. "Ni siquiera es nadie importante, y no parece una chica con muchas habilidades"

"Uno siempre tiene un plan. Será de alguna utilidad" cuatro se sienta a su lado. "¿vamos mañana a escalar?"

"A partir de ahora mismo, Mackenzie está muerta. Ya no existe. Ahora serás ocho, conocerás al resto del equipo, y serán tus compañeros de trabajo. Nada de familia ni relaciones personales de ningún tipo. Cumpliremos nuestras misiones y debes saber que si estás comprometida nadie irá a salvarte. Lo importante son las misiones, nosotros no importamos." La chica aún está algo aturdida.

"¿misiones?"

"Yo soy uno. A partir de ahora nuestros nombres son números, igual que nosotros. Está prohibido hablar de nuestro pasado y bajo ningún concepto puedes decir tu nombre nunca." Ayuda a Mackenzie a levantarse del suelo y la lleva fuera del almacén.

El sol le hace daño en los ojos, casi no puede ni ver, se apoya en uno mientras la dirige a una caravana grande.

"Te presentaré al equipo." cuando entran lo primero que ven es a un hombre alto y fornido. La clase de hombre que daría miedo y sería intimidante cuando no abre la boca. "Este es tres, es un sicario. Increíble con las armas, te enseñará a disparar."

"Estos de aquí son cuatro y cinco. Ella es médico, bastante útil, se encarga de salvarnos la vida. Puede enseñarte primeros auxilios. Y cuatro no sé que hace en el equipo, es mileniall."

Cuando mira al chico siente un cosquilleo en el estómago. Es muy guapo. Tiene unos ojos azules preciosos. De esos que nunca te cansas de mirar

"Tío, hago parkour"

"Cierto, es nuestro escalador."

"No pienso escalar. ¿Tú eres la chica de la tienda verdad?"

"Buen golpe" no parece muy simpática. Aún luce una nariz un poco hinchada y roja por el golpe.

"Y yo doy dos" ambos se dan la vuelta al escuchar una voz de mujer.

"¡Cierto! El miembro más grande del equipo, ella es agente secreto. Te enseñará a luchar y cosas de espías"

"Tú me drogaste" reconoce a la rubia.

"Lo siento."

"Oye aquí todos son expertos en algo, y tengo que advertirte que yo no sé hacer nada. Y lo digo de verdad, no se luchar, ni soy espía, ni se coger un arma"

"Tú aprenderás, y serás un buen agente. Lo llevas en la sangre." Uno mira el reloj con prisa. "Tengo que ir a reclutar a siete, cuatro, encárgate de enseñarle todo esto, se un buen mileniall." El chico rueda los ojos mientras se levanta.

"¿Qué hay de seis?" en el momento en el que la pregunta sale de su boca, cambia el clima que hay dentro de la caravana. Nadie la contesta y hacen como que no han oído nada, salvo cuatro que pone una mueca. "De todas formas qué ¿hacemos aquí?, ¿misiones?, ¿qué misiones?"

"Salvamos el mundo" murmura cuatro con obviedad.

"¿Cómo agentes secretos?, ¿los hombres de negro?, o mejor aún, ¿somos los vengadores?, ¿realmente existen?"

"Dime que la nueva no acaba de hacer referencia a la cultura pop de los 90, ni a unas películas del 2010"

"¿Qué problema tienes?"

"Sabes, llego tarde. Estás en buenas manos" Uno casi huye de la caravana.

"Vamos, te enseñaré tu lugar" Cuatro sale de la caravana con la chica a sus espaldas. Mackenzie está algo distraída mirando el suelo, con cuidado de no tropezar, por eso cuando Cuatro se detiene dándose la vuelta casi chocan. "Aquí comemos y pasamos el tiempo. Normalmente tres es el que cocina, así que no te aseguro que la alimentación sea buena. Cinco y yo a veces nos las arreglamos para salir y comprar comida, pero desde..." se detiene con melancolía y sigue su camino. "Cada uno tenemos una caravana, la mía es esta, las que siguen son las de tres, dos y cinco."

