LEO
==============
06/06/2002 - 11pm
La Castellana Safe House
Colombia
==============

I haven't slept a wink.

Everyone is bustling around in the room, going through their final counts of ammo and discussing the plan with each other. Looking over at Nova, I watch as she's strapping an ancient looking pistol to her thigh over her cargos. With a scoff, I approach her.

"What's this? Antique shopping, Shields?" I question, snatching it out of the holster on her thigh to look at it.

"Something I'll shoot you with if you do that again." She snarls as she grabs it back off of me. I chuckle slightly and shake my head.

"I think you need an upgrade. Looks like that thing hasn't seen a kill since prehistoric times." I grin. She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"This pistol had more kills under its belt than you ever will, Leo." She replies bluntly, turning away to slide the rest of her equipment into her vest.

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh? And how'd you figure that out? You keep track of those things?"

"It used to be my Dad's." She replies irritatedly this time.

I'm definitely pissing her off. "And why did your dad carry around a Smith and Wesson? Was he a nutcase like you are?" I quip.

She turns to face me again with a completely unimpressed expression. "Just an ex-veteran. You think I'm a nutcase? Imagine you'd met my brother." She chuckles as she mutters under her breath, I don't think she meant for me to hear that last part.

What's the deal with her brother?

"What do you mean by that?" I ask with genuine curiosity, staring to load my gear into my vest.

She shoots me a frustrated look, supposedly because I heard her mumbling.

"I'm not giving you a rundown of my family history just before we're going on a mission, Leo." She shakes her head.

My shoulders just shrug in response. "Alright, well, when we're done with this mission. Can I get the rundown then?" My arms fold across my chest as I raise my eyebrows in anticipation of her answer.

I don't know why I'm bothering asking this. I suppose I just want to know if there's a reason deep down as to why she's such a bitch.

She narrows her eyes at me.

"No," she mutters, "you are, in fact, quite literally the last person I'd speak to about my past."

So there is something deeper going on.

"Im sure I can guess. Mommy issues? You don't seem like the 'apple of her eye' type." I snicker, but the gaze that I am met with is cold and unforgiving. Her face twists into the definition of anger itself.

Maybe I crossed a line.

"Don't fucking ask me anything about my past again, got that?" She hisses warningly after a few seconds.

Instead of jabbing back at her as usual, I just nod slightly and look away as she storms off. Maybe her mom is dead or something? Something I didn't even consider before I opened my mouth.

If it was anyone else I'd apologise immediately; because it's Nova, however, silence is the best apology I can bring myself give her.

====
1am

The ride is dead quiet.

Nobody's saying shit, just the dull clink of gear being checked, guns clicking into place, bolts racking. The van jerks slightly as it hits a pothole, and I feel the collective stiffness in the group. No one talks, not even the usual pre-op banter. This one feels different.

We slow to a stop, and Tara hops out at the drop point, a hollowed-out multi-storey car park about a quarter-mile out. She double-checks her comms and vanishes into the dark with her rifle cradled against her like it's part of her spine.

Marcus kills the headlights and parks just off a tree line near the warehouse perimeter.

 It's hard to see through the dense fog licking around the ground, but the outline of the warehouse is unmistakable. Ugly concrete bastard. 

He turns and meets our eyes through the rearview. "You've got my frequency. I'll be circling back in the bird at 2:30 sharp. If you need me sooner, you know what to do."

We all give curt nods, then spill out of the van like shadows breaking formation. Banksy and Lowe flank west, slipping into the tree line. Nova drops beside me and pulls up her thermo-binoculars. The warehouse has a few windows blown out, frame twisted from decades of rot and neglect.

"Southeast side is clear," she whispers, adjusting the focus. Then she starts muttering the plan again like we didn't drill it six fucking times back at the compound.

"They're not stupid, Shields," I mutter, eyes on the windows. "We all passed the briefing."

She shoots me a look that could slice wire. "God forbid I make sure we don't all end up in fucking body bags."

Typical.

We ghost up to the side of the warehouse, silent steps across damp grass. One by one, we vault through a shattered window and flatten against the interior wall. Nova raises a fist, halting us. Her fingers flick forward. Nolan, Oliver, and Price peel off to the right. Devlin and I move left. Nova follows.

We clear room after room, the air thick with dust and the faint stench of metal and gasoline. We pause in a darkened alcove when distant voices echo off corrugated walls.

"He's in there," Nova whispers.

"No shit," I mutter, stepping forward, before I'm yanked back by the back of my vest. She slams me into the wall with more strength than I expected. 

Before I can snap at her, her hand claps over my mouth. "Shut the fuck up," she mouths.

My first instinct is to throw this pain in my ass off. Then two figures walk past the corridor, armed but unaware. We hold our breath.

So that's why she pulled that little stunt. Once they're clear of the alcove, she releases her deathly grip from over my lips.

