NOVA
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31/01/2003
Panay, The Philippines
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I've lost my fucking Smith & Wesson.

I've been looking everywhere for it; anywhere I can think. I've been tearing this damn base apart like a scavenger.

I must have lost it during the whole ordeal with Jed, that was the last place I had it. It's probably still laying on the forest floor somewhere.

The thought of having to complete this operation without it rubs me up the wrong way, as though I've lost a part of me. Call me dramatic, but that was one damn important gun to me. My lucky charm.

I groan out loud and run my hands through my hair in frustration, causing Tara to look over at me and frown.

"Still haven't found it?" She sighs, shaking her head.

"Nope, it must still be in the forest. I guess that's the end of an era," I mumble irritatedly, sitting down on my bunk.

"Aren't you meant to be planning the operation with Leo?" She tilts her head.

"I was, but I'm not talking to him at the minute. He made a jackass comment a few days ago that really pissed me off," I murmur, "Banksy is planning it with him instead."

"What did he say?" She asks, taking a seat beside me.

"Something about 'how I was an idiot in thinking going to the woods with Jed was a good idea'." I gesture my fingers into quotation marks, shaking my head.

Tara instantly furrows her eyebrows. "Seriously? What a shitty thing to say, you considered Jed a friend. He could've asked any of us and we would've said yes unsuspectingly."

"I know, but I suppose that's just Leo, always opening his mouth before he thinks." I sigh, looking at my knees, "I can't believe I lost that damn gun."

"We can get you a new one, promise." Tara insists, putting a friendly hand on my shoulder, "It's getting late, we should head to the hall and get some food before the rest of the group wolfs it down." She chuckles, standing up and gesturing for me to come with her.

I push myself up and off of the bunk, following her footsteps out of the barracks.

—

"So you really lost that ol' thing? Damn, maybe it'll turn up." Dylan shakes his head with a chuckle, shovelling some plain pasta into his mouth.

"Doubt it," I shrug, twisting my fork around my plate.

I've really lost my appetite recently, after the whole 'almost dying' situation.

"Ah come on, Shields! You 'gotta have a little faith. I'll get 'ya a new one." He shoots me a wink, and I can't differentiate between flirtatiousness and friendliness.

I think it's definitely flirtatiousness, since he now hooks his arm right around the back of my waist.

"Get her a new what?" That familiar voice unfortunately looms from our sides. I glance up, meeting his hardened gaze. His whiskey eyes.

"Gun," I share bluntly, my head falling back down to stare at the plate of pasta.

"Why do you need a new gun?" He tilts his head ever so slightly. This is definitely his way of attempting to talk to me again after our argument.

"I lost the Smith & Wesson during my fucking attempted murder," I grumble frustratedly, stabbing a piece of pasta with my fork to release some bitterness.

Leo doesn't say anything, his gaze just trails off elsewhere until it lands back on Dylan. More so, Dylan's arm. He knits his eyebrows together and just turns on his heels, striding away.

"He's one intense man," Dylan remarks with a scoff.

"He's probably just stressed with planning the operation," I mumble, only just realising what I've done. I just defended him without a moments hesitation in front of somebody.

"Yeah, I've noticed the pair of you seem pretty close," Dylan snickers, raising his eyebrows at me provokingly.

"I wouldn't say that," I shrug, finally forking some pasta into my mouth.

A lie, we got pretty damn close a few nights ago. So close that I wanted him to just grab my chin and honestly kiss my fucking face off. Stupidly.

Lisa pushes her empty plate forward and pats her stomach, "I think that was the best meal I've had here yet, and it was only plain damn pasta." She chuckles.

I glance around and watch as the others seem to have finished their own food, cutlery discarded onto the middle of their plates. Gazing down at my own, I've barely eaten a quarter. I'm not hungry in the slightest.

I push myself off of the bench and stretch my arms over my head with a yawn, "You can finish off mine if you like, I'm going to head to bed." I offer her, stepping across the bench and chucking my paper cup into the nearest bin.