"La tuya es la de seis. Está justo a mi derecha" llegan a la caravana, y cuatro sin dudarlo abre la puerta y entra. Cuando Mackenzie entra puede ver como el lugar está limpio, como si lo hubiesen limpiado recientemente. De hecho sus mochilas están sobre la cama, y puede ver cajas en una esquina. "Te hemos traído las cosas. Esas cajas tienen cosas que guardaba seis aquí. Nadie las quiere pero soy incapaz de tirarlas, supongo que tendré que hacerlo."

"No importa. No tengo tantas cosas, no me molesta que estén ahí" Cuatro se gira a mirarla con una mirada significativa.

"Bueno, supongo que te dejaré instalarte y descansar. Tienes mucho que asimilar. Y mañana dos te despertará muy pronto para empezar a entrenar, así que no te entretengo más."

"Gracias" Mackenzie se inclina y abre la primera maleta, y algo llama la atención de cuatro.

Extiende el brazo acercándose, y toma entre sus dedos la cadena que está al rededor del cuello de la chica, es una cadena con un nombre.

"Uno se enfadará si lo ve"

"Bueno, no es mi nombre. Era de mi madre, y no pienso deshacerme de él"

"Entonces mantenlo oculto. No querrás tener problemas." Estando en esa posición puede ver dentro de la maleta una consola. "¿Tienes la nintendo switch?" pregunta bastante emocionado.

Mackenzie sonríe mientras la saca de la maleta. "¿Tú no?"

"¡Por supuesto que si! Dios, te dejaré porque tres me está esperando, quizá algún día podemos jugar"

"Cuando quieras"

Cuatro se va aún queriendo quedarse. Le hace ilusión tener a alguien en el equipo que sea un poco más afín a él.

"¿Qué tal la nueva?" cinco le está esperando fuera.

"Creo que será una de las buenas. Nos irá bien con ella"

Waking up wrapped in Four’s arms was both an unfamiliar feeling, whilst also an exceptionally welcome one. By the time you had finally fallen asleep, you could see sunlight breaching the horizon, dawn well on its way to greeting the waking world. And while others would begin to awaken and start their days, you and Four closed the curtain to the pale oranges and pinks painting the sky, turning your backs on the idea of a new day. A new day which held nothing but uncertainty and fear. Though a new day none the less.

In all the ways you had imagined waking up following last night, the way in which you did so had never once crossed your mind. Four had his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, as he cradled you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. You woke slowly, vaguely aware of Four’s quiet, sleepy murmuring above you, though that in itself was not what woke you. No, instead, what greeted you was the odd sound of something hitting the small window above your bed. At first, you thought perhaps it was an incessant insect which was adamant the way in, or out for that matter, was through the closed window. Rolling over so you now lay on your back, you waited a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the bright light which streamed through your trailer. Gazing up, you noticed a shadow beyond your curtain, a shadow far bigger than that of an insect. “What the hell?” You whisper, earning a tired grunt from Four in reply.

You roll your eyes, smirking softly as you carefully peel his arms away from your naked waist, resting them back on the bed in the warmth where you had been laying. You move slowly and carefully, making sure to not disturb Four’s slumber during your investigation. Carefully, you move up onto your knees, before pulling up onto your feet, standing on your toes so you can see out of the small window. Pulling the curtain aside, you have to stifle a scream at what, no, who you see.

Standing bellow your window, holding a fistful of small rocks is Five, who looks awfully pleased with herself. Your eyes lock with her chocolate ones, and despite seeing you, she throws yet another rock against your window, smirking up at you. “What the hell?” You mouth at her, unsure as to whether she could make out your words or not.