Without bothering to thank her, we continue moving forwards, following the path of the insurgents who stalked past us. They head towards the open area. Nova speaks something in a hushed tone through her comms, facial expression showing she's satisfied with the response.

"Nolan has rigged the place with explosives, we have 20 minutes to get this done." She whispers to us.

20 minutes? Fuck me. If we don't secure Ramirez in the next 1,200 seconds, our own asses are going to blow up with the rest of this place.

Maintaining composure, I glance down at my watch. 1:20am. We have to be out and away from the area at 1:40. I've done worse.

Giving her a small, nonchalant nod, we push forwards. We're now right next to the loading area. Devlin glances around the corner and then puts up 9 of his fingers to us. He then stops and makes a 'T' shape with his hands. He's got his eyes on the target.

"Don't fuck this up." I mutter against Nova's ear. She tilts her head slightly to turn around and look at me with an annoyed glare.

"Get fucked, Hendrix." She hisses. Looking around the group, we all nod in unison once again before turning the corner. 

We strike. Gunshots shatter the silence. Cartel members scramble. Confusion is our ally. I slam into one, rifle-butt to his jaw, dropping him. Not Ramirez.

Another tries to raise his gun. I clip his wrist and send him sprawling.

All hell breaks loose.

Gunfire. Screams. The air thick with smoke and shouting. Everyone is focused. Disarming when possible, lethal when needed.

My eyes spot one trying to load up his rifle. Taking the butt of my own, I knock him out cold.

Nova catches my eye. She's working with surgical precision. Until she blows the kneecap out of one bastard.

"What the fuck, Shields!" I shout. "We're not here to fucking maim."

"Still breathing, aren't they? Shut up and focus."" She hisses.

Our bickering is definitely interfering with the task, despite the fact we've got the upper hand.

A few of us are getting skimmed by stay bullets, but nothing serious. At this moment, for some godforsaken reason, my mind decides to launch me back into my mission with Carlos.

Everything falls still for a second as the vision of his splattered brains fills the forefront of my mind.

I can hear someone yelling my name as I snap out of my trance, seeing a Ka-Bar gripped in an insurgents hand, right in front of me as he's about to bring it down.

Before I react, he's tackled. 

Nova.

She hits him like a meteor, knocking him to the ground. It's Ramirez. She punches, blocks, counters. Fast and furious. He grabs her rifle and swings. She ducks, clocks him in the face. His nose cracks. Blood sprays.

"We need him alive!" I bark.

"So help me instead of whining like a bitch!" She snaps before blocking a blow. He does have a significant height and strength advantage over her, despite her skills. He reaches for a pistol that's discarded off to the side but she manages to kick it away. She's trying to restrain him, and glares at me furiously.

Her words snap me back. I dive into the fray. Ramirez wrestles her. His hand grabs a pistol. Nova kicks it away.

But there's no time to breathe. I'm hit from behind, yanked into a knife fight before I can even react. The guy's fast, scrappy, probably desperate. Our blades clash in a sharp metallic scream, close enough to feel his hot breath. 

I duck under his arm and shove him backward, slamming him against a rusted forklift hard enough to rattle its frame. My forearm pins his throat, and my knife bites into his thigh. Not deep, just enough to drop him.

And I spin around just in time to see the worst.

Ramirez grabs a jagged shard of metal and drives it into the side of Nova's thigh.

"FUCK!"

Her scream is raw, visceral. It tears through the air like shrapnel.

Ramirez takes the upper hand fast, slamming her to the floor. He wrenches off her helmet and cracks it across her face once, twice. He's winding up for a third when she grabs his wrist with both hands before shoving one of her thumbs into his eye. Gritting through the pain, fighting to keep it away.

I don't think. I move.

I tackle him hard, shoulder into ribs, knocking him off her. My fists do the talking, raining down blows. He's dazed, not out. 

Nova's already dragging herself up, gritting through a busted thigh like she hasn't noticed it's even there. But I can see the sweat dripping down her neck. And I doubt it's just from the fight. 

She dives back in, flipping him onto his front. "Hold still, motherfucker." I pin one shoulder while she lashes his hands behind his back with cable ties. Ramirez thrashes once, then stills.

My eyes meet my watch. 1:36. "Four minutes," I bark.

Nova wraps a rag around Ramirez's head as Devlin and Nolan approach us hastily. I wonkily shove Nova's helmet back onto her head, to which she scowls and readjusts it.

"Come on! We've 'gotta move!" Devlin yells, taking Ramirez's bound arms and yanking him up and off of the ground, leading him to the exit point with Nolan. 

I jump up myself and prepare to retreat, turning around to see Nova, who is very visibly struggling. A long shard of metal gleams from her thigh like a cruel trophy.

"Hurry up, goddamnit." I growl. She steadies herself with the help of an old forklift.