"You've barely eaten," Lisa sighs, looking slightly concerned.

"I'm honestly just not hungry, it's fine," I smile, already walking away before she gets the chance to reply.

The night sky; once again, is speckled with stars. As per usual, I almost trip over my own feet from gazing upwards.

The sky is my usual blanket of calmness, peace.

That is until a deafening alarm rings out through base, yanking me right out from under the blanket of serenity.

Everybody immediately starts herding out of the buildings, a completely organised chaos.

Just as I'm about to ask somebody what's going on, gunfire starts to spray. I immediately dive to the floor, considering I have absolutely no fucking tactical gear on.

I need to get to a gun. Now.

I crawl swiftly, scraping my wrists and elbows across the floor until I'm at the front of the barracks.

I jump to my feet, grabbing a gun out of a barrel efficiently and checking it's loaded up.

We're under attack, and somehow, they're already fucking inside the base.

I only realise this since somebody bolts at me with a knife in hand. I slide sideways, grabbing them by the arm and tripping them against the wall. Snatching the knife from their hand, I slice it across the back of their neck.

A pained gurgle escapes their lips as they slump sideways, blood pouring from the slash.

This isn't a time for sparing lives, this is life or death by the fucking looks of it.

Base is up in a frenzy, filled with echoes of shrieking, and the dawning of inevitable bloodshed.

I can't find a damn vest anywhere.

Beginning to spray fire from my gun, I think I manage to take a few members of Altashih down since they crumple to the floor as the bullets ring out.

I stay flush against the steel edges of the barracks; I can't afford to have my back unguarded, especially without a vest.

I think because I'm somewhat hidden by the shadows pouring from the roof, not many adversaries are tending to notice me. I stay crouched, shooting when I feel necessary to defend a teammate.

My ammo soon dies, so I reach into the barrel to fish out some more rounds.

That is until I see Tara on the floor with an adversary powering over her, knife poised at the ready.

My body acts before my brain as I dive out from the shadows, right towards the enemy about to deliver a fatal stab to her. I don't know what strength comes over me, but I completely haul myself at the son of a bitch, knocking him right off of her.

The alarm is still deafening, enveloping us inside of the chaos. The adversary immediately slashes his knife upwards towards my face, the sting of the blade skimming my cheek. I hiss slightly, grabbing his wrists in an attempt to wrestle the knife from his hands.

He tries to push himself up, so I bash my forehead against his to daze him; almost knocking myself out in the process.

Bastard isn't dropping this damn knife, all I can hope for is that Tara is covering me from behind.

I hear someone yell my name, but refrain from letting it distract me. With every ounce of strength that I have, I slam his wrists backwards into the floor. Hearing a sharp crack, he drops the knife.

I don't hesitate to yank it into my own possession, driving it into his throat.  

The second I pull the knife out from his gurgling puncture, somebody hooks their arms underneath my shoulders and forcefully drags me backwards.

This is it, I'm going to be taken hostage.

I yell out, trying to free myself from the grasp until I'm pulled to my feet and shoved against a wall.

"What the fuck are you doing without a vest?!" Leo seethes at me.

"I wasn't anticipating a goddamn attack, Leo! I couldn't fucking find one!" I yell back to him over the ever constant alarm.

He grumbles under his breath as he unbuckles his own vest, ripping it off and shoving it right over my head in a swift movement.

"Wear this," he hisses.

"But-"

"No fucking questions, Shields!" He bellows at me before dashing off in some other direction. I reach to catch his arm, but he's already gone.

The thought of him not having a vest terrifies me. 

Now guarded by the body armour, I don't hesitate to sprint back out into the chaos. I stab, slash, and shoot at anybody I don't recognise as our own.

They came in with fucking numbers.

We should've anticipated this, we've been completely careless to not consider this possibility.