Her sparkling eyes and crooked grin say yes, but her next move screams no. “Get up! We need our fearless leader!” She screams, and there’s no doubt that every single person at base could hear her.

You glare down at her, stumbling backwards as Four flies up into a sitting position, hair a tangled mess of golden curls and shinning eyes darting around like a startled animal. “What’s going on?” He demands, eyes landing on yours, as you grip the curtain to prevent yourself from falling. If Five were still looking, she would’ve received an eyeful of an exceptionally nude you. You pray she had turned away.

Slowly, you lower yourself back to the bed, crawling your way back underneath your blankets. Four is still on high alert, but you pay him no mind, whishing instead that you could rewind the clock to five minutes ago, when the outside world was nothing but a distant memory. “Are you going to explain what just happened, or do I have to guess?” Four finally asks, slithering back down the mattress and curling his body around yours.

“I’ll tell you, but I’m interested to hear what your theories are first.” You giggle, rolling onto your side, and combing your fingers through his hair.

He pauses for a moment, eyes squinting as he contemplates his answer. “You thought aliens had crash landed and you wanted to see for yourself, but were too scared to actually leave the trailer to see?” He blinks up at you, a grin worming its way onto his lips.

“Well I mean, how far from Area 51 are we actually?” You tease, playing along with his stupidity.

“Oh, Area 51 is all a lie. Area 52 is where the aliens are!”

You lift a brow, scrutinizing his words. “Oh? And where is Area 52 then, hm?”

“Right here. We are the aliens!” He grins, wrapping his arms around you again, and tickling his finger down your sides.

You gasp out a squeal, laughter pealing from your lips as he tickles you relentlessly. “No! Stop it! Don’t!” You giggle, wriggling and squirming beneath his touch. He rolls over you, hovering above you in a strong hold plank position, his hand poised at the side of your stomach. “Mercy! Please have mercy!” You beg, tears of joy sprinkling your cheeks.

He leans down, pressing the first gentle kiss you had experienced from him, against your lips. He doesn’t linger, not allowing it to turn into anything more, not yet at least. “I’ll have mercy. But only because you asked so nicely.” Carefully, he slides away from you, laying back on his side beside you. “Really though. What was that all about?” He whispers, turning his gaze up to the window for a moment, before returning to you.

You let out a soft sigh, rolling onto your side too so to face him. “How well can Five keep a secret?”

“Just as well as any of us. It’s part of the job.” He offers, doing his best to shrug in his current position.

“That’s not quite what I meant. I think – I think she knows about us. Or at the very least about what we did last night.”

There’s a pause, the air seeming to go perfectly still between you both. There’s no outside sounds, and all you can hear is the sound of your breathing. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah.” You offer with a sympathetic smile.

“She won’t say anything. At least not to anyone who’ll actually try to do something about it, like One.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’ll probably give us hell for the next couple of months at least. And I would be surprised if she hasn’t told Three yet.”

“What if One finds out? I know how much shit he gives Two and Three!”

Four takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers gently within his. “Don’t worry. He’s all talk, but no action. Two and Three have been sleeping together for like, six months now. He hasn’t done anything about it!”

You breathe a sigh of relief, squeezing his fingers back softly, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over you.  He was right, One was good at talking a big game, but more often than not, he never followed through with his threats. With a soft sigh, you press your face against the pillow, squeezing your eyes tightly shut to block out the few rays of sun which dared to invade your vision. “We need to go.” Your voice is muffled by the pillow, but you’re positive Four had heard you.

“Do we have to?”

At this you look up, your eyes searching for his sparkling ones for a brief moment. “Yeah, we do. That’s what Five was here about. Our final briefing is supposed to start right about-” You pause, hold out your arm and peer down at your wrist, squinting at the watch which wasn’t there. “Now.”