"I'm fine. Go." She hisses through clenched teeth, cinching a gun strap above the wound like a makeshift tourniquet. 

I'm so, so tempted to just leave her here.

If I do, I won't have to deal with our animosity for any future missions. There's no way she'll get out in time, her death can just be ruled as 'accidental'. An unfortunate loss on the mission.

Everything in me wants to keep walking. I should. One less problem. One less goddamn argument.

My head swivels back around to face her. She's walking, but slowly and clearly in immense agony as only one of her legs is useful right now.

And my own feet don't move any further. 

Goddamnit.

I'm back at her side before I can stop myself, hauling her arm over my shoulder.

"You're a fucking liability, you know that?" I hiss, taking on most of her weight to assist her in walking. I'm speeding right now, practically dragging half of her along with me.

"Still more useful than you," she mumbles, putting all of her effort into her left leg as we draw closer to our escape route.

We reach the window, me climbing out first before waiting for Nova. She raises her strong leg and uses her arms to level herself as she pulls herself through. Her face crumples as the metal twists with the movement.

"You need to pull that damn thing out." I growl, helping her down from the window and letting her lean her weight against me again.

"It's all jagged, you fucking idiot. I'll bleed out before we're anywhere near the chopper." She seethes as we press into the forest.

Fair point. I didn't consider the fact that it's not a straight, carefully formed blade. I mimic her voice under my breath. But, she's holding us back. I'm not blaming her, it's just inconvenient.

I hesitate for a minute.

"For fuck's sake. Come here."

I drop low and sweep her off the ground. One arm behind her back, one under her knees. She curses but doesn't fight me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She spits, but still curls her arm across my shoulders.

"Being efficient," I say, adjusting her weight.

Just as we get into the deeper line of trees, there's a loud explosion from behind us as the warehouse detonates on cue.

I stop for a second to look back at the flaming building.

"That would've been you" I mutter. She scoffs slightly.

"Don't act like a saint. I saw you walk away." She utters.

"Didn't say I wasn't tempted." I confirm with her. "That's 'gonna hurt like a bitch when it gets pulled out."

"No shit." She seethes through her gritted teeth. I can't help suppress the chuckle that escapes my lips.

We continue in silence for a while until the clearing appears like salvation, lights of the chopper seeping through the trees. The doors are open, it seems like everyone's been anticipating our arrival. 

"About fucking time! We thought you were toast!" Nolan chimes out from where he's sat on the landing skid. He's in a good mood, somehow. Probably from seeing that we're alive in the flesh instead of chargrilled.

"Get Rosa or Elijah ready, or both." I order as we're approaching.

Nolan disappears into the bay, and then Rosa's already at the door with her med kit.

I hesitantly hoist Nova up slightly so she can climb in, with a little too much force as the metal left sticking out of her leg catches against the ledge, repositioning the the part that's lodged in her thigh. She bites her lip in agony before glaring at me.

"What the fuck, Leo?" She seethes, climbing the rest of the way in with the help of Rosa.

"My bad." I mumble under my breath. Surprisingly, I actually do feel a little bad. That had to of hurt like hell.

I climb in after her and shut the doors behind us, giving Marcus a nod to signal he can lift off. A few other bandaged up members of the squad sit inside, most of them having been skimmed by bullets. Ramirez is tied down on the back end, Lowe watching over him cautiously.

Elijah gestures for Nova to lay back and grabs a pair of scissors, cutting the fabric of her cargos away so they can figure out how deep it is lodged in. Him and Rosa share a look that can only be described as concerned, Nova instantly looks between them.

"What's the issue?" She hisses, clearly in immense pain as the adrenaline has worn off.

"It's deep. We need to get it out now. But morphine could trigger hemorrhagic shock. We do this raw." Rosa explains quietly.

The colour drains from Nova's face. Everyone else in the chopper diverts their gaze. Doubt anyones wishing they could switch places with her right now. Me included. 

Nova takes a few deep breaths to prepare herself. "Right, okay. Just get it out."

She bites down on a rag. Rosa winds the tourniquet tighter, turning her leg a dusky purple.

After a few seconds, Elijah positions his hand as best as possible on the tip of the metal, using his other to hold her leg in place. Rosa steadies her shoulders.

I can't help but watch this whole ordeal, unlike everyone else who is facing the opposite direction.

Rosa does a final check of her vitals before nodding to Elijah, who glances at Nova. "Are you ready?" 

She nods, shoving a rag into her mouth.

And he pulls. 

The entire chopper seems to hold its breath. Her scream never comes. Just a muffled, animalistic groan through the rag. Her entire body seizes like a current's running through it. 

Blood spills fast. Holy fuck, it's brutal. 

"Clamp!" Rosa snaps, wrestling to keep her shoulders down. 

And me, being the bastard I am, can't look away.