Then again, this was the whole fucking point of having guards. Guards, who I can see in the distance, are definitely dead.

My attention is dragged from the chaos as I see a familiar figure bleeding fatally on the ground, everything around me muffles as my eyes widen in complete horror.

"Lisa? Lisa!" I scream, flying over to her side and turning her onto her back. She's weakly got a hand pressed against her throat; thick, hot crimson spilling out between her blue-tinged fingers.

I grit my teeth together as I replace her hand with my own, pushing against the puncture with every ounce of strength I have. Her eyes are clouding over, the once vivid blue iris' fading into dullness.

"Lisa, come on! You've got to stay awake!" My voice cracks as I continue applying forceful pressure to her neck, the whites of my knuckles coming to surface as I attempt to plug her wound.

There's no denying that an artery has been severed. Her blood is squirting between each narrow crease of my hand.

My bottom quivers shakes as I watch a tear form in the corner of her right eye, slowly rolling backwards into her red hair. With my free hand, I wipe her eye slowly.

The chaos surrounding me fades out as I share her last moment of life.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears spilling down my own cheeks as she exhales a gurgling groan, closing her eyes for the final time.

The feeling of a bullet lodging into the back of my vest is the final thing to ignite that burning, chaotic rage in me.

I grab Lisa's gun and start spraying gunfire mercilessly.

Feeling somebody nudge into my back, I spin to see Commander North, holding his own gun.

"Shields, have you seen Hendrix?!" He shrieks urgently.

Leo.

I haven't seen him since he shoved this vest over my head.

I shake my head worriedly, gripping the gun a whole lot tighter. North yells something out as he takes off into another direction.

Fuck.

Where the fuck is he?

What if he's dead?

The sheer thought churns my stomach. Since we seem to have gained the upper hand, I set my objective onto finding him.

"Leo?!" I yell out, looking between every single building in the hopes of finding him.

In the hopes of finding him alive.

I continue to screech out his name in desperation, wading my way through the bloodied corpses littering the ground. 

Thankfully, most of them aren't faces I seem to recognise.

I do however, recognise the lifeless faces of Tyrese, Thomas and James.

My chest tightens in anticipation of seeing Leo's dead body amongst the sea of others, but he's not here.

He's not anywhere.

The gunfire has ceased completely, groups of survivors gathering at the centre of base as the Commanders begin to analyse the fatalities.

Tara, who I'm relieved to see is unscathed apart from a gash to her shoulder, sprints over and instantly hugs me, the steel inside of our vest's bashing together with a thud.

"You fucking saved my life, Novie," she mumbles into my hair.

"I can't find Leo," I murmur, dread lacing my voice as a lump chokes my throat. She pulls away and glances around as though he's going to appear right in front of us.

"When did you last see him?" She asks apprehensively, stepping back.

"It feels like just over 30 minutes ago, he gave me his vest." I sigh, sliding my hands inside the pockets. My fingers brush something cold, eyebrows knitting as I pull it out.

It's a small, old style compass. I've seen him using it in the past. My throat tightens.

What if this is the last thing I have of him?

It seems everyone is looking for him, since he's the only one missing, along with Banksy by the looks of things.

North has a completely scornful expression on his face as he returns from his third loop around.

"He's not fucking anywhere!" He yells, launching his gun against the floor, the jagged vein above his eyebrow bulging.

Our heads immediately jolt as we hear a rustling.

Please.

Banksy stumbles from in between the cracks of two buildings, holding a hand over his side. As relived as I am to see that he's alive, I was praying it was Leo who would come out from the shadows.

Martin and I immediately rush to his side and help support him. North is the one to speak up,

"Banksy, where's Hendrix?" he seethes, fists clenching at his sides in frustration.

Banksy splutters for a few seconds as he catches his breath, shaking his head. "Altashih," he rasps. "They've got him. They've fucking got Leo."

And suddenly, the urge to massacre that fucking farmhouse has never been stronger.