Four looks just as disappointed as you feel, however shows no signs of voicing his feelings, at least not now anyways. With a disgruntled groan, you roll away from Four, your feet planting firmly on the floor before you hoist yourself up. The remnants of alcohol left in your system make for the room to spin just slightly for a moment or two, before righting itself. As you walk towards the small chest of drawers where you keep clothes, you toe at Four’s shirt, which at been discarded on the floor last night. There’s no avoiding the grin which snakes across your lips, as you bend down to retrieve it, balling it up and tossing it over your shoulder to the slow-moving blonde. “I think I might have a sweater that’ll fit you if you want?”

Four yawns from the bed, muttering under his breath about how much he doesn’t want to get up, though you pay him little attention, certain that if he were speaking directly to you, he would say so. “Why would I need new clothes?”

As you rummage through one of the drawers, you throw a weary gaze over your shoulder, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “Well, if you rock up to the briefing wearing the exact same clothes you had on last night, people will be suspicious!”

You could see in his glistening eyes, that he really couldn’t care less as to what the team thought of him, however after a moment of thought, he appeared to have a slight change of heart. “If you have something I could wear, that’d be good.”

Smiling softly, you dig down to the bottom of the middle drawer, producing a charcoal black sweatshirt before throwing it over to Four. While he tugs the garment over his head, you busy yourself with buttoning up a fresh pair of jeans, and performing the sniff test on a long-sleeved shirt. Upon deeming its smell unoffensive, you hurriedly put it on. Turing on the spot your eyes travel to Four, and you can barely hold back the laughter bubbling in your chest. In the centre of this sweatshirt, in bold white lettering reads ‘Team Jacob’. You knew exactly what the shirt said when you had given it to him, and it wasn’t your fault Four didn’t look at it before putting it on! Chewing on your bottom lip to hold back your smirk, you stride over to Four, who was busy rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “You ready for this?”

He blinks rapidly across at you, eyebrows rising in surprise at your question. “I am, yeah. Are you?”

That was the real question wasn’t it? Were you ready for this? Were you prepared to give everyone their marching orders, and potentially see your entire team killed? “Only one way to find out.”

*****

Despite Five having awoken you, somehow you and Four were still the first to arrive to the briefing room, though it’s not long before the others slowly shuffle in. One was nursing a mug of pitch black coffee, while Three was rocking a pair of dark sunglasses, whether out of necessity or aesthetic you weren’t quite sure. Seven was marginally better off, though the bags beneath his eyes seemed to show he hadn’t slept well. Two and Five however were way too chipper for two people who should’ve been dealing with hangovers, but yet there they were, looking as flawless as ever. You made a mental note to ask Five if she had some Doctors secrets on treating a hangover. “So I see Four has decided to make a political statement today…” Five smirks, her eyes trained to his sweater. She was the first to mention anything, however now, Four had five pairs of eyes glued to his chest, while you looked away to keep yourself distracted.

“Wh- what d’you mean?” He grumbles, brows creasing into a frown as he grips the hem of the sweater, pulling it away from his waist so to see what everyone was staring at. The colour drains out of his cheeks as he reads, then rereads the words, and you just know he’s already plotting his revenge on you. “Eight…” He growls lowly, and you can feel his eyes boring holes into your skull beneath his stare.

“I didn’t do anything! How could I have? It’s your shirt after all!”

Five chuckles, deciding to play along in this little game of yours. “Aw come on Four, there’s nothing to be ashamed of! Granted I’m more of a team Edward myself, but we’re all allowed our own opinions!”

“This isn’t my shirt.”

“Then whose is it?” Three teases, waggling his brows suggestively.

A deep crimson blush creeps up along Four’s neck and cheeks, and you know he’s wishing for the ground to open up bellow him and swallow him. Finally, you turn and meet his glare, puckering your lips and blowing him a teasing kiss. He has nothing to say, there’s nothing he could say that wouldn’t clue everyone in as to where the shirt had come from, and under what circumstances. “It’s mine.” He concedes, earning a hearty laugh from the entire team. You’ll pay for this little prank, you just know it.

“Right then, now that we’ve established that Four was a Twihard, shall we get down to the real reason we’re all here?” One says, placing his mug down on a table, and motioning for you to join him up the front of the room.

Everyone makes themselves comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible on plastic folding chairs. You step up beside One, folding your hands together behind your back, and curling your fingers together. You don’t quite know what you’re waiting for, but a part of you thinks that perhaps One will take the reigns on this one, and do all the talking. That however is not the case, not since you took over for this mission at least. You clear your voice with a cough, both stalling and preparing yourself at the same time. “Right, so as One said in the initial introduction last month, we know where the Lushnick’s are. They’ve set up in Noumea New Caledonia. It’s a popular tourist destination for many cruise liners, however that is the local’s main source of income, tourism. There are people who live there who are desperate for medical attention, and as per usual, the Lushnick’s are promising to help these people, but not in the way a reputable Doctor would.”

“So we’re going to the South Pacific then are we?” Seven calls from the back of the room, arms folded across his chest as he watches you intently.

“Yes, those of you who have never visited the Country before will be going. Has anyone been before?”  You look around at everyone, though all heads shake no. “Right, so there we have it, we’re all going to the South Pacific.” Turning to the computer beside you, you log in and bring up the plans you and One had come up with, displaying them on the projector for the team to see. Once an image of the island displays, you step away from the computer. “This is Noumea, at the very back of the island here.” You gesture to the map. “Is where the Hospital the Lushnick’s run, is set up. According to all inspections and accreditations, the hospital is up to standard and there are no concerns, at least not with the government, or with health departments.”

Leaning back over, you pull up the blueprints to the hospital itself. “This of course, is our main target. The Lushnick’s will be here, we just need to find them, and get rid of them.”

This time it’s Three who speaks up. “Is the goal to kill the Lushnick’s, or capture them so they can answer for their crimes?”

You pause at this, the moral response would be to agree with the latter option, however you know that if you were to find the Lushnick’s, then it would be the former. You turn to One, your eyes pleading for back up from him. “The aim is to capture them.” He declares, though there is a spark of recognition that passes through the entire team. If the need arises, kill them, no questions asked.

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply before returning to your task. “So here’s the plan. One way or another, we all need to be in that hospital, there will be no one on the outside for this mission. One and Two, you’re new Doctors to the hospital, One you’ll be assigned to A&E and Two, you’ll be headed to the women’s and children’s ward.”

“Why isn’t Five one of the Doctor’s too?” Seven queries, looking between you and her.

Five answers for you, having had this exact same conversation with you only a week earlier. “It’s too much of a risk. surgeons move around all the time, I can’t risk being recognised if there is a surgeon I’ve previously worked with. It would jeopardize the whole mission.” Seven nods his understanding, and all attention is back to you.

“Five will be head wardsman for paediatrics. It has come to our understanding the Lushnick’s have developed a particular interest in healing women and children, so those will be our main bases to cover. Three, congratulations, you’re now working in the kitchens, and will be delivering meals to patients. And Seven, you’ll be a security officer, patrolling the wards we believe the Lushnick’s will be in. That way you can trail them.”

You turn your attention to Four now, he vaguely knew what his role in this mission would entail, but you had kept most of the details to yourself, until now. If all went according to plan, Four would be face to face with the Lushnick’s. “Four, you’ll be getting admitted to A&E with a severe migraine, this is where One will come in, he will help build your story and keep the act going.” You bite down on your lower lip, meeting Four’s gaze for just a moment longer than necessary, though it did help to calm your nerves. “I’ll be head of security. This will allow me access to the hospital’s computer systems, their security cameras, and I’ll be able to get you guys anywhere within the hospital.”

“How will you be head of security? Surely there’s already someone in that position?” Four asks, brows creased in confusion. This was something you hadn’t thought to mention to him, though then again, up until last night you hadn’t been anything more than flirtatious friends, and there had been no reason to inform him…

“I’ll be arriving in Noumea before you all.”

“How much before?”

You fold your arms across your chest, meeting Four’s intense gaze. “Two weeks before you. I leave this afternoon. I’ll be removing the current head of security, and taking his place. I’ll spend my time there before you arrive, becoming acquainted with the hospital, and sorting out the logistics for you to all begin working.” You pause for a moment, waiting to see if Four will say anything more, though for now he seems to just be listening. “We will all be arriving in instalments. One and Seven will arrive three days after I do, and will begin working the following day. Five, two days after them. Three and Seven one day after her, and Four you’ll be arriving twelve days after I do.”

“Wait, why am I arriving after everyone? What good will I be to you all arriving that late?” Four demands, standing now with his arms folded across his chest. You had expected him to dislike this plan, hell even One had warned you of exactly this happening, but as per usual, you hadn’t listened.

You meet Four’s gaze head on, standing strong against him. “Your cover for this mission, is as a tourist. You’re just there visiting the island, and will happen to fall unwell while there. We can’t have everyone arrive on the same day, it would look too suss. Having you arrive last should keep you in the clear, no one would expect a tourist to intentionally cut their vacation short for a hospital visit. Out of all of us, you should be the safest.”

“I don’t want to be the safest!”

“Well you are!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt!” You almost shriek, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You could live with the other ghosts being injured, hell you would even be fine with yourself being injured during this mission, but not Four. You can’t see Four hurt during this.

The air in the briefing room is thick like a winter’s morning fog, no one dares to break the silence, nor the staring match between you and Four. With a deep breath in, you tear your eyes away from his, clearing your throat before continuing. “Once I arrive, I’ll get myself access to the hospital securities’ database and change over the contact details referring to their employment officer. The number will be changed to mine, and I will become their first point of contact when needing to hire a new head of security. Back to how I will become head of security, the current head is experiencing marital issues with his wife who lives in Scotland with their children. He moved to Noumea for work, and she refused to move with him. The day I arrive, I’ll be sending him an email from her lawyers, demanding he return to Scotland at once or she will be taking full custody of their children. Naturally, he will leave immediately, which means the hospital will require a new head of security. This is where my contact changes will come into play. I will be called, and the hospital will request I assign a new head of security to begin working ASAP. I’ll begin working the following day, and will create access passes for all of our new staff.”

“What about credentials? I don’t know a whole lot about being a doctor, but I’m positive they have some kind of proof of who they are.” Two asks, tilting her head to the side and regarding you with a look of complete interest. So far, despite all her scrutinizing, she has been unable to see any flaws in your plan.

“One has everything you need. I have created diplomas licences, literally everything you could possibly require to prove yourselves as active doctors should anyone request them. One will make sure you have yours before you leave.”  Two nods her understanding, and goes back to taking down notes on the mission.

“I will warn you all now, I cannot guarantee you will all have access to the same wards and restricted areas of the hospital. I will do my best to grant access to everything to you all, however it may not be possible. Seven, Three and Five, you will be the most likely to have access to everywhere within the hospital, as you will all have the most reason to visit all areas. I’ll do my best for everyone though.”

“What exactly am I meant to be doing during all of this?” Four grumbles, his eyebrows creased in frustration.

One replies before you even have the chance, and you remind yourself to thank him later. You’re not sure if you had the heart to tell him just what his role actually was. “You’re bait for the Lushnick’s. As Eight mentioned, you’re going to present to A&E with a migraine. I’ll be your doctor, and I’m basically going to convince everyone that you’re much worse than you actually are. The plan is, that the Lushnick’s will hear about how horribly unwell you are, and will swoop in and save the day. When they do, you have to agree to everything they say. Tell them that you have no immediate family or next of kin. Let them think you’re all alone, that you’re vulnerable. If your acting is good enough, they’re going to believe you, and they’re going to try and help you. That’s when the rest of us will be there to stop them, before they have the chance to actually do anything to you of course.”

Four’s frown has deepened, and his eyes have grown dark. He doesn’t like the plan, doesn’t want to be bait. He want’s to be in on all of the action, fighting tooth and nail in order to get back at the Lushnick’s for everything they’ve ever done. But for once, he knows better than to argue, he may not have a great deal of faith in One, especially after their cluster fuck of a first mission, but you… You he trusts with his life. “Okay. So when I present to A&E, when I fill in the arriving form, you want me to leave all of the emergency contact details blank more or less?”

You nod, offering him a soft half smile. “Yes please, it will help lure in the Lushnick’s if they think you have no one.”

“Alright, I can do that.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you gaze around the room, your eyes falling to each member of your team. “Does anyone have any other questions before I leave?”

There’s a chorus of ‘No’s’ throughout the room, and you smile to yourself, rather proud that not only had you created this mission, but you had successfully explained it thoroughly too. “Wonderful. If anyone does think of anything, One will be here for a little while longer. You will all be able to contact us through email once we’re in Noumea, and upon arriving at the hospital you will all be issued with an earpiece for us to communicate during the mission. Four, One will slip you your earpiece once you arrive at A&E.”

Once again, everyone nods their understanding, and you clasp your hands together tightly in front of you. “Good luck everyone, and I’ll be seeing you in Noumea soon.” And with that, you make your exit from the briefing room, heading to your trailer to finish packing your bag before your departure.

*****

 You already had a few of the essentials packed, however you still had a great deal more you required before leaving for the airport in five hours’ time. One had assigned himself as your designated driver, and you had simply shrugged and accepted his offer. You assumed it was to go over a few last-minute details he may think of before you left. As you fold your clothes neatly into your bag, you find yourself fighting back against dark thoughts which cloud your mind. What if we don’t all survive? What if the Lushnick’s recognise you? What if the plan fails and Four ends up getting hurt? What if- Before your overactive imagination has the chance to create any other worst case scenarios, a knock on your closed trailer door pulls you back into the present. You jump on the spot, blinking rapidly down to the pair of pants you held half folded in your arms. “C-come in.”

The door squeals open, and Four steps through, both hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt you had let him borrow. “We need to talk.” He begins, eyes focusing on everything but you.

You nod slowly, trying desperately to catch his gaze. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving early?”

“Would it have changed anything?”

“Yes? No? Maybe? Fuck Eight, I don’t know!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. If you knew I was leaving today, before the rest of you. Would you still have slept with me last night?”

There’s no thought to his next words, they tumble from his mouth without a filter. “Of course I would’ve!”

You smile gently, bowing your head slightly. “I didn’t know that. I was afraid to tell you. Afraid that maybe if I did, then last night never would’ve happened. Or if it did happen, you would’ve seen it as some kind of farewell.”

“There’s not going to be a farewell, do you hear me Eight? No one is saying goodbye, at least not today, not for this mission.”

“Okay, it’s not goodbye then. But just promise me one thing will you?”

“Of course, anything.” Four whispers, stepping closer to you and reaching out to take both your hands in his.

You bite your lower lip, before lifting your head, your eyes finally meeting his. “When it does come time to say goodbye, because the day will eventually come. Promise to call me by my name, Y/N.”

You can see the heartbreak in his eyes, he doesn’t want to think about ever saying goodbye to you, just as he never thought he would have to say goodbye to Six. But here you both were, preparing for something that you had convinced yourselves would never happen. “If the day comes, then I’ll call you Y/N, but until then, you’ll always be Eight to me.” He pauses, rubbing soft circles against the backs of your hands with his calloused thumbs. “Same for me, if we have to say goodbye, will you call me Billy? I don’t want to be a number to you my whole life.”

“You’ll never just be a number to me Billy.”

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